Magnus Academy: The Cursed Blood

Chapter Fifty-Five Part III

The Requiem of A Tortured Soul

The night was growing in stillness, the dim darkness looming all around us and the torch wrapped around my palm was the only thing that illuminated each other's presences. The name came like a crack of thunder rolling out from his tongue, his voice deep but tender as he spoke his name. The passing seconds accompanied the sudden chill that went along my spine at his amused stares, blinking as a dust of wind blew right excusing itself between our silence.

"Salem?" I questioned, the name ringing familiarity from the back of my mind as though I had heard it once before.

There was something about this man that baffles me. Is it his stance? His demeanor? Or the fact that I couldn't sense any sort of energy from him? He has emotions, but my body is reacting oppositely against it that unlike other emotions, the lurking danger is preventing me from absorbing it, as though he has a protective layer of barrier wrapped around his emotions that I couldn't absorb.

The man seems to be in his late twenties, tall and muscular. Dark eyes, black enough that I couldn't even see his pupils. A van dyke beard with braided twintails just below his chin, long, black hair tied messily behind his head. He wore the usual leathered gears, his shoulder draped with animal fur extending to a short, clothed coat down his back. The sword sheathed on his left hasn't escaped my notice as well.

"That's right, Sa-lem." He pronounced, moving his mouth slowly. "This fair maiden should be...?"

"What are you do---"

"No, no." He lifted his index finger, stopping my words as he shook his head. "Let me guess. Hmm Dora?"

I frowned. "Do I look like a clueless adventurer to you?

"Hmm no, and definitely not the long lost princess with a long golden hair or the maid who claimed she knew what love is at first dance either."

"You sure do know your fairy tales."

"I practically wrote them!" He exaggerated, laughing. "But in all seriousness," he suddenly slid his foot over mine, making me kneel as he crouched in front of me. "We're making too much noise."

He winked, putting his finger on his lips as he used his other hand to kill the fire off the torch by wrapping his big palm around the tip. He didn't even flinch at the heat, letting two patrolling orcs to go past while we hid behind a huge wooden crate. It was strange how they didn't even notice us despite orcs being attracted to our kind. The man didn't let me think too deeply though, standing up with his gaze fixated on front.

"Orcs with their games." He smirked, finally looking at me. He offered his hand, tilting his head. "Want a pull, kid?"

Ignoring his taunt, I pulled myself up, my eyes slowly adjusting to the surrounding darkness. He grabbed something out of the pouch attached on the right side of his belt- a cigarette, putting it between his lips as he eventually lit it up with a lighter. Blowing the smoke, he snapped his fingers as though the action was supposed to do something.