Chapter 4 The Icy Gaze
"Move aside," one of the guards called out. His voice was loud and did not care who was in the way. "Clear the path for Lady Elena."
The students quickly shuffled to the sides of the road, bowing their heads. Dax tried to move back with them, but his loose trousers caught on the strap of his heavy canvas bag. He stumbled, his boot slipping on a wet patch of earth near the edge of the walkway.
Before he could catch his balance, a heavy silver gloved hand slammed into his shoulder.
"Get back, boy," the guard said, shoving Dax hard.
Dax hit the wet ground. The mud was cold, soaking through his old jacket instantly. His canvas bag fell beside him, the cheap strap dipping into a dark puddle. The noble students nearby stopped and watched. A few girls covered their mouths, whispering to each other, while a tall boy with a shiny sword laughed softly.
"Look at that," the boy said. "He cannot even stand up on a flat road. Why do they let people like this through the gates?"
Dax did not answer. He kept his head down, his left hand gripping the wet grass so hard his knuckles turned white. His right hand remained tucked deep inside his jacket pocket, wrapped in thick medical cloths, pressed against his ribs. Inside his palm, the hidden seal grew hot, pulsing once like a tiny ember. He forced his breathing to slow down, buried his anger deep inside his chest, and stayed still.
"Stand straight," a new voice said.
The voice was quiet, but it made everyone stop talking. It sounded like ice cracking in a winter pond.
Dax looked up slightly through his messy hair.
Elena was looking down at him.
She looked closer at Dax, scanning his baggy clothes, his muddy face, and his thin, tired frame.
She looked at his spirit energy, but she felt nothing. There was no light around his body. His meridians felt completely dark and quiet, like a dried-up well.
"Is there a problem here?" Elena asked, looking up at the guard.
"No, Lady Elena," the guard said quickly, bowing his head. "Just a clumsy boy from an outer branch. He was blocking the road. I will remove him."
Elena looked back down at Dax. She felt a weird feeling in her blood, but still kept her cold calm look. A boy with no energy rank could never mean anything to her family.
"Do not waste time on the steps," Elena said softly. "The opening ceremony starts soon."
"Yes, my lady," the guard said.
Elena walked past Dax without looking back again. Her long white cape brushed against the edge of the puddle where Dax sat, but it did not touch the mud. The other guards followed her.
Dax waited until the crowd followed her inside. He stood up slowly, shaking the wet dirt from his trousers. His shoulder where the guard had hit him throbbed with a dull pain, but he ignored it. He picked up his bag, wiped the muddy water off the side, and walked toward the small side door of the main building.
The registrar's office was a small room tucked away in the back of the first floor. It was dark, lit only by a single lamp on a plain desk. An old man with thick glasses sat behind the desk, looking through a tall stack of papers.
Dax walked in and stood by the door. "Hello. I am here to get my room assignment."
The old man did not look up. "Name?"
"Dax. Dax Silverton," Dax said, using the fake name Silas had written on the documents.
The old man stopped his pen. He slowly raised his head, looking at Dax through his glasses. He picked up a piece of paper from a separate, small pile and read it.
"Ah," the old man said. His voice was flat and bored. "The cousin from the eastern border. The one with the clogged veins."
"Yes," Dax said.
"The headmaster received the letter from your old guardian," the old man said, leaning back in his chair. "The academy honors the family names, even the broken branches. But our main rooms are for students who can actually cultivate. We cannot waste good rooms with spirit arrays on someone who cannot use them."
"I understand," Dax said, keeping his voice steady. "I just need a place to sleep."
The old man reached into a drawer and pulled out a heavy iron key. It was dark and covered in small spots of red rust. He tossed it onto the desk. It made a sharp, clinking sound.
"Building Seven. The lowest floor," the old man said. "Go down the stairs behind the kitchen. Your room is at the end of the hall."
Dax picked up the key. "Thank you."
"Do not thank me yet, boy," the old man muttered, turning back to his papers. "And make sure you do not miss the morning roll call. They do not give extra chances to people of your rank."
Dax took his bag and walked out of the office. He followed the long, bright hallways of the school until the walls changed from white stone to gray concrete. The air became colder and damp as he walked past the large, noisy kitchen where cooks were preparing breakfast for the noble students.
Behind a heavy wooden door, a set of stone steps went deep into the ground. There were no magic lights here, only a few small candles placed on the wall. The air smelled like wet earth and old metal pipes.
Dax walked down the steps, the hallway at the bottom was narrow. Above his head, thick metal pipes ran along the ceiling. He could hear the constant, low rush of water moving inside them. It was the waste system for the entire academy above.
He walked to the very end of the dark hall and found a door with the number forty-four scratched into the wood.
He put the iron key into the lock. It was stiff, but after a hard turn, the bolt slid back with a loud click. He pushed the door open.
The room was tiny, no bigger than the basement cell he shared with Lila in the Gutter. The walls were made of rough concrete, and a layer of green mold grew in the top corners where the ceiling met the pipes. A single cot stood against the wall, covered in a thin, rough gray blanket. In the corner, a small pipe was leaking, letting out a slow, steady drop of gray water into a small hole in the floor.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Dax closed the door behind him and locked it. He set his muddy canvas bag on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress was hard and cold.
He sat in the dark for a long time, listening to the water drop. His body was tired, and his mind was heavy with the image of Elena’s cold gray eyes.
