Ground Duty

Avaran stood frozen for a while, long after Talion had disappeared.

"Good night, my ass..." he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of silence that had returned to the room. "How am I supposed to sleep after that?"

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the curtain where the stranger had stood just moments ago.

Maybe it was a dream, he thought. Some weird, vivid hallucination after a stressful day.

But even as the thought formed, he knew better.

It had been too real. Too lucid.

He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned back, exhaling.

"A ritual," he whispered to the ceiling. "To gain power... and I need to sacrifice something?"

He remembered Tavion's words. A memory. A person. Something of equal significance.

Avaran swallowed.

His first instinct was to dismiss it — to pretend none of this ever happened. But that part of him, the quiet one that always lived just beneath the surface, was curious. Hungry.

He did want power. He wasn't even sure why exactly — not for fame or revenge or any noble reason.

"All right," he said quietly to himself. "If I go through with this, I need to be smart. A person's out of the question — I'm not a monster."

His thoughts drifted.

What about a memory?

That seemed like the safest bet. The cleanest option. But which one?

An embarrassing memory, maybe. One that didn't mean much. Something he wouldn't mind losing.

"Yes... yeah, that could work," he said aloud, more to convince himself than anything else.

But something gnawed at the edge of that plan. Would the ritual accept something so... trivial?

He didn't know. And somehow, he suspected Talion wouldn't answer if he tried to ask.

He lay back on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, the glow of the moon spilling in faintly through the curtains.

The weight of choice settled on his chest — unfamiliar and quiet.

With those thoughts still lingering at the edge of his mind, Avaran slowly drifted into slumber.

And just like that, morning came.

There was no dream that night — just pure, uninterrupted sleep.

When Avaran opened his eyes, he felt... rested in a way he hadn't in a long time. The usual dull ache in his back was gone, the stiffness in his limbs absent.

Strange, he thought, blinking up at the ceiling. No dream. Just... silence. Normal sleep.

He sat up and stretched, bones cracking slightly in quiet protest. The sunlight filtering through the curtains was soft and golden — the kind that gently pulled you into the day rather than dragging you out of bed.

"Well… I guess I should get ready for school."

With that resigned mutter, he began his usual morning routine. He moved faster than usual — not out of eagerness, but out of self-preservation. He had no intention of repeating yesterday's chaos.

After washing up and dressing, he stepped into the kitchen. His mother was already there, preparing breakfast while humming something under her breath. His younger brother sat at the table, swinging his legs and stuffing bites of toast into his mouth between animated complaints about school.

Avaran joined them in silence, eating without much conversation. It was simple — fried potatoes, flatbread, a few slices of apple. Enough to fill, not enough to linger.

As he finished, he stood up, adjusted his school bag, and called out, "I'm heading out."

"Don't forget your lunch!" his mother called after him.

"I won't," he lied.

"Bye!" his brother added between mouthfuls.

He gave them a half-wave, already stepping out into the warm morning.

The streets were quieter than usual.

Before heading to school, he made his usual stop: the garden just blocks away. It wasn't much — a patch of green tucked between two concrete buildings, half-wild and poorly maintained — but it was his little ritual.

He crouched near a patch of flowering shrubs and reached for a few petals. Marigold, today. He placed one on his tongue, letting the strange bitterness settle in. He never swallowed them — just tasted. Sometimes lemongrass, sometimes basil.

A small quirk. A habit no one else really understood.

He stood and dusted off his hands, brushing a loose petal from his sleeve.

Then, with casual steps, he made his way toward the intersection — the place where he always met Dolwyn.

The day had only just begun.

But in the back of his mind, the previous night's conversation loomed like an unopened letter.

For once, Avaran arrived before Dolwyn.

It wasn't by much — barely a minute or two — but it was enough for him to glance at his watch, lean against the nearby pole, and feel a quiet sense of victory settle on his shoulders.

Dolwyn arrived shortly after, jogging up with his usual disheveled energy and a breathless, "Yo."

"Morning," Avaran said casually.

They exchanged their usual greetings, the kind worn smooth by habit, and without much delay, their conversation drifted to the inevitable topic.

"So," Dolwyn began, slinging his bag more comfortably over one shoulder, "I was thinking — let's just do the punishment slowly. Stretch it out a bit, you know?"

Avaran raised an eyebrow. "You mean...?"

Dolwyn grinned. "We take our time, act super dedicated, and maybe we can skip a few lectures."

Avaran chuckled lightly. "Sure. I'm down."

This time, they reached school before the bell rang. The air was still cool, the morning buzz of students filling the corridors with life.

No running. No dramatic last-second dashes through the gate.

They walked with a purpose, straight toward the teachers' office.

The staff wing smelled faintly of chalk and disinfectant. The corridor was lined with creaking ceiling fans and faded bulletin boards, their notices peeling at the edges.

They knocked, then entered.

Their math teacher was seated behind his desk, leafing through a pile of neatly stacked test papers. He didn't look up immediately, but when he did, his eyes settled on them with mild recognition.

"You're early," he said, setting the papers down.

"We came to report for punishment, sir," Dolwyn said, voice unusually formal — the kind of tone he only reserved for damage control.

The teacher nodded once, expression unreadable. "Good. Head down to the field. You'll find brooms and trash bags near the west gate. Clean the grounds — take your time, but do it thoroughly."

He paused, then added, "If you complete the work properly, you can have the day off. Consider that your incentive."

Avaran and Dolwyn exchanged a glance — one that barely concealed their shared relief.

"Yes, sir," they said in near unison, then turned and quietly made their way out.

They made their way to the school grounds, the morning sun still low on the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the field.