Deceitful Teräs: A Path Forged In Flames

I wake in the heavy dark, long before the sun shows any sign of rising. I lie on my back, my red, tired eyes trace the split grain of the ceiling's splintered wood. Even the smallest crack in the ceiling could tell me where the wind leaks in, where the weakest points of my home are. 

My two-bedroom house is little more than a shabby box on a patch of scrubland at the town's edge, perpetually being swallowed by the overgrown weeds. Still, in the face of that harsh reality, I always find a way to rise.

"Time to start the day," I whisper, pulling myself from the small twin bed. My feet hit the floor, the shock of cold a familiar little electric jolt against my soles. I stumble toward the bathroom, managing only a quick, uncommitted glance in the mirror while I brush my teeth and mentally prepare for the long trek to school. The faucet drips faintly, rust-scented air filling the small bathroom. My nose twitches absently at it, some how still not used to the smell. I look up at the mirror, focusing on my teeth as I brush, then glance towards my eyes. The piercing red stare back at me, vibrant and almost empty. My wavy black hair dances gently around my face as I continue to brush, it’s almost enough to distract me from the dark circles forming under my eyes. 

Voices from the kitchen catch my attention, stopping me mid-spit. I don't bother with finishing, I just shut the water off and listen.

"I know, Ria. There's nothing I can do," my father says, his voice flat with utter exhaustion.

"There has to be something we can do, Adrian. We can't sit back while they steamroll over us! We’re hardly making it as is!" My mother hisses the reply, her tone sharp with naked desperation.

I release a soft groan as I realize they are arguing once again. The sheer predictability of the fight is almost worse than the yelling.

I let my feet hit the threadbare linoleum with deliberate, heavy force, hoping the clatter would be loud enough to trigger a cease-fire.

As I enter the room, my mother, Ria instantly perks up, ushering me to the worn kitchen table. I eye my father as he straightens in his chair, plastering a fake smile across his face. At least they pretend to be okay in front of me, I think.

"Good morning, Ember. I'm almost finished making you breakfast," my mother says in a forced, singsong tone, clearly hiding the fight I just overheard.

My father, Adrian, chimes in, "Are you excited for your senior year?"

They try so hard to give me a good life. Too hard.. I debate being honest, or playing along.

"I'm so ready for this year. By the end, you'll be looking at the next valedictorian!" I force myself to say enthusiastically.

My father laughs as he gently grasps my pale hand from across the table. "I want you to know, Ember, your mother and I are so proud of you. You've grown from such an innocent little girl into a brilliant and determined woman."

My eyes catch his, my heart sinking even more as my hand grips my fork tightly.

"I know, Dad," | whisper. "I’ll become someone powerful one day. So that you and Mom can have an easier life."

He squeezes my hand, and I notice the new lines under his eyes, the way his shoulders sag just a little more than last week.

My mother gently sets a dish in front of me. Every year on the first day of school, she does her best to give me a good breakfast. I glance at the dish, smelling the perfectly cooked sausage with eggs and hash browns before I see them. My stomach growls loudly.

"Hush now," she whispers to me. "Don't worry about us. All we want is for you to be happy, and live a good life. Now eat, school is a good distance from here."

I nod quickly, shoveling the food down. I notice as my parents share a glance between each other before focusing their attention back on me.

"Also," my mother whispers, a tremble in her voice.

"Please know, we love you so much." She turns away from me, hiding her hands.

My father nods, adding on, "Just focus on school.

We will take care of everything else. We promise."

I look down at my plate, the food half gone now. "I love you guys too. Don't worry, I'll do my best." | fake a smile, realizing that's what l've done every day.

I finish my breakfast in silence, giving both my parents a quick kiss on the cheek. I turn to leave, stealing a glance at my mother’s hands. There’s a few scrapes around her palms, which is strange. I make a mental note of it, I’ll figure out what’s going on when I get back from school. 

I rush to my tiny room, throwing on my uniform and heading straight for the door. I pause, hand on the doorknob, tempted to listen in, maybe they’ll let something slip if they don’t think I’m close enough to hear…No. They're adults, They can handle this. I have to focus on school. The thought, a promise to myself, pushes me out the door.

I turn the knob and walk out, leaving them behind.

"First day of senior year, Ember. We got this." | take a deep breath after instilling confidence in my self-spoken words.

I walk along the long, abandoned road into town, passing nothing but choking grass and trees that lean in like spectators. The soft sound of rustling leaves brings me peace as I march through the grass. The sun beaming down on me from above as it begins to rise. I take a deep breath, becoming one with nature on this walk. 

I’ve walked this path a thousand times. I’ll walk it a thousand more.

The moment I step onto the pavement, the smell of woodsmoke and stale bread hits me, immediately accompanied by the constant, nervous chatter of the towns people. 

"The teräs have been spotted roaming the town at night," a commoner hisses with disdain to another as I pass.

I stop dead in my tracks, trying to slow my breathing so I can listen without appearing obvious.

"I heard that yesterday," the other one sighs.

"Word is children have gone missing. Quite a few now. People are getting angry."

"Why isn't the governor doing anything?" The first one hisses through gritted teeth.

The overheard word makes my blood run cold. Teräs. I remember the history lesson from last year. They weren't new; they were just rare.

Thousands of years ago, desperate scholars and wizards forged the teräs. They didn't just experiment; they tortured kidnapped children into becoming super-human hybrids, infused with magic and steel. They lived longer, healed quicker, and seemed immune to most sicknesses. They were mankind's hammer against the monsters, until the day the hammer decided to turn against the hand that swung it

That was when the turning point occurred. They went from our saviors to our biggest threat.

Now their names are said with fear, not pride.

As I push myself to continue down the path to school, I overhear more chatter about the teras. It appears they've made their presence known in our town, and people are clearly unhappy about it.

Having grown up here my entire life, I'm well aware how fast rumors travel. I also know they don't always hold any value. People twist and bend the things they hear or believe, using any opportunity to spread more fear. These are already dark times we're living in, and it always feels like there's something shadowing over us to make it even darker.

I shake the rumors from my mind as I climb the steps to the school. I take it all in, trying to memorize every detail of this ginormous structure before I head inside. The dark stone walls tower over me like some kind of demon. Black and orange banners, representing our town, are hung every few feet along the mid-section of the walls.

The school is clearly well-maintained, yet it remains the creepiest place I set foot in.

I'm only able to attend this school because of my father's position in the Royal Guard. Hell, I think that's the only reason l'm able to focus on an education at all. Most commoners don't get this luxury; they have to work side-by-side with their families.

I make my way through the solid oak doors, down the porcelain-tiled paths, and to my Head Professor's room. The sharp scent of disinfectant fill the hallways as I glide through students to my home room class. 

Names are scrawled on the board with assigned seats. I sigh in relief, releasing tension I wasn’t aware I was holding. 

I settle into my seat, scanning the room silently. A few kids have already arrived, none of them I recognize, but it's still early.

Hopefully, that’s a good omen.

"Hey, you!" a guy, just a seat over says.

My head snaps toward him. "Me?" I ask calmly.

"Duh," he chuckles. "I'm new here. My name is Blake. What's your name?"

I tense, wondering if this is some kind of joke.

"Oh... my name is Ember," I say.

He turns to face me completely. His hair is shoulder-length and pitch black. His eyes appear to be made of ice. "Really? That's a cool name," he says coolly, a small smile playing upon his lips. "Have you gone here for long?" His eyes move to my uniform.

I unconsciously cover myself. "Um, yeah. I've been here for the entirety of my high school education."

His eyes look over me curiously. "Really? Why is your uniform different from the rest?" My heart sinks. Here it comes, I tell myself.

"My father's in the Royal Guard. It's a benefit to attend, but we’re... outsiders. We get the different uniform so everyone knows who belongs and who doesn't." I point to the bronze stars on my blazer. "It represents our status."

He gasps. "That's what that's all about? I thought it was just for new kids!" He moves back in his chair, showing off his unique uniform that matches mine.

The tension previously building up in my body dissipates as I realize he has little, if no room, to judge my attendance here.

"They didn't warn you before you came here?" I ask genuinely.

He chuckles. "Well, they likely did. We did had some important meeting before school started that my father had to attend with me." He stretches.

"But it was with a bunch of old dudes. Sounded like a lot of lecturing, so I tuned it out."

I can't help but smile at his non-caring attitude towards the situation. "Yep, that was the meeting.

It's long, and definitely boring, but it was supposed to bring you to reality. To remind you of your place in this school."

"My place is where I can fit," he scoffs. "Some old, stuck-up guys won't be the deciding factor in how l live my life."

I clench my hands together tightly. "I wish I were as unnerved about it as you are. This school takes our position seriously. There are rules in place to keep us in line. We may be offered a good education, but don't expect much hospitality. They aren't all that welcoming to outsiders," I sigh.

"You seem pretty welcoming," he smiles at me.

I give him a sly smile in return. "Don't expect anyone else to be. You’ll be disappointed."

Our conversation is cut short by the sound of thick high heels clicking on the porcelain tiles. Our professor walks in, wearing her own prestigious uniform: a long black skirt, a white ruffled blouse, with the blazer donning our banner on it, worn by all school professors.

The difference is subtle, but important.

All other students wear similar uniforms, but they have an emblem on their blazer representing the year they are in. Their pants, instead of plain black, are checkered patterned matching the colors of our town banner. Our outsider uniforms, however, are plain black, and our emblems have bronze stars on them representing the grade we are in.

The moment the professor crosses the threshold of the classroom, brought with her the sharp, metallic scent of stale perfume and old ink, the first bell rings, alerting everyone that only five minutes remain before the start of class. Not long after, the room begins filling up. The uniforms all match as the students file in, making their way to their assigned desks.

As the second bell rings, the professor swings the door shut, slamming it with a loud thump.

She stands before the class, clipboard in hand, checking something off on a piece of paper as she glances toward each child.

"You will call me Professor Judith for your entirety here at Willowcrest Institution." She moved to the board, herskirt rustling like dry paper. "Remember your seats. There will be no names on this board come tomorrow morning." With a single, sharp motion, she wiped the board clean.

She spun back to face the class, her gaze sweeping over the rows like a physical weight. Her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on the back row where the two students in the distinct black

trousers sat.

Grabbing a marker, she wrote a single word in stark, bold letters at the top of the board: TERÄS.

"As I'm sure many of you have heard," she began, her tone dry and contemptuous, "our town has been visited by these... creatures." She spat out the word with undisguised disdain. "Due to these unfortunate circumstances, we will be reviewing the topic to maintain order and safety within the town, a necessity that should not be forced upon the rest of you." She tapped the marker sharply against the board, causing a few students to jump.

"Let us begin with a history lesson."

She scribbles a few words beneath the title TERÄS: Strengths, Weaknesses, Life Expectancy, and How to Survive.

"Who can tell me the strengths of the Teräs?" Her voice booms, sharp enough to cut the silence.

I raise my hand along with a few others, but I notice Blake keeps his arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

Professor Judith’s eyes skim over the raised hands, dismissing us all. Her gaze locks onto Blake. "Blake," she spits. "Answer."

He doesn’t move to sit up, maintaining his relaxed slouch. "Their strengths are many," he answers in a dead tone. "Magic, superhuman strength, regeneration, advanced intelligence. They’re basically an advanced form of human."

She scribbles each of the points Blake made on the board next to the word Strengths: Magic, Superhuman Strength, Regeneration, Advanced Intelligence.

"Weaknesses," she says loudly, turning to face the class again.

Fewer hands raise this time, though mine still stands in the air. She calls on another student, not even bothering to glance in my direction.

"Cato. Go."

A male, one year younger than me, stands to speak. His voice sounds strong and assertive. "Their weaknesses are few compared to their strength. Fire is the only known weakness."

"Correct." Professor Judith hums. "They are not weak to fire in the same way we are. It just makes it harder for them to regenerate as quickly, leaving them more vulnerable." she explains.

"Life expectancy." She wastes no time moving to the next subject.

More than half the class raises their hands this time, prepared to answer. Mine included.

Her eyes land on me, staring for only a moment before moving on.

"Lorena, your turn," she says smoothly.

The girl stands, appearing younger than the rest of the class. "Unknown. We have no records of any passing from old age, just information on the ones that were able to be killed," Lorena says confidently.

"Good job," Professor Judith praises as she adds it to the board: Unknown (No records of death by old age).

Blake leans towards me, whispering, "Does she have a grudge against you or something?"

I shrink in my seat, questioning that myself. I shrug my shoulders, unsure.

The professor turns back towards the class. "Finally, how to survive if you come in contact with one."

Only a few hands are raised this time. I keep mine tucked under my desk, unsure of how to survive such terrifying creatures.

I notice her eyes narrowing in on me. I feel the sweat begin to form on my face as I pray to any gods above that she calls on someone else.

"Ember. Answer."

I tremble as I stand from my chair, gripping my desk tightly to stabilize myself.

"Well... to survive you have to... run?"

“Wrong.” She answers coldly. “You cannot outrun them. You cannot outfight them. One on one, you have no chance. Even hiding is out of the question. They can sense you. Smell you. They can smell your fear. All you can do is pray you never run into one.”

I sink back in my seat, feeling the heat spread through my face. I look down, unable to look my classmates in the eyes. Not like I was capable of doing that before without consequence though. 

Professor Judith stands tall, watching the class take in this grave information.

“Last question. How do you recognize one?” She doesn’t even wait for hands to raise before calling on a student.

“Blake.”

He glares at her as if he’s trying to light her aflame with pure willpower. “For the most part they appear human, like the rest of us. Each one has hair blacker than night, and silver eyes that shine in the darkness. Other than that, they look just like anyone else. Black hair is a common hair color though,” he motions to the class where most of the students share black hair. “So really, the only way to tell them apart are their eyes.” He ends with a yawn.

‘silver eyes.’ My chest tightens. I recall the flash of ice-colored eyes when he first turned.

I glance at Blake. Just for a second. No. Too obvious. It can’t be.

She turns away from the class, sighing. “Partially correct. Another feature they all have in common are their nails. It’s not noticeable unless you’re up close, so it won’t help you to avoid them. They have nails sharper than knives, nearly unbreakable. They aren’t abnormally long, which makes them harder to notice.”

The professor turns away from the class, scribbling on a piece of paper from her clipboard. "Class dismissed." She says coldly.

Blake's silver eyes lock onto mine as he motions to the door. We exit the class together. Finally feeling like I can breathe, I take a deep breath, regretting the decision immediately as I'm overwhelmed by the acrid scent of chemicals used to sterilize the school.