The view up the Spire ^

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998. 999. 1000.

Mikyla mentally counted the what seemed like endless steps lest she accidentally pukes with the added physical exertion. She was going to have to clean the stairs anyway but she'd rather not mop up vomit even if it was her own. Just the thought of it makes her queasy but at least she figured it distracted her from the stabbing pain in her ribs as she hunched over, lifeless, on top of the spiral staircase; vertigo making the world spin before her.

After around half an hour of endeavouring the spiral staircase, the two Drows collapsed on top of each other figuring that resting for another ten was a suitable reward. Each gasp for air was a battle of will. Ironically, it was more difficult to prevent themselves from choking on seemingly nothing than to actually inhale, each breath magnifying the wrenching pulls at their chests.

With the cleaning supplies spewed across the floor beside them, the two girls could do little more than stare vacantly at the ceiling, the only indicator that they were still alive was the physical entity of exhaustion sitting upon their stomachs like a mountain on a mouse. Each twitch cost them a fleeting moment of relief and as the colour slowly started to pour back into their bodies they found themselves dying. Dying of thirst.

Paralysed by muscle spasms, the two girls exchanged brief glances with each other as their mana pools slowly refilled. With each second they could feel themselves regaining energy as the lactic acid displaced itself with the slow drips of beading sweat. What once was a pair of dry clothes soon became drenched in the aftermath of the previous turmoil as the droplet of sweat turned into trickles, Mikyla smacked her parched lips together, recoiling as a concentrated pearl of the ocean itself pooled into her mouth.

"D-do you," Mikyla wheezed against the dryness of her own tongue, "D-do y-you have a-any w-w-water?"

Sade grunts as she rolls her head to face Mikyla, the expression on her face as clear as crystal even through Mikyla's faltering vision. She then snorts as she knits her eyebrows together and Mikyla purses her lips, wincing as they crack leaving an open sore in its wake.

"R-right..." Mikyla trails off as she hears a quiet clonking in the distance.

Mikyla and Sade stare at each other as the sound becomes more apparent. The melodious tune of the footstep accompanied by the dull click of metal striking leather could only mean one thing. Nobles.

Draining whatever energy she had recovered with one foul swoop, Mikyla scrambled to her feet picking up a broom on her way up knowing that she would need its support once she reached eye level. Sade soon followed suit and the two girls were soon propped up against the side of the hallways, managing their best poker faces as they spurred on with the help of the approaching catalyst. Mikyla could feel her throat tighten as she held prisoner the very breath burning in her lungs. Keeping her breathing steady was a lot harder than she imagined and she was glad that her legs at least felt like stone, that way, even with the fatigue, she could trick herself into believing she was supported enough or at least long enough for the nobles to pass.

"Hey," A voice travels down the corridors to which Mikyla recognised as Lysander's, "You told me to be your personal alarm clock so don't moan when I decide to wake you up."

"That's not what I meant." Another voice sighs. Nathaniel's voice. It couldn't be anyone else, after all, they were an iconic duo like Tom and Jerry, Zack and Coy or even Mikyla and Sade. "Waking up early isn't exactly my cup of tea but I don't see why I have to wake up early to do work meant for the Dregs."

Mikyla stiffens at the word and her knuckles grip white. She couldn't punch the nobles, no matter how much she wanted too. In addition, they were the heirs to the largest noble families in town and although Mikyla didn't hail from the lowest of the low, she couldn't compete with the ranks of the nobles, especially being a Drow. She would just have to hold it in. She has the remember. She has to remain calm. Direct confrontation is the worst consultation.

"It's our school too and we can't let the Dre-, the Drows, our peers, clean all of it ourselves." Lysander shrugs.

"Yeah," Nathaniel snorts, "Don't let a Dreg do a noble's work. They'd probably break something anyway."

"Yeah." Lysander agrees hesitantly and Mikyla grits her teeth, shutting in all the insults chipping away at the enamel barrier.

Suddenly, as if just noticing the Drows, Nathaniel smirks. "Speaking of Dregbloods, here's two right now, blending in with the rest of their kind. Oh, wait, sorry. Their skin tone just matches the filth covering the walls, but only just. After all, the walls could never be that dis-gust-ing."

Nathaniel spits out each syllable onto the floor, his spittle flying in all directions. Mikyla and Sade just incline their heads in modesty and Nathaniel hurumphs in dissatisfaction. Despite her submissiveness and the overall situation, Mikyla can't help but internally grin. Beat them at their own game - that's what Mr. Weyn always says.

"You're getting the mark today aren't you?" Nathaniel coos, "I always did think getting inked was cool so count yourself lucky that you're getting one before the legal age."

It figured Nathaniel would say something along those lines, after all, he was born into the business of inking, his father being the pioneer of the Verdant Mark. Still, that information didn't do anything to smother down the riled hair on Mikyla's neck. Although she was used to the abuse she really couldn't deal with it right now, especially since he was right. She took a deep breath in response to a warning shot from Sade and just smiled at Nathaniel as best as she could.

"Yes, that right." Mikyla forces the words out as sweet and sickly as liquorice. "Oh, I do feel so lucky to be getting inked, it's something I've been looking forward to all my life."

Nathaniel's eye twitches slightly, "Is that so?"

"Yes, yes it is." Sade butts in as she sees a dark look flash across her friend's face.

"It's a shame really." Mikyla twirls her hair innocently. "I bet you wish you could get tattooed as early as us. I think the Verdant Mark would actually suit you better than anyone else."

"Why you filthy little Dregblood!" Nathaniel's nostrils flare. "I'll, I'll-"

Suddenly, Lysander is between Nathaniel and Mikyla. He looks like a pigeon before a frothing bulldog but still, he has his back to Nathaniel and all Mikyla could think of was that he was unpredictable. Untrustworthy. The worst kind of noble.

"Sorry about that." Lysander grins sheepishly, "He's just a little grumpy from waking up this early."

Sade nods knowingly. For some reason, she always protected Lysander saying he was a good one but for once Mikyla knew Sade was wrong about that. She may be right about everything else but not about Lysander. His angelic appearance only confirmed his evilness. Not all angels have wings, not all devils have horns.

Just hearing Lysander's calming voice was enough set Mikyla's wrath alight and as she stares deep into Lysander's eyes, her orbs of flames are only doused by the tranquil sea of petroleum which is his own. His empathetic gaze only seems to make Mikyla's fury grow. Being belittled every day is bad enough but when they try to feign compassion it really digs underneath Mikyla skin like a hoard of angry gnats. It's not enough for them to rile you up but they also have to play mind games and take it a step further. That's the thing with the nobles. Whenever you think you've gotten over the worst they come up with a new way to torture you all over again.

Before she knew what she was doing, Mikyla felt a painful jolt shoot through her upper body. She heard her knuckles crack and a warm liquid flowed in between the grooves separating her fingers. In excess, it dripped down, staining the floor scarlet. Mikyla was breathing heavily and a look of shock had swept across everyone's faces, especially Mikyla's. Each trickle of blood seemed to trap the seconds passing by like a viscous barrier, a quicksand of gore. Mikyla wasn't generally squeamish but this time it was different, it was different because the blood was not her own.

As if upon realisation of that fact, gravity understood its position and time sped back up. Nobody moved and then there was a dull thud and the floor vibrated. Everyone's gaze fell to the floor.

Mikyla had punched Lysander.

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Word Count for Chapter 4: 1488
Total Word Count: 6707

Authors note:

Hope you liked the UNEDITED chapter 4! Don't forget to press on those magical stars to light up Mikyla's future path and leave a comment telling me what you like so far or what you don't like. Thanks for reading so far.

Happy reading
~ Dracollavenore