A faint glow shimmers around him, dulling the impact but not nearly enough. The moment his feet touch the ground, his legs buckle, and he crashes into a rough tumble. Pain shoots through his limbs as he rolls to a stop.
Bram, on the other hand, lands with a graceful thud, shaking out his shoulders like he'd just hopped off a step.
Obinai groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows, wincing. Dust clings to his clothes, and he swipes a hand over his face before glaring at Bram. "The hell was that!?"
Bram just throws his head back and laughs, a sound that makes Obinai's fists clench. "The fun route."
Obinai lifts a hand, scratches lining his knuckles. At first, they look painful, tiny red streaks over his skin. But then, they knit themselves back together—closing up in seconds as if nothing happened. The sting in Obinai's own nose fades too.
What the hell is with this guy?
Trying to keep his voice level, Obinai brushes himself off and stares at Bram. "Look, man, you can't just do that." His voice rises. "I thought I was gonna die!"
Bram shrugs, smirking. "That's the fun part, right?"
Obinai stares at him. I'm gonna hit him. His fingers twitch at his sides. Instead, he deadpans, "What."
Bram turns away, stretching his arms behind his head. "Wouldn't be fun at all if there wasn't something on the line."
Obinai narrows his eyes, digesting that. He swallows, unsure if it's adrenaline or something heavier sitting in his chest. "Dude." He exhales sharply. "What is wrong with you?"
Bram glances back. "That's what everyone says." His expression turns thoughtful. "Dunno yet." Then, with a clap of his hands, he brightens. "Now! Ready to continue the tour?"
Obinai glances at him, then up at the dorm building. The window they'd jumped from is perfectly intact. He blinks. The fractured glass should still be there—he heard it shatter. Instead, not even a crack remains. He exhales a short chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so…"
Bram grins wider, satisfied. "Good. Next stop—the secret underground cavern."
They start walking, the campus unfolding around them as the walk beyond a cant bit of greenery behind the dorms...
Bram waves a hand as he speaks. "Okay, so there's only one stop on this little tour—"
Obinai cuts him a look. "That's not a tour. That's just walking somewhere."
"Eh..." Bram dismisses it with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Point is, the older students hang out at the other places, and I really don't wanna get in trouble again."
Obinai raises a brow. "Again?"
Bram sighs dramatically, then gestures toward his own head. "Yeah. My, uh… brain's kinda wired weird." He makes a vague circling motion near his temple. "See, when I get into fights, I smile."
Obinai frowns. "What?"
"Like, a lot," Bram continues, grin creeping back onto his face as he talks. "To the point where I tear the skin at the corners of my mouth sometimes."
Obinai stares. His brain feeds him exactly two thoughts.
He's a lunatic.
Can I switch dorms?
Instead, he just says, "That's… great, man." A long pause. Then, "I'm new to everything here, so I guess I'm just glad someone's being nice to me despite…" He gestures at himself vaguely. "The fact that I'm basically the enemy."
Bram scoffs, waving it off. "That's dumb." Then he grins. "But for real, this cavern under the academy? Nice hangout spot. A lot of the younger students go there to relax."
Obinai gives him a wary glance. "Are you sure I should be going there?"
Bram chuckles under his breath. "Not really." Then, more playfully, "Besides, I get almost the same amount of hate as you." He gestures toward himself, half-smirking. "I might not be the 'enemy,' but I do have the brand of both traitor and lowly mixed blood."
Obinai watches Bram carefully, trying to read past the easy grin, but Bram just keeps walking.
They reach a secluded part of the academy grounds, near an old, ivy-covered wall. Bram pushes aside a section of the ivy to reveal a hidden entrance.
"Here we are," Bram says, his voice light and almost mischievous. "Watch your step."
Obinai follows Bram as they descend. The air shifts, becoming cooler and thick with humidity. His boots crunch against the rocky ground. The walls are alive, covered in plants that pulse with a soft bioluminescence, casting an eerie greenish glow that dances across the jagged stones. A steady drip of water echoes around them, soft at first, but growing in volume as they move deeper. It creates a rhythm that's both calming and unsettling.
Obinai can't help but stare, his eyes wide. The further they walk, the more surreal it feels. "Wow," he breathes.
Bram chuckles at this. "I know, right? I overheard some dark elves and a few noble first years talking about it with the second years when I moved in. They were trying to keep it a secret, but I've got good ears. Found the entrance just yesterday." His voice carries a sense of smug satisfaction that almost makes Obinai roll his eyes, but at the same time, he can't help but feel a little impressed.
Obinai glances over at Bram, his thoughts already spiraling. Great. A secret cavern that only the nobles are supposed to know about. What could possibly go wrong?
"You've only been here three days," Obinai says, eyebrows raised, "and you've already found this?"
Bram just shrugs. "What can I say? Exploring's a hobby of mine." He pauses, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And sometimes, you stumble upon some really cool stuff."
Obinai bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to let his nerves show. Yep, definitely a bad idea.
They continue through the winding tunnel, the walls narrowing and then widening as they go. Small pools of crystal-clear water glisten in the soft glow of the plants, their surfaces undisturbed, reflecting the faint light in beautiful patterns. Obinai stops by one, crouching down to touch the surface. The water is cold, but it feels fresh.
"Look at this one," Bram says. He points at a rock formation ahead. It's tall and smooth, glowing with a soft, blue light that seems to hum. The light is unlike anything Obinai's ever seen—like the color of the ocean at midnight.
Obinai stares at it, almost mesmerized. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice distant. "It's like something out of a dream."
The deeper they go, the more the cavern shifts around them. The bioluminescent plants grow thicker, their glow becoming denser and more vibrant as they continue...
Suddenly, they reach a small underground waterfall. The water cascades down the rocks in a rush, splashing into a shimmering pool below. The mist rises up in soft clouds, refreshing in the cool air. Obinai closes his eyes, letting the mist kiss his skin, breathing in the scent of the damp stone and fresh water.
"This is crazy, man," he says, his voice echoing softly.
They sit on a flat rock near the waterfall, the mist from the water cooling the sweat on Obinai's brow. The air smells faintly of earth, moss, and something sweetly pungent, like the scent of damp leaves after a rainstorm. The cavern feels alive around them, like it's holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. It's quiet, almost too quiet, and for a moment, Obinai feels a strange kind of peace wash over him.
"So...?" Bram asks.
Obinai hesitates. He manages a small smile, unsure of how to respond. "It's alright, man."
Bram nods, pleased, clearly satisfied with his discovery. " Yeah. Perfect for when you need to get away—"
His voice falters, and he stops mid-sentence, his expression shifting. Obinai follows his gaze. Faint sounds reach his ears—voices, footsteps, murmurs—coming from deeper within the cavern. Bram's eyes narrow. "Shoot... Looks like there are others here."
Obinai stands quickly, a jolt of anxiety shooting through him. Should've known it wouldn't be that quiet forever... He tries to steady his breathing.
"Do you think we should..." Obinai starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. What does he even say? Do I want to find out who's down here? His instincts scream to turn around, to get out before things get complicated, but he can't shake the feeling...
Bram holds up a hand. "Relax. It's just some other students, hanging out."
They move cautiously forward, their breaths quiet. The murmurs ahead grow sharper, voices dipping into hushed tones, threading through the cavern's damp air.
Obinai swallows hard. Why are we going toward it? His hands clench at his sides. This should be where we turn around. Where we walk the other way. Where we mind our damn business.
He sneaks a glance at Bram, searching for some kind of cue, some confirmation that they should leave. But in the dim glow of the cavern, Bram's face is shrouded in shadow. His posture is relaxed—too relaxed. Is he really not worried? Obinai exhales sharply through his nose.
I can't afford to get in trouble. His fingers twitch, resisting the urge to turn back. This is supposed to be a new start. He rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the unease sitting heavy in his gut. I can be different. His jaw sets. I will be different.
And yet, his legs feel like lead as he keeps moving forward.
Bram edges ahead. He peers around the corner before pulling back and turning to Obinai with a whisper. "Shit... it's some dark elves."
Obinai, despite himself, finds his curiosity piqued. He pushes past Bram and crouches. The tension in his shoulders is palpable as he peers around the corner.
A group of dark elves is gathered by a large, shimmering pool of water. The elves' skin is a smooth, ash-gray, their features sharp, noble, and undeniably striking. Some have sleek hair that falls straight down their backs like a glossy curtain, while others sport intricate locs adorned with tiny silver beads and glowing charms that catch the faint light, shimmering like stars in the cavern's dark embrace.
Obinai feels a wave of discomfort settle in his stomach. _This feels wrong...
But he leans closer trying to catch every word, his heart pounding in his chest...
"We must exercise caution," one of the dark elves with sleek, silver-touched hair says. "The teachers are becoming increasingly suspicious of our late-night trainings. We must be more discreet."
A second dark elf, his hair twisted into elaborate locs adorned with delicate onyx beads, speaks next, his voice smooth. "I've heard whispers that Professor Tharion was asking questions today. If we're not careful, the wrong eyes might fall upon us."
Another elf, standing slightly apart from the group, laughs softly, a mocking undertone in his voice. His sharp, angular features are softened by the slight amusement in his dark eyes. "Let them be suspicious. They have no proof, no real evidence. We've made sure of that."
Obinai notices the elegant, almost deliberate movements of their hands as they speak. They all wear tailored outfits—fitted tunics of deep purples and blacks. Their garments shimmer faintly with a metallic sheen, blending an almost regal formality with a subtle edge. Their boots, finely crafted, scrape quietly on the stone.
Then, in the midst of the group, one elf stands apart. She draws Obinai's gaze like a magnet. She's tall, almost statuesque, with an aura of quiet command. Her hair, midnight-black and woven into locs that seem to twist but cascade down her back, frames her sharp, aristocratic face. Her clothes, darker than the rest, cling to her form. Her piercing violet eyes seem to glow faintly in the light.
Who... is she? His heart skips a beat, and he feels an unfamiliar heat rise to his face.
He doesn't even realize that he's staring until Bram's voice cuts through the silence, a quiet hiss. "That's Lyra Valthoris," he whispers, his voice strained. "She's one of the best incoming martial artists at the academy. I... I wouldn't try anything if I were you. It's not a good idea to approach her, especially without a reason."
Obinai's gaze lingers on Lyra, the pull of her presence refusing to release him. Why not? He thinks, frustration brewing. What's the harm? The voices of the dark elves fade into the background as he thinks only of her. I'm here, why not go all the way?
Before he can talk himself out of it, his feet are already moving. He stands straighter, his palms sweating. I have no idea what I'm doing...
"Wish me luck," he whispers to Bram, his voice tight, determined.
Bram grabs his arm in protest, eyes wide. "Obinai, wait! You don't know—"
But it's too late. Obinai strides into the open space, making his way toward the group of elves, his mind racing. His breath catches as he approaches Lyra, and his voice falters, but he forces the words out. "Hi, I'm Obinai. I—"
Before he can finish his sentence, everything goes black.
The sudden impact feels like being slammed against the very core of the earth. Obinai's body slams into the cavern wall with a sickening thud. His stomach lurches, and a sharp, biting pain erupts in his side. He gasps, the air knocked out of him, the cavern spinning around him as he collapses to the ground. The stone is cold beneath him, the rough texture digging into his back. His lungs burn as he coughs violently, trying to breathe, but it feels like someone's holding his chest in a vice.
Through blurred vision, he sees her—Lyra. She stands above him, her leg still poised in the air from the kick that sent him crashing. Her violet eyes are calm, but there's an edge of something dangerous in them. Her posture is perfect.
Obinai struggles to push himself up, pain radiating through him with every movement. What just happened?
"You…" His voice is ragged, barely above a whisper. "What the hell…?"
"Who the hell are you?" Lyra demands, her voice cold and dangerous.
Obinai struggles to catch his breath, wheezing, "I... just wanted... to say hi..."
Lyra narrows her violet eyes. "A human… all the way out here?"
A tall, lean dark elf steps forward, his straight black hair tied into a sleek ponytail. His lips curl into a sneer. "A human?" He exhales. "You must be jesting. Surely, this is some elaborate prank." His silver eyes flick to the others before settling back on Obinai. "Has the headmaster utterly lost his mind? A forsaken walking among us?"
A ripple of murmurs spreads through the group. Another elf, broad-shouldered with meticulously kept locs adorned with silver rings, crosses his arms. His dark, embroidered coat shifts with the movement, the high collar accentuating the sharp angles of his face. "I believed humans were banished for a reason," he muses. "And yet here you are, sullying this sacred ground with your presence."
A third elf, draped in a flowing, dark coat lined with brass filigree, steps closer, peering down at Obinai. "Is that truly what a human looks like?" He tilts his head. "I had expected something… more. But I suppose the stories do have a tendency to embellish."
The first elf smirks, leaning in ever so slightly, his voice dropping into a mocking whisper. "Tell me, little forsaken, do you even comprehend where you stand? Or did you simply wander here like a lost mutt, sniffing after scraps?"
Obinai, still gasping from the earlier blow, barely has the strength to respond. He grits his teeth, but before he can utter a word—
A sickening thud fills the cavern.
The dark elf is sent reeling, his body twisting midair before he crashes against the jagged wall with enough force to shake dust loose from the cavern ceiling. A sharp gasp ripples through the group as they recoil in shock, their hands instinctively reaching for hidden weapons.
Lyra's expression hardens. Her posture remains still, but there's a dangerous tension in the way she slowly exhales.
A dark elf with shoulder-length hair, fastened at the sides with silver pins, steps forward, his fingers flexing. "Who in the abyss do you think you are?"
Bram shakes his hand out, rolling his shoulders as he plants himself firmly in front of Obinai. His grin is absent, replaced with something eerily casual. "Name's Bram," he says, his voice steady. "And this is my roommate, Obinai. We were just exploring. No need for all the theatrics."
Lyra finally moves, stepping forward. "You have a great deal of audacity," she says, her voice like ice. "Wandering into a place where you do not belong. And your friend—" her eyes flick to Bram, then back to Obinai, "—seems to have forgotten his place entirely."
Obinai, still aching, forces himself upright. He sways slightly but holds his ground, inhaling through gritted teeth. Then, against all better judgment, he exhales sharply and mutters, "What the fuck are you talking about?"
A heartbeat passes.
Then, he tilts his head and smirks, eyes locking with Lyra's. "Maybe you should learn some manners your damn self, Lyra. Not everyone enjoys your bitchy welcome wagon."
The cavern falls deathly silent.
Obinai's brain catches up a second too late. Oh. Shit.
Bram flinches. Then his eyes widen, flicking between Lyra's unreadable face and Obinai's defiant stance. He sucks in a sharp breath as if about to intervene, but then his lips twitch—his expression twists—his shoulders shake.
"Dude," Bram whispers, voice tight, like he's trying to suppress something.
Then, despite himself, he snorts.
He chuckles.
Obinai's stomach twists. Great. He might be just as bad as I am.
"Stop, man," Bram mutters, still grinning, forcing himself to swallow his laughter.
Lyra's expression shifts from surprise to something colder. Her piercing violet eyes narrow, and when she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "I can forgive one offense. Striking my companion, as insufferable as he may be, could be excused… but how dare you address me so casually?"
The cavern air feels heavier. Lyra takes a deliberate step forward, her boot slamming against the stone with a sharp crack. The moment her foot touches the ground, she vanishes.
Obinai's breath catches. His instincts scream at him, his body moving before his mind catches up. "[Shield]!"
A shimmering barrier flickers to life around him just as something slams into the back of his head. The force sends him hurtling across the cavern, his body twisting midair. He crashes against the opposite wall, the impact rattling his bones. The shield absorbs just enough of the blow to keep him conscious, but pain still lances through his skull, ringing in his ears like a struck bell.
He barely has time to shake off the daze before Lyra materializes in front of him, her silhouette a blur. Her fist is already drawn back, aimed straight for his face.
Then, just before the strike lands, Bram steps in.
His hand catches Lyra's punch mid-air with a forceful clap of flesh against flesh. A breath later, he drives his palm into her abdomen, sending her stumbling back.
"Enough!" His voice booms through the cavern.
The dark elves erupt into motion. Those who had been lounging now stand rigid, weapons glinting in the dim light. The elf with sleek hair pulled into a tight ponytail, unsheathes twin daggers, their edges catching the faint glow of the bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cavern walls. The other dark elf, his locs adorned with delicate silver beads, rises to his feet. His fingers flex like a musician preparing to play. As his hands curl, a shadow-like substance slithers over his fingers, coiling around them like living ink...
Lyra recovers instantly, rolling her shoulders, her stance sinking into something predatory. "You dare interfere?"
Bram doesn't move, standing tall in the dim glow, his orange skin casting warm hues against the cavern walls. His grin remains, but it no longer reaches his eyes. "We didn't come here to fight," he says. "But I'm not gonna let you take his head off."
Obinai groans, staggering to his feet, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's right, Lyra," he says, voice rough from exertion. "We didn't come looking for trouble." He huffs out a small laugh, despite the pain. "But, damn. You hit like a truck."
Lyra's eyes flash. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."
Obinai rolls his shoulders, wincing. "And you have no idea how much of a bitch you are."
A sharp intake of breath from the dark elves.
Bram exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "Obinai, you're gonna get us killed."
Another one of the dark elves, the one with the beaded locs, steps forward, tapping his staff against the cavern floor. Sparks of energy flicker at its tip. "You shouldn't have—" He pauses, his head tilting as he studies Bram. Recognition flickers in his eyes. "Wait... I know you."
Bram's grin doesn't falter.
The elf glances at his companions, nudging one with the back of his hand. "Classes haven't even begun, and yet you have already been shuffled between dormitories, discarded like a broken chess piece." He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "How many has it been? Five? Six? The others grew weary of you, didn't they? Too much energy? Too much noise?" He feigns deep thought, tapping his chin with a gloved finger. "No… it must have been that ridiculous grin of yours. Always there, no matter the circumstance." His smirk sharpens. "Can't seem to make it go away, can you?"
For a moment, Obinai swears Bram's smile does falter—just a flicker, just enough to make his expression seem… off. Then, like a well-practiced mask, it smooths back into place. He exhales, slow and measured, before finally letting out a low chuckle.
"Damn," Bram mutters under his breath. "Now I'm gonna be in trouble too."
Then, before anyone can react, he makes an exaggerated, mocking gesture—a sweeping bow so theatrical it almost looks rehearsed. His arms stretch wide, one foot sliding back, his head dipping low as though addressing nobility at a grand court. Then he straightens, rolling his shoulders with feigned nonchalance.
He clicks his tongue and smirks. "Shiver me motherfucking timbers, man."
Obinai blinks. What.
Bram tilts his head, eyeing the elf's beaded locs. "Nice beads," he muses. "Tell me, did you steal those from some poor merchant's display, or did your dear grandmother string them together while thinking about her youth?"
The cavern drops into silence.
The elf's smirk vanishes. His expression twists, nostrils flaring. "You filthy cretin," he spits, his knuckles tightening around his staff. The violet energy crackling at its tip flares brighter, casting jagged shadows against the cavern walls. "I am Kaelen of House Eryndor—an heir to a name that commands reverence. You would do well to learn respect."
Bram's grin remains fixed in place. "Damn," he says with a faux-impressed whistle. "A real noble, huh?" His expression turns thoughtful. "So do I bow, or would a curtsy be more appropriate?"
Kaelen's staff hums ominously.
Obinai sighs internally. So this is who I'm rooming with.
Kaelen's fingers twitch around his staff, shadows flickering along its length as his lips curl. "Unlike the idle vagabonds you seem accustomed to, we are a lineage of scholars and warriors, refined in both art and war. But I wouldn't expect a brute like you to grasp such distinctions."
Bram tilts his head, grin widening. "Oh, I grasp it just fine. Sounds like a place where you all sit around admiring yourselves in polished mirrors and giving long-winded speeches about your greatness. How exhausting that must be." He folds his arms, feigning deep contemplation. "No wonder the other elves barely tolerate you. All that self-importance must be contagious."
Kaelen's expression darkens. "You insufferable cur," he hisses. "You will regret—"
A heavy presence shifts the air.
Slow footsteps echo against the cavern walls. A figure ducks under the entrance, towering over everyone present. The orc is a mountain of muscle, his presence alone enough to still the rising storm. Deep, earthen green skin stretched over broad shoulders, his frame wrapped in thick, worn leathers adorned delicate metal plating. Talismans of varying sizes hang from his belt. His piercing yellow eyes sweep across the room.
"What's all this?" His voice is a low rumble, a thing of stone and thunder.
Kaelen stiffens, inhaling sharply before inclining his head. "Grom," he says, voice carefully measured. "These two—" he gestures at Bram and Obinai with a flick of his wrist, "—wandered where they had no place to be. And rather than recognize their folly, they chose to disgrace themselves with crude tongues and untempered arrogance."
Grom exhales through his nose, unimpressed. His gaze shifts to Bram and Obinai. "That true?"
Bram steps forward, casual as ever. "We were just looking around. Didn't realize we wandered into someone's private club."
Obinai shoots him a look, thinking to himself, We absolutely did. He literally told me.
Bram spreads his hands. "Didn't mean to ruffle any feathers, but things got a little… lively."
Obinai scoffs under his breath, still rubbing his ribs. "Didn't expect them to be so damn dramatic about it, though."
Grom's eyes flick between them before settling back on Kaelen. "And what, exactly, were you planning to do? Run them through over a few misplaced words?"
Kaelen straightens. "Respect is not freely given, nor should it be. It is earned, upheld, and when necessary, demanded." He glances at Lyra, a silent exchange passing between them before he returns his sharp gaze to Grom. "Certain transgressions require addressing."
Grom exhales, long and weary, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And that, right there, is the problem." His hand drops, and he turns back to Bram and Obinai. "You two. With me. Let's sort this out before someone does something we all regret."
Obinai and Bram exchange a glance before following Grom toward the cavern's exit. The tension lingers behind them. But as they near the threshold, Obinai slows just enough to glance over his shoulder.
"Hey, Lyra," he calls, voice carrying through the quiet. "You'd be a lot prettier if you didn't sound like you were reading off some decree every time you spoke." He grins, sharp and teasing. "Might even take you on a date if you worked on that charm of yours..."