Vikram slipped through the doors as quietly as he could, but the Hall was already full. Everyone sat in silence, listening to Kayala's voice as she spoke about the Second Walk.
The moment he entered, however, a sharp pressure fell on him. A killing intent so heavy it prickled against his skin.
"Ha! Look who graced us with their presence!"
Vikram winced. Dozens of eyes turned toward him at once, weighing him, judging him. He forced his back straight. No stumbling, no shame. The last thing he wanted was for Kayala to think he had given up, or worse, that he was lazy. Which, in truth, he was.
"Come here!"
Her voice cracked like a whip.
Vikram hurried down the aisle, gaze forward. But he couldn't look straight ahead for long. Two mountains blocked the view, forcing him to glance left, where Brunus sat.
The older man's shoulders were shaking as he fought not to laugh.
Vikram scowled at him, already plotting vengeance. It was always like this. Whenever Kayala's wrath fell, Brunus found a way to throw Vikram under the cart. If Brunus skipped sparring with the students, he would claim Vikram had forced him into a private match. If he went easy during a session, he would swear Vikram was a delicate flower who cried at the lightest touch.
The truth was, somewhere in their constant back-and-forth, a bond had formed. Though Vikram considered Brunus as his family, he really didn't know what the old man considered him as.
Before Vikram could think further, the weight in the Hall shifted. A bloody aura pressed down, smothering the air. Both he and Brunus stiffened as one, the two of them were clearly the targets.
A long sigh broke the silence. Kayala finally withdrew her aura.
"Join the front of the line," she ordered curtly.
The lecture soon ended. Her words carried a rare heaviness.
"Finally, your families have come to visit. I hope each of you will have a heartfelt talk with them. Do not leave regrets…"
Her voice trailed into silence. One by one, the disciples dispersed. Some rushed out eagerly, faces bright with anticipation. Vikram noticed his antagonistic classmate nearly running, as if desperate to see the sun after years in shadow.
Others, however, did not move at all. They stood still, stone-faced, as if rooted in place. To Vikram's surprise, Vold, Elen, Miguel, Ella, the elites, the prodigies who seemed untouchable in both tests and combat, were among them.
Vikram felt something twist inside his chest. He himself hadn't moved either. There was no one waiting for him. No family. Nothing to look forward to.
He lowered his head and forced a shrug, though the sadness lingered.
"Vikram."
Kayala's voice cut through the silence. He stepped forward quickly, head bowed, waiting.
She frowned as she studied the parchment in her hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing the name written there.
"Someone has requested your presence. It says here… Maldev. It claims he is your friend? He is waiting for you at the mess."
Vikram froze. The name tasted bitter. Maldev. His childhood companion. The boy who had once run at his side through the alleys. The guy had later become distant to him.
The next time he had heard of him, it was in the news. Convicted of rape. Of harassment. And of murder...
Why now? Why him?
Vikram's jaw tightened. "I'll go see what he wants."