“Mathias is gone. Nowhere to be found. So, I’m taking over the school. I’ll destroy every trace of him, starting here. And when I teach, it won’t be about denying darkness—it’ll be about unleashing it.”
My eyes flicked to the cluttered shelves that still stood, sagging under the weight of Mathias’ beloved books. The paintings on the floor—vivid, colorful depictions of students frozen in moments of false enlightenment—sickened me. Proud poses, warrior stances, eyes full of hope.
When I trained students, there would be no paintings. No light. Only power. Only truth.
“No artist would dare to capture what we’ll become,” I said coldly.
“There will be time enough,” Amir replied, his voice low, steady, unshaken. “But first—we talk.”
He turned and led me down the stairs, the war hammer in my hands.
We descended into the formal sitting room, which once served tea, wine, and all the genteel trappings of diplomacy to visiting dignitaries.
When I was master here, they could drink flaming blood for all I cared.
Amir sauntered to the sideboard and returned with a silver flagon and two gold tumblers. Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the stone floor and splashing across our skin like war paint.
The oak table between us gleamed with a polished sheen, its surface etched with emblems of valor—swords, shields, and a delicately carved kite shield at the center—all symbols of courage and generations of warriors who had once called this place home.
It reeked of righteousness.
Too noble. Too pure.
It didn’t belong in my world.
The chairs, however, were ancient and weathered, their cracked backs whispering of secrets and time. The arms were smooth from use, the wood pale and dry like desert bone. Those could stay.
But the table?
That would burn.
Amir poured the whiskey with a steady hand and passed me one of the tumblers.
We drank.
Then I spoke.
“I’m doing it,” I said. “I’m taking over the school.”
Amir’s eyes settled on mine, unreadable. “A bold plan, my friend. How can I help?”
I leaned forward, the fire in my chest barely restrained. “You’ll be my right hand. My second. You’ll shape the students. Mold them into masters of darkness. No more of this self-denial. No more shame. We build something real. Are you ready for that?”
His gaze narrowed slightly. “While it would be an honor to serve beside you, Balthazar…” He paused. Calculating. “I think your actions are reckless. Emotional. You’re charging ahead with a heart full of vengeance and a war hammer in your grip. Maybe it’s time to consider… alternatives.”
“Not a chance!” I growled, the words boiling out of me. “I’m going to take everything from him—his school, his legacy. I’ll take his child and kill it. Then, and only then, will he understand what it’s like to lose everything. Just like I did.”
Amir’s voice dropped, low and quiet—but edged like a blade. “You’ve been repeating the same thing for years now—how Mathias ruined your life, how he stole your children. And now you’re tearing his school apart, piece by piece, like a madman swinging in a thunderstorm.”
He leaned back in his chair, the whiskey untouched in his hand.
“Perhaps,” he said, “you’d do him more mercy by burning it to the ground.”
“I want this school,” I snapped. “I will take it. And I will be better than him. Stronger. I will make this place mine.”
Amir took a breath. “Think about it, friend. If we burned the school to the ground, everything Mathias built—all his philosophies, teachings, and legacy—would vanish in smoke. Reduced to nothing.”
“No,” I snarled, baring my teeth. “That’s far too simple. Far too merciful.”
