Chapter 92: Academy
The group stops in front of the towering gates, the proctors clad in their white robes standing like statues of unyielding authority. My eyes scan the figures, and I recognize none of them except Evanaora Hilton. Her piercing pink eyes catch mine, and a slow, cruel smile curves her lips. She’s standing slightly apart from the others, her scarred face illuminated by the sunlight, and she’s watching us with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. The way she looks at us feels like how I would look at a nice piece of bread.
She drawls, voice smooth and dripping with condescension, "By the gods, is that the star first year himself? Awakened Daath?"
I meet her gaze with a sneer I hide behind a carefully neutral expression. Disgust bubbles up inside me, but I keep it sealed tight no need to give her the satisfaction of seeing my true feelings. Instead, I bow my head slightly, pressing my hand to my chest in a formal salute. "Indeed, Proctor," I say, my voice as steady and respectful as I can manage, despite the bile rising in my throat.
She chuckles softly, a sound that’s almost predatory. She taps her chin with her fingers, as if pondering something deeply serious. Her eyes narrow just a little, and her voice drops to a darker tone, almost sneering. "Hmm, indeed you say. But dear child, where is the rest of your house? This seems quite shallow."
My stomach clenches, and I stiffen, feeling her words cut deeper than they should. Her tone is almost playful, but beneath it, I catch the undercurrent of contempt. I force myself to stay calm, but it’s difficult. The words she’s chosen, the way she’s looking at us it’s a reminder of how little she cares for the struggles we’ve endured.
Her voice darkens further. "Also It’s been more than a week. Today would mark the ninth day since we ordered you here." She waves her hand dismissively, as if brushing away a troublesome insect. "Julian is besides himself at his house being the only one to miss the week deadline, but no matter. We’ll talk about it later."
Her words are a cruel, and I seethe inwardly. The way she says it, like she’s already dismissed us as a failure like we’re nothing more than a inconvenience. My fists clench, but I keep my expression neutral. I’ve known for a while now that these people don’t care about us. Power, success, and their own agendas are all that matter to them. Our suffering, our losses? That’s just collateral damage to these cold, callous elites.