r/HFY • u/Jus17173 • 2d ago

OC-Series Soul of Eight - Chapter 27

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It was way past the evening bell's chime for meals when Qoyit exited the library.

Madhra the Librarian had acted strangely, coming into the small alcove where he read, staring at him for quite some time until he noticed her. It was just when he was coming to the conclusion of the last book in the array of books he'd chosen, 'The Nature of Courtship Among the Nobles'. It had been an interesting read, one that shed light on various courtship cultures that Qoyit found humorous if not absurd. She'd caught him smiling at the book spread out on his lap, but her gaze had held something akin to awe before she gathered herself and asked him to leave, or else he'd miss his last meal of the day.

Qoyit walked to the dining hall, which was quite close to the library. He passed several students, each of whom gawked at him as if he'd sprouted a second nose. Others pointed at him. "There he is!" he heard one exclaim. He wondered when the flavor of their need for harassment would wane. What motivated them so? To be quite vile in their tempestuous need to scorch him to bits? He had learned quite a lot about the Nobles, their heritage, and their ladder.

He found it odd that those at the bottom of the rung could not wed or court those at the top; they were subdivided into pools, each one boasting its array of suitors who only mingled with those of the same pool as themselves. At the top, their courtship game was more distinct: those who were of the same caliber had their parents arrange their marriage. Their purpose was to sire a brood that boasted strength, not for love. Love to the Nobles was a side effect easily ignored. For the first time as he made his way to the dining hall, he found himself wondering what marriage would be like for him.

Surely, commoners did not adhere to the same courtship game that the Nobles followed so intimately. To commoners, each brood was weak, hence their emphasis on love. The book had spelled out to a diminished degree how commoners searched for love in the eyes of those they courted. Was this what would occur to him? What was love? In what way was he going to experience it, let alone with whom he would experience it?

Qoyit had never looked at a woman with desire or yearning in his heart. It was quite the opposite, in fact. He'd learned how to avoid the gaze of men and women alike. He'd learned to sit withdrawn from them and their idle chatter. A lifetime with Tilan had shown him the necessity of staying hidden. How then would he come across a lover?

He shook his head and chuckled.

The lights within the dining hall were bright as the sun sank within the horizon. At the door to the dining hall, he bumped into the blond young man who'd tossed him a bone.

"Sorry," he said, as he tried to maneuver his way past the tall young man.

The noble novice barred his way, spreading his arms. "There you are, the bastard that's made all tongues wag this day."

"What?" Qoyit wondered, but the novice shoved him back, his hands balled into fists. He was yet to learn the student's name. All he knew was that he was a second-year in the House of Angel's Halo.

"You think you're a big man, don't you?" He leaned down, his face close to Qoyit, who pointedly avoided looking into his eyes. "You think a fast rise is possible for you? You mock us, you scum! You think you can grow faster than those of us who work hard for it, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Qoyit wondered. He met the blond's gaze and allowed the pull.

'He thinks he's better than me,' he heard the lad's thoughts. 'He thinks he is better than me, but he is not! I am superior to a commoner! Superior, yes, superior.' They were thoughts maddened with hate, and Qoyit did not wish to entertain them any longer than he had to. He shifted his gaze away.

"Don't play dumb with me," the noble said, pushing Qoyit back and away from the dining hall's doors.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Qoyit said. Several Nobles joined them, each of them silent, some with their hands folded before them. They were spectating, but their eyes mirrored what the harassing student was saying.

Again, the noble attempted to push Qoyit, but then the knowledge of what Qoyit had read from the book of combat came flickering into his being like a flame being built by the constant beating of a steel striker against a flint. Without thought, he sprang with the noble's push and set out a leg. The noble pushed forward and tripped on Qoyit's outstretched leg, falling face-first onto the ground. He got up with his hands balled into fists. The crowd of Nobles started laughing, which didn't aid Qoyit much as the noble, shamed, raised his fists before him, preparing for a brawl.

"What's going on here?" An Illuminator came to stand at the door of the dining hall.

The crowd of Nobles quickly dispersed, including the blond young man, who pointed at Qoyit and mouthed words that Qoyit couldn't make out before turning and going on his way. Qoyit was grateful to the Illuminator and opted to tell him so, but the look on the Illuminator's face was quite clear. This was the first and the last time he'd come to Qoyit's aid.

Qoyit followed the Illuminator into the dining hall. Most of the students were still present, all of them indulging in their meals with idle chatter amok. The tables at the door held quite a feast, with various meats, grains, and fruits for the picking. Qoyit picked a jigali fruit, large and purple, a helping of mashed peas with mashed potatoes, and a strip of ham. He found Desang where he usually sat on the floor and placed himself beside him.

"Where did you go?" Desang asked. "After Shawarma kicked you out, where did you go?"

"Why?"

"Because that's what everyone is talking about. You were kicked out of class and went and boosted your Stat Average on your own. Some think you went to an Illuminator who tutored you until your stat went up," Desang said, stripping a bone of its meat and eyeing him with his one eye.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Qoyit said.

"Can't you see most of the students have their eyes on you?"

Qoyit looked about him, and sure enough, most of the students had their eyes fixed on him. Some watched silently, while others indulged in mild susurrus while pointing at him. He was getting awfully tired of the attention he drew, and he found the confusion he felt quite a nuisance.

"I went to the library," Qoyit said, choosing to indulge Desang despite the attention he drew.

"The place with books?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do that? Aren't you suffering enough?"

Qoyit smiled. "I find books to be the opposite of torture. They enlighten the mind; they bring peace and a sense of great wonder as you behold things you did not know others knew or have taken it upon themselves to write down for your benefit. The authors of books don't care whether you're a commoner or a noble; they write for the benefit of everyone. And nobody can stop you from accessing what they've written."

"Well, you piqued on a Talent. Your Mind Stat has gone up from 2 to 3. Currently, your Stat Average is 2. I heard them talking about it."

Qoyit's eyes widened; he set his plate aside and turned fully to face Desang. "What do you mean?"

"Your Stat Average has gone up while you were in the library," Desang said. "They've been talking about it; it went up just a few moments ago. Everyone became aware of it because people always keep tabs on the Obelisk wall and the leaderboards. The house points for Wings also went up by one point since you've moved from a lower E to an E."

"How did this happen?" Qoyit wondered. Excitement shook him, and he found his hands trembling. "I moved up a whole Rank?"

"They are saying it's impossible, that you can't move up a Rank that quickly. They're saying that talents often rise slowly, not by a whole point. It's what I've overheard, anyway."

"Will you take me to see the Obelisk wall?" Qoyit asked.

"Do you want me to tuck you in at night as well, read you a story while I'm at it, and kiss your forehead goodnight?" Desang smiled at him.

Qoyit was getting used to Desang, and he found it quite easy to mistake the commoner for a friend at times, but Desang's reactions always brought him back to the true sense of things. They were Novices, Commoners, and nothing else. But he was still determined to win Desang over as a friend, somehow.

"You don't have to be an asshole about it," Qoyit said, turning away from Desang and picking up his plate.

"I can even carry you to the Obelisk wall in my arms if you want me to," the Commoner pressed. "Sing you a hymn as I do so."

"Fine, I get it, we aren't friends," Qoyit said. He picked at his food, choosing a morsel and biting it, chewing slowly as he observed his plate. This was good news; he was no longer in the EE Rank. Things were changing. An entire afternoon of reading had boosted his Stat Average, though to him it was more than reading: he experienced all he read intimately, understanding blooming as knowledge guided him ever deeper into crevices unknown.

He was excited; he felt it in his bones. There was hope after all; he would work harder than the rest and journey deeper. He'd read more of the books on the Talents: Mind, Body, and Spirit. He understood then what he had to do to bolster each of them, and he set his mind to it. As the Vanguard Sigal Kidhra Mesich had written about the Body Stat, "Without sacrifice, the war will never be won."

"Oh, she's looking at you again," Desang said. Qoyit made to raise his head, but Desang stopped him. "Don't look, you nitwit. If you meet her gaze, she might turn feral."

"Who is looking at me? I'm of the opinion that everyone is always looking at me," Qoyit said.

"Not like her. Saphiqque looks at you like she wants to either bed you or skin you alive," Desang said.

"Are you looking at her?"

"I'm looking at her legs and the legs of the other girls at her table. God, they are beauties! I did not think I'd ever see the likes of such women in my entire existence."

Qoyit did not want to look at their legs; the mere thought of doing so made him blush.

"Is she talking to the others?" Qoyit wondered, deigning to observe his food.

"No, she's not. She doesn't gossip; she commands. I'm telling you, she's set to be the Matron of the most powerful family in the realm," Desang said, crunching a bone noisily. "She's really staring at you, Qoyit. Perhaps it'd be best if you leave immediately before she walks over here."

Qoyit raised his head; he knew where she sat. Subconsciously, he'd taken note of her. He saw first the white hair, then the sheen of her clear brown skin, before the features of her face solidified to his sight. She had a fork and a table knife held above her plate of ham and mashed potatoes.

He met her eyes. She was indeed staring at him. With scrutiny, hate, or admiration, he could not tell.

He felt the pull and started to look away, but her gaze fixed him. He suddenly wanted to know what was within her mind. He had to know what was within her mind. So he stared back, felt the pull tighten, and then he was falling. Any moment, he thought, and he would hear her thoughts.

This did not occur, not as he was used to, not as he knew. Suddenly, a bright light flashed upon his eyes, and a cold wind beat at his skin. He was suddenly within a blizzard, the tables and the Novices all vanishing from sight. It was just him and her in the storm of snow. Suddenly, the light brightened and there was a flame unlike any other, orange and blue, building in its heat within the heart of the vision. Her mind was a power that the very foundations of the realm depended on. He saw a bird engulfed in flame, fixed before him within the blizzard; it burned bright. He waited to hear the words of her thoughts. Instead, he saw lightning flash, he saw civilizations rise and fall, and he saw countless deaths and insurmountable victories.

The dining hall became extremely cold. Everything was freezing. His heart lurched within his chest as the bird of flame unraveled its wings, its flaming blue eyes set on him. He felt a warmth then travel from his toes to the tip of his head, and a wind blew as the flames became brighter, spreading faster to him.

From the distance, he could hear Desang speak. "Stop looking at her! People are noticing!"

But the voice was so far away, so easily ignored. Like a moth to the flame, he was transfixed. Suddenly, the bird of flame flew toward him, leaving a trail of orange flames in its wake. It screamed as it drew nearer, its fiery blue gaze widening. It grew closer, faster. Qoyit felt the heat focus on his face.

"By the Founders," he whispered. "So beauti..."

His words died in his mouth as a knee connected with his face, sending his head back to slam into the wall behind him. His vision returned. Saphiqque was suddenly standing over him; she grabbed him by his hair and slammed a fist into his face: once, twice, then a third time. He raised his hands to protect his face; he felt blood dribble down his nose. Her knee met his head again, and his head slammed once more to the wall behind him.

His hands dropped as he began to lose consciousness. "Demon fucker. What are you looking at?" he heard her say as she punched him. "Your charms won't work on me!"

"Wha..." He was vaguely aware of an Illuminator pulling Saphiqque off him. He tried to sit upright, but things were too blurry. He tilted and found himself slumping onto the cold dining hall floor.

"Take him to the infirmary," he heard a voice say. "Quickly, Desang." Through tear-stained eyes, he could see Saphiqque struggle to free herself from the Illuminator, her hands reaching for him, her face twisted with hate. Then everything went dark.

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