The pale blue light of Cobalts wrestles with the flickering light coming from the scores of torches. All the light amplified by the neverending fat ring of polished bronze at the base of the oversized dome, and brightened further by the immense shining blue crystal at the dome's apex. The rgest chamber of the Academy mostly features torches during times of festivals or for some special occasion. Well, I feel honored indeed.

  The space of the Great Chamber overflows into nine half-domes of golden mosaics and vast resplendent frescoes. Despite being beholden to the main dome, the nine stewards are each an empyreal realm unto itself.

  The faces of my cssmates appear bloodless. Some of them look as if they might be next. I stare them all in the eye as if I were a grandmaster about to give some useless lecture. Hebe seems about to cry and Michael is not that far off. My eyes don't linger on them nearly as much as on the rest of the audience; all the while I give an impression that all this is just like a walk through the Secret Garden, though the truth couldn't be more opposite. I am scared.

  My strength never protected me from pain. Early on I knew I could see and hear far better than any person I know. Sadly, like with everything in life, there is always a price. A little bit of pleasure costs a Void of pain.

  Food would often have too intense fvor and I would sometimes eat one meal a day—if I was even hungry. And even water sometimes had an unpleasant taste. A tiny bit of salt overpowers the entire dish for me. My nose was always more than grateful for the Academy's adherence to cleanliness. Not so much so during hours in a gymnasium or while running through the bustling city full of sweaty people. If familiars could shit I'd probably run away from Lodestar to live with Wraiths.

  And of course, there is touch. My father had a special tool in his workshop. The tool had a sturdy stonewood handle and a pretty, needle-like tip made entirely out of Cobalt. When I was eight I pyed with it, and to make it even more pretty I left the thing in the daylight to charge. I don't remember how the shiny blue tip ended up on top of my middle finger. There was barely any blood, barely anything as it pierced through my skin. An insect could probably survive such a pathetic excuse for a wound. My screams were heard by many of our neighbors. At first, Mom thought I was dying while I was squirming in her arms, resembling a crystalborn that became feral after the loss of its master. It didn't st long, but that initial misery, those first fractions of time, was one of the worst moments of pain I've ever felt in my life; other small injuries, although rare, are unavoidable but none came close. After that Father always locked his workroom.

  A few years back, during our gymnasium spear fight when Zuri smmed my fingers again and again, that really did hurt. My fingers and lips can be very sensitive; and overall, my body handles hurt poorly. I heal fast but the pain; I'm fairly certain most people do not taste pain the way I do.

  Nevertheless, an intensified sense of touch can have its special little pleasures.

  I drank Chairwoman's vial of mercy. It tasted bitter; that's how you know something is good medicine when it tastes like trash.

  Only two guards are present. In the distance above, a cloaked figure is standing on one of the many balconies. I focus my eyes. His stance and long white beard give him away. Archmaster Pinarius. The cavern queen's devoted advisor. When the Chairwoman is reporting to the Senate or visiting one of the temporary outposts in the Wastes, Pinarius takes the reins.

  I'm slightly surprised at how quickly the Academy erected my little stage. That is what this all is: a performance to serve as an example. I did not choose to be here, I did not choose to be forced from home and raised in these grimeworthy caves.

  My chest is wrapped in cloth strips of white linen, and my hair is split in two.

  Exposing my nape, the wavy strands are tied and falling over my shoulders in front of me, and making two heavy and wide red cascades whose ends caress the hip level. I must look ridiculous.

  I turn around. As my arms are lifted and naked ankles chained, I look at the frozen face of Acrona—the bck stone and its weakly-glowing blue lines, uncaring and cold.

  ''Every generation has its troublemakers,'' Amina Zaria's voice dominates this area of the Great Chamber. In her right hand there is a thick rod of stonewood. ''This is only done as a st resort. It is the most primitive way for the Academy to educate you. Nonetheless, it will be a valuable lesson.

  ''Anneal your bones. Those that insist on looking away will join Student Bolormaa.''

  It's so nice to know I am still a student. One must find little comforts in life during times such as these.

  One. The sound her stonewood rod makes is a revolting thud and I inhale quickly as my body contorts. I wish to escape my body. Two. My legs tremble. Three.

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  Acrona's cunt!

  She is not holding back. The pauses she makes between each swing threaten to become worse than the pain itself.

  There is a disgusting crunch in my mouth. Only after a few short breaths, I realize sickeningly: a tiny piece of my back tooth just chipped off. Like a bug had just flown in my mouth I spit it out.

  ''It is my fault, I forced her to come.'' Shut up! Gabriel steps out, his voice sounding strange, sickly almost.

  ''Get back in line, Horatius.'' The Chairwoman's voice is as cold as ever. Guards move towards Gabriel. I turn sideways to see him and shake my head. My hair obstructs most of my vision. I can only hope he noticed. I breathe a small shaky sigh of relief as the guards move back to the sides of the podium.

  Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

  I will not scream. That stick will break before my body does. She can do no permanent damage to me—at least that is what I convince myself as my vision becomes blurry and I inanely start to wonder if perhaps that bitter vial was another form of punishment.

  As I am to embrace the blessed Void there are sounds of a scuffle breaking the beginnings of my slumber. Someone is being beaten up.

  ''To the Guts with him!'' commands my tormentor, hints of rage in her voice. I couldn't remember when was the st time, if ever, I heard her shout quite like that.

  ''Stupid boy,'' she utters it like a curse.

  ''...The boy has lost his damned mind. Broke my nose...''

  ''...Leave the helmet. Can't say I bme the bastard. Have you not seen that unblemished red fig...''

  ''...I've seen better...''

  ''...Heard the bitch got plowed by half her css...''

  ''...Unblemished no more, then...''

  Only after a deep breath or five does my mind wake up a little. Gabriel is being taken to the deepest cells the Academy has.

  Without thinking, my face turns bestial and I start to pull at my chains; the stonewood beam above groans its protest in tandem with my growl. Chains holding my ankles are being taught, close to breaking.

  I hear whispers from my cssmates.

  ''The whore is strong,'' Lana Furia hisses.

  My mother's terrified face invades the mind. I just let go and pretend that that was the st bit of my strength. There wasn't really too much need for pretending as I am now mostly being held upright by my shackled wrists.

  Where am I? Another blow nds. Eruption of pain reverberates through me as the feeling of dull fire spreads under my skin. I get a ghastly image of my back as tenderized meat.

  STOP HITTING ME!

  The remorseless sound of the clubbing abrades the mind. The rest of the smashes were spent with me dazing in and out of wakefulness.

  Moments after someone unbinds my arms, I colpse onto the floor. And as the two rge oxen-like guards lift me up by the shoulders, the tiniest of smiles that no one will ever see emerges on my face. Ignited by the sweet memory of the taste of him.

  His lips were worth it.