A leaden weight pressed against my eyelids. I struggled, each blink a herculean effort, until the world swam into focus. I was lying on a frigid, black stone floor, the chill seeping into my bones. I pushed myself up, my limbs heavy and unresponsive, and surveyed my surroundings. I stood in a vast, circular chamber, its walls and floor constructed of polished obsidian, reflecting the dim, unseen light in a way that made the room seem to pulse with an inner darkness. At the far end, a massive, unadorned door loomed, a stark black rectangle against the shimmering obsidian. On the opposite side, a raised sacrificial altar, stained with what looked disturbingly like dried blood, cast a long, ominous shadow. Lining the walls, like silent, malevolent sentinels, were grotesque demon statues. Each depicted a creature of nightmare, their forms twisted and monstrous, their expressions frozen in eternal, agonizing snarls. The air itself felt thick and heavy, laden with an unseen dread.
The silence of the obsidian chamber shattered by the brutal clang of steel against bone. I whipped my head towards the source of the noise, my eyes widening in disbelief. Near the far door, Elizabeth, her face a mask of grim determination, wielded a wickedly barbed spear, its pirate-like tip dripping with viscous, black ichor. She moved with a savage grace and a raw, powerful ferocity, carving a bloody path through a swarm of demons that seemed to have clawed their way out of nightmare itself. Their forms were a grotesque mockery of humanoids, with twisted limbs ending in razor-sharp claws, and faces that were little more than gaping maws filled with rows of jagged teeth. Some had leathery wings, beating the air with a sickening, rustling sound, while others possessed multiple eyes, their gaze burning with malevolent hunger. Their skin was a patchwork of festering wounds and exposed bone, and from these wounds, a foul, black smoke billowed, choking the already oppressive air. The air was thick with the stench of decay and sulfur, and the room echoed with their guttural snarls and the wet, tearing sounds of flesh being rent. Elizabeth, with a guttural battle cry, spun, her spear a whirlwind of death, cleaving through another demon's grotesque form.
A rustling sound, like dry papyrus shifting, drew my attention to the other side of the chamber. My gaze fell upon a figure chained to the sacrificial altar, a coarse sack obscuring their head. The figure trembled, their muffled breaths echoing in the oppressive silence. From the shadows beyond the altar, a demon emerged, its jackal head held high, its eyes glowing with an eerie, amber light. Its body, though humanoid, was lean and powerful, draped in dark, ceremonial robes adorned with hieroglyphs that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light. In its clawed hand, it held a leather-bound tome, its cover etched with disturbing symbols, and a crudely fashioned dagger, its blade obsidian black. The Anubis-like demon approached the altar, its movements fluid and deliberate, and opened the book. A low, guttural chant filled the chamber, the words an alien, sibilant language that seemed to vibrate in my very bones, sending shivers of dread down my spine. The air grew thick with an unseen pressure, and the shadows around the altar deepened, as if the very darkness was responding to the demon's incantation.
"Augh!" The sound ripped through the chanting, a raw cry of pain. I spun towards the door. Elizabeth stood there, her face contorted in agony, clutching her arm. Blood, thick and dark, seeped between her fingers, dripping onto the obsidian floor. She faced a monstrous hybrid, a grotesque fusion of woman and arachnid. The upper half was that of a woman, but her face was a predatory mask, fanged and snarling. Her lower body was a massive, hairy spider, its eight legs skittering and clicking on the stone. In its four human-like hands, it wielded two daggers, their blades dripping with a viscous, luminescent green liquid that shimmered with an unnatural light. The air around the daggers pulsed with a faint, sickly green aura, hinting at a potent, corrosive poison.
Elizabeth lunged to the side, the spider-demon's daggers whistling past her ear, their green poison leaving a faint, sizzling trail in the air. With a brutal thrust, she retaliated, her spear aimed at the creature's monstrous head. Just as the barbed tip was about to pierce the skull, a guttural growl echoed through the chamber. From the shadows, a demon with unnaturally elongated limbs, its head a hollow wolf's skull, emerged. It raised an oversized, rusted metal bat, its surface pitted and scarred, ready to deliver a crushing blow to Elizabeth's back.
I tried to scream, to warn her, but my throat was a hollow, useless cavity. No sound escaped. I watched, paralyzed, as the rusted metal bat connected with Elizabeth's side, the sickening crack echoing through the chamber. She was hurled across the room, a ragdoll against the obsidian wall, which exploded in a cloud of dust and fractured stone. I strained against the invisible bonds that held me, my body rigid with terror, but I couldn't move, couldn't even twitch. I could only watch, a silent witness to her brutal demise. My despair was a cold, suffocating weight. Meanwhile, the demon at the altar's chant intensified, the guttural syllables resonating with a dark, unnatural power. It raised the obsidian dagger, its blade now wreathed in black flames that flickered and danced, casting grotesque shadows across the altar. The air crackled with an unseen energy, and the very stones seemed to vibrate in response to the demon's infernal incantation.
"NO!" Elizabeth's scream tore through the chanting, a raw, primal cry of defiance. She launched herself forward, a whirlwind of furious motion, her spear a blur of deadly intent. Demons fell before her, their grotesque forms rent apart with the ferocity of a Viking berserker. One demon, its clawed hand a blur of motion, managed a lucky strike, slashing across her thigh. "Ugh!" Elizabeth grunted, her face a mask of pain and rage. Her hand snapped up, and a jagged icicle, crackling with unnatural frost, shot from her palm, piercing the demon's skull with a sickening crunch. She surged forward, her eyes blazing with a desperate fury, but it was too late. The demon plunged the obsidian dagger into the bound figure on the altar, the blade disappearing into the sack-covered form. A wave of dark energy erupted from the altar, a suffocating pulse of pure malevolence. The air shimmered and distorted, the shadows twisting into grotesque shapes. An invisible force, like a crushing hand of pure dread, slammed into Elizabeth, sending her flying across the chamber. She crashed into the wall beside the door, the stone cracking beneath the force of her impact. A guttural roar, not human, not animal, echoed through the chamber, as the altar began to glow with an unholy, pulsating light.
A creeping shadow, thick and viscous as tar, began to writhe and coalesce above the desecrated sacrifice, as if the very darkness was devouring the corpse. The sacrifice's broken form, now unnaturally weightless, levitated in the air, suspended within the swirling abyss of black smoke. The smoke, thick and choking, pulsed with an inner malevolence, its tendrils twisting and contorting, forming a grotesque parody of a humanoid figure. The air grew heavy, charged with an unseen dread, as the smoke solidified, revealing glimpses of a colossal form. From the swirling darkness, two points of infernal red light ignited, burning like malevolent stars, marking the emergence of eyes. Then, a horrifying grin, a gaping maw filled with jagged, obsidian teeth, stretched across the shadowy face, a silent promise of unimaginable terror. The smoke-covered figure, a towering behemoth of darkness, pulsed with an unholy energy, its form casting long, distorted shadows that danced and writhed across the obsidian walls, as if the very room was recoiling in fear.
"Your kind have held dominion over this world for far too long," the figure boomed, its voice a resonant, guttural echo that seemed to vibrate the very stones of the chamber. With a languid, almost dismissive gesture, it raised a shadowy hand. Elizabeth, her form rigid and unresisting, was lifted into the air, suspended like a puppet on invisible strings. Another flick of the figure's hand, and she was propelled across the room, a blur of motion, until she hovered mere feet from its monstrous face. "Now," the figure hissed, its grin widening into a terrifying rictus, "go and deliver a message to your masters. Tell them their reign is at an end." With a final, contemptuous gesture, it unleashed a wave of dark energy, sending Elizabeth hurtling through the open doorway, her scream swallowed by the echoing void beyond.
A slow, predatory smile formed within the swirling shadows, the grin stretching across the figure's face like a dark, malevolent crescent moon. Its infernal gaze, those burning red eyes, fixed upon me. "Now," it rumbled, its voice a low, guttural growl that resonated with ancient malice, "what to do with you?" The towering figure began to stride towards me, its shadowy form gliding across the obsidian floor with an unnatural, silent grace. I thrashed against the unseen bonds that held me captive, my muscles screaming in protest, my mind a whirlwind of terror. But the invisible restraints held firm, an implacable barrier against my desperate struggle. The figure drew closer, its shadow looming over me like a suffocating shroud. Just as its outstretched hand, a claw of pure darkness, reached for me, the world shattered. I gasped, my eyes snapping open, the chilling echoes of its voice still ringing in my ears.
The sterile white of the hospital ceiling swimming into focus. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes, and a tangle of tubes and wires snaked across my arms, connecting me to a series of beeping machines. The rhythmic pulse of the heart monitor filled the quiet room, a stark reminder of my own fragile existence. I shifted, the crisp white sheets rustling, and surveyed my surroundings. A narrow hospital bed, a small bedside table cluttered with get-well cards and bouquets of wilting flowers, and the cold, impersonal hum of medical equipment – it was a familiar scene, yet disorienting. The cards, with their generic "get well soon" sentiments, felt oddly impersonal. After a moment, I noticed a figure in the corner, shrouded in the shadows. They sat in a worn, leather armchair, their face obscured by the broadsheet of a newspaper. The rustle of the pages was the only sound besides the beeping machines.
"Uhm… excuse me?" I asked, my voice raspy. "Could you tell me where I am?"
Mr. Griffon lowered his paper, his expression utterly neutral. "You're in the campus infirmary. Apparently, you were involved in some sort of… altercation. With a witch at the party."
"Yeah, last night… got a little weird," I joked, my voice still a bit raspy.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm afraid, Mr. Nielson, you've been in a coma. For ten days."
A chill ran down my spine. Ten days? A coma? What the hell happened? My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of memory, but all I could grasp was the swirling darkness of the dream, the girl's twisted smile, and the searing pain.
"Dean Evandar wishes to speak with you," Mr. Griffon said, his voice flat. "He will be here shortly." A snap of his fingers, and he was gone, leaving me alone in the sterile room.
They really need to stop with the disappearing act, I thought, a wave of annoyance washing over me. The sterile silence of the room was broken a few seconds later, not by a snap or a swirl of mist, but by the sudden appearance of Dean Evandar, plopped unceremoniously into the very chair Mr. Griffon had occupied. He sat there, legs crossed, a half-eaten powdered donut clutched in his hand, a dusting of white sugar clinging to his dark suit. He finished chewing, swallowed, and then looked at me, a surprisingly casual expression on his face.
He smiled, a little too brightly, considering the circumstances. "Good morning, Mr. Neilson.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a finger, silencing me before I could utter a word.
"Let us begin," he said, his voice unusually strained. "What happened to you… should not have been possible. An enemy breached our protection wards. Our staff is working diligently to reinforce them." He paused, taking a deliberate, shaky breath.
"Ms. Marandi informed me of your dreams," he said, his voice grave. "We've convened a meeting of headmasters and other influential figures before the winter break to discuss their implications." His expression shifted, becoming mournful. "I… regret not giving you the time to explain your experiences upon your arrival."
"It's… okay," I said, though my mind was still reeling.
"Let us begin with your nature," he stated, his voice stern and unwavering. "You are a Bellator."
"Bellator," I repeated, a shiver running down my spine. "I've heard that name in my dreams. What does it mean?"
"Bellator," he said, his smile widening slightly. "Latin for 'warrior.' Over the centuries, we have been known by many names – heroes, demigods, and more. But when we united, we chose 'Bellator.' A fitting title, wouldn't you agree?" He gestured, and a steaming cup of coffee materialized in his hand. He took a leisurely sip.
"The tales you know," he said, his gaze sweeping the room, "of heroes battling beasts, of champions defying darkness… those are the stories of the Bellator."
"But what is a Bellator?" I interrupted, my voice sharp.
"A Bellator," he said, wiping a stray drop of coffee from his lip, "is the bridge between humanity and divinity. The true name of our progenitors is lost to antiquity. We possess strength, speed, and resilience far beyond mortal limits, and command magic. However, we are not gods. Our blood, carries the essence of that original, forgotten race."
"Gods?" I asked, my brow furrowed. "What kind of gods are we talking about?"
His eyes widened slightly, a profound sense of revelation in their depths. "Indeed, a most crucial question. We have, over the long course of our history, come to understand that the gods of myth nearly every one exist. And humanity... is divided amongst their influences."
"So where do we go when we die?" I asked it sounded like a loaded question.
"A question of profound consequence," he said, his voice low and resonant. "The realms beyond mortality are… varied. And largely unknown. Even though we receive assistance from the gods, they remain stubbornly silent on what awaits. A silence that stretches into eternity."
"Silent?" I asked, my voice incredulous. "We can talk to gods?"
"A simplification," he corrected, his gaze unwavering. "The specifics will be revealed during your
iudicium dei. And that, I'm afraid, is all I am permitted to say."
"The Bellator's purpose," he stated, his voice firm, "is to safeguard the world against demonic incursions and prevent apocalyptic events. Taurus University is where we train the next generation of Bellators, preparing them for service within our society or providing them with the opportunity to pursue alternative degrees, should they choose a less… hazardous path."
"How many other schools like this are there?" I asked.
"Currently," he stated, his voice even, "there are 125 officially recognized institutions worldwide. Four of those are located within the United States."
"Right," I said, my mind reeling. This is madness. Utter madness. Yet, I'd seen things, things that defied all logic. So, maybe… maybe this wasn't so crazy after all.
"Taurus University," he stated, his voice resonant with pride, "was founded in honor of a great highland warrior, a hero who saved the world over seven centuries ago. He is, in fact, one of my ancestors."
"You're Scottish?" I said, a snort escaping me. "No offense, sir, but you don't exactly fit the image I had in my head."
He chuckled. "No, I was born and raised in Detroit. My family simply descends from the hero himself."
"Alright, last one," I said, with a wry smile. "How do you think my parents are going to react to the whole 'son fights demons' thing? I'm guessing 'proud' isn't the first word that comes to mind."
"Your parents," he said, his voice even, "are under the impression you have secured a place here with the promise of lucrative employment upon graduation. They will be attending family day at the start of your third week. I suggest you maintain a tidy dorm." He chuckled, a low, almost amused sound.
He glanced at his wristwatch. "Ah, look at the time. I must depart. Your friends should be arriving shortly." As if on cue, the door burst open, and Elizabeth, Lexia, Aaron, and Nox rushed in. I turned to find Dean Evandar, but he was gone.
"Oof!" Elizabeth landed on me with surprising force, nearly winded me. "Oh my god, Lance, thank god you're awake!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion, tears threatening to spill.
"Hey, I'm fine now," I said, trying to offer a reassuring smile. She took a step back, wiping her eyes, and Aaron stepped forward.
"I'm… really sorry I wasn't faster," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "But, hey, you've got a killer story now. 'Survived a demon attack' has a nice ring to it, right?" He laughed, a nervous, almost apologetic chuckle.
"More than one," I said, with a dry chuckle. "At this point, it's practically a hobby."
Nox walked over and gave me a firm hug, squeezing me almost to the point of breathlessness. "We were so worried," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We all took shifts watching over you, so we'd be here when you woke up."
Lexia stepped forward, her expression uncharacteristically soft. "I generally find most people… tiresome," she said, her voice clipped. "But I'm… glad you're alright."
I nodded to Lexia, and they launched into a rapid-fire recap of the past ten days. Elizabeth, informed the others of my dreams. They'd been digging through the club house library, uncovering a disturbing trend: I wasn't the first to experience these visions, and they were usually a harbinger of… major events.
"Unfortunately," Aaron said, his tone measured, "we'll have to wait until the second week of classes to access the main library for further research."
"Why wait?" Lexia asked, her voice sharp. "We could just… expedite the process. You know, with a little breaking and entering?"
"Because," Nox stated, her voice firm, "there's a protective ward on the library. You'd trigger an alarm the moment you stepped inside."
"Fine," Lexia sighed, her voice laced with thinly veiled impatience.
"So," Elizabeth said, her voice soft, "what would you like to do now that you're awake? It's already pretty late."
"Okay, so, terrible timing, I know," Aaron said, gesturing to himself with a nervous smile. "But it's the pre-orientation weekend party. How about a special 'welcome back from the brink' cocktail? My specialty."
The thought of another party made me groan inwardly. All I craved was solitude, a mountain of pizza, and the comforting embrace of a movie marathon. But one look at their eager faces, practically vibrating with anticipation, and my resolve crumbled. "Ugh, fine," I sighed. "Rest can wait."
I need to learn to stand up for what I want, I thought.
They filled me in on the highlights of my ten-day nap, and then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, a doctor entered and declared I was free to leave after a "minor restorative enchantment." To, you know, "rebuild any muscle atrophy." I stared at him. My life is a fantasy novel now.
A few hours later, back in the relative familiarity of my dorm, I found I wasn't the only occupant. Someone was sprawled on the living room couch: black buzzcut, a sleek black zip-up hoodie, cargo shorts, and black skateboarding shoes.
"Hey, you must be Lance," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he extended a hand. "I'm Jordan Winters. Nice to finally meet you."
I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you too, man." We fell into an easy conversation, discovering a surprising number of shared interests – everything from obscure horror flicks to deep-dive strategy video games.
He asked about my early arrival, and I gave him the CliffsNotes version of our road trip with Elizabeth, conveniently skipping the part of being attacked by demons. I had a party to get ready for, after all.
"Whoa, sounds like you guys had quite the adventure," Jordan said, a smile spreading across his face. "I actually bumped into Elizabeth the other day, and yeah, I can see why you're friends. She's awesome."
I nodded. "Yeah, she is. So, what brings you here early too? What's your story?"
"Well," Jordan began, as if stating a simple fact, "it's kind of a family business. Both my parents' families go way back with the Bellators. Right now my mom, dad, my three older brothers, and two of my three older sisters are all out on active duty. You know… the demon thing." He let out a breath that sounded a little tired.
"Centuries?" I repeated, my voice filled with awe. "Your entire family has been doing this for centuries?"
Jordan frowned, a puzzled look on his face for a moment. Then, his eyes widened slightly, as if something clicked. "Oh," he said, a hint of understanding in his voice. "You're new to all this, aren't you?"
My brow furrowed. I looked at him, completely lost.
"Right," Jordan said, nodding. "Yeah, you wouldn't know yet. There's actually a pretty big community of us, living alongside regular folks. And yeah, lots of families keep the Bellator thing going for generations. But some families peace out at some point. Must've happened with yours." He took a deep breath, as if considering the possibilities.
"No sweat," Jordan said, his smile wide and reassuring. "They've got entire classes dedicated to bringing you up to speed. By the time the semester's in full swing, you'll know more than you ever thought possible."
I chuckled softly, glancing at my watch. "Well, I've got a party to get ready for tonight, so I'll catch you later," I said, heading towards my room.
"At the Bellum Club House?" he called after me.
I turned back. "Yeah. You heading there too?"
"Yeah," Jordan said, a hint of pride in his voice. "My sister's the vice-captain of the Bellum team. I'm actually heading over there now."
"Hey, hold up," I said. "Why don't you wait a bit? We can all go together – me, you, Elizabeth, and Lexia."
"Sure," Jordan said, turning back to the TV. "Sounds good. Definitely better than making the trek solo."
Showered and dressed in my usual red sweater and jeans combo with my red sneakers, I stepped out of my room to find Jordan waiting with Elizabeth, Lexia, and a new face: a girl with long brown hair and a smattering of freckles, dressed in a blue long-sleeve, ripped jeans, and black running shoes. "Ready to roll, sleepyhead?" Elizabeth called out with a grin.
"Lance," Elizabeth announced, giving Jean a playful shove forward, "this is Jean Rhodes, our new roommate!"
A faint blush colored Jean's cheeks as she spoke in a soft, soothing voice. "Hi Lance, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much." She then tilted her head slightly. "So, what's your favorite scary movie?"
An awkward silence hung in the air. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry," Jean blurted out, her blush deepening. "That was probably a really insensitive question, considering… everything. But Elizabeth mentioned you liked horror movies, and I'm a huge fan, so I just… yeah."
That's a conversational landmine, regardless of recent demon attacks, I mused internally. Beside me, Lexia groaned and slapped her forehead with dramatic force.
Jordan leaned in close, a playful smirk on his face, and whispered, "I think someone's got a little crush on you."
My cheeks flushed. "No, it's okay," I stammered, then cleared my throat. "Uhm… probably anything with a zombie apocalypse."
"Oh, for the love of," Lexia scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Lovebirds we have a party to get to. Let's not make this a Lifetime movie moment."
With a collective nod, we set off. The walk to the Bellum Club House became a lively exchange, with Jean and I geeking out over our favorite horror flicks, punctuated by Elizabeth, Lexia, and Jordan's occasional witty remarks and shared interests.
We arrived at the Bellum Club House and stepped inside to a welcoming committee of Nox and Aaron, each brandishing drinks. The party was already in full swing, the living room impossibly vast, as if the building itself had stretched to accommodate the crowd, bathed in pulsing neon lights with people dancing to the DJ's thumping beat.
Jordan nudged me. "Hey, wanna throw down a game of beer pong? My sister just texted, she's over that way."
"Count me in," I said, giving Elizabeth and the others a quick heads-up that we'd reconnect later. Jordan and I squeezed through the packed kitchen and into the dining room. My eyes widened. Talking to a scrawny, bald guy was a woman who looked like she could bench-press a small car – at least six-five, with long, flowing black hair and serious muscle definition.
"Yo sis!" Jordan called out. Her head turned, her eyes scanning the room before landing on us, and she offered a wave.
"Hey little bro!" she called out, her smile wide and welcoming. She and the bald guy she'd been talking to started to make their way over to us.
"Hey Jordan, it's nice to see you again." The man extended his hand.
"Angelo! Awesome to see you too!" Jordan exclaimed, pulling the bald man into a quick, friendly hug.
"Who's this?" Jordan's sister asked, a finger pointed in my direction.
"Oh! Oh! Right, my bad!" Jordan yelped, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Alice, Angelo, this is my awesome roommate, Lance! Lance, meet my amazing sister, Alice, and her super cool boyfriend, Angelo!" He beamed, practically radiating excitement.
"Nice to meet you both," I said with a friendly nod to Alice and Angelo. The conversation quickly turned to the ins and outs of the school and the classes I should be prepared for.
"So," Alice said, looking at Jordan and me, "thinking of trying out for the team?"
"Hell yeah, I am!" Jordan exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's practically a family tradition – everyone's been on the team, no way I'm missing out!"
Alice turned her gaze to me. "Well, what about you, Lance?"
"Oh," I said, a slight blush creeping up my neck. "I don't know. I've never really been much of a fighter. Elizabeth usually took care of anyone who caused trouble."
"That's the cool thing," Angelo chimed in, his tone encouraging. "There are all sorts of roles on the team. I'm a healer – making sure everyone stays in the fight. It's vital work."
"Hmm," I murmured, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I'll definitely think about it."
A roar of cheers erupted from the beer pong table. Jordan's eyes gleamed with mischief as he turned to Alice. "Hey sis," he said, pointing towards the table, "all my summer chores against all of yours that Lance and I can take you in a game."
"You're on," Alice replied without hesitation, a competitive glint in her eyes.
I nodded, and we joined the fray at the beer pong table. Jordan started strong, sinking two of his first three shots, while my initial throws went wide. My third shot finally landed. The score stood at 5-4, their favor, needing five more to win while we needed six. The game tightened, each throw carrying more weight. Finally, it was 3-2, our shot. The last three cups on their side formed a precarious triangle. Jordan, with a confident flick of his wrist, nailed the furthest one. My turn. Sink either of the remaining two, and we get another chance. Aim for Jordan's cup, and it's an improbable win. I took a deep breath, the weight of the game settling on my shoulders, and let the ball fly.
The room exploded in cheers. My shot had landed squarely in the same cup as Jordan's. Alice threw her hands up in mock defeat, a wide grin nonetheless. Suddenly, I was engulfed in a wave of back slaps and high fives from the surrounding crowd. Even Alice and Angelo came over, offering genuine congratulations.
"I'm going to find the others," I told Jordan, a little breathless from the excitement. He nodded, and we navigated through the throng towards the far end of the living room.
Stepping into the main part of the living room, I spotted Elizabeth, Lexia, and Jean chatting near the edge of the dance floor. I made my way over to join their conversation.
"Having fun?" Elizabeth asked, a smile on her face.
"Definitely!" I replied, a smile spreading across my face. "Me and Jordan just took down his sister in an epic beer pong battle."
Lexia shuddered slightly. "Oh god, the last time I played her? It was a massacre. Seriously, mad respect where it's due."
"Hey," Jean said, smiling at me. "Maybe you and I could play a round later?"
"Definitely! That sounds awesome!" I said, perhaps a bit too quickly, a wide, slightly goofy smile spreading across my face.
"Ewww," Jordan groaned, wrinkling his nose like a kid who'd just been offered broccoli.
A silent communication passed between Lexia and Elizabeth – a raised eyebrow from one, a knowing smirk from the other – as they simultaneously finished their beverages. "Huh," Elizabeth said, her tone overly casual. "Guess my glass ran dry. Be right back."
"Me too." Agreed alexia.
"You two stay put and mingle," Elizabeth said pointedly, turning and dragging a protesting Jordan along by the collar as she followed Lexia. "We'll be right back."
"Sorry about them," Jean said with a small, slightly embarrassed smile.
"Elizabeth mentioned she was trying to set us up," Jean admitted, quickly bringing her hands up to her flushed cheeks.
"Yeah, Elizabeth's subtlety leaves something to be desired," I said with a small chuckle. "Anyway, this whole place is a bit much, you know? But not you! You're awesome." Smooth Lance real smooth.
Jean giggled, a bright, melodic sound. "Well, thank you, I guess," she said, her smile widening.
A muffled thump echoed from the DJ booth, and I saw Lexia fiddling with the equipment behind the counter. Just then, the upbeat music cut off, replaced by the saccharine strains of a slow song. My face flushed crimson. Elizabeth, you are so dead.
"Wow," Jean murmured, rubbing her arm slightly. "She really commits to a plan, doesn't she?"
"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks still warm. I extended my hand. "Want to?"
Jean nodded, her hand finding mine, and led me onto the dance floor. We slow danced through the next few songs, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours, yet still too brief. When the tempo picked up, we decided to head outside for some air on the patio.
We found a spot by the crackling fire pit on the patio, settling in to enjoy the warmth. Moments later, Nox and Aaron joined us.
"You two were adorable out there, weren't you, Aaron?" Nox exclaimed with a grin.
Aaron took a deliberate sip of his drink, his gaze lingering on us with a knowing amusement. "Oh, you two were positively radiating fairytale charm," he declared, a subtle, almost imperceptible wink gracing his features. "Cinderella found her Prince, indeed."
"Thanks," I said, then a beat later, "Wait, you guys were watching us dance?"
Before Aaron could answer, Lexia, Jordan, and Elizabeth joined us at the table.
"So," I said, looking pointedly at Lexia. "Is the DJ... still breathing?"
Lexia shrugged, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "He's just having a little nap. Should be back to the beats in roughly an hour."
"Right," Aaron said dryly, taking another sip of his drink. "One less hour to pay him for."
Elizabeth mouthed a silent, exaggerated "you're welcome," and I responded with a series of decidedly rude hand gestures, which only made her laugh harder.
"Hey Nox, Cap, what's going on?" Alice's familiar voice called out. I turned to see her and Angelo approaching our group.
"Cap?" I asked, looking around, "Who's she calling 'Cap'?"
Me, of course," Aaron said with a smug grin, "I'm the undisputed leader of this team." Nox, with a playful snort, playfully shoved his shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Alice and Angelo settled in with us at the fire pit, and the next few hours slipped by easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. As the clock struck 1 AM, Aaron, who'd momentarily disappeared, returned with a bottle of vodka and a handful of shot glasses, a mischievous grin on his face.
Aaron raised his shot glass, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Alright everyone, a toast. To the fresh faces among us, the new first years. And here's to hoping," he paused for effect, his gaze flicking around the group, "against all odds, that their experience here will be… relatively normal."
Aaron poured generous shots for everyone, and with a clink of glass, we toasted the uncertain normalcy of the days ahead. The energy of the party gradually dissipated over the next hour or two, leaving a comfortable quiet as we all drifted back towards the dorms, the thought of the remaining days before Monday's orientation a quiet call for a few precious hours of sleep.