Rion mutes the music, but I take the ear bud out to be sure, as the man before us beams with excitement.
“Good morning, students. How did everyone like the introduction to this year’s Institute Games?” he asks, cocking a brow as he peruses the room. A smattering of grumbles echoes around the space, everyone in agreement over how it didn’t need to be the middle of the night, and we didn’t need to be woken as if we were about to bekilled. He shakes his head in amusement when everyone quiets back down. “If anything, it should be an excellent indication of what is to come,” he adds, and I’m not the only one with trepidation, making my jaw fall slack as surprise widens my eyes.
“Are you saying the rebellions are likely to be involved in the games?” someone asks from section two, and Professor Grimm waves them off dismissively.
“Of course not, but it might be as brutal,” his eyebrows wag with that tidbit of information as a low hiss ricochets around the room and more than a few people inhale sharply through clenched teeth; me being one of them. If Professor Grimm notices our discomfort, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he plants his hands on his hips as he smiles widely at everyone. “Who can tell me when the last rebellion attack was?”
I follow his gaze around the room, unaware of the answer, when he aims his finger at section one, waiting for someone to speak.
“Two months ago,” the girl grumbles, and Grimm nods.
“That’s right. How many deaths did we accrue?” he pushes, and the girl clears her throat.
“Twelve.”
Shock rocks me to my core. All I can do is gape at the professor as I let that truth settle in.
“Is he serious?” I finally rasp, glancing at Rion out of the corner of my eye, and he grimaces as he nods. I slump back in my seat in disbelief.
“This is the fiftieth anniversary of The Institute Games. I feel it may bring the same level of carnage,” he explains, referring to the rebellion attacks, and I gulp, fear clinging to my limbs like it has a permanent home in me now. “Have no fear, it is my job to aid you as best as I can, but only for this lesson, as come Friday evening, when the introduction into the games finally comes, I will be assigned to mentor one institute, and one institute only, just as twelve other professors will be assigned their groups too.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment before he clears his throat. “Any questions?”
“Overall, what do the games entail?” Tiran asks, the uncertainty in his eyes catching me by surprise, but Professor Grimm welcomes the question.
“On Friday, when the first games are announced, each institute will be assigned a mentor and given their team’s colors to represent. The first game will proceed straight after that. What it will entail, I do not know, but thirteen groups shallenter, and only ten may venture on to the next level.”
“They axe three the first time around?” a guy from institute eleven blurts, and Grimm nods, the pride in his eyes unwavering as he peers over the sea of students.
“Always. As each game unfolds, fewer and fewer will advance to the next round until only two institutions remain. One will be crowned the victor, while the other falls at the final hurdle.”
I rub my lips together nervously when silence descends over the room again. Professor Grimm raises his eyebrows, openly waiting for more questions, and before I can doubt myself, I speak. “What have these games involved previously?”
He points a finger at me, his smile spreading wider as though he was waiting precisely for that question. “That’s not for me to say, but maybe for you to research,” he answers cryptically, and I frown.
“Where?” Ocean asks, backing my thoughts as Grimm taps at his temple.
“In here.”
Whispers dance in the air as Rion clears his throat. “Are we supposed to take it or something?”
Grimm all but leaps into the air with glee. “Yes.”
“But only vampires can dive deep into your mind,” Willow hollers from across the room, and Grimm cocks a brow at her.
“And shadow fae,” he adds, as every set of eyes, including mine, turns to the man sitting behind me. He remains unfazed, his brown hair cutting across his eyes, partially hiding him from view. I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip as I feast on him, but I barely get a few seconds to secretly admire him before Willow’s shrill voice cuts through the air again.
“And if you’re not one of them?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest with frustration as Grimm stuffs his hand into his blazer pocket.
“You can use this,” he replies, revealing a gold piece of ribbon with a small clouded orb of glass swinging at the end of it.
“Spit it out then, Professor,” Willow snaps with irritation.
Grimm doesn’t miss a beat, lifting the sphere to his lips. His mouth moves, but I have no idea what he says. A moment later, Willow stands, her arms dropping to her sides as she heads for the stairs at her left. She hurries down them and out of the room without a backward glance, leaving all of her belongings at her seat as everyone blinks between the vacant space and Grimm.
“This is The Veilstone. It gives you the ability to delve into someone’s mind, or encourage them to do as you wish.” He points to the door, reconfirming the fact that Willow is no longer here, and I quickly connect the dots to realize that whatever he whispered to the orb played a role in her hightailing it out of the room.
Holy crap.
“Now that I have your attention and forced respect, I offer you this: solve the riddle, and you shall receive The Veilstone as your prize, thus, earning a view of past game events up here.” He taps his temple again for good measure. “I have no mouth, yet I speak. I have no ears, yet I listen. I am born when you call, and I vanish when ignored. What am I?”
