Chapter 621 Where is Boo?
The kindergarten appeared on the horizon, surrounded by green fields and colorful playground equipment. But something was wrong. Even from a distance, Sir Santo could see it.
The earth was torn.
Great gashes split the ground, revealing dark soil and broken roots. The playground equipment was shattered, twisted and destroyed. Banners lay in tatters on the grass. The snack tables were overturned, their contents scattered across the field.
And there were people everywhere.
Parents, warriors and lords from different clans, children.
Some were crying. Some were hugging. Some were just standing, staring at the destruction, their faces blank with shock.
Sir Santo’s heart stopped.
"Faster," he whispered. "Faster."
The chariot descended.
Parents looked up as the golden light of the chariot fell across them. Warriors reached for their weapons, then relaxed when they saw the angelic symbols on the sides. Children pointed and whispered.
But Sir Santo didn’t care about any of them.
He jumped out of the chariot before it had fully landed, his feet hitting the ground at a run. His wings spread behind him, catching the air, propelling him forward. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching, searching.
There.
Alina.
She was standing near the stone where the children were huddled, her face streaked with dirt and tears, her dress torn, her arm wrapped in a bandage. She was talking to a parent, her voice gentle and reassuring, but her eyes were tired.
"Miss Alina!" Sir Santo shouted.
She turned, her eyes widening when she saw him.
"Sir Santo? What are you—"
"Where is Boo?" he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent, cutting through her words like a blade.
Alina blinked.
"Boo? He was here. He was—"
She looked around.
Her eyes scanned the crowd. The parents are holding their children. The warriors tending to the wounded. The children huddled on the stone.
Boo wasn’t there.
"Boo?" she called, her voice uncertain. "Boo, where are you?"
No answer.
She called again, louder this time. "BOO!"
Nothing.
Her heart began to pound.
She turned to the class D children nearby. "Has anyone seen Boo?"
The children looked at each other.
Drake shook his head. "I haven’t seen him since the fighting started."
Luna’s ears flattened. "He was behind the tree. I saw him there. But then—"
"Then what?" Alina pressed.
Luna’s eyes widened. "I don’t know. I was running. I didn’t see."
Sable tugged Lucien’s sleeve. "I haven’t seen Boo either."
Lucien shook his head. "No."
Kelpie’s water droplets fell faster. "Boo? Boo, where are you?"
Rocky clutched his stone. "He was here. He was with us. He was—"
Felix stepped forward, his face pale. "I saw him go toward the building."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"The building?" Alina asked. "The kindergarten building?"
Felix nodded. "After Miss Clara went inside. He followed her."
The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into still water.
"Boo followed Miss Clara?" Alina whispered.
Felix nodded again.
"She was alone. She was going to the principal’s office. Boo was watching her from behind the door. I thought he would come back. I thought—"
He didn’t finish.
Sir Santo’s face was gray.
"Which way?" he asked, his voice low, controlled, dangerous.
Felix pointed toward the kindergarten building.
Sir Santo ran.
"Sir Santo!" Alina shouted, running after him. "Sir Santo, wait!"
But he didn’t wait.
He couldn’t.
The angels followed him, their wings spreading, their weapons ready. The elders followed too.
Sir Santo burst through the doors of the kindergarten building, his eyes wild, his heart pounding.
"BOO!" he shouted. "BOO, WHERE ARE YOU?"
The building was dark.
The windows were covered, the lights were off, and the only illumination came from the faint glow of Sir Santo’s wings and the golden light of the angels behind him. Dust motes floated in the air, stirred by their passage.
"BOO!"
Silence.
Sir Santo ran down the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the walls, his wings brushing against the ceiling.
"MAXIMUS!"
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
But no one was there to hear.
He reached the stairs and took them two at a time, his robes trailing behind him, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
The principal’s office.
The door was closed.
Sir Santo threw it open.
The room was empty.
The desk was neat. The papers were stacked. The chairs were in their proper places. There was no sign of struggle, no sign of destruction, no sign of anything wrong.
But Boo wasn’t there.
"BOO!"
A sound.
Small and quiet. Coming from behind the desk.
Sir Santo ran around the desk and looked down.
Boo was there.
Crouched in the small space between the desk and the wall, his translucent body flickering, his cap slightly tilted, his ribbon still. His eyes were wide and frightened and his hands were pressed over his mouth, trying to keep himself quiet.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Boo whispered, his voice trembling, his body pressing further into the shadows.
Before Sir Santo could answer, before he could even breathe a word of relief, something slammed into him from behind.
Thick. Heavy. Muscular.
A worm unlike any he had seen before wrapped around his body, squeezing, crushing, coiling. Its scales were not soft and slick like the others. They felt hard, armored, like stone. The pressure was immense, driving the air from Sir Santo’s lungs, cracking his ribs, crushing his wings against his back.
Sir Santo’s eyes flashed.
His hands clawed at the creature’s body, but his fingers found no purchase. The scales were too smooth, too hard, too strong.
This was no ordinary worm.
This was something else entirely.
And then he saw its face.
The worm lowered its massive head, its circular mouth spinning, its rows of teeth grinding against each other. But above that mouth, where the other worms had nothing, this creature had eyes. Dark. Cruel eyes.
Eyes that Sir Santo knew.
Something inside him snapped.
The angels at the door saw it happen. One moment, Sir Santo was struggling in the creature’s grip, his wings pinned, his robes torn. The next moment, golden light exploded from his body, not the gentle, healing light they had seen him use a thousand times before. This was different. This was violent.
The worm king’s grip loosened.
Sir Santo didn’t escape. He tore himself free.
His wings spread wide, catching the light, casting shadows that danced across the walls. His halo, usually soft and warm, blazed like a miniature sun. His eyes, those calm, serene eyes that had comforted so many, were gone. In their place was something else. Something that made the angels step back.
Something that made the worm king hesitate.