Larkspur | ONC 2023

Chapter 5

"You shouldn't have gone out like that, all alone." Hemlock glares at me.

"You can't protect me always." I sip my coffee noisily.

"I'm not going to lose you for this stupid mission."

"And you are not. I can save myself, though I don't think the arrow was meant for me. Just the timing was convenient." I take another long sip. "Way too convenient."

"These nobles have lots of enemies always. Why would you get involved with such a guy?"

"He encroached on my space and tried to make small talk. Stop being such a mom, Hem." I squeeze the Styrofoam cup in my hand in an attempt to control my anger.

"Your mom might have said the same—wait." Hemlock whips out his phone and pulls up the class roster. "You have any class right now?"

I toss the cup into the dustbin. "Nope, free."

"Maybe we can investigate the ground."

"Sure. The hitman is waiting out there." I retort.

"Lark—"

"Fine, let's go."

We stroll lazily through the almost empty residential quarters. A few students walk past us, probably rushing to a class where they are late, eager to learn things. They'll lead a mundane life someday, away from all this drama. What would I not give to be one of them—to have the freedom to go anywhere, be anything—to not have my fate sealed and bound to a group of rebels, totally against my wish?

"Larkspur, Meet Lady Hawkrider." The principal tells the little girl. He is a short bald man with a paunch belly and bushy eyebrows. The gold detailing on his flannel coat screams money while half of the students sleep hungry every night because there's less food and more kids in the charity school.

"Madame, this is the one." He turns to the tall lady beside him, offering a fake smile and rubbing his hands-eager to please.

The lady watches the young girl from head to toe. Her untidy hair is twisted into plaits and the starched tunic is almost falling off her fragile shoulders. She doesn't seem to be afraid at all. There's a strange sort of defiance in her big doe-like eyes and she doesn't blink very often.

"This one looks so weak. Are you sure she can handle all the training?" She grabs the girl roughly by her shoulder and shakes her once as if checking out a rag doll.

"Madame, this one survived Shimmervale. You've got a tough one here." The principal insists.

"What about that one?" her gaze falls on the other kid standing behind the girl. He's taller than her with a little more muscle mass. His coal-black hair has not been cut for so long that it is almost reaching his neck.

"That's Hemlock. These two are a packaged deal. They go together."

"Siblings?" Hawkrider reaches to touch his shoulder but he shrugs her hands off. His eyes are blazing with a quiet kind of fire. "Feisty this one." She laughs. "Will be fun to train."

"Not siblings though they'll both be yours." The Principal gives a syrupy smile.

"How much?"

"One million."

"Too high." The lady flips her bob-cut hair backwards and strides towards the back of the room.

"Fixed price. The girl is in demand."

"Fifty-thousand."

"Eighty-thousand."

The boy and the girl standing there, silently observing the two grown-ups bargaining over their price. Unnoticed by everyone, a steady thread of magic seeps from the fingertips of the girl and dissipates into the carpet, galloping over the rugs and furniture and hitting the wooden panels of the wall like shock waves. But one person knows the movement of those slender fingers very well. He inches forward slowly and comes right behind her while the adults continue to bargain.

"Don't use so much magic." He breathes.

"Nearest exit?" The girl whispers, without looking at him.

"Window to your right." The boy informs. She whips her head quickly and motions with her eyes. The boy slinks away slowly, inching towards the window. There's an open ground bounded by a high wall and a forest beyond.

An ear-splitting crack erupts through the middle of the room. The floor splits into two. The wooden panels split from the middle, the walls shuddering. The girl stands in the middle of it all, her fingers flying through the air, thrumming the strings of an instrument of doom. The room swirls in a tornado of dust and molten furniture. Splinters fly in all directions, like a rain of needles.

"Lark!" The boy screams. But she is frozen in her spot, her eyes strangely unfocused.

"Lark! We need to" the domed ceiling cracks like an eggshell. The boy leaps towards the girl and almost tackles her to the floor. The enchantment breaks but it's too late. He half carries, half drags her towards the window and pushes her out. Then he jumps out himself. The room caves in on itself as they roll to safety. The top portion of the building looks like a melted corner of a plastic box, charred and destroyed beyond recognition. The rest of the building doesn't have a single scratch.

"No—no—no—" a guttural scream rents the air. With the trance of power fading, the girl doubles up on herself in panic. "What did I do? I don't-" She gets up and attempts to dash the building. The boy grabs her waist firmly.

"It's done." He screams at her over the sound of splitting rocks.

"They should be still alive. I didn't mean to kill them. I-"

"They're dead, Lark. We have to escape before we get caught." He starts dragging her backwards, just like he had done five years back, pulling her back from the inferno of her burning house.

"I didn't mean to," the girl still wails, thrashing and screaming.

"I believe you. Your magic needs to be tamed. But first, we need to run."

The urgency in his tone snaps the girl out of her trance. Survival instinct kicks in like a slap. With renewed energy, she flips back and they flip around, sprinting away-away from all the frightened screams and chaos away from the site of a gruesome murder—their first crime.

Author's Note: Was it an accident or was it deliberate murder on the part of Lark? Did they deserve their fate?