A tell-tale puffiness marred Kaelen Varrick’s aristocratic features, betraying a night spent indulging in the city’s lesser-known pleasures. Feigning irritation, I set a chilled flask of herbal tonic onto his sprawling oak desk. An unbidden habit, this offering of a cool draught, always on mornings when his visage was particularly swollen. The simple fact of his morning bloat was enough reason.
“Enough moping. See to that swelling before your father arrives.” My voice, though soft, held a familiar edge.
Kaelen merely grunted, reaching for the flask. “My thanks, Elara.”
“Did your father not scold you this morn?” I inquired, though I knew the answer.
“No, thanks to you.” He offered a shrug, a flicker of his usual brazen pride gracing his eyes. I pressed my lips into a thin line, a smirk playing at the corners, and turned to my own workstation. My gaze snagged on a broadsheet of court decrees spread across the desk beside Kaelen’s.
Lord Torvin, not I, occupied that space. I was a handspan shorter than Kaelen, and Torvin, a half-hand taller. He always ended up next to him. I often cursed my own stature, finding small comfort in occupying the second-to-last seat, nestled just behind Kaelen. It was my solitary solace.
Buried the faint tendrils of jealousy deep within my chest. Shamelessly, I gestured towards Torvin. “When did he arrive?”
“No idea. He was like that when I showed up.” Kaelen gestured with the flask.
“How can one who left early last night appear so… spent?” I murmured.
A rustle answered. The broadsheet slid, revealing Lord Torvin’s half-lidded eyes. His narrow gaze swept over Kaelen and me before he parted his lips, a wide yawn escaping him.
“...Told myself a little more study, then sleep. It seems ‘a little more’ was rather expansive.”
Yawns, they say, are contagious. Kaelen followed suit, stretching his mouth wide before his face scrunched into a smug grin. “This brute. Looks like a hardened sellsword, but spends his nights poring over ancient texts.”
“Aye, away with you.” Torvin’s voice, a gravelly mumble.
“Got it, dullard.”
Torvin, whether sensing Kaelen’s mockery or not, merely leaned back, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. I watched him for a moment, and our eyes met. He turned his gaze to the window, then back to me. A strange tickle prickled my skin, and I scratched my shoulder, redirecting my attention to Kaelen.
The early morning in the guild's private study chambers held a strange, brittle pleasantness. Such easy banter often set the day’s tone. Soon, lesser nobles like Lord Renwick and Lady Thalia would drift over, their eyes alight with admiration for Kaelen, eager for his latest exploits. The routine was familiar: chatter, laughter, and eventually, the guildmaster’s arrival to begin the day’s instruction.
For men considered the most popular in Eldoria’s social circles, it was a surprisingly wholesome start. Yet, beneath the surface, we were still young, still raw. Tales of wild, messy dalliances from the previous night, especially when Kaelen spun them, left a sour taste in my mouth. Still, I played along, feigning amusement.
Despite it all, these mornings had not been so bad. But everything shifted a moon and a half ago. The reason, entirely due to a quiet young apprentice named Lyra.
“Hark, Lyra’s here.” Lord Renwick’s voice cut through the air.
“Curse it. Odious.” Lady Thalia’s quiet disgust.
“Does that fool not consider staying home after such a disgrace?” Renwick openly scoffed, pointing with exaggerated disdain. At the tip of his finger, Lyra awkwardly stepped into the chamber, his face half-hidden by a curtain of sandy hair. He shuffled towards a small, secluded desk in the front row, placed his tattered satchel upon it, and immediately slumped over. My breath caught, a sigh of irritation welling within me.
Lyra seemed utterly pathetic. His voice, a reedy whisper; his frame, slight – a pitiable excuse for a person. As murmurs swelled through the room, Kaelen glared daggers at Lyra’s bowed back, muttering curses under his breath. I loathed it. That peculiar sensitivity of his – it grated on my nerves.
Kaelen snatched a discarded guild missive that had lain near Torvin’s desk, crumpling it into a tight ball. Then, with a casual flick of the wrist, he hurled it at Lyra’s head. *Thud*. A soft sound. Lyra’s head, already slumped, dipped further onto his desk.
“Damnation. Do not parade that wretched face around first thing in the morning.”
Lyra placed his arms on the desk, burying his face in them, doing precisely as Kaelen had bid him. Yet, Kaelen watched this with blatant disdain and kicked his own desk with a heavy boot.
“Hark! Will you not answer me?”
When Kaelen abruptly stood and bellowed, Lyra, still hunched, stammered in a trembling voice. “Y-yes.”
“Lift your head, look at me, and speak properly.”
Did Kaelen even hear the nonsense he spouted? The sheer absurdity of his demands wrung a bitter laugh from my throat.
Whether he noticed or not, Kaelen rose and strode towards Lyra. With every heavy step he took, the unpleasant feelings within me grew more vivid, more raw.
Kaelen closed the distance between himself and Lyra. That proximity alone made me feel as if I was losing control over emotions I had worked so diligently to suppress. This was not the same envy I felt when Kaelen jested with Torvin. Instinctively, I knew. Deep down, I harbored something just as sinister as Kaelen did. That was why watching Kaelen with Torvin eventually became bearable, but his interactions with Lyra unsettled me more and more. My hands began to tremble, and I clenched them tightly to hide it.
Kaelen kicked Lyra’s desk hard. The carved wood shuddered violently, almost toppling, and Lyra jolted upright in alarm, his voice still unsteady. “F-forgive me.”
Kaelen stood, silently looking down at Lyra’s face. Lyra’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, on the verge of breaking. Yet, in that moment, I felt as though *I* was the one who might burst into tears.
Kaelen did not make Lyra run pointless errands, but he always kept his eyes upon him. If Lyra went to the privy during a break, Kaelen would still watch his retreating figure, even whilst speaking with us. I knew, for I never stopped watching Kaelen.
Truth be told, my first impression of Lyra had been unremarkable. His complexion was not the clearest, but his youthful features lent him a face that was easy to behold. When he smiled, it felt genuinely happy, and even his neutral expression carried a certain brightness.
Before Kaelen began his torment, no one truly disliked Lyra. He seemed a youth who had grown in a warm, loving household. While not overly sociable, preferring quiet solitude, there was no trace of worry or discomfort in his demeanor.
Most considered Lyra a decent sort. Since he never flaunted the affection he’d received, he earned even more quiet praise. Humble, quiet, bright, and inexplicably pleasant to be near – that was Lyra.
But I did not particularly like him from the start. Nor did I hate him – I simply did not care. To say he was not even on my radar would be more accurate. Yet, whenever I spoke with my companions, Kaelen, or Torvin’s circle, and Lyra’s name arose, I found myself casually lying, saying, “Oh, him? He is tolerable. Pleasant enough.”
Kaelen, much like myself, had paid little heed to Lyra at first. Kaelen was never one to care for guild affairs or the lower apprentices. After Lyra transferred in the month of May, he and Kaelen did not exchange a single word until June. That was how things truly were.
But one day, something shifted. A small, sharp deviation formed in the mundane flow of events. It happened just after the midday meal, and looking back, I believe I have never regretted an action as much as what transpired that day.
Lyra, as was his wont, had taken a corner seat during a brief respite to read. He was the sort who loved burying himself in ancient texts and obscure folios. I, on the other hand, had a habit of being overly congenial towards those with good reputations.
That is why, when I chanced upon Lyra, I struck up a conversation about the ancient text he was reading. I was not much of a reader myself – pretending to be cultured was more my style.
“You must truly favor such tomes, eh?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose.” At the time, Lyra and I were still distant acquaintances. Perhaps that made approaching him easier.
“Have you quite finished that one?”
“Well, I am almost at the end.”
“Then close it now. The ending will disappoint you. It is one of those tomes where the final revelation spoils everything.”
“You have read it before?”
“Aye, some time ago.” To satisfy my intellectual vanity, I always sought out reviews and critiques of the books Kaelen or Torvin might discuss, ensuring I had something clever to contribute. Drawing on those memories, I offered a critique – not a real one, merely enough to sound informed – and Lyra smiled brightly, looking genuinely pleased. It caught me off guard.
“You are the first person I have met who has read this particular tome, aside from myself.”
“Oh... truly?”
“Aye, but I shall still finish it. Pondering why the ending turned out as it did is part of the joy.”
“Well, certainly. Everyone’s opinions differ.”
“Hearing you say that makes me look forward to it even more.”
That smile still lingers as an uncomfortable memory. Was it some instinctive unease I felt even then?
After that day, Lyra began seeking me out frequently. Though I found it a trifle annoying and often wondered, *Why me?*, I did not outright reject him. Lyra, with his good reputation, was not the worst person to keep close. After all, ancient texts – outside of guild primers and instructional scrolls – were practically forbidden for those of our station, beyond casual perusal. Even if someone had the time, such texts were little more than glorified doorstops to them. For Lyra, I was likely the only person around who could speak of such things.
That day was one of those routine encounters, but it also happened to be one of the most ill-fated days among them. Lord Torvin was to blame. To this day, I cannot fathom why I acted as I did. Why I, someone who never meddled in others’ affairs, chose to stick my nose where it did not belong. Why Torvin, of all things, had left his mock lore examination paper wide open for every passerby to see.
I, one who detested having my own grades revealed, naturally assumed Torvin would not want his exposed either. So, I flipped the paper over to conceal it. That is when I saw it: his score. Eighty-one points. I blinked in disbelief and checked again. It was definitely eighty-one. Considering the high grade thresholds for these guild examinations, it would barely scrape into the fourth tier. But still, it was on the higher end of that tier. It was the first time one of my preconceptions was shattered. A small shock, to realize Torvin was not as much of a lost cause as I had thought. Naturally, that made me think of Kaelen’s grades. He, now, was the true refuse. A man who would mark every question with a ‘B’ and sleep through the rest of the examination, Kaelen had never once managed a respectable score.
Perhaps that is why I felt such a mix of emotions – like I had found recyclable salvage amidst the refuse. A man I had once loathed turned out to be more redeemable than the man I liked. That strange realization must have thrown me off, because I did something I normally never would have done.
It was nothing grand. I simply grasped a nearby quill and scribbled a short note at the top of Torvin’s paper.
“Focus on the ancient lore questions. You will hit the third tier soon enough. Well done. —Elara.
P.S. Forgive me for looking at your score without permission. I merely flipped it over to cover it and happened to see it.”
The arrogance of evaluating someone’s grade and offering unsolicited advice made me feel a touch embarrassed, so I rambled to justify myself. I cannot say why I even wrote it in the first place. At the time, I must have been out of my mind. Looking back, it was clear this was the first mistake in what would become a series of entanglements. Every mess starts with a poorly fastened first button. If I had not written that note, I would not have run into Lyra carrying an ancient map folio down the hall moments later.