"PERCIVAL?" Rafel stared as the young man stepped into the light. The wisps of white radiance from the lamps in their shared living room fell into the boy's golden hair. Percival was as blonde as he remembered; a bit rougher on the edges, but still the same golden boy of the royal family. In this case, FORMER royal family.
"Hi!" Percival drew near and waved.
Rafel flipped the switch and more light glowed in the room. He noticed Percival had lost the usual playboy vibrancy in his eyes. Gone was the warmth and perpetual smirk on his face. It was replaced by a shadow Rafel knew all too well: grief.
Rafel didn't ask. But he wondered what the new King had done to the rest of the Royal Van Imperias. It couldn't be anything good.
Percival continued, "it's you, er...Your Grace. I'm so happy you're my roommate. I half expected a dork to show up, considering how the school council pairs roomies. B-But it's you, Lord Israfel."
Percival had a look of awe on his face, but the iris were sunken and bags under his eyes. Where did the confident truant of a Prince go? He waved it off in his head. His body had begun to pull signs. He needed rest. Internal healing made him tire quickly these days.
He remembered that Percival was still standing and said, "I don't know if you heard but I'm not Your Grace anymore. I lost my lordship and title in Titans Landing. Emberfall fell. Believe it or not, I only survived by the skin of teeth."
"Yeah." Percival looked glumly. "It's awful what those bastard did. And I get that they're your folk or whatever, but they're still a pile of turd.
Did Ravenna come with you? Hilda's been asking."
Rafel moved for his private corner of the room, separated by a crescent arch overhead blazoned in gold. He plopped on the large bed; the area had free walking space and a closet—the entire 'room' they shared was one big bachelor pad. Pulling off only his shoes, Rafel propped a pillow under his back as Sekhmet had always done, grabbed him another pillow, and settled in.
"Yeah, she's here. But I'll be more coherent to answer all your questions after some shut-eye. It's been a ship and a caravan travel here. I would love to get some sleep. You'll meet my whole squad tomorrow. Brace up, my friend.
Right now, the only thing on my mind is this Manifest ceremony."
"Sure, Your Gr—uh, Israfel. Good night." Percival switched off the lights and headed over to his side.
Salem Hall went quiet, and remained peaceful and grand in façade until the waking bells went up early at six o'clock. Teens began groggily rousing and Rafel heard the buzz of the general alarm hit his ears through the speakers high on the ceiling. He was in the shower when he heard the voice of the Student President calling in the halls.
Erika Burgess sauntered the clean and gleaming corridors with a [Voice Amplifier] rune hovering in her blowout hair as a magical butterfly.
"Okay, people!" She announced. "First Years and well—latter years, it's Day One in the prestigious Salem Hall; the house that has been winning the Academy Grand Awards four years in a row. I am so pleased to announce it is Manifest day, and it promises to be a delight.
So, get in your blazers and stockings, boys and girls, it's time to know your colors, be it Phoenix red, Pegasus blue, Griffin gold, or Raven black.
Either way, First Years, remember that Salem Hall loves you, no matter what distinguished faction you fall into. I myself hope to be in the Griffin class. I urge the Sophomores, and Third and Fourth Years to come out and cheer for the newbies. You only get to Manifest once in your life!
Remember dearies, we are the future of magic on the Continent. Attendance to the Manifest is mandatory. Please make your way to Magdalena Assembly Hall!"
A boy with bedraggled bed head poked his head out his room to yell. "Go fuck yourself, Madam President! Quit screaming in our ears!"
"Alright."
More snickers.
"Do you need milk?"
"What?" Mikhail guffawed.
Aya didn't even spare him a glance. It was Ravenna who swatted at his arm.
"No." Rafel growled under his breath, grabbing and crunching his apple.
The group made small conversation, mostly on the topple government on Eldoria, churning politics and betrayal, newest scandals at the institute, and for the First Years—what [Creature Faction] they wanted to be in. Rafel ignored the staring piercing into his back like hot lances behind.
He intentionally faced away from their closest table: the cheerleaders and socialite queens; their group of vain models given the audacious monicker, the Pynks.
Erika Burgess was the lead of this group.
Rafel had no time for drama, so he ignored the cat purring of the Pynks—trying to rub against his manhood with their feline wiles.
"So what's the deal with her?" Ravenna locked eyes with Erika across their table. The girl was laughing and flipping her long strawberry tresses in a wave intended to attract.
"Oh, Erika?" Percival scoffed. "Her father was a Rat-catcher under my cousin, Giselle's reign. Now, he's a prominent Magistrate in Titans Landing. He bent the knee to the Usurper."
Rafel offered Percival his cheesecake. It was good, but it wasn't Sekhmet good. The chefs had nothing on his nurse. He noticed the same pallor as the night before had returned to Percival's cheeks. Just like that, the glory of elf magic within him was smothered; his beautiful Sunfire pupils sunk, and the light was diminished when he looked up.
Rafel finally brought himself to ask the question.
"What happened to your parents?"
Percival's eyes misted up and his fists balled, shaking in anger.
"Thank piece of shit, Moloch did. . ." He broke out for a second, but forced on. ". . .he raped my father and mother, before beating them to death.
They would not bend the knee."
Their whole table went quiet. Luckily, everyone had finished eating. Percival bent his head, crying softly. Rafel—against all he'd ever known, touched a hand to his roommate's shoulder. No wonder the boy looked like he'd just stepped out the Vale of Magvath. "I wish I could take the pain away," said Rafel.
"I'm sorry," both Ravenna and Brunhilda offered as one.
Rafel didn't know how long they stayed in silence, but the clock struck eight o'clock and the bells came ringing. And the students put apart their breakfast trays, rising and starting a conspiratorial beeline for the Assembly Hall.