Chapter 42: Aftermath

*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*

"Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up. What happened here?" Aris remembered the voice of Fox cutting through the fog in his mind.

The words swam through Aris's skull like echoes underwater. His body felt as if it had been hammered on an anvil. Every breath stabbed at his ribs; his nose ached with sharp fire.

Something warm and soft pressed against his legs.

Blinking through the haze, he lifted his head a fraction - Fox sat there, peering down with amber eyes full of concern.

"How... how is he above me? Am I on the ground?" Aris's thoughts stuttered, scattered, chasing themselves like broken glass across stone. Then everything rushed back at once. The whispers, the fists, the fire, the silence, the blast. Midnight ambush.

Fox's voice slithered in his mind, quiet and sharp:

"You didn't kill the kids, right?"

Aris swallowed, the motion painful. Morning light was bleeding through the corridor's tall windows, burning his eyes. The witness stone's strength had long faded; all that remained was fatigue and emptiness. No superhuman endurance, no divine spark. Just bruises and blood.

"I... I don't know," he rasped.

Before Fox could answer, the air split with shouts.

"MAKE WAY! OPEN UP!"

Heavy boots thundered down the hall. Students scrambled aside. Rathvoss arrived like a stormfront, armor creaking, face thunderous.

"What the hell happened here?" the Templar barked, scanning the wreckage - the sprawled fae boys, Aris bleeding in the middle, scorch marks burned into the walls.

He crouched, hauled one of the fae kids up by the collar, and snarled: "Call their damn fae shepheron. Tell her her stupid students failed ganging up on one kid." His laugh was sharp, cruel, echoing through the corridor.

Rathvoss turned back, planting his bulk over Aris. "Yesterday and today, you impressed me, boy. Didn't know you were all tooth and nails. Maybe there's a Templar bone in you after all."

"Had," Aris thought bitterly.

He thrust out a gauntleted hand.

Aris groaned, hesitated, then clasped it. Rathvoss yanked him to his feet like a ragdoll. Pain screamed across Aris's body, but he forced himself upright.

Behind them, fae students had rushed to their unconscious friends. Their glares burned holes in him - no gratitude, no forgiveness, only raw hatred. Aris tried to croak out: "Are... are they okay?"

One fae girl spat at his feet. Another hissed words in their tongue that dripped like poison.

"Enough," Rathvoss growled, looming over them. "Your precious Sliver Stoneflower sent her little pack to settle a score. They failed. You want someone to blame? Blame yourselves."

Then, quieter, as he leaned toward Aris: "You need protection, kid. From your human side. Can't play nice with all races. Not in this place."

The words stung. But before Aris could respond, a wave of perfume and frost swept down the hall.

Priest Veyla, the fae shepheron, strode in. She was tall and ethereal, with pale skin that seemed to glow with inner light and silver hair that moved like liquid mercury. Her eyes were the color of winter ice, and when she looked at the fallen students, then at Aris, those eyes narrowed like knives. "This is unacceptable. A human -"

Rathvoss cut her off with a barking laugh. "Save it. Your brats tried to dogpile one boy. He held his ground. That's the lesson. If you want to coddle your weaklings, take them home."

The tension crackled, both teachers standing off, but finally Veyla snapped her fingers and her students floated into the arms of healing sprites. She left without another word, though her glare promised this wasn't over.

Rathvoss grinned wolfishly. "Come on, Aris. You've earned a trip to the infirmary."

The infirmary smelled of herbs and boiled linen. Aris lay on a cot while a healer dabbed at his cracked nose and bruises with stinging poultices. Fox slipped away, his tail vanishing through the door.

He reappeared only minutes later, brushing against Lyra's legs as she entered. She wore her fae guise - delicate features, shimmering hair, but her eyes carried the same sharp glint of the spy. She sat briefly at his bedside, voice low.

"You look like hammered iron. Heard you rattled some cages. I thought I said don't use it on students."

Aris tried to grin, but it came out crooked and painful. "Just trying to stay alive. And I didn't use it. Not all of it anyway."

"What does that mean?" Lyra asked.

"When they were about to seriously hurt me, Smite filled in my mind like a recent memory. But I tried to stop, remembering your words. I didn't want to hurt them and -"

"And?"

Before she could say more, the door swung open again. Rathvoss stomped in, trailed by a tall human boy with neat dark hair, a scar across his cheek, and the easy confidence of someone who had seen blood before. The kid reminded Aris of Demir but raised by maniacal religious people.

Lyra's expression hardened. She rose, casting Aris one last look - protective, but laced with warning - before slipping out. Fox padded after her, tail flicking.

"Don't mingle too close with fae," Rathvoss said as if reading the room. "Even when they work for the Academy. You'll learn fast."

He clapped the tall boy on the shoulder. "This here is John Salsor. Upperclassman. Dungeon Four's rising star. He'll take you into the human student circle. You need allies who won't stab you in the back at midnight."

John studied Aris with cool appraisal, then cracked a grin. "You made almost all the fae wing curse your name overnight. Impressive. But Rathvoss is right - you can't walk alone here, not as a human. We stick together, or we get eaten."

Aris, still aching, nodded faintly. His body felt broken, his spirit raw. But some small ember flickered. Maybe he wasn't completely alone anymore.

The infirmary hummed with low chants as a healer smoothed a paste across Aris's cracked nose. His body screamed with every movement, but he clenched his jaw. Rathvoss's heavy boots retreated, leaving him alone with the tall boy - John Salsor.

John leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His scar caught the lamplight, and his grin had that dangerous ease of someone who'd survived things worse than duels.

"First lesson, kid," John said. "Humans don't get to be neutral here. You fight, or you fold. And folding? That's death."

Aris blinked, groggy but listening. "Great, another meathead speech. But maybe there's something useful buried in this posturing. Keep listening."

John pushed off the wall, pacing slowly. "Fae kids run together. Beastkin form their packs. Even halflings keep their little trade circle. But humans? We're scattered. Chalice doesn't exactly love us." He spat the word Chalice like it was bitter wine.

"But the High Priestess is human, right?" Aris asked.

"Nah. She sees herself as an Angel. Everyone for themselves."

Aris's mind pricked up. Finally, someone saying it out loud instead of dancing around it.

"So, we make our own circle," John continued. "Unofficial, but solid. Upperclassmen watch lowerclassmen. You get beaten, we beat them back twice as hard. Someone disappears, we find out why. Alone, we're targets. Together, we're dangerous."

Aris nodded faintly. "Sounds more like a street gang than classmates. But gangs survive, and I don't plan on being the next 'basement accident.'"

John crouched closer, lowering his voice. "There are three groups you need to know. One - the Loyalists. These are humans who bow to Chalice, play lapdog to the priests. They get better dorms, better food, maybe even a pat on the head. But they sell the rest of us out. Stay clear, unless you like knives in your back."

Aris swallowed, staring at the floorboards. "Lapdogs... same vibe as those fae who tried to kill me last night. Easy to see how they're used. Maybe I can use them too."

"Two - the Ghosts," John said, eyes narrowing. "Kids who don't last. You know the kind. Too slow in the dungeon, too trusting in class. They vanish. Everyone knows the Theocracy's doing something with them. But if you ask too many questions, you'll join them."

A chill ran down Aris's spine. He remembered Lyra's words, the forbidden library section, the ledger she hinted at. "Ghosts. Missing kids. That's not rumor. That's fact. Keep your mouth shut, Orvellis, but keep digging."

"Three - the Circle. That's us. We don't kneel, we don't vanish. We fight for each other, tooth and nail. We watch the fae, we watch the teachers, and when they test us, we hit back. Hard."

John's voice hardened, his grin fading into steel. "That's how I made it through Dungeon Four. Not because I was the strongest - because I knew someone had my back, and I had theirs."

Aris shifted, every bruise flaring. "And... you want me in this Circle?"

John chuckled. "Kid, after what you did to Sliver Stoneflower? You're already in. Half the fae wing wants your head. The Circle wants you on their side."

"I am pretty good with my beastkin friends and any other race actually," Aris said.

"Right now, maybe. When push comes to shove and dungeons after dungeons, when faced with actual death and despair, only those with their backs solid will survive. Unless you are a prodigy with unlimited potential."

Aris forced a thin smile. "Fantastic. Drafted into a schoolyard gang war. Still... if this Circle really knows about vanishings, and they're tracking fae and priest politics, then they're worth keeping close."

John clapped him on the shoulder - too hard, sending a bolt of pain down Aris's ribs. "Heal up. You'll need it. First Circle meet is after curfew tomorrow. We'll see if you've got the guts to stand with us."

He turned and strode out, confident as ever.

Aris leaned back into the cot, staring at the ceiling beams. His nose throbbed, his chest ached, and the healer scolded him for trying to sit up. But inside, his thoughts burned.

"Witness stone or not, fae or not, this place is a pit. If the Circle can be used to peel back Chalice's secrets, I'll play along. But trust? That's another matter. I'm not here to be their soldier. I'm here to survive."

The healer dimmed the lantern, leaving him in half-darkness. Aris closed his eyes, Fox curling against his feet.

"The feeling of mashing two spells. That was different. I should try again. It could be a hidden feature," Aris said to himself.