Page 5 of Beta Lies and Cursed Lives
They say that the Betas saved us all; that Alphas and Omegas had driven us to ruin, and Betas banded together, rose against the tyrant rulers, and took control for themselves to bring the world back from the brink.
They say that the curse that afflicts the five to ten percent of Alphas and Omegas is penance for what we’d put the world through a thousand years ago.
But I didn’t do anything. My father didn’t do anything. We don’t deserve this curse or to be hunted for having it.
“Close your eyes.” It’s the gruff leader of this unit who speaks, a Major, if I overheard correctly.
Helpless, I do as he says a moment before I feel the cloth lifted from my head.
“Your eyes will take a while to adjust.”
I open one eye a tiny sliver, and he’s right, because even in the dark vehicle, the street lights outside are blinding after being in the dark so long.
The Global Beta Enforcement might enjoy making a show of their Cursed captures, but one thing they never do is disclose where the academy or the prison is. So, while I have no idea where I am, I can feel the cold air outside through the car door. The temperature is like a siren’s song. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Most of my life, I’d lived in inherently warm climates across the south of the United North America, and this...this all feels completely different.
It feels like coming home.
The thought is jarring, considering my captivity.
My eyes open the rest of the way, and I peer out the window into the night and find that it’s snowing. Each snowflake that falls from the sky does so with a joyous song and dance that soothes my soul and elicits a wonder within me that I’ve never known.
When my logical brain kicks back in, I realize something. Although time had been lost on me during the journey here, we had to not only travel north to where it was cold but also change time zones. It’s still nighttime many hours after it has any right to be.
“Where are we?”
I can’t stop the question tumbling from my lips on an airy whisper, my breath puffing against the window and forming a cloud of condensation in its wake.
The major is quiet beside me for a moment, as if mulling over what harm it could do to answer. “Iceland,” he finally responds. “Daylight lasts under five hours at this time of year.”
Early January in Iceland.
I don’t know why they don’t bother to tell anyone where the academy is located when it’s in such a remote location. It’s one of the only remaining neutral territories.
Cursedblood Academy has been around for centuries. Why the Beta Council decided to build it in a neutral location, I wouldn’t know.
“We’ll arrive shortly,” the major says. “We will escort you inside, where the headmaster of the facility will take over.”
I say nothing, watching as the street lights grow fewer and farther between until there are none left in the direction we’re headed, and I can barely see those left behind.
Just where exactly did they build this facility?
I don’t have to wonder for much longer because lights appear in the distance.
I don’t know what I was expecting; maybe something akin to a different prison, flat and uncharacteristic. Instead, I’m met by imposing walls surrounding what appears to be an enormous castle. As we get closer, I see everything is made of stone, from the perimeter wall to the building itself, with its pointed spires and stained glass windows illuminated from the inside, emitting a multicolored glow.
Guard towers flank the entrance gate, and conversations are had before we’re allowed to enter, then wrought iron creaks loudly as the gate splits and swings inward. The SUV is back on the move, taking us up a curved pathway to the front entrance of the building.
“Wait here,” the major tells me.
I do what he says, but crane my neck to look through his open door to get a better look of the building before he slams it shut behind him. It’s only a moment before my door is opened and the major’s rough hand grabs my upper arm, still bound and now completely numb, pulling me from the vehicle and dragging me beside him to the vast staircase that leads to the most beautiful set of ornate wooden doors I’ve ever seen.
I fight not to fall on my face as we climb the steps, my body stiff as pins and needles circulate beneath my skin.
When we reach the doors, I don’t have time to admire them up close because the major pushes them open with enough violence that I jump despite myself. But any fear I had is abated by the vision before me.
The entryway is grand and bright, a mix of carved wood and stone. Curved staircases on either side lead four floors upward, with banistered landings at each floor. There are enormous decorative rugs strategically placed about, glass cabinets filled with treasures along the walls, a grand fireplace in the back, and an even grander sparkling chandelier above our heads.
