Godric spent the next two days combing the castle, his determination growing more frantic. Raine had vanished, skipping their usual study sessions without a word. She was not at her usual post in the Great Hall during mealtimes, and even her fellow slaves, when questioned, either offered evasive answers or refused to speak altogether, clearly trying to shield her.
Every familiar place turned up empty. Godric scoured the kitchens, the slave quarters, the gardens, even the unused corners of the library. Yet no sign of her. As he wandered the castle grounds, his calls echoed into silence, his voice growing hoarse with desperation.
"Where could she be?" he panted, leaning against the cold stone wall of a corridor to catch his breath. A heavy weight pressed against his chest—a gnawing mixture of worry, guilt, and something deeper. Something unfamiliar yet profoundly strong. A sense of care so fierce it unsettled him.
"Oh, Raine…" he muttered, his crimson eyes scanning the empty hallway. "I'm so sorry. You did nothing wrong. Please, wherever you are, be okay."
For a moment, he stood frozen, his mind racing with possibilities. What if she had left the castle? Or worse—what if his rejection had driven her into trouble? Shaking his head, he pushed off the wall, his legs heavy but relentless. He wasn't going to stop until he found her.
****
Another day had passed, and Raine was still nowhere to be found. Godric trudged back to the dorms after classes, the weight of his longsword pressing against his back, a heavy reminder of the turmoil raging in his mind. His fingers gripped the belt of his scabbard tightly, knuckles white with tension. Anger simmered within him—not directed at Raine but at himself. The memory of his reaction gnawed at him, each moment replaying mercilessly in his head. He swore silently that if anything had happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.
Needing space from the bustling crowds of the main corridors, Godric opted for a quieter route through an older, less-traveled wing of the academy. The path was longer, winding and solitary, but it gave him a chance to think. Here, the noise of chattering students faded, leaving him alone with the sound of his boots echoing against the stone floor.
Lost in his thoughts, a faint sound suddenly broke through his haze. A voice—soft, desperate, trembling—drifted through the hallway. Godric froze mid-step, his ears straining.
"That voice…" he whispered to himself, his heart pounding. He turned his head toward the direction it came from. His crimson eyes narrowed as his gaze locked onto the slightly ajar door of the male bathroom.
"It couldn't be…" His gut twisted as he crept closer, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. Pushing the door open further, he stepped inside, the air growing colder and the faint cry growing clearer.
Godric stepped into the bathroom, his bootsteps silent and deliberate, his senses on high alert. The floor was slick with a thin layer of water, the result of a leaking pipe that dripped rhythmically in the corner. The air was thick with the stench of mold, mildew, and stagnant water—a clear sign that this bathroom was rarely used. Rows of wooden stalls lined either side, their paint peeling with neglect. Around a central pillar, a series of sinks and tarnished mirrors reflected the dim light.
As he moved deeper into the space, his eyes locked onto a scene that made his blood run cold. At the back of the bathroom, Raine was cornered. Her bare back was pressed against the tiled wall, her clothes torn and scattered across the floor like discarded rags. Her arms were held above her head, wrists bound by glowing magical restraints that pulsed faintly with an ominous energy.
Before her stood a Second-Year boy, his posture oozing arrogance. The Aecor emblem shone prominently on his uniform, its dark blues and silvers catching the faint light. His violet hair was slicked back, his fingers running through it as he smirked, a predatory glint in his matching violet eyes. They raked over Raine's vulnerable form with a hunger that churned Godric's stomach.
Tears streaked down Raine's face, her golden eyes filled with a mix of despair and resignation. Her wolfen ears drooped, her body trembling as she pressed herself tighter against the wall, as though she could somehow disappear into the cold tiles.
The boy sneered, his violet eyes gleaming with predatory intent. "You might be a filthy little slave," he began. He ran his tongue along the length of his wand, the motion grotesque and deliberate. "But damn, you've got a body on you."
He leaned closer to Raine, his smirk widening. "You brought this on yourself, you know," he taunted, his tone laced with mockery. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of this."
Raine's quiet plea was barely a whisper, her voice trembling with desperation. "No… stop," she begged, her words fragile and laced with fear. "I don't want this. I don't—"
Her words were cut short by the sharp, sickening sound of a slap. The boy's hand struck her across the face with brutal force, her head snapping to the side as a thin trail of blood appeared on her lower lip. Her body shuddered, pressed against the cold, unyielding tiles, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
Godric's entire body went rigid. His breath caught, the sound reverberating in his ears like a thunderclap. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, everything around him dulled—the dripping of the pipe, the distant hum of the castle.
"Shut up!" the boy snapped. "You don't get to speak. You're nothing but a plaything. After all, that's all your kind is good for."
"Godric…" Raine's voice broke through the suffocating silence, barely audible yet filled with desperation. "Godric… help me… please…"
The sound of her desperate plea shattered something inside him, like a dam bursting under the pressure of a storm. In that instant, an inferno of rage ignited in Godric's chest, searing through every ounce of restraint. This wasn't just anger—it was primal, unrelenting, and unyielding.
His crimson eyes burned as his vision blurred, tinted with the fiery red of his fury. Every rational thought was consumed, leaving only one truth: Raine needed him.
Without a word, he stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing across the damp tiles. His movements were deliberate, measured, like a predator stalking its prey. He slipped his bag off his shoulder, placing it carefully into a nearby sink, his actions eerily calm despite the storm brewing within. The belt of his scabbard came next, unbuckled and rested atop the bag.
No swords. No blades. This was personal.
Godric flexed his fingers, the sharp crack of his knuckles echoing through the bathroom like the prelude to a storm. Before the boy could even react, Godric lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair. With unrelenting force, he slammed the boy's head against the tiled wall.
The first impact sent a jarring crack through the room, the tiles fracturing under the force. The boy let out a strangled cry, but Godric didn't stop. Again and again, he drove the boy's skull into the wall. The tiles gave way, chipping and splintering with each brutal collision. Crimson splatters painted the dull green tiles, dripping in jagged streaks like a macabre work of art.
"You vile whoreson!" Godric bellowed. "I'll freaking kill you!"
The boy flailed helplessly, his once-cocky demeanor crumbling into panic. "W-Wait! Do you know who I am?! My father—"
Before he could finish, Godric spun him around and drove his fist into his face with unrelenting fury. The sickening crunch of bone echoed as the boy's nose shattered, and blood poured freely. Godric's fists were relentless, hammering into his face, each strike fueled by an inferno of rage. His knuckles split, staining his own hands with crimson, but he didn't care.
The boy collapsed to his knees, wheezing and coughing up a disgusting mixture of blood, spit, and broken teeth. "Y-you… you don't know who you're messing with…" he choked out, trembling as he weakly raised his wand.
Godric grabbed the wand mid-air and snapped it cleanly in two with a sharp crack, sparks sputtering from the severed halves. He tossed the pieces to the floor, his crimson eyes boring into the boy's swollen, bloodied face. "Animals have no business wielding this," he snarled. Without hesitation, he kneed the boy in the face, sending him sprawling backward with a sickening thud.
Grabbing the back of his neck, Godric hauled him up like a ragdoll and dragged him toward the sinks. The boy whimpered incoherently, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, one eye swollen shut and the other wide with terror. With a roar, Godric drove his face into the porcelain sink. The impact was devastating, shattering the basin into shards that clattered to the floor. Blood pooled in the broken porcelain, mixing with the water that spilled from the cracked pipes.
Godric loomed over the crumpled boy, his chest heaving, every breath a mix of rage and exertion. The shattered remains of the sink dripped around them, the steady plink of water punctuating the heavy silence. As the boy lay motionless in the puddle, his gaze flickered downward, catching sight of something glinting faintly atop the thin layer of water. It floated there, spinning lazily—a small emblem, unmistakable in its design. His stomach turned as recognition dawned.
He clenched his fists, the veins in his forearms standing out as he ground his teeth together. The word escaped his lips, low and venomous, each syllable laced with contempt.
"Calishans… Volg."
The name felt like poison in his mouth, his fury reigniting. He knelt down, picking it up with trembling fingers. His crimson eyes blazed at the sight of it. Its intricate design a stark reminder of the arrogance and cruelty it represented. It wasn't just a symbol—it was a mark he had come to know all too well. His grip tightened around the emblem, his jaw clenching as his mind swirled with dark thoughts. This wasn't just some random act of depravity—this was the work of them. And now, Godric knew exactly who to hold accountable.
As the fury ebbed away, leaving only the dull ache of his bruised knuckles and the pounding of his heart, Godric turned to Raine. Her wrists were free now, the glowing restraints gone—likely dispelled the moment he had snapped the wand in two. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his robe and gently draped it over her trembling shoulders.
"Raine," he said softly. "Are you alright?"
Her golden eyes, shimmering with tears, met his. For a moment, she seemed too stunned to speak. Then, with a sudden burst of emotion, she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly as sobs wracked her slender frame. "You… you came," she cried into his neck, her voice muffled but thick with relief. "You actually came!"
Godric's arms encircled her, holding her as if to shield her from the world. His touch was soft, protective, a stark contrast to the unrestrained rage he had unleashed moments before. "It's alright, Raine," he murmured, his words soothing like a balm against her pain. "You're safe now. I promise."
She clung to him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as the weight of her fear slowly began to lift. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt truly safe.
"Come on," he said firmly but gently, his eyes softening as they met hers. "Let's get you out of here."
She clutched the robe tightly around her trembling frame as she took his hand, her legs unsteady beneath her. As they moved toward the door, her gaze lingered on the motionless boy. "But… what about him?" she whispered. "What about the Professors? If they find out…" Her words faltered, panic creeping into her tone. "And I know who he is—Rufus Gristle. His family… they're slavers. Like Volg. They're wealthy, powerful. Godric… you could be expelled. Or worse."
Godric paused for a moment, then turned to her, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to reassure her. His crimson eyes, fierce just moments ago, softened as he offered her a small but warm smile. "You let me worry about that, Raine," he said firmly. "Right now, you're all that matters."
Her eyes welled with fresh tears, but she nodded, allowing him to lead her out of the ruined bathroom and away from the horrors she'd just endured.