Chapter 105: The Fall Festival, Part Twenty

Chapter 105: Chapter 105: The Fall Festival, Part Twenty

Chapter 105: The Fall Festival, Part Twenty

"Does it hurt here?" Vera asked while pressing near the swelling.

"It is manageable," Cyrus replied.

"Then the sprain is mild. Keep your weight off it when you can, and do not push it for the rest of the week."

"I will be careful."

Cyrus nodded while Vera finished checking the joint.

The examination was mostly for appearances. A sprain this minor would settle after a night in his own cold apartment, especially if he slept without putting more strain on it. He only needed the injury to look ordinary until then.

A cool gel touched the swollen skin around his ankle.

Vera worked quickly, spreading the medication with practiced fingers before wrapping the joint in a light elastic bandage. When she finished, she lowered the leg of his pants and smoothed the fabric back into place without making a production of it.

"There you go," she said. "That should make walking easier."

"Thank you, Dr. Sable."

Vera returned to the desk and pulled a blank form from a drawer.

"Which homeroom are you in?"

"Classroom Three."

She checked the roster on the school tablet, confirmed his name, and filled out an early-dismissal pass. The slip landed in Cyrus’s hand with a light flick.

"You can go home, or you can rest here until the festival settles down," Vera said. "Choose whichever makes the ankle easier."

"That works for me. Thank you for helping me."

The cool reserve in his voice made Vera smile faintly.

Being thanked by a student at St. Alder felt surprisingly pleasant. It was certainly better than listening to hospital patients complain that she had taken too long after waiting only eleven minutes.

Cyrus stood and tested his ankle.

The wrap supported it well enough that he could walk without an obvious limp if he moved carefully. He reached the doorway before Vera spoke again.

"Have you finished the medication you bought from me?"

Cyrus turned back.

"I still have some left."

"If you need another refill, come through my clinic again," Vera said. "I can save you ten percent on the cash price."

Her brows lifted with enough playfulness that Cyrus immediately became suspicious.

Prescription medication did not usually come with the tone of a weekend sale.

"Thank you for offering," he said.

"You are very welcome."

Cyrus left the nurse’s office with the dismissal pass folded in his pocket.

Vera watched the door close, then reached into a small insulated bag beneath the desk. She took out an opaque medical pouch and bit through the seal at one corner.

The first mouthful left a thin red mark at the edge of her lips.

She wiped it away with her thumb and licked the blood from her skin without hesitation. The synthetic blood was ordinary hospital stock, bland enough that most people would compare it to drinking warm metal. Somehow, the noise of the festival and the energy moving through the halls improved it.

St. Alder had been a good decision.

Vera leaned back in the chair and thought about the plain ring on Cyrus’s hand.

The design was unremarkable. A simple metal band should not have drawn her attention, yet something about it had bothered the edge of her memory. She had not noticed it during their earlier meeting at the hospital.

How long had he been wearing it?

Vera took another drink from the pouch.

The ring probably had nothing to do with the artifact she remembered. Boys his age bought cheap accessories all the time, especially when they wanted to look mysterious without spending much money. Cyrus’s gloomy school appearance certainly matched that explanation.

She shook her head and dropped the empty pouch into the lined medical-waste bin.

The boy was unfortunate.

His file described a biological condition that required suppressants, and he apparently had no partner willing to help him manage it naturally. He was handsome enough beneath that hair, but perhaps nobody at school had noticed.

Since she was covering the nurse’s office now, giving him a little help with medication would not be unreasonable.

It might even lead to something entertaining.

School gossip was far more interesting when she had a front-row seat.

Outside the health office, Cyrus took out his phone and opened his conversation with Malcolm.

Cyrus: Could I take tonight off?

Malcolm: Did something happen?

Cyrus: My class needs help with the Fall Festival.

Malcolm: That is fine. Take the night off.

Cyrus put the phone away and continued toward the main entrance.

The excuse was harmless. He did not need Malcolm worrying over a sprained ankle that would be gone by morning. Saying his homeroom needed help also gave him a clean reason to miss a shift without explaining anything about the nurse’s office, Audra, or the locked door.

His ankle had already cooled beneath the wrap.

He had also pressed a cold pack against it before leaving campus, which made the walk home manageable. The injury would probably be healed by the time he woke tomorrow.

For now, he needed to keep the performance consistent.

If someone saw him running later and asked why the sprain vanished so quickly, he could credit the medication and Vera’s treatment. She had examined him in person, which made her a convenient witness without knowing anything important.

The time was only a little after three when Cyrus stopped at a crosswalk.

Cars moved through the intersection while the pedestrian signal counted down in red. He shifted his weight away from the injured ankle and watched the traffic pass.

He had planned to find Audra before leaving.

Several students had mentioned that she took the afternoon off, which removed the opportunity. That seemed backwards. Cyrus was the one who had been controlled and handled without permission, yet Audra had fled the nurse’s office looking more embarrassed than he felt.

He had not even gotten the chance to question her.

The delay did not matter much.

They shared the same school orbit, and Audra had already made herself difficult to avoid. Cyrus would have another chance to ask about the glamourkin ring.

He especially wanted to know where she found it, what it could do, and whether its owner could be persuaded to lend it out.

His own ring remained fixed around his finger.

Every cold reaction from it had protected him, but the protection came with questions. A device that could not be removed and had been placed on him by Isolde was unlikely to exist only for his benefit.

Audra’s artifact might help him understand it.

The signal changed.

Cyrus crossed the street and continued home.

His apartment felt cooler than the hallway as soon as he opened the door. The familiar drop in temperature loosened the tension in his shoulders. He locked the door, put his bag beside the bed, and lay down without changing clothes.

The morning had lasted longer than it should have.

He had worked the haunted-house table, walked the festival, injured himself chasing a plush toy, lost time under Audra’s ring, and woken with his uniform open in the nurse’s office. Even by his standards, that was too much activity before dinner.

Fatigue arrived all at once.

Cyrus closed his eyes and let the cold room settle around him.

His phone lit up on the nightstand several minutes later, but he was already asleep.

The dream began in darkness.

Cyrus could not see the ground beneath him or the end of the path ahead. He only knew that he was walking because his steps continued to carry him forward.

No walls surrounded him.

No ceiling pressed above him.

The open space should have felt freeing, yet the darkness erased every direction. Turning left or right meant nothing when neither choice offered a landmark.

He kept moving.

After an unknown stretch of time, unease pulled him to a stop.

Cyrus looked back.

The path behind him was collapsing.

He could not see the pieces fall, but he felt each section disappear into the dark. The collapse followed at the same distance no matter how quickly he walked, always close enough that one backward step would put nothing beneath his foot.

His phone began vibrating somewhere outside the dream.

The sound dragged him awake.

Cyrus reached across the nightstand, found the phone by touch, and answered without checking the screen.

"Hello, who is calling?"

A faint breath came through the speaker.

The person on the other end seemed relieved, though no answer followed immediately.

Cyrus had only been awake for several seconds, but his voice remained flat enough to hide it. He pulled the phone away and read the name on the screen.

"Faye, is that you?"

"Yes, this is Faye."

Her gentle voice carried a slight distortion through the call, softened by distance and the background noise around her.

"I did not see you this afternoon," Faye said. "Did you leave school early?"

"Yes, I went home."

"Did something happen?"

"I am doing fine."

Silence settled between them.

Cyrus sat up against the headboard and rubbed sleep from his face. The dream had left a weight in his chest, but Faye’s call pulled his attention back to the room.

"Did you need something from me?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"I did not have anything important to ask," Faye said. "You never answered my messages, so I started worrying."

Cyrus checked the notifications.

Several texts from Faye had arrived while he slept. She had first asked where he went, then whether he was all right, followed by a final message asking him to reply when he had time.

Warmth touched his expression before he could stop it.

Faye was genuinely kind.

"I fell asleep after I got home," Cyrus said. "I am sorry I worried you."

"You do not need to apologize," Faye replied quickly. "I am relieved that you are safe."

The seriousness of his apology seemed to embarrass her. Her voice grew quieter near the end, and Cyrus could picture the way she would lower her head until her bangs hid even more of her face.

Neither of them spoke for several breaths.

This silence did not feel awkward.

A distant explosion reached Cyrus through the phone, followed a heartbeat later by the softer echo outside his apartment.

The fireworks had started.

"They are beautiful tonight," Faye said.

Cyrus left the bed and stepped onto the narrow balcony outside his room. The surrounding buildings blocked most of the view, but streaks of color rose above the rooftops before disappearing into smoke.

"Yes, they look good from here."

They watched the same display from different parts of Grayhaven.

The pops arriving through Faye’s phone overlapped with the muted booms crossing the neighborhood. Cyrus imagined her standing quietly beneath the open sky, composed in the same way she sat in front of him during class.

After another burst faded, Faye spoke again.

"I should let you rest now. I will see you tomorrow."

"I will see you tomorrow. Have a safe trip home."

The call ended.

Faye stood alone on the school rooftop with the phone still in her hand.

Wind moved across the open space and brushed the hem of her uniform skirt against her legs. She watched only a few more fireworks after hanging up.

Then she turned away from the display.

By the time the next volley opened above St. Alder, Faye was already hurrying along the road home. Students around her stopped wherever they found a clear view of the sky. She kept walking, out of step with all of them.