Hera knew, by the ring of the school’s name and the presence of a multi-billionaire, Patrick Hemmingworth, that the school would be beyond anything she’d seen all her life—and she wasn’t wrong. As she slumped on the bed, groaning at the soreness of her feet, she kept her eyes at the slow turn of the ceiling fan, wondering what it’s for when the room was already colder than Mother Tere’s freezing office. She shuddered, as though thinking about it alone was like being back in there.
Sighing, she remembered what Patrick had said, and it didn’t give her comfort.
“Let’s just say this school is where people like you—capabilities discovered or unused—congregate. If you still don’t understand, by all means go and reveal what’s inside it, just don’t expect the world to believe you.” He winked with a surreptitious grin. “Humans are more dimwitted than you think you are.”
Kioven made sure to drop Hera to their next class, warning her that if she’d be late once again, she’d have to face the ‘Standout League.’ Instead of feeling threatened, Hera felt thrilled. Ever since she entered the school, she’d wanted a word to Sheels, but they never crossed paths yesterday.Their classes were held in a building way ahead of the dormitory; in the Southern wing of the school where towers of buildings made Hera looked like a struggling ant. She didn’t know how many students the school could administer, but considering the space, she could guess they’re plenty.Unlike the dormitory, the classroom had a glass double-door that only admitted students when they’ve given their code and digitized password. From inside, she could feel the stares of her classmates, intrigued or what Hera didn’t care, for her whole being was poured to Kioven who was giving her final reminders and instructions, too, as to how
Had Hera been given a choice, she wouldn’t have spent her time in the Filling Realm where she would be ogled at by the students. For goodness sake, she wasn’t some kind of a display in a museum to have their attention like that. Though a part of her already agreed that the fact that she was a scholar of the president himself made her such a glimmering trophy amidst the glory of a gallery, it irked her all the same when their heads turned toward her as she walked in.The Filling Realm was like a small colosseum, covered so perfectly in white, a splendid travertine stone slabs rounding it. Circle in shape, the tables were arranged in a way that curved in the corners, giving a wide berth on the elevated stage where the likes of Hera could sit. From the glass table and throne-like chairs, they were made to look like the glistening pride cased on the grounds of the building.As Hera made to sit on the far left side of the table, the scholars already seated there
How Hera, with her head pounding so hard and her whole being shaken, managed to walk back to her dormitory, she’d never known. All that made absolute sense for her was that she put a lot of distance between her and Ms. Lourdes’s office. It seemed that she had done her detention for only an hour, but which seemed to her as though an eternity of screaming. Ms. Lourdes wasn’t even keen on letting her go; however, she had no choice since Hera had already been conscious of the fact that all of those terrible things she’d seen and experience were nothing but a figment of her distorted mind.“I never did like Ms. Lourdes’s Torture chamber,” Kioven had said as though by doing so, he’d console Hera’s disconcerted soul. She could remember grunting as a response and carefully shutting the door before slumping down to her bed, lying horrorstruck at the thought of the said chamber.She couldn’t really say what constituted
Hera had never all her life experienced a dreadful first week in her whole year of education. This was saying something, as she’s often besieged by the idea that no subject or teacher whatsoever would get into her nerves. Now, however, she seemed to have developed a keen understanding that meeting Ms. Lourdes would, if not always, led her to more detention, which, without a doubt, would twist her sanity. Nonetheless, it was with great relief that she had no scheduled class with her on Friday. It’s the only day of the week she knew would be free from her scorn and snide remarks that if she didn’t improve over the next few days, she’d keep detaining her in that Torture Chamber. Though quite shaken, she really had no idea what she’s supposed to answer when she didn’t even understand half of what she’s saying?Aside from Ms. Lourdes, the other teachers seemed to not mind Hera being quiet all the time, not when many students were raising t
Hera, who was expecting the weekends to be a much more enjoyable affair, now groaned as she dragged her feet toward another office of yet another teacher. It was a fine Saturday, the sky a forget-me-not blue, drifted carelessly by some tiny clouds, which did not reflect the gloom now slithering from insider her, a savage snake rising in response to her glares to the oblivious Amira. She was most enthusiastic about this. She had round them up just after breakfast and decided that they should do their detention now if they wanted to finish it by Friday. Hera agreed despite her desire to spend the time in her room. This was partly because Amira didn’t disclose what Hera had done, and partly because Hera was now hoping to get a whiff of the Standouts League.As the main reason she accepted the invitation in the first place was to unravel the secret of her body, she’s becoming more and more desperate to meet Sheels once again. She knew it was only a matter of time befo
Hera, after accepting Patrick Hemmingworth’s offer, had been trapped in an already tight-knit, which became a lot firmer as days passed. From Ms. Lourdes who kept giving her detentions any way possible, Kioven nagging her how best to behave and what’s expected of a special scholar like her, to the arrival of the Standouts League that, according to the hysterics students, was more likely a perfectly placed net over them. Not only would their movement be restricted, but they’d also have to keep up with new additional rules this League would announce later on in the meeting. If it’s a question of choosing to attend or not, Hera would have picked the latter without much thought; however, something about the anxious look on Kioven’s face as he cornered her just outside the building of the dormitory earlier bothered her. It was almost as though he’s as shaken as the students, and that’s saying something. After all, he’s a part of the staff, no matter how young he might look.
The breeze of the evening wind was cold and tensed. There’s only silent, almost mournful, murmur in the Filling Hall, which made the food served on a silver platter trivial, pointless even. So, eating rather hastily, she made to go back to her dorm, deciding to sleep early despite the pile of homework she still had. Hopefully, the arrival of the Standouts League would make the teachers a little bit tolerant. “A word, Hera, if you please.” Hera almost jumped as Kioven’s voice rang in the silence of the doorway. He was leaning, arms crossed, on the doorframe, wearing a smug look, and was staring into nothingness, his eyes out of focus. Looking over her shoulder, she saw no disturbance from the others who were too busy talking with each other, barely eating. Sighing, she looked back at Kioven. Now that she knew who and what position he’s in, it seemed as though Hera’s seeing him in a new light. It was, after all, not an easy feat to be a Minister in his age. She
Hera woke with a start on Tuesday, a tight knot on the pits of her stomach making her body a little heavy. She sat straight, wiping the wet off her cheeks, and stared at the open window. A feeble light was starting to creep upward, crowning the still, dark horizon a tinge of brightness. Hera sighed. Another day was rising, yet she didn’t feel elated. She dreaded the time when the sky would turn blue and the sun was already way up above, for then she would have no excuse but to face the school. It’s not hard to guess by now that it would be just as miserable as her former week, or even worst, considering the terrible presence of the League.For a moment there she didn’t know why she’s sinking in misery, but the sight of a pamphlet lying helplessly on the tiled ground brought the memory back. She felt a little queasy. Shaking it off, she went to the comfort room and lay on the tub. It’s starting to become a hobby of hers. Waking up, resting on the
Hera used to be a dark rose whose thorns prick anyone brave enough to draw closer. She spewed this kind of scent creeping the hell out of everyone within the radius and even went so far as to cover her face and keep her voice to herself just to annoy their shits.But the truth about it was rooted in her sense of mistrust toward humans. With everything that she’d gone through, her seclusion was such a thick defense mechanism keeping her from ever falling to the bait of insanity.Eyes were the window to the soul. It spoke of a language complex than the verbal dialogue, and so, it revealed everything the mouth couldn’t express. Likewise, the tone of her voice would bring out some emotions she was trying so much to keep hidden. This was to be the reason why she threw the curtains of her hair down her face and tolerate the rumor of her being mute.Even with the many layers erected around her, it didn’t stop the League and Kioven to penet
Hera couldn’t help but smile as she stared at the League. She understood now that she made the right call of trusting them. Whether or not the president was accurate to say none of them trusted her, it no longer mattered. They had their reasons why they have kept some things from her. She didn’t even need to hear it. All it took was the big curves on their lips despite their body cradled by wounds to assure her that, no matter what happens, they have each other’s back. When the president started throwing the ruble off him, Hera realized they wouldn’t get out of here unscathed anymore. The look on his face as he wiped off dirt out of Ivy’s body and the energy projecting around him like a wildfire ready to consume anyone near its radius was enough confirmatio
Never did it cross Hera’s mind that she’d be facing her sister once again, not especially in a situation where she was forced to choose whether or not to free her from her misery or save herself. The decision was made even before she could think about it. The president knew that and he was taking full advantage of it.Guilt weighed her enough for the past few days, years even; now that she had an option to lift the burden on her sister’s shoulder, she, of course, would not hesitate to prioritize her welfare even at the expense of her own. Of course, knowing the president, it would be naïve to think he would just let go of his slave even if Hera was to bargain herself, so either she thought fast of defeating him or die trying in t
All her life was a series of unfortunate events; almost always, it was a human who brought about the worst of it. She hated herself for what she was and for what freak she was slowly becoming. It wasn’t her idea to keep going back and forth in trusting people, but she couldn’t say she could go all out in doing so either, especially not when, every now and then, she turned out to be a witness of how ugly things could be once people put their mind on it.But haven’t she proved some had no potential of morphing into a monster she knew she feared? Or were they merely neglected in the back of her mind as her own prejudices filmed into the surface?
Elena stood looking up at the rosy hue across the now clearing sky, the golden fingers of the young sun piercing through the grayish clouds. She breathed heavily as a breeze ruffled the blonde lock of her hair. Closing her eyes, she clenched her fist on the hilt of her sword. It didn’t take her a long time to unsheathe and slash it in the air with such precision that she made a straight line. A yellow flash followed the trail of the track her sword had taken just as a big crack wounded the dimension.A smirk made its way to her lips when a sound of breaking china echoed and a glass-like dome fell like curtains on the ground to reveal the street where thousands of warriors were slain, lying helpless on the pool of their own blood. Wheeling around, she found Hera’s uncon
Hera had never thought the day would come she’d stand to face death with nothing but a dagger and her ability to boot. It seemed she simply made the wrong decision of picking this sharp, pointed knife, but if she had chosen a sword or any other weapon perhaps, would she have time to master them? In any case, compared to the woman now sprinting toward them, her eyes intent at Hera, malice and thrill apparent in its glint, her sword-wielding would probably be trivial.“Are we just going to stand here and wait?” whispered Yara, her voice breaking a little.Sheels breathed heavily. “We don
Style and Trust. Those were two of the many valuable things Hera had learned being with the League and were basically something she never would have cared about. Looking back, she was a rogue orphan, of whose being were even to darkness incomparable. There was too much she was containing inside her that her soul sort of just became evil. She isolated herself, push everyone who dared walk on the line of her boundary without much contemplation. She was afraid. It was a human that brought about her suffering, so why should the others be any different?And so, she lived most of her life always guarding her back in case someone tried to be sneaky and stab her from behind. She hated herself for what she was, but she had also learned that living in the past would n
When Hera woke up, it took her a moment to realize why she had opened her eyes. Hadn’t she already covered that she did die? Or was it just some kind of dream while she’s perfectly awake? One thing’s for sure, though. It was not Sheels’s memory. If it was, which she doubted, she should have remembered it. Besides, as far as the world was concerned, she was yet to venture into any forest, let alone be trapped in the middle of it. If she had only forgotten it, it should have struck a certain recollection. Since nothing made sense, then it could either be a premonition or a terrible nightmare.“You haven’t told her yet?”“That’s terrible, Sheels!”
“I won’t back down anymore. This time it’s different—I’m different. Take me as a trainee once again.”After walking out from the training and hyperventilating in front of Kioven, Hera trailed for how many days, weighing down chances, and thinking over everything that had transpired. She had never seen a single strand of the League, for she once again locked herself inside her dorm that was now fixed to the way it was before as though she had never destroyed it in the first place.“I confess myself disappointed, Hera,” started Sheels, sipping her cup of coffee, though