Page 12 of The Scars Within (Twisted Thorn #1)
“That was interesting… to say the least,” Tatum said as we dried off our feet and grabbed our packs.
“I loved it! My heels feel so soft now,” Laney chimed in, her usual enthusiasm shining through.
The entire first class of Intro to Water Wielding had us sitting with our feet in the hot spring, waiting to sense a magical connection to the element. Nobody in our group felt anything except the hot water, which made me want to lie back and nap. I must admit that I didn’t mind the quiet time.
“Laney, with the positive outlook as always,” I said, nudging Laney with my elbow. She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.
After lunch, our quad returned to the dorm to grab our history books.
Today was our first class with Professor Hogboom for History of Warfare.
With books about our continent’s history being the easiest thing to get my hands on back home, I pretty much know everything there is to know about the Battle for Mareki and the establishment of Mageia.
The wooden doors creaked as we entered the classroom, and the clicks of boots on stone echoed in the quiet auditorium as we all found our seats. History of Warfare is another class that only first-years are enrolled in. But since it isn’t element-specific, we share the room with our entire year.
The inside is arranged in a semicircular design with tiered rows of seats.
The space is complemented by dark, polished wood and obsidian accents.
Tapestries line the walls of the auditorium, each representing a historical moment or military battle.
They mix with drooping banners with colors representing each element of the Mareki.
Iron chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling above, their soft, flickering light casting a glow over the room. A mural of an onyx dragon is painted across the ceiling.
The space is incredible. Truly a sight to behold.
Professor Hogboom approached the podium in the center. Scruffy, as usual, I noted.
Hogboom cleared his throat to get our attention.
Once we all quieted down, he began with the lesson.
He started from the very beginning of when Kalymdor’s history was transcribed after the Battle for Mareki, detailing how the unrest between the northern and southern elementals sparked the war, who attacked first, and how it ended.
His lesson was straightforward from the history books until he asked us all one question.
“Who were the first humans to channel from the Mareki?”
Silence.
I straightened in my seat, the weight of the question replaying in my mind. Our transcribed history doesn’t reach that far back. Most people assume humans have always channeled from the Mareki—that there was no before .
Professor Hogboom’s thin mustache twitched upward on one side, a subtle tell of amusement.
“Our continent was founded roughly five hundred years before the Battle for Mareki. Four individuals—two men and two women—set foot on Kalymdor after braving the Wanderer’s Sea.
It is believed they were the only ones to survive the journey.
They are not-so-publicly known as the First Four. ”
A cadet in the front row raised her hand. Professor Hogboom nodded for her to speak. “Why isn’t this part of our history publicly known or recorded anywhere?”
“Who’s to say it wasn’t?” he replied, his tone sharp. “Who’s to say the records weren’t reduced to ash alongside the mages during the battle?”
The room fell quiet again. Someone coughed.
Professor Hogboom’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the pedestal. “These First Four were the first humans to channel from the Mareki.”
“One for each element?” a cadet ventured.
“No.” His voice dropped, drawing us in. “They each channeled all four elements .”
A collective gasp rippled through the room. My pulse quickened, every word carving itself into my memory.
Archmages are only myths. There has never been a single one known in Kalymdor’s history.
“What happened to the mages once they burned to ash?”
Silence.
A cadet in the front row spoke up. “They burned to ash. They died as soon as Zervos removed the Mareki Gem,” he stated, his tone curious as to why Hogboom would ask that.
Our professor eyed the cadet and responded, “Did they? Or was that what the original leaders of Mageia wanted everyone to believe?”
Gasps rippled through the auditorium.
“Yes,” Professor Hogboom said, his voice cutting through the tension.
“I am here to tell you that what you know about our history may not be the truth. I wish I could stand here and assure you that everything you’ve learned is accurate, neatly transcribed, and unchallenged.
But life is rarely that simple. And, most unfortunately, secrets long buried within these halls have begun to surface. ”
His gaze swept over the room, pinning us in place.
“We have lived in peace for nearly five hundred years, separated from Tyria by the Barren Watch. But as fragments of Kalymdor’s true history come to light, I leave you with this: your only homework for this class is to keep your mind open.
Learn this college’s history—inside and out.
You never know when it might mean the difference between life and death. ”
A heavy silence settled over us, like a thick fog laden with the weight of untold secrets. His words pressed down, twisting in my mind. I didn’t know what to think.
Professor Hogboom’s voice dipped, barely above a whisper. “As for the mages who fought during the Battle for Mareki—it is not known what truly became of them. But one thing is certain.”
He paused, the moment stretching taut.
“They did not simply burn to ash.”
After History of Warfare, I decided to grab a dinner plate to-go and find a quiet spot to continue reading Throne of Steel . The main character was starting to suspect something unusual going down in the palace, and I was eager to see what would happen next.
I exited the cafeteria with my plate in one hand and my book in the other when I noticed Rhodes passing by.
He had a book of his own under his arm, his face set in its usual stern expression.
Our eyes met briefly, and he glanced down to see what I was carrying.
Rhodes paused, his mouth opening as if he was about to say something, but someone behind me called my name before he could.
“Scar!”
I turned slowly, keeping my eyes on Rhodes until I saw the muscle in his jaw flex.
Without a word, he continued on his way, leaving me wondering what he might have said.
As I stood there, still processing Rhodes’s fleeting look, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Turning around fully, I saw Shayde grinning at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Hey, Scar,” he said, a playful lilt in his voice. “Got a minute?”
“What’s up, Shayde?” I asked, trying to match his casual tone.
He glanced around, ensuring no one else was listening, then leaned in slightly close enough that I could smell the citrusy bergamot and spice from his skin.
“We’re having a little get-together tonight in the Sanctuary.
Just a few of us, some good drinks, music, maybe even a bit of dancing. Thought you might want to join.”
I hesitated, glancing down at my book and dinner plate. “Is that allowed?”
Shayde waved a dismissive hand. “Part of the fun is not knowing the answer to that question. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Join us just this once; if you don’t want to do it again, I won't ask questions.”
His deep brown eyes looked down at me softly. Shayde is the complete opposite of his brother. He shamelessly tells me what is going on in his head so I don't have to second-guess.
Despite my initial reluctance, I leaned on the fact that Shayde is the easy one to talk to and believe. I held my pointer finger up, “No questions asked if I decide to ghost you afterward?” I raised a brow, hoping that he could sense my playful demeanor.
Shayde held his pinky to my pointer finger and smiled, “Pinky promise.”
Butterflies fluttered in my chest as I wrapped my pointer finger around his pinky and shook it like a handshake.
“Alright, fine,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “When?”
“Now,” Shayde deadpanned and winked, taking the dinner plate from my opposite hand.
As we walked through the halls, I managed to steal glances at him.
Shayde nodded and grinned at almost every cadet we passed, once again proving how different he was from Rhodes.
Some cadets glanced at me and waved, too, which I awkwardly returned.
Shayde stayed a foot ahead of me, carrying my tray.
“Did you not want to grab something for yourself?” I asked, trying to cover my nervousness.
“I did. Thanks for the meal!” He glanced over his shoulder, raising my tray.
I twisted my lips and glared.
As we neared the Sanctuary, Shayde spoke up, startling me. “The secret to hanging out in the Sanctuary is to do it while the guards are on their dinner break. The area is guarded on the outside during their break, so the inside of the cavern is unoccupied.”
I took in that knowledge. “Oh.”
Shayde jumped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. “Welcome to our hangout,” he said, backing into the Sanctuary door while simultaneously opening it.
The space that had seemed calm and tranquil earlier that day was now packed with older cadets in and around the hot springs.
Some were eating their dinners, others had small containers in their hands from which they were taking small sips, and some cadets, doing neither of those things, seemed to be getting extra friendly with each other in one of the springs.
“This way,” Shayde said, leading me to a spring in the back corner. He introduced me to some of his friends while Davis poured everyone a glass of a dark brown liquid with foam forming at the top.
“Ah, hey, Scar!” Davis said, offering me a glass with liquid that sloshed back and forth.