the legacy of A Past Life

Ethan sat in the wooden chair, arms crossed, his mind still buzzing with Alaric's words—witches, vampires, werewolves, a world he felt in his veins but had never had the courage to name. The warm light from the lamps flickered over the rune knife on the table, the glow dancing like a living secret. Landon was fidgeting with his hands in the pockets of his gray jacket, his brown curls falling over his forehead, but Ethan barely registered his presence. His attention was on the voices outside—loud laughter, high-pitched screams, the chaotic hubbub of boarding school students that carried through the stone walls and intrigued him.

He frowned, the fighting flame flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. The sound was insistent, alive, unlike the silence he'd imagined for a place like this. Curiosity tugged at him, and he stood, his heavy boots echoing on the hardwood floor as he walked to Alaric's window. He pushed the fogged glass away with the palm of his hand, clearing the mist, and looked out. The courtyard was empty, but he knew the voices were coming from somewhere—dozens of people, maybe more, scattered around the boarding school like ants in an invisible anthill. Lights flickered in the distance, echoes of laughter and footsteps echoed in the hallways. He hadn't noticed it before, not really. Maybe his vision and hearing had been too fixated on one person—those piercing blue eyes that were still burned into his memory. He glanced back quickly at Hope, who was watching Landon with a soft expression.

"How many of them are there?" he murmured, his hoarse voice nearly swallowed by the buzzing in his bones. It was a chaos he hadn't expected, but it felt right—as if every laugh, every scream, was a reflection of the teenagers who filled this strange place.

Behind him, Alaric continued speaking, his deep voice filling the room as he addressed Landon. "What did you see out there, Landon?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. He twirled the rune knife between his calloused fingers, his brown eyes fixed on the boy. "You were with Rafael when it happened. What do you know?"

Landon looked up, his green eyes shining with a mixture of confusion and loyalty. "I don't know what's going on," he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty. "Why are you asking me this? All I know is that Raf didn't want to hurt anyone."

"The werewolf gene lies dormant in the soul until the carrier takes a human life," Alaric replied, his tone sharp. "If Rafael triggered the curse, it's because he killed someone. And we don't accept murderers in this institute."

"He's not a killer!" Landon snapped, rising from his chair, fists clenched. "You don't know him!"

"I know enough," Alaric continued, his voice firm. "Neglectful biological parents, orphaned as a teenager, six foster homes in seven years, prone to temper tantrums. That's his history, Landon."

"Great, how about you read my history too?" Landon said sarcastically. "It would be really helpful for both of us, don't you think?"

"Landon, I know this is a lot to take in," Alaric began, softening his tone, but was interrupted.

Hope stepped forward, her auburn hair falling in soft waves in the light. "It's going to be okay, Landon," she said, her voice calm and reassuring as she approached him. "I know you. You'll find a way to deal with this." She offered a small smile, the leather bracelet brushing against her dark coat.

Ethan, still by the window, tried to follow the voices outside, but his mind wandered. It was one of his problems—his attention deficit disorder. He could never focus on two things at once. His mother always said his father was terrible with directions, he got lost easily. Maybe he got that from him. He turned to the three arguing people, squinting. Hope was standing next to Landon, her gaze too soft for his liking. Did she like this guy? Maybe he was too late. It wasn't that he had feelings for her—I mean, she was beautiful, with that energy that pulled him like a magnet, something he'd never felt for any girl before. Okay, maybe he had a crush on this girl he'd just met.

A thin boy walked in, dark skin and bright eyes, a light but confident energy in the way he moved. "Landon Kirby, this is Nilton Grisley," Alaric said, pointing at the boy.

"Hey, Dr. Saltzman," MG replied, with a slight tone of complaint. 

"Sorry, MG," Alaric joked, a rare smile appearing. "I know how it is, coming from a guy named Alaric."

"Landon, MG is my student assistant," Alaric continued.

"And he's also a vampire," Hope added casually.

Ethan tilted his head, sensing something different coming from the boy. "So this is what vampire energy is like?" he muttered to himself, the buzz in his bones vibrating subtly.

"For a school full of secrets, you guys give out a lot of information, huh?" Landon said, crossing his arms.

"Actually, we hope you don't remember any of this," Alaric replied, his tone hardening. He looked at MG. "Erase his memory. Everything about this place."

"What?" Ethan exclaimed in surprise, turning to them. "Are you guys crazy?"

MG stepped forward, his eyes glowing a faint red. "Relax, man," he told Landon, his voice calm and hypnotic. "Just look at me and forget all about this school, about what you saw today…"

~~~~~~

"How am I supposed to forget something like that?" Landon yelled, backing away, panic written all over his face.

MG frowned, taking a step back. "I… I don't know. It didn't work." He looked at Alaric, confused. "Dr. Saltzman, he's not being compelled. This has never happened before."

Alaric froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Landon. Hope turned to him, her face hardening with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Ethan watched, his fists clenched, the fighting fire flaring in his eyes.