The last thing I need is more trouble. Her seeing spells trouble in so many ways.
I rush into the building and down the hallway.
Safari is standing exactly where I left her.
The nice ti-freeze girl is leaning on a wall and fumbling with her nails.
I slow down.
She looks up as I approach and smiles. For soone with such a power, she smiles a lot.
"That was quick". She says, looking down at her quartz watch.
I look at mine as well. I have a minute to spare.
"You didn’t write it down?"
I shake my head.
"I’ve got a good mory". I say and tap the side of my head coyly.
"I should probably return things to their normal pace".
"You should".
I turn to look at her with great difficulty.
"Thanks".
A blush creeps into her cheeks, but she waves it off.
"Don’t ntion it. I love to help people out".
I nod at her before turning my attention back to the door.
If I had her power, I might have been able to save Arya. I would have been able to slow ti long enough to have gotten her and Clara out of there.
"What’s your na?" I ask.
She blushes again.
"Don’t bother. You clearly don’t like people. You don’t have to make an exception for - you don’t owe anything".
"I’m not making an exception, I just want to know your na. Mine is Karim".
She squeezes her hands together weirdly before looking up at .
"Morrow. Morrow Lasmark".
Morrow? I raise a brow.
"It’s alright. I get that reaction a lot. I co from a long line of ti manipulators. My father wanted to give a na that depicted that. It’s okay if you think it’s funny. Not everyone gets nad the short version of ’tomorrow’".
I imdiately feel bad for my reaction. I think of sothing to say to lift the atmosphere.
I decide to say the first thing that cos to my mind.
"Your na is weird, I won’t say it’s not. But, I think it kind of describes you. It makes you unique and intriguing - which in my opinion, should be the point of nas".
Her eyes soften and her posture relaxes.
I hit the right mark. That’s a first.
I walk up to the door and call out my Reg number weirdly.
There is a brief hesitation before the oak vibrates and the double doors open to admit .
Finally!
I heave a deep sigh.
The door closes behind .
I look around the auditorium. The place is packed with students. A few people cast backward glances at , but quickly return to their conversations.
The drapes have been drawn to expose the stained floor-to-ceiling Georgian windows. Dusty light filters into the room. The image in the glass panes is that of a woman reaching out her arm to reach sothing unknown to .
I can only imagine what the painter had been thinking when he made it.
Her eyes seem to follow you, pricking you at the back of your neck.
The stage is a raised platform stretched under the windows, gleaming with a glass pulpit and velvet cushions, too pristine for students like us to belong there. No microphone or wiring is visible - which is odd.
I walk down an aisle and squeeze past a few people to reach the seat marked 405. The paper I was given indicates my seat number.
I unfold the seat and sink into it.
I pull out the foldable mini-desk and drop my things on it.
The person sitting beside is a chubby guy with a plump face and small eyes.
He nods at and returns to his conversation with the guy beside him.
Safari squeezes past and settles down beside .
She keeps mumbling an apology as she tries not to bump into my knees and outstretched legs.
Morrow passes shortly after, looking a bit glum.
All I can sll is intoxicating cologne and hair spray.
The last girl squeezes through and settles beside Morrow. That should be the last of us.
I turn my attention forward, trying to find Furuno in the crowd.
I can’t see him, or maybe, I just don’t know if I’ve seen him.
Mrs. Val walks down the aisle and ascends the steps to the stage.
The entire place becos so silent that I can hear the echo of her heels against the polished floors.
Not even a whisper. One can feel the weight of the silence.
She stops in front of the pulpit and sets her voluminous book, that she had been holding against her bosom, down with loud thud.
She looks up, scanning the room over the rim of her spectacles. Her hawk eyes skim over everyone until they finally rest on .
She opens the book and slams it down.
"Let us discuss sothing outside of the seminar’s topic". She says.
Her voice is audible to - who is sitting at the back - and she isn’t even shouting.
Is this so sort of voice amplication magic?
"Let’s discuss the concept of ti".
Her eyes rest on mine again as she adjusts her spectacles.
This is no longer a coincidence. She definitely saw .
I gulp.
The air-conditioned room suddenly feels overheated.
She breaks the eye contact and reads sothing from her book.
When she looks up again, her eyes rest on Morrow, the ti-freeze girl that saved my ass even when I had been rude to her.
Mrs. Val clears her throat sophisticatedly - the usual ’ahem’ ant to guide all straying minds to the topic being discussed.
"Let tell a story, shall I?" She pauses to scan the completely bored crowd of students.
Her mouth is still pressed into a thin line.
What would it take to get her to smile? Is she even married? If she is, I can only hope the husband is as an as she is, or worse. A kind or gentle soul would be crushed within a few weeks of enduring her cold stares and grim presence.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
"The story is about a girl who abused her privilege to control ti".
She seems to be waiting for so form of enthusiasm from the crowd.
There is none, however.
When she sees it is not forthcoming, she continues, undeterred.
"Once upon a ti, there was a girl nad Persephone. She was able to control and manipulate ti - as elusive and abstract as it was".
She stops and grimaces, like she just ate a whole plate of spoiled eels.
"Persephone had been warned about the dangers of turning back the hands of ti to suit her selfish endeavours, but she never heeded any of the wise warnings. She continued to bend ti, distorting the illusion of balance it created".
Her voice is dripping with malice and contempt. And all of it, or maybe, so of it is directed at and Morrow.
"One day", she continues, "Persephone stopped ti. A void had been created. Everything was at a stand still. When everything returned to normal, nothing was the sa. People’s mories were all mixed up. Tilines had changed. She had distorted ti. That was when she recalled the wise words of her ntors. She broke down and wept. After thus, Persephone swore never to manipulate ti again. Shortly after, she died and was buried. Then, ti returned to normal. The end".
No one claps. The silence stretches with animosity.
That was one hell of a story. I know it is aid at Morrow and I, ironically, but I can’t seem to exactly align her chilling story with what actually happened.
I lean sideways to look at Morrow. Her face is very pale.
Her terrified expression reminds that the situation is worse than I think.
Morrow is going to end up in trouble for helping an oaf like .
I ball my hands into fists.
"Any questions?" She finally asks.
No one raises a hand. I can even spot a few people dosing off.
"Since there are no questions, I assu that my ssage has been conveyed effectively". Her voice is strained and angry.
She is probably upset by the disinterest all the students are showing her.
In my opinion, it could be a lot worse. But she should be grateful that they all fear her.
Except one person.
He is the only one sitting in the 17th row in the centre. No one is sitting in front of him, neither is anyone sitting behind him.
He is just folding his arms across his chest and watching the proceedings like a chess player, studying the board and trying to decide his next move.
"Without further ado, I will proceed to the topic of the seminar. No guest speakers would be joining us as the elected staff are attending a board eting."
Suddenly, she freezes.
Her eyes take on a wild look. She swats sothing invisible on her face.
She slaps her neck and looks down at her hand. I don’t see anything around her.
Then, her mouth opens in shock as she looks at sothing beyond us.
She starts running away, taking the stage steps two at a ti, all the while flailing her hands in the air.
"Bees! Bees! Take them away! Make them go away!" She keeps screaming as she rushes along the aisle.
I watch, amused.
The composed and bitter woman, now the screaming maniac.
I don’t get to see this everyday.
She reaches the oak double doors and starts pounding against it.
The doors finally slide open and she runs out screaming, swatting imaginary bees.
Laughter erupts imdiately she disappears behind the door. Everyone starts talking about it.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. The chubby guy beside is vibrating with laughter.
Then, Spatial Domain turns on his seat and stares at sothing behind.
I follow his gaze.
He is looking directly at Morrow.
Now it all makes sense.
He did it.
But why?
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