Chapter 18: Chapter Fourteen—Embracing the darkness: Part II

Class ended, and I made my way down to the gym. Unfortunately, I had to let Kibo know I couldn’t exercise with him. He was one of the most genuine people in the world. However, his gentle soul didn’t match his mountainous self. Gentle Giant was an understatement. I don’t know what his parents fed him, but it was too much.

Kibo saw me across the gym and jogged over to me, and the instinct to run when something of that size is coming towards you is strong. But he looked disappointed as he saw me in my school clothes.

“Friend, it looks like I will be busy,” I said, looking up at the giant light hazel eyes. Kibo’s skin was the darkest I’ve ever seen. When I say it’s pitch-black; I mean in the truest sense. He attracted quite the female crowd with his looks. However, it appeared he wasn’t really playing for that team.

“That’s unfortunate, brother,” he said, taking a squatting position to make eye contact. He rested his muscled forearms on his thighs, and I felt like a small animal. His biceps were almost the size of my head. I was nearly six-foot, and this man made me feel like a tiny woman; I hoped that puberty would stop for his sake.

“Cyrus,” I heard as I turned around to Covic in some shorts and a tank top.

“Shit.”

Covic frowned. “You forgot,” He sighed.

“Listen,” I said before a long pause, “I got nothing. I just forgot I was meeting you today.”

Covic’s eyes squinted at Kibo. “Who is this?”

Kibo stood up and put his hand out to Covic, “I am Kibo,” he said, and Covic gently grabbed his massive hand. Covic just stared at him before Kibo laughed, glancing at me as Covic kept shaking his hand, stuck in a trance. “Your friend, okay?”

“I’m Covic, and I am excellent,” he said with a smile. “I hear gigantic hands mean big—”

I coughed loudly, interrupting him. “Well, this works out. You two get to know each other,” I said, interrupting that vulgarity.

“Cock, is what I was going to say. Cyrus, please, please, let me make the joke,” Covic said, scowling.

“I’ll make this up to you,” I said to Covic and then turned to Kibo. “You too.”

They both nodded as I made my way promptly to the maintenance elevator, passing multiple signs on the wall saying authorised personnel only. As I arrived at the copper doors, I ran the key card Edwin gave me over the console. The door opened roughly, and I glanced into the poorly lit elevator with hesitation. This thing looked as if it hadn’t been used in a decade. I stepped in and pressed the last button that, I hoped, was the basement; the symbols were thoroughly worn. I stood, glancing around, and waited for the door to close, but the elevator did not move.

“Great, I was going to die when this thing plummeted to the ground.”

Finally, after almost leaving, the elevator started down. I stood, tapping my foot on the metal floor, glancing down at my watch a couple of times and the paper with directions. I must’ve been descending to hell. It must’ve been at least fifteen minutes of descent.

I arrived at the bottom, stepping out to copper pipes that filled the walls, flowing horizontally. It was incredibly warm down here, and I began sweating rather quickly. Edwin instructed me where to go, but it just seemed it was leading me to a janitor’s closet. Or maybe Edwin had enough of me, and I was about to be murdered.

The grated floor made walking impossible without sending echoes down the poorly lit passage. After passing down the windy hallways, I came upon a man in an ebony suit standing out front of a metal door that had been reinforced multiple times. It looked as if it was for keeping something in.

“Cyrus,” the man said with a deep, rusted voice. He had a grey metal mask on with only small eye holes. A fedora hat sat on his head, and the exposed skin on his neck was draped in a dark fabric. He didn’t want anyone to see his skin.

“Yes,” I replied, looking behind me. This all made me uneasy.

“Come,” he instructed, opening the door with his white-gloved hands.

I continued through the door to a lantern sitting in the middle of the darkroom which size was at least a small gymnasium. As I approached the light, I saw an older woman with a cane between her legs and her hands perched on the glass globe top, waiting in a wooden chair.

“Sit,” she commanded, not looking at me.

Obeying, I walked over to the chair, taking a seat across from the woman in an old fashion black dress. The light bounced off her pale, wrinkled skin, illuminating her face that had seen many things in its lifetime. We sat in silence. Unfortunately, her aged eyes were cloudy, and I was pretty sure she was blind or at least had a foot in the door.

“You’re late,” she said, tightening her grip on the globe.

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“I had to—”

She hit me in the arm with the cane so hard it stung. For an old lady, she had a pretty powerful swing. “I don’t care what you think you must do.” She tilted her head, but she wasn’t making eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, fidgeting in my seat. This lady radiated an uncomfortable aurora.

She leaned forwards a little. “Sorry, does the dead no good. Remember that well, Cyrus.”

This woman was intense, and I was already worried about where this was going. “So, you’re one of the instructors?” I asked, and she kept from showing any emotion.

“I am the most important one.”

“So—”

I barely spoke, and I got slammed with the cane again. “Stop talking. I am not here to humour a brat that lets his pride take control of situations.”

“You don’t know me.”

She let out a suppressed laugh. “Your soul is bare to me, child. I can see all of your weaknesses, and there are many. We will fix them, or we will watch the world burn. I am, unfortunately, not confident in you. Lacking is the word that comes to mind.”

“You could be a little more gentle with your words.”

“Gentle is not in Gracen Pierce’s dictionary,” she replied, looking up with her cloudy eyes directly at me this time.

Pierce… could she be related to Edwin?

“I am not your mother, but you’ll always be looking for another, won’t you? Coddling is not what you will get from me.”

“Careful.”

“Or what? Will the great Cyrus hurt me?” she scuffed, tilting her head. “Cyrus Reed, always asking for forgiveness rather than permission. Wanting the love of all but never loving himself. An ego, that of the Demon Lord. Do you ever tire of constantly needing to be worshipped? What happens when you can no longer impress people?”

I stayed quiet for a moment. “Are you done?”

“Does it make you feel powerful?” she asked, and I didn’t reply.

I thought maybe I’d be whacked again. But instead, she stood up with her cane, her fragile finger shaking around the crystal globe at the end. “Edwin asked me to help you, but you don’t want help. Help would make you appear weak. But that’s the thing, boy. You always will be a weak person—you do not deserve the gift that has been given to you.”

Remaining quiet, Gracen picked up the lantern. “I think a few days in darkness will correct this,” she said as I went to protest, but an overwhelming pressure slammed into me, glueing me to the chair. I tried to move my hands, but they just trembled in place. Even my anima wasn’t responding to my commands.

“You’re using blood magica. Only The Liche King can do that,” I struggled to say, trying to move my limbs more, but it just sent a cascade of painful burning throughout my whole body as my heart felt an intense squeezing sensation. Every heartbeat was out of rhythm, and the irregularity just made me more fearful of what was coming next.

“Incorrect,” she answered, turning her back to me.

“Stop,” I said through gritted teeth.

“To act with enthusiasm, one must dream, and dreams are nurtured in the darkness,” Gracen said, leaving my plea unanswered as she continued out of the room and the metal door slammed shut loudly, leaving me in the darkness with my loud thoughts.

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