I was stressed.

I had my finger hovering between two chats: my dad's and Professor Allistar's.

Both... I needed to deal with.

I inhaled deeply and clicked one open.

Cassandra, come to my office before lunch.

Oh boy.



***



Professor Allistar's office smelled fresh; a cool summer breeze under shady trees. He brewed a fresh cup of tea, drinking hot drinks despite the weather. He grabbed two cups of tea and offered to sit outside.

We walked to a relatively private corner, with climbing vines and umbrellas with outdoor furniture. Professor Allistar chose a spot that was most exposed, but I could see why; if there were anyone trying to eavesdrop, Professor Allistar and I would spot them immediately.

Professor Allistar held up a booklet in his hands and grinned, "You've been eyeing this booklet since we left the office." He spoke in a soft and calm tone, which made me relax a bit.

"It is my exam paper, Sir," I offered with a careful smile. "One must be curious about that."

Professor Allistar barked a hearty laugh and then flipped the paper open carefully, "I've read it. You have a wonderful way with words, Miss Williams."

My eyes sparkled, "Really? You really think so?"

"Of course," his eyes were still on the paper. "Have you ever considered being a writer? Or, journalist, perhaps."

"I once journaled," I admitted with a hint of sadness. I had not bought any journals to my school, nor did I continue my habit of journalling on campus in fear that they would be found and used against me. I often imagined the day where their unwanted eyes scanned over the words written only for my journal. They would dig into every word I wrote from my heart, interpret what I've written as evidence to my sin. "I haven't considered being a writer before."

He didn't comment on it and closed the exam paper, passing it to me, "I've called you here because your essay has sparked... conversation."

"Specifically from Professor May?"

He stifled a laugh, "I have been asked to come and have a chat with you." He nodded at my paper, "Do you still remember the essay question?"

"Yeah... it was about Iridescent," I cursed at Professor Dunbar for setting that question.

"You sat on the fence with your final opinion on it," Professor Allistar lowered his voice. Nothing in his expression revealed that he was mad at me. Rather, he looked like he was met with a tricky algebra question. "Do you know how risky this answer is?"

I bowed my head, my hands beneath the table were clasped tightly together. I clearly remember the day of the exams. I wasn't really nervous. I had prepared and studied for it, and that was it. I leave all things to my brain when I enter the room, and to the trust in myself. But the moment I flipped the page to the essay question, I realised to my horror that it was about a topic I didn't want to talk about.

Iridescent.

"You raised a lot of uncertainties, especially when you talked about the Dark Times," Professor Allistar flipped the exact page where I was writing about that. The blue ink pen seemed glaringly painful against my eyes. But, I didn't fret nor did I feel ashamed with what I wrote. I simply wrote the truth; the truth that people were refusing to see. I was as discreet as possible in my writing, but I should've known that the upper management of whoever-whoever would still find something to talk about. "You wrote that there was a lack of evidence to suggest this and that. Even though you only wrote one or two sentences on that issue, people still picked it up. Anything written about Iridescent will not only go through the markers and tutors but also to a special group of Professors who'll assess whether this person's moral beliefs are... good."

I scoffed, glancing away, "And who are they to judge?" I spared a glance at Professor, not afraid to speak my mind in front of him. "With all due respect, regardless of how much authority or influence they hold in the school, it's hard for anyone to judge a person's moral beliefs. Moral is about right and wrong but what is right and what is wrong, Sir? The line between right and wrong changes all the time."

Professor looked both amused and impressed at my little outburst of injustice, while I felt a bit silly and slightly embarrassed at the words I said. It all seemed idealistic, if that is the word to use. I was almost like a child or someone who just stepped into society, powerless, vulnerable, having no resource in my hands except those validated by the more powerful. Yet, I was there crying for justice. Crying about what is right and what is wrong.

"You are right. I agree with every word you said," Professor was smiling widely, sipping his cup of tea. While I seemed to only remember that I also had a cup of tea to drink from. "It is nice to talk with you, Cassandra. Nowadays, there are so many pretentious people and not enough honest ones."

I felt a growing warmth in my stomach and I offered a smile, my previous embarrassment washed away. "How will you explain this to the other... you know, Professors who've read my work and questioned it?"

"There were a few who said you made a mistake by sitting on the fence with an attempt to give both agree and disagree points to argue on," Professor Allistar's eyes narrowed. "I know you probably don't like that explanation but that is the only way out of this situation. If you want to both stick to your belief and get a sufficient mark, that is the safer route to take. Others, I suspect, would've simply written what was taught in class even if it went against their values. I don't blame either of you. It is the way of survival. You must survive first. Survive to be present to defend your beliefs."

"I guess..." I said, slightly disappointed. I flipped open my exam paper and saw the grade on the little square at the bottom.

B-

I stifled a frustrated groan, closing my booklet, "it's even worse than my previous grades."

"But A+ for bravery and writing style, I think," he said, trying to comfort me. He pushed up his glasses and leaned his elbows on the table, listening to the willow trees sigh in the breeze. "An advice, Cassandra, never take that risk again. You already know Professor May is on your heels. Last time, I had to convince her that you were not attempting to murder another student of ours."

"I wasn't!"

"I know, I know," he scratched his chin. "But the truth doesn't matter anymore when there's a group of people pointing fingers at you, agreeing to the same things. You'd find that even those who had once disagreed with each other would agree on your matter. Because... they've found their common enemy."

We spoke in hushed tones, voices that were easily masked by the willow leaves and carried away by the wind.

"I've researched about the Dark Times," I started slowly. "I... I don't know what is real anymore. There were gaps of uncertainty — whether it was people like us or someone else behind it all — but the news... the deaths... there were so many deaths."

"I know it's hard for you," Professor let out a breath. "But, do you remember why you believed in the first place?"

"I was told by my parents-"

"Besides that," he said. "Besides what was taught, what did you see?"

"I saw people using Weapons of Iridescent for good. The powers... my powers, I find them beautiful. I never believed that Iridescent, the crystals, believed in violence being its sole purpose." I allowed a smile to grow. "Nana always told me that when I get my own weapon, I must always unsheath it with a reason. A good reason. It is the way of Iridescent."

"That's right."

I looked at Professor with a curious glance now. I wondered if he was a holder of an Iridescent weapon, but I held my tongue.

"Remember that, Cassandra, and keep going."

"Thanks, Professor."

We talked a bit on other matters, and I listened to the last few words of advice from the Allistar before we both stood to take our leave.

"Oh," he stopped in his tracks and approached me again. "Remember the new lights-out rule."

"Lights-out?"

"They'll make an announcement soon, but we must have lights-out by 11 pm every night," Professor swirled his finger in the air. "They'll cut out the electricity of the entire school."

"But why? The Academy has never made that rule before?"

"Well... a few bold students decided it'll be fun to hold some sort of 'ritual' in their dorm," his face held a mixture of disapproval and disbelief. "There was a lot of alcohol and immaturity involved, resulting in a student falling off their balcony and almost breaking their neck."

"Ouch!"

"Exactly," he stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "The school's new policy to deal with this is a 'lights-out' rule and also to have the leaders and co-leaders be strict with it. You'll be required to 'scan in' if you were to enter or exit your troop after 9 pm."

Let's hope I won't be doing any body-burying any time soon.

"There'll also be more staff members patrolling school grounds at night," he shrugged. "But just remember."

"Thank you, Sir, I will."

We left our conversation at that, but my first thought turned to the one and only... Jaxton.

Poor lad.





***



A/N

Poor lad, indeed.

My friends, before you go, remember to leave a vote or comment! Appreciate it ;)

L