Hall of Games [The Celestial Chronicles #1]

Chapter Nineteen: Untold Secrets

"All of my memories keep you near."

- Within Temptation, "Memories"

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Chapter Nineteen: Untold Secrets

Not for the first time, Firaun tripped over the helm of his robes. He hated the sight of those long, spindly robes. The thought of wearing something so abominable enraged him. But it was mandatory for those in service of the Chaldean Order to be adorned in such child's play.

As far as Firaun was concerned, it wasn't formal attire that displayed his status as a future High Priest, but his Star-given affinities. He was the strongest Starlet in his batch and was well known throughout Esvanira. He wasn't Chosen by Leo the Lion for no apparent reason.

Stomping his way down the dangling rope bridges, he saw Cady and a few of her friends hanging out by the side porches. However, Firaun's attention was fixated on the girl with fiery red hair.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Cady immediately broke the eye contact, her lovely features contorted into a frown. She was indeed a beautiful girl. Although she lacked the thing most people would call a 'rack', her dainty features made up for her small bosom.

It took Firaun a couple of seconds to realize that he was still staring at Cady with keen interest. Chiding himself, he stormed down the rope bridge.

"Whoa Firaun, are you spying on that chic over there?"

Firaun leveled his gaze to the tall, hulking Starlet standing before him. He rearranged his facial features, turning into the cool High Priest-in-training everyone knew and feared.

"Master Barista," Firaun addressed the Head of Magic with an air of authority. "What brings you here on this fine day?"

His wide grin was unnerving.

"I was heading toward the armory when I spotted our respectable Firaun spying on a new chic."

"I wasn't spying." Firaun scowled defensively, realizing that Master Barista had a point. "I was just—secretly observing her from afar. You know, she's my private student and I am contemplating what kind of weapon suits her best."

Master Barista released a hearty guffaw so loud it shook a couple of spiders off the ceiling. Clapping Firaun on the back, Master Barista continued interrogating him.

"Lucky girl she must be," Master Barista said. "As far as I am concerned, you never take in private students, not after—"

"It's Mistress Tucana's orders," Firaun cut off Master Barista's chatter. "I had no other choice."

Although taken aback by Firaun's clipped candor, Master Barista's smile did not fade. It shaped into pity and sympathy. Firaun's blood boiled.

"You and I know what happened was an accident. It wasn't your fault that Mira was killed by Decanates. Stop berating yourself on a responsibility that isn't yours to shoulder in the first place."

Firaun shook his head. "I have business to mind, Master Barista." He turned his back on the Starlet. "Hope you have a Star blessed evening."

Master Barista returned the salute, but Firaun was no longer listening. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he changed directions. He was no longer interested in the Hall library, his foremost intention long forgotten. His feet took himself toward the other training Hall—her training Hall.

Mistress Tucana's instructions were crystal clear—to prepare the new Starling—Cady Gates, at all costs: physically, mentally and spiritually.

If Mistress Tucana hadn't ordered him to tutor Cady Gates, he would have ignored the new Starling like the plague. Worse, he was to attend to her training needs in the very room where someone very dear to him perished. By teaching another, the wound of his loss would rip itself raw.

The training Hall was silent, deprived of a Starlet's presence for almost two years. Mottled cobwebs drifted about the dilapidated seams. Little spiders scuttled away at the sudden intrusion. The tall windows were dark from the layers of grime, but Firaun could still remember the beautiful tainted glass that once shone like a new penny under the Esvaniran sun.

The assorted weapons arranged on the walls were blunt and dusty, but none were broken beyond repair. A shiny long sword sat in the middle of the hall, its hilt gilded gold, encrusted with pulverized jewels that created a speckled mosaic on the granite floor wherever the sunlight hit it.

Firaun drew the sword. The sword slid free from its long imprisonment with a metallic whisper. The weight and the feel of the sword hit him with a sudden nostalgia. He remembered holding a pair of smooth hands. He had guided them patiently, slicing and paring at an invisible enemy. He remembered the way she tilted her head, and her infectious laugh. She was the moon of his life, and he the sun of hers.

As he paraded across the room with practiced sweeps, cruel images of the past superimposed across the present; dark, violent chaos painting his world a vicious red as the dim room peeled away.

Three feet away from where he stood, a girl in loose training gear was drenched in sweat. Her long red hair was plastered onto her brow in long spidery strands. Switching her blade to her left hand, she gave Firaun a smile.

Firaun felt his chest tighten. Mira, are you real?

Mira remained silent. The laughter in her eyes faded away and was replaced by raw fear. She stumbled backwards at the sudden appearance of a sinister shadow.

The Decanate was a monstrous blend of man and dragon. Aquiline claws studded its scaled hands. Its face was a tortured mask of fangs and protruding tusks, dripping yellow discharge that hissed and ate at the floor.

Firaun wanted to save Mira, but he was far too injured to move. He had underestimated the powers of the Decanate. It was the moment when it tucked into his first ever student did Firaun's hate and rage toward the Hall of Games explode.

Where was his backup when he needed it the most? How did the Decanate get into the Hall at the first place?

The past came crashing down upon Firaun like an avalanche. Jack-knifing onto the ground, he couldn't stop his tears from flowing. He hated himself for being so vulnerable, even after two years of losing Mira.

He hated Mistress Tucana, he hated the Hall of Games. He hated everything relating to the death of his love and soul mate. The sole reason binding him to the Hall of Games was the sense of amnesty and Mira's memory. He loathed the thought of even staying within the walls of something he didn't feel settled in. His fellow colleagues showed sympathy, but not understanding. They would never understand how much he loved and despised this place without slipping into his shoes.

Now, Mistress Tucana wanted him to tutor another student—a student who showed a startling resemblance to the dead Mira. He wanted nothing to do with her from the moment she showed up at Havoc Haven. But destiny was cruel. Firaun recalled how he tempted he was to kiss Cady Gates when she sat there swinging under the moonlight, the exact same method Mira spent her sleepless nights with.

Mira is dead, Firaun reminded himself. Cady Gates may look like Mira, but she is still Cady. She is your responsibility now, no matter how harsh the situation is.

With a new resolve burning through Firaun's veins, he replaced the long sword back into its scabbard and planted a kiss on the smooth, Celestite surface.

"Goodbye Mira. I shall avenge your death. And I promise you that it will happen, sooner than you expect."

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A/N

A short update but I hope you guys enjoyed a change of POV! Any thoughts on our not-so-mysterious-anymore Firaun? Or why was he so cold towards anyone?

Let me hear from you! :D

Chocolate cupcakes,

Stef