Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

"You really lost it in there."

Dr. Nicara Shetty was smiling as she guided Rafel to a class on the lowest level of the Centre for the Dark Arts: the detention hall. The joint scuffs of his boots and clicks of her pencil heels echoed off into the mildly lit hallway. It was solemn as a tomb. And the lamps on the high ceiling made the polished floors seem like a mirror, or some eerie dimension one could just fall through.

No other soul was in sight. To any peeper behind a keylock, it was only the Headmistress walking the ruffian teen to his punishment.

Rafel had gotten six derogatory points for his stunt at the Guild.

"Ths boy you hurt," Nicara continued, "is in stasis, as our best mix of surgeons and healers attempt to regenerate what you broke. He's got five cracked ribs, a dent in his lung, and a windpipe completely smashed in. Thank the Martyr that we have a team of physicians on ground.

He wouldn't have survived a ship to Titans Landing.

Olivar's a dick—I get it, but you're an Archdemon, Israfel. You can just go around punching people. You know how strong you are: bone crunch like twigs under the strength of your kind. Olivar stood no chance."

"So, you're saying I should've thrown the fight?" Rafel said quietly, walking with his hands in his front pockets.

Nicara stopped before the classroom door.

"No. I'm saying you could've gone a little easier on him. Olivar will pull through, but the gossips will reach the ears of the School Board. It'll add to the issue of you manifesting two Arcs. I'm trying here, Israfel. Help me out.

. .please?"

Rafel nodded. After a second, he added, "so it's back to Israfel now, huh? Not young Master?"

Dr. Shetty smiled anew. She took tentative steps to Rafel, ensuring she was close enough for him to feel the heat, and warmth, and softness of her body, and her peak chest brushing against him. She then replied, "you'll always be my Young Master, you know that. That will never change."

Rafel pulled his hand from his pockets to caress her body. Nicara slapped his hand from his hips, but was smiling. "Ah-ah, not here! In my office, later. Now come on, YOUNG MASTER," she offered insinuatively. "—detention awaits."

The Headmistress turned back to the door, took the silver knob and pushed in. Rafel looked around. There were sparse, luxurious seats, and this room was even darker and more monotone than the hallway. It had the sacredness of a Cardinal's sanctum, the fragrance of a flower shop, and overall style of a library at a Baron's manor. It did not look like a typical detention hall.

This had to be the swankiest punishment Rafel had heard of.

Perhaps, their hope was to bore him to death with the silence, but certainly not the coziness of the posh atmosphere.

An elf sat behind a desk in front, reading from an open book, knife ears flinching every now and then. A supervisor, Rafel guessed. The elf librarian was so engrossed in his reading he didn't hear them come in, not until Nicara said brightly, "Ah, good, you're not the only one here. You'll have someone to keep you company." And she wasn't talking about the elf.

Rafel followed the direction of her almond eyes to the form of a girl seated with her legs crossed on her desk. Goth alligator boots with metal rings were highlighted in the catching amber light. Her fingernails were painted black, and her bent shock of silver hair had dyed streaks of sapphire blue in it. Slowly, the girl lifted her head and Rafel was instantly pierced by the same rich, river color.

It was Corazón.

Cora was his detention partner!

Rafel had already started moving for her.

"Alrighty then, I'll leave you to it. You get out by five, okay? Professor Leeland!" Nicara said her piece to Rafel and nodded to the elf by way of greeting. The Professor waved back. As soon as she was out, he settled back into his book.

"Hey!" Rafel said, taking the seat next to Cora's. He just couldn't help it.

"Hey," she said back.

[🎶 JOLENE – The BossHoss ft. The Common Linnarets.]

He noticed her jeans had rips in the thigh area, and her earrings were little dots sparkling around the circumference of her earlobe—not dangling down like the other girls fancied. She had a cool rockband top with some inscription that spelt like Murder; Rafel couldn't be sure. Her skin was such a lively pale and she had a tattoo on her neck which he hadn't noticed before.

"You're staring."

Her voice hit him.

Rafel cut his eyes back to her face.

"I'm sorry. . . didn't mean to."

Cora lit in a warm smile. She studied him at an angle that brought out the depths of her ocean eyes and dimples, and the fade at the left side of her boy cut. Her platinum strands ended short of her nape, the blue streaks fell into her eyes.

"I take it you're not the type to apologize," she said, her dimple popping deeper.

"No," replied Rafel, ". . .but I'll say a million sorrys if it gets me to see your face light up that way."

"Ugh," Cora turned her head away. "You jinxed it. Boys! You're not my type."

Rafel remembered distinctly that his Corazón was not a lesbian, but he dared not say this. He turned away, gulping hard as he picked the ink pencil and paper on his own desk. 'I might've just fucked up my one chance to make friends with this superhot tomboy," he was thinking to himself when Cora's voice sounded out again;

"You're Israfel right?"

Rafel turned back to her, happy, as he nodded. "Yeah. I'm surprised you remembered me from the gym."

"You are good-looking," Cora admitted. "—but that doesn't mean anything. And I remembered you first from the assembly hall, when you called my name. Plus, all the girls in my hall were talking about this one WILDLY HANDSOME redhead who beat the shit out of some dickhead jock. They're calling you One-punch Man. I think it's a pretty bold nickname—"

"HUSH!" The elf Professor, Leeland hissed at them from behind his wide, burnished desk. He returned to his book, smiling almost instantly.

Rafel made sure the man was once again engrossed in his reading, before looking back to Cora. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Trust me, Corazón. I'm no hero."

"You keep calling me that," the girl smiled.

"What?"

"Corazón. Everyone just calls me Cora."

Rafel nodded. "I can, if you prefer."

"No." Cora waved her hand. "It's alright." Then her frosty, sapphire eyes leveled on Rafel's amber ones. "You know what?" she said. "I quite like you, Israfel, so tell me about this CORAZÓN you think I am. Who was she to you exactly?"

Rafel breathed long. "Where to begin. . ." His eyes looked at her, but his mind ventured into distant places; into memories her hand packed and locked tight in a box. He began dreamily. ".

. . Corazón was my bestfriend. At the time, I was Lord of a large signory called Emberfall. Our friendship started out with her being my chamberlain. It grew, into something so unique and terribly beautiful.

Cora became my confidanté. A gentleman's woman. My rampart. She loved to cook, and by God!—she was perfect at it. She'd bake these little cakes and serve them to me for breakfast. She was more loyal than ten hundred hounds.

I respected her, and in hindsight, I guess. . .I loved her too."

No one said anything for a minute.

Rafel facepalmed. "Fuck. TMI?"

"No. No." Cora chuckled. "I'm just. . .wow! Your Cora sounds like the shit; forgive my vulgarity."

"Yeah," Rafel ran a hand through his red bun, "she was."

"Cool," Cora said.

"Enough about me. What are you in for?" Rafel enquired.

Cora dropped her gaze as her pink lips pursed.

"Uh, smoking," she replied.

"Smoking?"

"Yep. In the faerie garden."

"What?" Rafel's mouth fell open.

"HUSH!!!" Professor Leeland cut eyes at them.

They held a bit, but when he finally looked away, they both lost it and burst out laughing. Rafel stared at Cora smile and couldn't look away. They made polite conversation and he forgot this was supposed to be detention. The clock hands turned and turned. And he didn't even know when it hit five in the evening, not until their supervisor came forward to slam his books onto their table.

Cora and Rafel jumped in their seats.

"It's five o'clock!" Professor Leeland grinded his teeth, his sharp ears red at the tips.

It was like he had said, 'Get out.'

He signed their leave forms, and Rafel hurried out with Cora, bursting into fresh laughter as the door clicked shut behind them. Cora giggled and leaned into him for support. Rafel instantly tensed up. His red blood was flowing to a very specific area. Cora seemed to sense this, because she straightened and her blue eyes dipped down—but for just a moment. It was enough.

"I should go." The smile faded from her lips.

She was turning. Rafel knew this was he chance. Grinding his teeth for a rebuttal, he still took it.

"Wait, Corazón. What's your hall?"

Her goth-painted fingers were in the hoops at the waistband of her jeans. She kicked the front sole of her boot on the gleaming tiles.

She replied. "Brightburn, why?"

"Can I visit?"

She chuckled, but it quickly stiffed out when she saw Rafel was serious. "No." Experience the unknown on m_vl-em,py-r

At her strict response, Cora saw his gold eyes lower. Something she couldn't explain inside her was pierced at his hurt. A bit like a phantom limb and a mind jam at the same time.

Cora continued, "—but. . .do you play basketball?"

Rafel said, "yes," even though he had never.

He played the piano, the lute, and fucking swords! He'd never touched shot a hoop in his life, but for Corazón, hell motherfucking yes!

"Tomorrow, 4pm," she said, sauntering away, "don't be late."

Rafel stood by that detention hall door, in that lonely school corridor, ogling the pert sway of her bottom in those damn jeans.

Another thing that had changed since this new Cora emerged: now he was dangerously addicted to her little, tight body. Rafel knew he had always been a sucker for her boyish swagger, but this. . .this was different. This made his dick stand prouder than a waving flag. This brought fire to his loins.

This. . .new Corazón.