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Jamil Viper prided himself on his sense of foresight.
Or as Kalim would call it, his “sixth sense” — except that there was nothing magical about this at all. He was no Sorcerer of the Sands to bend the world to his whims or control the hearts of others as he pleased. Titan, he wasn’t even able to control his own destiny for that matter. To hear anyone claim that he was somehow imbued with some sort of otherworldly, legendary ability only served to rub him the wrong way.
In the end, it was some strange, random luck that had descended upon him. It was just pure logic and his own sharp mind. It was his merit. The thought of others taking even this much away from him — his own mind, his own wit — was infuriating, to say the least.
But Kalim wouldn’t think like that, and explaining something this complex to him would be headache-inducing. Not that he was allowed to challenge Kalim in any way.
No, the more he thought about it, it was just a moot point.
As would be Principal Crowley’s announcements, but in this case, he was cheating. He already knew it would be pointless since most of what that strangely-dressed man said was pointless by default.
Sometimes, however, those pointless things ended up concerning him as well.
“Oh my, it turns out that for this year, our grom king will be Kalim Al A–”
“I’ll take his place.” He stood up while saying that. He wasn’t sure why or what was the purpose of even announcing it but he had seen Kalim’s jaw drop open as soon as the principal said his name and knew he had to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible.
Kalim could not be Grom King. That was the end of it. It did not matter how many times he pleaded or complained or even tried to negotiate his way into it — Jamil would not give in.
His parents would have his head if they heard about the young master of their household participating in something as brutal and dangerous as fighting Grometheus the Fear Bringer. He could already hear the scolding he’d receive — his mother would box his ears for not stepping up and taking up the challenge himself.
He was just anticipating this kind of scenario when he offered to take his place. Not that Kalim would understand.
“We should fight him together!” he appealed — a last-ditch attempt (a poor one too) that only left Jamil sighing. Tapping his pencil against the paper, he wondered if he should add anything to the list of fears written down. He ought to be ready for everything and part of that included making a list of every advantage the creature could have against him. And though he could feel a little bit of his pride being chipped at the thought of having everybody in school be witness to his insecurities and weaknesses (especially a certain student in the Potions track with an octopus palisman), that was a small price to pay compared to what the Asim family could do to him — to all of them — if he dared refuse.
No, he had to do this. And he had to do it right which meant that Kalim couldn’t and wouldn’t be involved under any circumstances.
“It wouldn’t hurt to at least train a little together, right?”
He froze, just for a second, before he took control of himself again and slowly turned around. Yuridia was smiling at him, her palisman — a flower shaped like a rabbit of all things — gazed up, its ears twitching. Barely making a sound, it burrowed itself in her hair, as his own viper raised its head from the hood of his cloak. It hissed an introduction until Jamil forced it away from his face, and back into the hood.
Yuridia was still sitting there, in front of him, still smiling, and he realized nobody has said anything in a few moments. Even Kalim was strangely quiet.
He coughed, to hide his own embarrassment. “It’s fine. I don’t need help with this.”
“You shouldn’t be so stubborn, Jamil!” Now Kalim has decided to join in, of all times. If only he could have done so earlier and spared him the mortifying ordeal of looking like a weirdo in front of the one girl he did not want to think of him as weird. “Two heads are better than one, right? That’s what my dad always says! So if the three of us work together, we’re definitely going to figure something out here! We’ll be three, after all!”
Logically, he knew that Kalim was right. There was strength in numbers and all that, and it’s not like he didn’t recognize that he might be a little in over his head with the whole thing. Clearly, only a madman or an idiot would volunteer to fight something that could reach into the depths of your mind and pull out your worst fears to light, manifesting them with its own flesh and bones until the grotesque image was staring you right in the face, cackling all the while. He mulled over that for a while. Yes, only a madman or an idiot would go through with that — or in his case, something far more pitiful: a servant.
Jamil massaged the back of his neck, trying desperately not to pinch the bridge of his nose as he opened his mouth to shoot Kalim’s idea down. Then he stopped. Something wasn’t adding up.
Why was Kalim talking about three heads all of a sudden?
“Huh, why?” His eyes went wide as Jamil asked him, his head then tilting to the side as he crossed his arms and frowned. His earrings made the same clinking sound they always did whenever they moved, and it sounded just like wind chimes. “Because Yuridia said she’d join in! I was talking to her about how you volunteered for this, and she thought training together was a great idea! That’s why I invited her to help us out!”
He thought his fury, the monster he had kept hidden and let grow inside of him for 17 whole years, was going to burst out now, spilling its venom everywhere. It reared its ugly head for a moment, eyes glinting in the darkness of his subconsciousness, and slithered closer to the shores of his waking mind. It felt the ground with the tip of its hissing tongue, edging closer to the sunlight, where it would be exposed, for all to see — and for all to judge. They would all know. That would be dangerous. He couldn’t allow that to happen. So before the beast even made a step outside of its confines, reason barged in to restrain it.
“That’s not necessary,” he replied coldly, turning away from them. Kalim gaped behind him — he was certain of that — but whether Yuridia reacted, he couldn’t tell. It was hard to figure out what she was thinking sometimes and that tended to frighten him. People like her could be unpredictable, dangerous, threatening and strangely charming. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his thoughts from wandering. “I will deal with this on my own.”
“But—” Kalim began to say.
“Class is starting soon. We should go. You can’t be late again , Kalim.”
Kalim didn’t protest for once, but let himself be carted away, slightly sulking. Yuridia stayed behind. Her rabbit palisman peeked from behind her hair as they departed, bright eyes staring straight at him, and Jamil had to look away before the creature could read too much in his expression. It was dangerous to let his thoughts show so easily on his face. The truth was that it had always been easier for him than others to keep his thoughts hidden. But when he was around her a lot of complications appeared.
The only problem was that he wasn’t sure why that was. He and Yuridia had known about each other ever since they were young — family businesses unwittingly interacting, which meant they would see a lot of each other. Sometimes this was a bad thing because Jamil did not enjoy the presence of others when it came at the cost of putting up a mask.
In private, he was the son of the Viper family, the firstborn, the witch with a future at Hexside and who knows, maybe even a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. He had choices, options, opportunities, all the things that other boys his age had as well.
In public, he was the son of the Viper family, the firstborn, poison tester and closest servant to the heir of Asim Industries, one of the most elite, well-respected and powerful witch families in the Boiling Isles. He had a future, a path, a duty he would follow with or without his choosing until the end of his life. That and nothing more.
And the worst part was that he had to be happy with all that and accept it. That’s what stung the most about it all. That even when he wanted to be truthful with her, something else was bound to come up and ruin things somehow. And if not that then his true nature would never disappear.
He was a servant and he would continue being one — no matter what. That was just a truth of the universe.
With one last glance at Yuridia, they stepped outside of the cafeteria just as the final bell began screaming. She was staring at him still, a strange expression on her face.
*
She continued to stare as he torched the swarm of bugs crawling at his feet. It barely took a few moments for Grom to appear after he was lowered into the fighting pit, monstrous form arising from between the shadows, sniffing and snarling around until it spotted him. He had come prepared — a scimitar in one hand, his broom in the other. Just as the black mass broke apart, a million little wriggling bodies coming at him with high speed, he ducked. Panic seized him for a moment. He wanted to scream.
Those disgusting things were everywhere .
He didn’t even hesitate when it came to flicking his hand in a circle and summoning the biggest wave of flames he could imagine, letting it wash over the whole arena without any regard for safety. He could hear Kalim gasp above, in the stands, and the commentator — Ace, because of course he would volunteer for something like this — cry out in alarm. Whispers abounded and he strained to see if Yuridia had reacted in any way.
He didn’t want her to think he was weak, as silly as that sounded. Or to imagine that his fear of insects might make him lesser in her eyes somehow.
But he didn’t hear anything. Only when the fire cleared and the smoke remained could he see her standing high above in the stands, surrounded by her friends. She heaved a sigh of relief and shot him an uneasy smile as their eyes met, and his own knees almost buckled. The stress from fighting the bugs, mixed in with that of his own hammering heart, was doing a number on him. He’d have to soon rest before his whole body gave out. He just had to take care of Grom quickly and he would be able to put this whole night behind him.
If anything, his parents would be proud — proud to see him risk his life for his master, proud to see him uphold a tradition that is spanning generations now.
But mostly proud to see that their lives would not be challenged once again with talks of freedom and change. Self-reflection was not a skill they encouraged either in themselves or their children.
And maybe Jamil resented them somewhat for it.
He froze. Behind him, Grom groaned and moaned, a ghastly sound, as the black mass rose up again and split itself in two. It hadn’t formed itself yet, but even so, he could already tell what it was trying to become. With quick steps, he manoeuvred around to strike at the torso of the figure on his right, before decapitating the one on his left. He refused to look at their expressions — the faces had already begun to imitate features that he was all too familiar with and would give him nightmares for a few weeks after.
He was only glad Najma wasn’t here tonight, as he would have no idea how to explain himself to her. Or to their parents if they ever found out. That’s what he hated about Grom — the insidiousness of this creature didn’t stop just at the imitation part, sometimes it would even sound like the victim’s nightmares. And he could not have his parents talking to him. Not here, in the school, where he had at least a small modicum of freedom away from them.
Leaning forward, he rested his hands on his knees as he took big gulps of air. His lungs were about to explode with all the stress and anxiety he’d already been through today. Around him the crowd exploded in applause and whistle, congratulating him on his victory. Among them, Kalim’s shouts were the loudest, and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the noise. He didn’t want to think about him now or how it was all his fault he even ended up in this situation. It would just build up his resentment. That wouldn’t be healthy for him. Staying focused was the key here.
Slowly cracking one eye open, he glanced back at Yuridia. Up there in the stands, where the visibility was lower she almost seemed to disappear in the shadows but Jamil’s eyesight was sharp. He caught sight of her easily and the smile on her face as she surveyed him. It was an easy sort of smile, open, friendly, just like he expected from her. It made his heart ache. She made it hard for him to stay closed off like this, even though he knew it was the right choice in the end.
He couldn’t allow her to get mixed up in the mess that was his family life. It wouldn’t be fair.
And it made him afraid.
“You should be afraid. After all, who’d want a broken thing like you?”
Jamil inhaled sharply. The crowd was still cheering, completely oblivious, but from the corner of his eyes, he could see that the two figures from before had already disappeared. Strung together, Grom was trying to rebuild itself, a small puddle on the floor fighting to take shape, but struggling to do so. It was too weak, too small. As long as he kept a clear head, he’d be able to avoid giving it any more ideas for his nightmares.
But that was easier said than done.
“You say that it’s because you want to protect me, but the truth is that you’re just afraid, aren’t you? You’re afraid that I’ll find out about everything.”
Jamil cursed under his breath. This thing even sounded like her. It was horrifying how well it caught the tone and cadence of her voice, completely twisting it so there was nothing but hatred and bile being spewed in his direction.
All the things he’d told himself to discourage his mind from dreaming bigger than he was allowed to. All things familiar to him, things he’d told himself a hundred times already, but which sounded a thousand times worse coming through her voice.
He gulped. The mass was starting to take a form — a human form, one too familiar. His palisman hissed, wrapping itself tighter around his staff, and trembling under the gaze of the expanding shadow.
“And you should. You’re nothing but unassuming anyway. A failure. A disgrace. You think I’d want to be with someone like you?”
It was a trick. Nothing more. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. And yet, despite knowing this, he couldn’t look back at the bleachers. He couldn’t confirm his surroundings because he was too terrified that if he did look back and didn’t see her there, with the same smile as before, his whole self would crumble. The ache in his body became more pronounced — a hot flash of shame travelled all the way through it.
He would be okay. It was just a nightmare. It was just Grom messing with his mind.
It wasn’t her.
“Are you sure about that?”
He opened his eye for just a fraction. Just a single moment, enough to catch the half-formed witch shape in front of him — the robes, the long hair, the outline of her eyes. His heart was going a mile a minute, his knees shaking, his palms sweating. He felt like was about to die from anguish.
Titan, it even knew what features he admired in her.
The crowd had now quieted down, and all Jamil could hear was a roaring in his ears. Something was hissing. His palisman had wrapped itself around his arm, tugging at his sleeve, signalling that it was time to move. And he did — with the spell broken, he looked away from Grom at last and fired off a blast of fire right before the contours of her face could take form.
He felt dirty watching it melt again, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t real. None of it was.
Only when Grom didn’t move again after his blast did he let himself believe it. The shouts of the crowd were lost on him as was Principal Crowley’s congratulatory speech. Jamil was too busy trying to steady his heart to care for any of that. It was only the firm grip on his arm that was keeping him from falling over and fainting. He’d won, somehow. Despite everything, he’d won. And his parents would be proud, Kalim would be safe, and his life could go on the way it had so far. Somehow.
But was it even that much of a life anyway?
His head was killing him. Turning away, he began exiting the fighting pit, taking one step at a time and walking towards the light and noise. It was so much. The sheer intensity of everything was going to make him go mad. Couldn’t they just stay quiet?
But even so, his curiosity had to be sated. Daring a glance towards the bleachers, he caught Yuridia’s eye just as he reached the top of the staircase.
She was applauding with the rest of them, a blonde girl at her side and a pink-haired one on the other, both joining in and talking among themselves. Whatever it was they were saying couldn’t reach Yuridia, however. Her eyes never left his face for a moment. Jamil’s ears flushed slightly, before he went still, panic seizing his heart just as someone was coming over to hand him his crown.
He didn’t care about that.
No, all he could think about was her and whether she had figured out what had gone down in the pit during that last confrontation.
When he glanced back at Yuridia, something flashed in her eyes.
He gulped.
Titan, what could be going through her head right now?