There is a loud silence.
Breaking it, Azrael grunts out in pain. The wooden floorboards beneath him creaks as he rolls onto his back. His head aches, and his body is sore. Attempting to lift his head, he strains his neck which now feels as if it is about to collapse. Without control, his head falls back to the wooden floorboards with a thump.
His curly ebony hair is like a rats nest. Completely knotted and mixed with dust and grime from the ancient floor underneath. Azrael's gray eyes greet the darkness around him and glisten, not dull like the color of sombre clouds that promise to bring downpours across the sky, but that of fresh ash from a never ending fire, burning so deep its as if it is unable to be put out.
His hearts and lungs expand with deep croaking breaths, struggling to gain air. With each and every waking breath, the feeling of tar covering his internal organs seems to become greater and greater. Minutes go by, and the only sound that can be heard is his harsh breaths still gasping for air.
Finally his breathing slows, and he can move his body without a terrible pain. Moving as if he has just awoken from an everlasting sleep, he slowly makes his way off the floor and onto his dying feet.
Looking around, he can tell its pitch black, but he is still able to see all around him. The dreary room gives off a feeling of unwelcomeness. Dust covers all corners of the bland white colored walls to the wooden floor. There is a dirty red couch, and a matching chair that are ripped up with holes, as if a wild fox decided to create it's burrows inside of it. In the south-east corner of the room, there is an old mattress on the floor without a box spring, sheet or pillows. The mattress lies stagnant and dirty just like the rest of the room. Shredded curtains made of cheap linen look as if they have been there for more than a century, and do nothing to cover the window behind it. The window is completely scratched up, covered with cobwebs and dirt, and even without effective curtains it is impossible to see through it.
There is a door in the north-west corner of the room, surprisingly intact due to the holes which look like they were punched into it from the inside. The doorknob is rusted, and the bolt lock is broken in half, and definitely unusable.
Azrael stretches his body. His bones crack due to the stillness he has just interrupted. He feels like he must have been stuck in that position for decades, even though he is only seventeen.
Without so much as another glance, he steps out of the room into and the night. Turning around after a few steps outside, he sees the room was an abandoned cabin. Even though unsure of how he got there, he steps quickly away without uncovering what happened here due to the anxious feeling he receives in his gut.
Twigs crunch underneath his feet as he slowly searches for a way out of the forest. Azrael sees nothing but trees and more trees which surround him. He is searching and searching for a way out, but then he feels something. There is a tingling sensation within. It seems to be calling out to him. The feeling is directing him forward, causing him to weave in and out of trees with a sense of urgency.
The stars above follow his every move, and the underbrush shifts loudly with every step he takes. Branches scrape his face, creating cuts above his brow to below his chin, but it doesn't faze him. The warm sensation is growing bigger and bigger, returning like an old friend who appears out of nowhere. The bitter coldness leaves his center, being replaced with this feeling of soft comfort. The feeling is leading him towards something, and the only way to find out is to keep going.
Azrael has been searching and following this feeling for hours. Long enough that dawn had approached just two hours ago. The glow within him has been heightening ever since he felt it in the forest. The comfortable warmness inside him is unbelievable now, almost teetering on the edge between pain and happiness. There is a clearing in front of him. He sees it, arm reaches for it as he runs towards it.
He stops abruptly and looks around.
To his right is a large dirt road, wide enough to fit one car leading down a path farther than what the normal human eye can see. Across from him is a continuation of the forest that he just exited from. But to his left, there are two large stone columns layed with red bricks serve as support point for a large black gate in between, with a fence on either side. The Gate has a large S inscribed on it, and a sign that says "Salvatore Boarding School" on the left column.
He steps toward the gate. The warm feeling within Azrael is at its peak, and he knows this is what he was led to. The other side of this gate is his destination. The other side of this gate is what will lead him to safety.
Azrael can tell there is something that lies beyond waiting for him. He knows he was meant to be here.
He puts his hands on the gate, and he pushes it open. He feels some type of magical barrier, but he instinctively knows it won't affect him. He steps right on through, and with it the warm feeling within him dies. Not unpleasantly, but as if telling him he has finally arrived.
In the distance he can see what he guesses to be a school due to the sign by the gate, even though the building looks like a large mansion. Before the school though, there are many beautiful evergreens that emphasize the beauty of it. The school looks luxurious, but it gives off a welcoming feeling.
As he approaches closer, many kids stop and stare, though none move closer as he gives off an intimidating feeling. They can feel the iciness he lets off. Even with said feelings, they can tell he is not a danger to them, but also that he is not someone they should try to upset.
Some of those closer to the school seem to be running inside quickly. 'Must be trying to get some sort of dean or headmaster' Azrael thinks calmly.
Without slowing pace, he continues to stride across the beautiful green lawn towards the school, students still watching from the sidelines thoughtfully. Azrael smells the fresh cut grass, recently bloomed roses, and he feels wholesome. He feels like he can let his guard down just a little bit in this place.
The front door to the school opens, and a light brown haired man walks out. He looks to be some voice of authority due to the way the students have a look of respect in their eyes.
He stops and stares as Azrael continues closer. Alaric has a deep curiosity in his eyes, wondering who was walking towards him. What could this newcomer possibly mean?
Azrael stops walking, now just five feet away from Alaric. They stare, if only for a few seconds. It was a battle of wits between them, neither wanting to give in. Azrael does not concede to anyone, and Alaric wants to show that this is his school.
Alaric acquiesces, "Hello, my name is Alaric Saltzman, and welcome to the Salvatore School for the young and gifted."
"Nice to meet you… Alaric… I'm Azrael." he says gruffly, speaking for the first time since he woke up.
Alaric studies him for a moment. 'He looks dangerous, but I have this instinct… like he won't cause any harm.
"Seeing as you haven't disappeared yet, come inside to my office, we can speak in there about how you seemed to just show up here."
Azrael agrees, seeing no harm with the suggestion, and follows Alaric inside.
As he walks through the front doors, he can see the beautiful woodwork. There are kids his age and younger that are all enjoying each others company. In one room, there is a gorgeous white mantelpiece and a fire burning within. Azrael following Alaric, passes room after room of gorgeous and expensive furniture, all bustling with people. The hallway he walks through is made of the finest mahogany he has ever seen.
They reach the office, Alaric opens the door and walks in, followed by Azrael.
His office has beautiful lamps stationed throughout, brightening the already bright room brighter. There are tall windows with sheer white curtains accented by wool drapes that sit behind Alaric's desk. Bookshelves line the wall on opposite sides of the desk as well, holding precious and ancient books that look to be centuries old.
But the most exotic thing throughout the whole room to Azrael must be the goddess facing the bookshelf to the left of Alaric's desk. Her Auburn hair captured the light from the room, making her the real centerpiece. It flows like the ocean waves to just below her shoulder.
Azrael thinks to himself, 'Who is she?'
Without turning around she exclaims, "You didn't have to lock him in the cellar."
Azrael gives Alaric a questioning look.
"Uhhh… Hope?" says Alaric
She hesitated slightly, picking up a book and rummaging through it, "Couldn't we just have watched him?"
"Hope…"
"Yeah right, that would have been just way too hard," she mocked.
Alaric, finally able to interject "Hope!… We have company."
"So?…" She turns around slowly.
Azrael is taken aback by her beauty. He is left speechless, unable to comprehend his current situation for the first time in his life.
She must be the most gorgeous woman he has seen in his entire life. Her skin was the color of porcelain. She had a heart shaped face, and she was absolutely breathtaking.
It was her eyes that captivated him the most. They were a light blue that shine like the arctic sea, icy but delicate. Within them, there was a pain and suffering which he was able to understand. He was enraptured by them.
"I'm Hope, it's nice to meet you…?"
"Oh… Azrael… I'm Azrael"
"Nice to meet you Azrael"
"Uhh yeah, you too… I mean, nice to meet you too," he says nervously, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
'Az wake up, you're never this weird'
"Alaric, why is he still down there?" she says quickly.
"Hope, give it a rest for a little bit…" gesturing to Azrael, he interjects "...Something has come up"
Alaric walks to his chair behind his desk, and gestures to Azrael to sit. Azrael declines, and walks over to the bookcase to the right, while Hope remains by the one on the left.
Alaric breaks the silence, "Well I guess I will go first then."
"Again, welcome to our school. We are open for all those apart of the supernatural, and are a great home for all the students who attend here."
Alaric leans back in his chair, "You know, I used to have a speech prepared, carefully unpeeling the layers of mystical history, but it turns out most people have read Harry Potter and are actually cool with me skipping the tee-up."
Playing dumb, Azrael replies "How are you sure that I am a 'Supernatural'?"
"Those gates only let in those who are of supernatural nature due to magic, otherwise you would have to be invited inside"
Azrael nods in understanding, "So… What is the purpose of this school headmaster?"
"Everyone here has something that makes them special in ways that the outside world wouldn't understand. We are here to develop our students, as well as to protect them."
Alaric continues, "Now Azrael, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get here?"
Azrael paces back and forth in front of the bookcase, "I'm not exactly sure… I woke up in an abandoned cabin. I'm not exactly sure how I got there. All I remember before it was falling asleep where I usually do, and then nothing."
Hope looks thoughtful, her eyes following Azrael in wonder and her arms crossed below her chest, leaning back on the wall beside the bookshelf now. Alaric is still, eyes closed, but he is following Azrael's every word.
Azrael carries on, "After I woke up, there was a feeling within me… Like a warmness, directing me towards this place. When I headed in the right direction, it grew warmer inside of me."
"It kept growing warmer until I reached the gates to the school, and when I entered it stopped. It's like someone wanted me to find this place…"