Synthia paid the carriage driver and patted the white horses while Caleb usheredly carried the wounded and unconscious boy up the stairs of the Academy.
She quickly trotted up the stairs and opened the main gate, thanking unnamed gods that the receptionist was gone.
Caleb quickly ran up the Greco-roman stairs and went into the dark medieval halls of the castle. Some hours until midnight a guard goes through the halls and turns off the torches, for which Synthia grabbed a dead torch and places its tip on the only lit one.
Flames instantly erupted on the torch, with which Synthia lead the road up to the sleeping quarters. They quickly ran through the halls and tunnels, her bare feet hurting at the rough stones they stepped on.
They made a left and consecutively a right, eventually being only a few meters from the base of the stairs where they had met. They turned the last corner and saw the stairs, but Synthia yelped loudly before they could advance.
Caleb slowed down to a stop and searched for the reason why Synthia stopped. He came to her side and took a loud intake of breath at what was before them.
Synthia held the torch high, her left foot ahead of her. Caleb held the unconscious victim in his arms while watching confusedly.
Right before them, standing in their way up the stairs was perched a jet-black crow.
Its dark purple eyes examined them with curiosity, staring into their souls.
The reflection of the fire beamed in its eyes for another second, until it finally let out a cry and flew off over them.
"What the hell?" asked Caleb.
"I've been asking myself that since the moment I was born and no one seems to have the answer."
She held the torch high and continued up the stairs, Caleb close behind.
They reached the top of the stairs right as golden lights started to infiltrate through the sleeping quarters' windows. Synthia hastily dug the key in the hole and turned the knob, making way for Caleb.
He quickly ran across the room and set the injured boy down on a mahogany sofa covered in pink feather pillows. He rested the blond's head on a soft pillow and quickly took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it pressured against the wounded stomach.
Red quickly started consuming the small fabric, for which he darted an anguished look towards Synthia.
She quickly waddled over in her silver dress and pressed a bigger towel against the wound, which seemed to slow down the bleeding.
"I rang the servants' bell," she told Caleb. "A maid will soon come. Tell her to fetch a doctor from the Infirmary."
He nodded and left her there to tend the injured boy.
"I..." He looked sheepishly at Synthia. "I don't have a home to arrive at tonight. Would it cause much trouble if I stayed, miss?"
She ephemerally looked at him, a comprehensive glow in her eyes.
"That's the least I could do, good sir." She smiled at him and quickly went back to her business.
His cheeks blossomed with a rising blush at the gesture of kindness. Looking his mother in the eyes would've broken him.
Gladly, someone knocked on the door before Synthia could see his rosy cheekbones. He quickly stepped toward the entrance and turned the knob.
A short older woman stood outside, wearing a servant's uniform.
YOU ARE READING
The Servant Of Chaos (WIP-New Part Every Monday/Friday)
FantasyNew Parts Every Monday and Friday! *** 1801. That night, Synthia entered the ballroom with hope, friends, and a beautiful silver dress. By the time she left, she had lost it all. Not only that, but the world she had known all her life now felt forei...
