Sustaining The King's Life 115 Cannot Work Together

Faustina couldn't take her eyes off the opened doors still closing ever so slowly, the loud creaking getting inside of her head. The vultures were not entering the gates, as if they were repelled by a mysterious force. To Faustina's side was Anakin, still panting from the run. Faustina couldn't help but grit her teeth—and before she even knew it, her hands moved on their own. Her fingers dug through Anakin's collar, pulling her towards him with an aggressive yank.

"You . . ." Faustina trembled. "We left them . . . !"

Anakin scowled, but he did not dare to reply. Faustina pressed her lips, shoving him away as she scurries back to outside the gates.

"Wait!" Anakin calls to her, but she did not want to hear what he has to say. And before he could even stop her from leaving, Faustina was forced back inside, as if a mysterious force had just repelled her from going back outside.

"What in the world . . ."

Appearing before all of them was a large magic circle etched mid-air, like that of a barrier. Except this one had no magical circles; it only had unknown markings, one something couldn't recognize.

"So . . . it's just us . . . now?"

"Alright, guys. We've survived . . . probably the first trial." Anakin said.

Faustina was still standing before the closing doors, looking at practically nothing but obscurity. The whole place was laden with voices whispering, murmuring. Anakin was going around, asking each of them how they were handling things, whether they were injured or whatsoever.

Faustina clenched her fist.

'We're all pa.s.sing together'.

In the blink of an eye, a large number of students just failed the exams. Just in the blink of an eye.

Faustina couldn't think of anything but how utterly selfish it is—how she came to be here and students just on the other side, being attacked by vultures and couldn't pa.s.s the bridge. She felt a rising disgust in her system, like acid spreading out to her stomach.

She didn't know why she felt like this before, considering she never knew these people until now anyways. And she wasn't even acquainted with them—but then again, Faustina couldn't deny the fact that she was feeling guilty and sick.

Maybe it traced back to Eula—back when Faustina was still with her. Years ago, Faustina seldom made interactions with other people, because the cabin and Eula were her sole company growing up. Not that she never ventured outside, no; sometimes she and Eula go to the small town—Nebel—to have their ends meet. Faustina could vaguely remember it, but that was her closest interaction with people back then.

Now, she was an individual standing with her own feet, trying to pa.s.s the exam. Faustina was still stunned to whereas and how it had led to this. To her being a person who simply watched others fail.

Guilt surged through Faustina's veins as she trembled in self-blame. Looking back now, she actually had the chance to help them. She could have just cast one of the spells Orwell taught her. She had the best teacher—one that was granted the name Lotheringwood—as her mentor . . . yet, she still chose to stall. She still chose to wait for someone to come and rescue a person in need.

Faustina stared at her hand gripping the wood of her staff. Her grey hair sliding to the wooden staff, like ash brus.h.i.+ng to surface. Her chocolate-brown eyes were guilt-ridden as her face questioned herself as to why didn't she simply use a spell to save them. To resist Anakin's grip. To help.

The talking in the background faded like murmurs dying out as Faustina came into a painful realization.

Why was she asking herself this?

She didn't help because she didn't trust herself.

She didn't trust her abilities. Somewhere inside her was doubting her very core. And Faustina couldn't stop herself from doing so, especially now that she blames herself for this. She bit her lips to stop herself from saying anything. To stop herself from doing anything. To stay silent.

But she couldn't.

"Why didn't we help them?" She murmured.

"Ah, we couldn't do anything." Anakin corrected. "It was inevitable. You have to understand that."

The red-haired girl stifled a chuckle.

Faustina gave no retort.

"Come on, we have to move forward," says Anakin. "There was nothing we could have done. It was an unprecedented attack. The doors were closing on us . . . a moment we stalled, all of us would've failed! Don't you all agree?"

"Yes, he's right!"

"If we didn't make them the bait, then we would have failed!"

"My father has a lot of expectation in me," Anakin says. "And I know all of you too. We are n.o.bles. We're different from them. They don't have an image to protect. You know that, don't you, Lady Feuerlon?"

Faustina thinned her lips. She couldn't respond—it was true. Reputation is very important to n.o.bles. Faustina understands it wholly, yet she couldn't sympathize. Maybe it was because of the reason she wasn't a real n.o.ble.

The group began to advance to the castle, ambling silently with their footsteps echoing to the vast. Anakin had just finished giving his lofty speech to everyone. He stood by Faustina, and then before he walked away, he gave her a pat on the shoulder as if to say 'leave it.'

Faustina gave the closing doors a final look before she joined the students walking forward to the dungeon. Her steps were heavy, and they weren't getting lighter considering the burden of the guilt she was carrying. Faustina tightened the grip around her staff as she tried to combat the weight of her thoughts. She knows it would be harder to battle them, especially now that she was at fault.

At least, she considered she was.

Until a large crash took place.

Faustina turned to the source of the loud bang, like the sound of a bomb firing against concrete. And then, her eyes widened as she beheld the spectacle laid before her. Her jaw gaped as her grip to the wood of her staff loosens.

The large doors were now destroyed into smithereens, and standing before the doorway was a man with the familiar hexagram earring. Leviticus, holding his staff, along with the other mages whose mediums, had just entered the premises with their chin held high. Mich.e.l.le—the girl who was attacked by the vulture, was standing to his side, bruised, yet fierce and determined. Everyone had the same look as her, and at that moment, they looked stronger as if their morale had just skyrocketed.

Every n.o.ble had the same thought etched into their head. Something they had never thought they would encounter before.

The commoners had just broken the castle's doors.

Leviticus' dark eyes darted towards Faustina, and then to Anakin. Faustina felt a s.h.i.+ver run down her spine with Leviticus' gaze.

"It seemed like we cannot work together," says Leviticus coldly. "Lord Anakin."