Chapter 12: History Class
After more than an hour of trying to get the Warden to take its own form, Charon gave up, deciding to retire for the night so he would be well-rested for the morning.
His bed was comfortable, far more than the bunk he had in the orphanage, but it didn’t feel like home. He tossed and turned until he managed to slip away into sleep, but he found little comfort there either.
His dreams were plagued with memories of fire and blood. Tortured faces and skeletal hands reached out at him from all directions, demanding that he submit to them. They clawed at him, scraping across his skin like a thousand sharp knives.
Words repeated themselves, ringing in his head like bells. Obey, command, suffer, accept. Each one had its place, its purpose, yet they never revealed it to Charon.
Just before dawn came, the final word rang in his head.
Legacy.
When he awoke, dark bags hung under his eyes. A cold sweat covered his body, making him feel sticky and gross.
Without a word, he smacked the holo-pad on the side table to mute the alarm before dragging himself from his bed. Shambling to the closet, he opened the door and grabbed some of the clothes inside. They were all plain and all black, each pair matching the others perfectly.
Once he finished, he spent a minute ordering his mana to summon the Warden, cringing as the cloth dragged itself out of his body.
’I’ll never get used to that.’
Sparing a glance in the mirror, he gave himself a weak smile. He now finally fit the look of all the other students, with a bit of embellishment in the form of the chain.
Opening his door, he took a second to realize Emerius was standing right outside it, his tired eyes failing to register him.