Sefirian Chronicles: Avielle's Inferno

Chapter 8: A Sefir

January 2017. Institute of Supernetics Training Yard.

"Fight like hell."

The boy frowned, looking at Avielle like she had just asked him to cut off his elbow and feed it to the werewolves. "I get why you're doing this to me, Aviel, but I came here to fight alongside supernaturals like Marcus and not with him."

Avielle was about to reason with the unseen, but Marcus arrived with the rest of his dragons and werewolf friends. "What's the matter, boy? Too afraid you'll mess up your hair for this?"

Miles broke his eyes away from Avielle and glared at the hulking man. "I don't want to fight, Marcus. Aviel made a mistake, so leave me alone."

"Oh, if only. But this little runt here promised me a hundred bucks," Marcus palmed Avielle's head, causing the younger girl to reel her instincts in and swat the dragon's hand away. "So either pay up, or fight me."

Miles snapped his head back to Avielle, surprised. "I can't believe you did this."

"I don't take challenges that I think I'll lose in," the Sefir in question held her hands up in defense. "I just wasn't gonna stand there and let him keep degrading you."

"I don't want to fight," Miles said again, nose flaring. "I'm smart enough not to engage in simple-minded muscle heads like him."

The musclehead Miles just insulted laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, go and run away, little squirt. That's seems to be the only thing you're good at."

Avielle looked at Marcus then back at Miles who just hung his head low. She growled lowly.

"Why are you even in here anyway?" One of the werewolves from behind Marcus joined in, mocking the boy beside Avielle. "I heard your kind ran away and hid during the war."

A blonde dragon from the group also agreed. "You're all deserters. You shouldn't be allowed in here. We know the moment the war begins, you're going to hide too like your kind did."

"How does it feel like, coming from a long line of cowards?" The silver-haired Marcus added. "Your kind left the others and saved themselves. Do you know how many of the dragons were slain? Do you know how many of us lost our families because you didn't man up and fight?"

The dragon's words took Avielle by surprise from the raw emotions that weighed each syllable down. She heard the pain behind the boom in his voice; the passion and courage in his glimmering dark eyes. Her gray orbs panned to the rest of the supernaturals behind him and found that their eyes mirrored the sentiments of their leader.

They were scared, hurt and confused. The war had produced broken children, living their lives in hiding and fighting for a war they didn't even start in the first place. They hid behind their misplaced anger and aggression, desperately searching for meaning in a life that is not fully theirs to live.

A hand placed on Avielle's shoulder broke her thoughts, and she saw Miles look straight at the dragon's burning eyes.

"I came here in the Institute to redeem myself and my kind," Miles started. "What my kind did is not what I am. And if I have to fight you to prove it, then so be it."

The supernaturals around the two spaced out, Avielle included. Rarely does the wind blow so smoothly in the Institute, but the young Sefir heard the little whistle on her ears and the muted whispers from the spirits telling her to keep the calm. But she knew Miles needed this. Both of the supernaturals fighting needed this out of their systems.

Avielle observed Marcus' stance and build. He is truly a magnificent specimen. His muscles strained against the regulation Institute training shirt and he stood tall, towering above the nearby trainees. Marcus' dark eyes honed in on the meek unseen before him, analyzing and judging Mile's own form.