Writer's Friday, Week 4

Welcome back!

The 4rth week of Writer's Friday introduces us to some characters that might come to live beyond the pages of this oneshot!

Candlelit Chronicles (@candlelitchroniclesmag) provided this week's prompt, and I must say, it didn't go at all as I'd planned! And that was a most pleasant surprise. This doesn't exactly count as the last line of a story, but it would definitely be the last line of Book 1!

Next week's prompt comes from author Danai Christopoulou (@danaiwrites)!

Next Week's Prompt: To retell is to rebel

Now, let's write!

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If you wrote a story about academic rivals turned lovers, what would the last line be?

"You pathetic, worthless worm!"

Lightning struck outside the grand window, as if to underline the profanities she so easily spat at his face. The library had been peacefully silent up until then, the only sounds inhabiting its walls those of the occasional paper rustling and the students' calm breathing.

Delova stormed in just as the hurricane had but a couple of hours before, unexpectedly and world-shattering.

"That was MY thesis idea! Mine!" she roared, catching off guard the librarian about to give her a firm scolding.

"Calm down first, princess, we can-"

Her quill flew out of her hand, danced in the air above his head and plunged towards the pages stacked in front of him, with such force it ripped through the last of them.

"You are a thief!" she shrieked, louder this time.

Isaac forgot himself for a moment, his calm and collected demeanour discarded along with his chair. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her by the elbow, with enough force to leave a rather ugly bruise.

"Said the venomous viper!"

The librarian regained her composure and, setting her spectacles back at the bridge of her nose, approached calmly.

"Congratulations to both," she smiled, in a rather unpleasant tone. "You just earned yourselves three hours of extracurricular."

It was all routine to Isaac by that point. Despite being an the top ten of his year and a Magi of his house, he would often find himself in situations that would require -how unfortunate and unfair to him- breaking at least a couple of the rules the Institut Des Arts Disparus was running on for the past two centuries. How bothersome indeed that those bobheads on the Committee Council didn't realise that cunning might as well be one of those missing arts the Institute got its name from.

For Ms. Delova, however, this was an entirely new experience. Not because she followed every rule to the letter and never stepped out of line, but because she was smart enough not to get caught. Her fellow Magi, Isaac excluded, would go to great lengths to stay in her good graces. They had learned their lesson well, following the expulsion of Mr. Derin the semester before last.

"You had no better ideas?"

Isaac had already stepped into three different alcoves, burning a number of thile in his wake. Those bat-like creatures might have poisonous fangs and claws, but their entire body lit up as easily as candlewick. Coming out the fourth, with dirt dusted on his cheeks and hair, he seemed rather irritated by Delova's approach to their shared task.

"Had I more time, I would have come up with something better. Less... Dirty. But you said it was urgent."

There had been a note left on her vanity that morning, right next to her favourite perfume. Its urgency evident, Delova wrecked her brain all through first period, trying to find a way for them to meet without raising any suspicions, or worse, leave room for false rumours to spread. Detention, or rather 'extracurricular', as the professors insisted on calling it, was their only option. There was only one chance to create big enough a scene to guarantee them some time alone, and that was during recess between the sixth and seventh period. Delova had hoped that extracurricular in this weather would mean dusting off instruments for the Grand Parade or annotating new volumes at the library's back office.

But no. It was all about getting rid of the theli infestation in the southern catacombs.

"It is indeed."

He hopped onto the bulder beside her, a piece of the statue towering behind them that had crumbled some time ago. At its prime, it depicted a man shouldering the world.

Isaac pulled a parchment from the inside pocket of his robe, the creases barely visible as he unfolded it.

"My uncle almost got caught trying to retrieve the information you asked for. You owe him big time."

Delova's hands were shaking as she took it, the letters dancing in front of her eyes. She stared at it stubbornly, willing them back in place, but alas, her anxiety made the task all the more arduous.

"Let me help."

Somewhat unwilling, she pasted the paper back, hiding her embarrassment with the curtain of her hair.

Isaac began to read, his eyes widening as he reached the bottom. He hadn't taken a single peak on the page before; it'd felt too intrusive, too unethical.

"So that's how they died."

Her voice was broken; he could hear the sobs threatening to break loose.

"After all these years, and the final thing left behind about them is how they met their gruelling deaths."

Her shoulders shook now, and Isaac wrapped a protective arm around them. He didn't expect her to fall on his chest, lush curls still hiding her face, but the shirt now wet from the tears.

"It's not fair."

They stayed like that for an hour or so, before Isaac had to gently pull away. He said he would go ahead and get the job done; the last thing they needed was more extracurricular in these forsaken and cold catacombs. He left the parchment with her, the original copy of her parents' death report.

He needed to think. This complicated things, the consequences unforeseen if Delova decided to take matters into her own hands. Her mind was the sharpest among their generation of Magi, her knowledge of the forgotten art of Anathema unmatched. Worst still, if she decided to walk up to the Council that very evening and bring calamity upon them, he wouldn't stand in her way. In fact -he realised with a startle- he would assist her in bringing them the destruction they so easily bestowed upon her family.

Delova was only seven years old when her house was stormed in the middle of the night. She was hidden well by her mother, in a secret compartment under her bed, protected by the woman's most powerful of charms. When she first told him that story, his stomach twitched and turned until he excused himself to the bathroom, emptying his dinner in the toilet. The way she described the sounds that followed the invasion, the screams... The coppery scent of blood... It was too much for him to bear. So detailed it was, as if she were reliving it in that very moment.

Little Delova spent two whole days in her cramped hideout. On the third, she crawled out from under her bed, leaving behind a small trail of yellow liquid. Her parents were gone, just like her elder siblings. Only blood greeted her as she entered each bedroom, even more so as she walked into the living room. That, and a large alchemical circle, with remnants of ash and lavender.

And now, she finally had records of her parents' death...

"Wait a minute!"

He blazed five theli flying his way and ran back to the statue, his mind racing faster than his feet.

Delova was craddling the papers in her hands, rocking back and forth, while silent tears streamed unstopped down her face.

"They are alive!"

The echoes reached her faster than he did, but she raised her head all the same.

"Who?"

He bent forward, trying to catch his breath, her teary eyes forming questions that most likely he had no answer for.

"Your siblings," he breathed, "they are alive."

"The twins?"

"Here!"

He pulled the parchment free of her hand and ran it down once more, nodding as his theory -partly- solidified in his mind.

"Remember Mr. Storky's class? He explained how the Magistorum types and files its documents, all branches following the exact same procedure."

"You paid attention to that?"

Were it another case, she would have sounded sarcastic, eyebrows arching upwards, and that devilish smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Aggravating, and downright irresistible.

"Wanted to join the force, remember? Anyway, look here."

He showed her the middle left, where identification details and act analysis were cramped in a small window.

"Your siblings are not mentioned anywhere in the paper. Nor is any future act to be approved. They didn't kill them."

"Maybe there was another paper, Isaac. Maybe your uncle simply didn't find it."

He grabbed both her shoulders and shook her, ignoring her protest.

"My skills are only second best to my uncle's, and we both know what that means. If there were another file, he would have retrieved it. Delova, your siblings might as well be alive."

As the light of hope burned anew in her eyes, Isaac found himself focusing on her parted lips, for a moment that seemed like an eternity.

When had the urge to touch them flourished in him? When had he stopped wanting to shut her up and begun wondering how they would taste against his?

Delova noticed. Her hands were frozen midair, fingers tugging at his sleeves. Be it her emotional state or something hidden deep inside her chest, she had the same thoughts as the man standing in front of her.

When had it all started shifting, right under their feet? Their world, their reality? Their own hearts? Isaac was the reckless of the two, but in that moment, Delova threw away all reason and closed the gap between them, wrapping her hands around his neck to bring him close. There was no hesitation as he leaned into her kiss, guided by her touch.

The more their lips touched, the denser the atmosphere around them grew, his Inferna threatening to break away from his control. He was the first to pull away again, but this time he kept her closer still, safe and warm in his embrace.

He didn't know how, but he would help her. Even if he had to betray his own blood in the process.