“I have a full curriculum, and I’m very busy. If you don’t have a question—”
“I’d like to read more about the history of the Greed Rebellion,” I say, my brain kicking into survival mode.Think, think, think.
“I’d like additional reading material?”
As if I don’t have enough going on already...smart Arwen.Let's give ourselves more homework. That's a good solution.
He blinks, thrown off for a second. “Sure,” he says, his voice almost a bit softer now. “I can lend you my personal copy of Greed Wars Through the Millennia.” He reaches into the drawer of his desk and pulls out an old-looking leather-bound book. It’s heavy, aged.
“Thanks.” I mutter quickly as I take the book. The words feel hollow.
I walk out of the classroom and down the hall feeling more confused than ever, clutching the book to my chest.
But then something shifts.
The pull in my chest, the familiar tug from the bond, eases, just a little. I look down at the book, the leather cover warm. The scent — the subtle mix of paper, ink, and... him. It’s faint, but it’s there. The bond feels less suffocating. Like it’s purring.
I know that I’m not crazy.
This is real. I feel it.
Maybe the book will help. Maybe this is the way to ease the constant ache in my chest — even if it’s just a little.
And for the first time in hours, I can breathe. Not much, but enough to stop spiraling for a while.
13
Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Sin Power
Arwen
The second I step into the Wrath training arena, I’m hit with the smell of dirt, sweat, and burnt ozone.
Home.
It’s smaller than the Apex Arena back home, less bloodstained, too… but the layout is almost identical. Dirt-packed floors, rune-lined stone walls, and semicircle seating up above, except instead of spectator stands, we’ve got stiff academy desks.
Gladiator arena meets exam room. Welcome to Wrath education.
I breathe it in and almost forget I’m not allowed to do anything in this class.
My chest tightens. My palms itch for something—anything—to ignite. But all I have is the echo of what I lack. This area is for Wrath faction members, for me, and knowing I’m going to spend the entire period sitting on my hands because the evil universe still hasn’t seen fit to give me a power. I belong here, but instead of fighting, I am a glorified spectator.
At least I’m not alone.
I spot Brix right away, stretched out in his desk like he owns the place — one foot on the seat in front of him, arms behind his head,brown curls in his face and looking about five seconds from falling asleep. Holly’s beside him, her short curly hair woven into braids and pulled back tight, her goggles already perched on her forehead like she’s just waiting for the chance to burn something. And Sly, of course, slouching just enough to make it look casual, flips a coin between his fingers like he's bored with reality itself.
I drop into the empty seat next to Brix with a sigh and kick my bag under the desk.
“Tough morning, little sinless?” Brix mutters, low enough so no one else hears.
I shoot him a glare for the nickname he thinks is cute. “Eat rocks.”
He grins. “So, real tough, then.”
I don’t answer. I’m still too annoyed about Professor Gabriel and our un-bonded, emotionally stunted, leather-book-scented disaster of a situation. And now here I am, in my element, surrounded by my people — and powerless.
I barely have time to wallow before the temperature in the room spikes. The air pulses with energy, and the runes on the walls glow a deep, throbbing red. Class must be starting.
