Page 93 of Above
“Lover’s quarrel?” he snarked, looking between us as he fixed his collar.
Talon pulled me behind him, squaring his shoulders as he looked at Altair. “You better stay the fuck away from us. I’m not kidding.”
“Why? Someone upset?” he queried, raising a brow as he let his back lean against the wall near his door.
Talon’s rage skyrocketed, his hand shoving into Altair’s chest. “You tried to kill her!”
Altair didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as push Talon back. “Yeah, well, I always promised I would.”
“Is that supposed to make it better or okay?” Talon boomed in question.
“I think so,” Altair teased, leaning and winking at me. What game was he playing now? Talon took another step toward Altair, shoving him back into the wall again. But Altair only let out a low chuckle, unphased by his former best friend’s fury.
“I said leave her alone! I don’t want to see you going anywhere near her. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. She hates you and she wants nothing to do with you!”
Altair looked at me, a sort of sad, knowing smile lowering the snarky smirk. “Do you want me to leave you alone, Tershetta?”
I looked at him from behind Talon, feeling so overwhelmed—so utterly broken—and for some reason, I wanted to say no. Maybe because he was the only one willing to be honest with me. Or perhaps it was because a part of me felt like he paused on that battlefield, and now I was questioning what was real.
“Nova?” Talon asked, the question coming out as a demand.
“Yes, that’s what I want,” I finally said.
Altair gave a sharp nod. “Anything for you, Little Void.”
Then he disappeared in a puff of darkness, leaving Talon and I alone. Talon sighed, pulling me back in front of him and hugging me.
“I’m sorry for our fight. I should have been calmer. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I love you, Supernova. It won’t happen again.”
I said nothing. I didn’t return his embrace as he squeezed tighter, putting one hand on my lower back and the other on the back of my head. I didn’t hold him or speak to him or even relax in his arms.
Then he shadow walked us to graduation.
The graduation was a far simpler affair than I would’ve guessed. The cores had always seemed to be so flamboyant. So frivolous and bold. But walking into the training center, I was met with the sight of a simple, tall, black platform big enough for our entire class. Chairs had been lined up in rows for the audience made up of our families.
The training center looked larger for some reason, as if it suddenly had the capacity to hold everyone important to the world. Fitting seeing as, today, we were the world. We were becoming the protectors of Dajahim. Conquerors of planets. Destroyers of life. And didn’t that make us oh-so special?
We were all instructed to stand on the platform, placing our masks securely over our faces and tugging our hoods over our heads. The ceremony was filled with grandeur. Speeches of our exceptionalism, bravery, and strength. Of the bright future that lay ahead of us as elites.
General Altair made a nauseating speech about the age of renewed perfection and making Dajahim pure again. He spoke with extra fervor this time around, probably because he was needing to make up for the future announcement that I have been given the stars. An of eadi General in the making. What a tragedy for him and his ridiculous, disgusting plight.
When the ceremony was over, we were given nothing special. Nothing to mark us true elites other than an acknowledging nod from Captain Zade and General Altair.
It felt surreal.
It felt wrong.
Maybe it was normally done differently, but because we sped it up, it had to be shortened? I wasn’t sure, but after nearly three months of suffering, I hadn’t expected them to just look at us and nod.
We all dispersed, each of us making our way to our families. I saw a clear distinction in the way the cores interacted versus everyone else. Other shaytan seemed to be loved and cherished, their families celebrating openly. Hugs, kisses, tears, and laughter surrounded me. But in the far right corner, I could see the five core families, and I realized how little love there seemed to be in that area.
In particular, my heart broke for Priya Otarn—a surprise to myself, because I generally hated her—who stood there, her head down as who I guessed to be her mother seemingly berated her. Her daughter had successfully completed Elite Academy, what did she have to be mad about?
I watched as Mrs. Otarn snatched up Priya’s left hand, taking the ring finger and making Priya look at it. That was when I realized it was bare.
When Priya said nothing, her mother took the digit and snapped it backwards. I gasped, looking around to see if anybody else was as appalled as I was that Otarn’s mother hadjust broken her finger. No one did so much as pause other than me.
Each of the six core trainees looked miserable, the five unbroken ones staring at the floor with dejected expressions. I looked away, trying to find my family in the madness, uninterested in making myself feel sorry for any of those heinous people.
