Brak!
The door to the old shed was thrown open.
Sweat trickled down his face as Dareon stepped foot inside the shed, the cold night wind brushing against him as it too entered. Hubert laid on his back, his face pale as a ghost and body cold as a corpse.
Hubert's arms hung limp from Dareon's shoulder as Dareon hurriedly threw all the tools that were on the table. Dust flew, the moonlight, the only source of light to the dark room.
Thud
He placed Hubert carefully on the table.
"Pl-please…" his voice shook as his whole body trembled, he feared.
Then Dareon bolted outside, seeking help, realizing that his lance from before was no longer in his grasp. Something he cared for no more.
Searching for solutions, he ran toward the first place that came to mind, the infirmary. Someone he and Hubert knew and trusted was his hope.
"Nurse!" Dareon bashed his calloused hands on the door. The place was already shut for the night, and the nurses and physicians had long retired to their beds.
"Coming," a bored voice came from the other side, almost unpleased of the sudden bother.
The old door creaked open, and a young man was revealed. His body was clothed by leather armor, a guard in duty, almost like a watchman.
"What?" the guard asked.
"I-is Iva-ivanna there?" Dareon asked, his eyes gleaming with hope. His shaky hands reached in for the guard's hand, of which the guard dodged.
"Ivanna? Ah, that new nurse… I wonder what her bosom feels like… Anyway, no, she's not available," the guard informed, half joking and half dreaming in between.
"The-then-" Dareon pleaded, forgetting of the guard's demeanor.
"Listen, man, it's really late at night, so why don't you just suck it up and wait for the morning?! Alright?" the guard said, then the door moved, wanting to close.
THUD!
A force stopped. A thud followed, a red palm visible.
"He-hey! You can't do th- Ugh!" before the guard even finished, Dareon pushed him aside and entered the hallway.
It was dark, barely lit by a single torch that was beside a chair.
His legs then moved, to one of the rooms.
A sign on the door was etched - Supply -.
"S-stop!" the guard followed.
Dareon grabbed all the supplies; bandages, treatments, scissors, threads, anything that he knew would be of help. His hands, though trembling, were quick, swift, and precise.
"Put that down! Do you not know how valuable those containers are?!" the guard commanded once again. His words fell on deaf ears.
"Tch! This boy, I say enough is enough!" clicking his tongue, the guard placed his right hand on Dareon's shoulder.
Dareon stopped in his action, then glanced at the man.
"If you're not going to help, then scram," Dareon said warningly.
"Thi-this boy!" infuriated, the guard said.
Then from Dareon's body came a white smoke, visible under the light of the torches.
"Ow!" the guard released his hands from Dareon's shoulder upon the stinging pain that hit him.
Baffled, he looked at his own hands, red and almost burnt.
Dareon, knowing he had gotten enough, turned around and ran toward the exit. The guard knew not to give chase, now understanding the strength and identity of Dareon.
He made his way back to the shed of tools, carrying the bottles of elixirs and ointments, rolls of bandages, and other tools that could aid him. Soon, he reached the place, yet his feet hesitated upon entering.
He noticed the difference in odor that was carried by the night wind.
The person then came into sight, their teacher, a cleaner, Ron.
"Ron! Yo-you're here!" Dareon greeted, slightly relieved. Though his gaze returned quickly, knowing that the situation was not over yet.
"Good," Ron praised, his focused eyes peering toward the bottles and tools.
Clankings of glasses were heard as he placed the bottles in a free space on the table.
"Alcohol," Ron asked, his hand open. The two began their work.
Owl's wings flapped, searching for prey. Leaves rubbed against each other.
All were blessed by the cold moonlight.
A bothered pair of eyes watching from afar.
—
The morning rays were warm, pouring into the infirmary through the multiple windows and cracks. The infirmary was bustling, students and instructors alike came in and out, searching for medications.
"Ivanna, someone is searching for you," the guard said, his tone dissatisfied as his eyes leered onto the figure behind him, his right hand bandaged.
"Who?" Ivanna asked.
From behind the guard came Dareon.
"Nurse,"
"I'll excuse myself," the guard bid, his eyes fighting the urge of peering into Ivanna's bosom.
"Ah, you are… Hubert's friend? Right?" Ivanna asked, sitting on her chair in her free time, writing stuffs on piles of papers with a simple quill.
"Yes, Dareon," Dareon replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were baggy and his red hair was messy. His frightening appearance was replaced by the sign of exhaustion and tiredness.
"So… What do you need from me?" Ivanna asked.
Dareon smiled, his words stitched shut, and his weary and unwashed hand placed a note on the table. Then he left with back slouched, almost limping.
The note was left behind, folded and crumpled at the same time. The paper stared at her.
Ivanna's brows curled, confused by the sudden and unknown intent of Dareon. She cautiously reached for the note, half expecting it to be a love letter, one that she had collected over the few months she started.
Her delicate fingers slowly opened it, and the instant pungent smell struck her oddly, a sign of something wrong.
"Come to this place, now, please," she read from the messy handwriting, Bloody drops could be seen on it.
Her heart skipped a beat, her finger slightly trembling as she crumpled the note and placed it onto her pocket. Then she stood up, grabbed her coat and bag, and left the nurse's quarter.
"Bon, inform the head nurse that I need to go to the toilet, okay?" Ivanna said to the guard, her eyes not even moving to him.
"Sheesh, woman! I will, I will, be careful out there, love," the guard teased, giggling. Though his palm soon reminded him of last night.
Ivanna just smiled as she went away, toward the place that was written on the note Dareon left. The old shed.
The academy was active. Students exercised in the yard, some shooting their magic into the air, some sparring with each other on the sparring ground, and some being lovebirds in public.
Passing all those, in the corner of the academy grounds, between the dormitory buildings and the learning halls. Away from all attention, was a small patch of empty land with an old shed standing fraily.
The old shed.
"Dareon?" Ivanna called out into the shed as she arrived, her white garb grazing against the wind, her white boots against the dirt and grass. Her gingerly bright hair was reflective of the light, one that strengthened her everlasting aura of joy.
The same aura that was being bashed repeatedly at that moment.
"Ivanna… come in," Dareon said from inside the shed, his voice as weak as before.
"Ex-excuse me then…" Ivanna nervously exclaimed as she approached the still door, that was almost expecting her.
"Ugh," her nose was struck by the same odor from before, this time, it was stronger and thicker. Only then she realized what the smell was, something she was familiar with.
"N-no," she muttered in disbelief, bracing herself through the smell and opened the door, knowing of the thing inside.
Creak
The sight shocked her like a bolt of lightning.
Frightening, it was. Disturbing, as well. Bloodied.
Something that made her gut feel punched and her throat feel choked. One that made her, a nurse, albeit a new one, gulped upon seeing it. The smell of death presented itself in that room.
Hubert laid on the table. His face was paler than snow, his lips dried, and his eyes closed in peacefulness, almost embracing death itself. His body was unmoving, some would say he's dead.
The multiple bandages covered his slashed flesh, as did the thick ointments on some of the smaller cuts. Stabs and bruises were still visible, uncovered by the lack of resources Dareon had in that shed.
Quickly, she dropped her bag and coat to the ground.
"Hubert…" Ivanna called as she placed her floating palms above Hubert's body, tears seemingly flowing out.
"..." Dareon watched on, he knew he did everything he could.
"Sana Hoc Domine," she said, casting her healing magic, the first thing she knew she could do.
A faint green aura embraced Hubert's whole body, from the edge of his black hair to his pinky toes.
Then her eyes turned toward Dareon.
"Dareon," she called weakly, yet her eyes staringly demanded an explanation. Her knees shaky.
"Ju-just… Ha… No, I will avenge him, I will," Dareon oathed, his tone wrathful.
Ivanna dropped onto her knees, her shaky hands covering her wept. She feared and feared, her little and weak heart hoped and prayed for one thing, just one thing.
Life.
Drops of tears flowed down her hands and dropped onto the floor. Sharply contrasting the only other person in the room.
Wrath took control of Dareon as his veins bulged out of his unwashed and bloodied hand. Tears too came from his eyes, his red pupils, blazed, akin to the fire of hell, knew of one thing, only one thing.
Revenge.