by B. T Hoax
Finally, Kenna brought herself to visit the park, the place where she and Jon had spent most of their time together. If there was a chance at closure, she knew that the park would be the place to get it.
She went to her mirror. It was July. She was dressed in a casual black tank top and dark blue jean shorts. Where once sat a happy smile, her lips were straight and sad. Where once were twinkling eyes, were dark, gloomy brown holes. Her once sturdy figure seemed more frail and weak, and her long hair had gone dry and lifeless.
But Kenna supposed it was fitting. Feeling depressed and looking depressed would obviously go hand in hand in this case.
With a miserable sigh, she left the bathroom and exited the house. Walking slowly with her shoulders hunched and an overall downtrodden appearance, she made her way to the park.
When she arrived, she couldn’t help but take a moment to stare. She remembered where the ice rink had been, where she’d first seen Jon and where he’d first kissed her. She remembered their first date and his refusal to hold her hand. She remembered his truck and how this was a place that it would so frequently pull up.
She sighed another miserable sigh. The summer had come, and this once-winter-wonderland seemed so dead and different.
She looked beyond the playground and the open spaces of where the hockey rink once sat and saw the several hiking trails that she and Jon had taken. Without thought, Kenna floated to the hiking trails and continued on her gloomy march toward where she hoped she might find closure.
And as she walked, Kenna knew where her feet might take her. In a matter of a few minutes, she’d reached her destination.
She’d reached the old log.
She sat there.
Kenna ran her hands across the log where they’d shared so many memories. She could recall the moments of his rage and the moments he shared with her the secrets of how he’d been conceived. She remembered the rose and all the magic he’d shown her when he revealed the truth of his powers. Kenna even remembered each of their perfect and apparently slightly painful kisses that they’d shared in this small and private clearing.
She took a deep breath and prayed that some answers might come. And then she heard a faint crackling, and suddenly the bark that clung to the old log broke off and forced her to fall backward over the decrepit tree.
And that was answer enough.
He was gone.
It was over.
There was nothing to hold onto.
Jon Colewell was dead.
EPILOGUE
“Jon Colewell? I knew your mother well.”
The boy didn’t care to respond to the statement. He didn’t want to think about his mother. He didn’t want to think at all.
Several days after the ambush, Jon had come to arrive at the place he’d now call home. On the very northern edge of the great Canadian pines and just touching the beginnings of the arctic tundra sat the academy that Jon was already beginning to feel a slight hostility toward.
Just moments ago, after arriving by means of a rather extended dog sled ride, Jon had set his first steps onto the icy foyer of what he had to assume was a largest and most meticulous ice fortress in existence. Almost immediately he was swept away from his brothers and into the hands of the academy elites, most notably, the Grand Master, who was speaking to him now as he led the Colewell on a quite intimate tour.
Eventually, Jon nodded his head to indicate that the man should continue on with the conversation.
“I think you’ll find that you quite belong here. It has to be one of the most spectacular places on the planet,” the Grand Master boasted as he waved his arm to show that Jon should follow. The man was clad in light blue robes that were half-sleeved and dangling down near his ankles. Apparently such robes indicated that he sat on top of the hierarchy of ice elementalists. Or at least that’s what Jon assumed. “As you can see, this is the entry hall. Not much here. A few sculptures and benches. I suppose not a bad place to relax and enjoy the view.”
And quite a view it was. The academy’s entrance faced an open area where one had a perfect view of the sky and all its wintry majesty. The rest of the school was half hidden in the vast pine trees that covered this part of the country. It wasn’t a place that anyone would just happen upon. It was well hidden, its ice almost crystal clear, and its magical appearance somehow almost completely concealed by its matching of the tundra’s landscape.
“But moving along, through these giant doors here, you will come to the Grand Hall. Lots of lounging, sofas, and chairs. There is a lounging area in each of the houses as well,” he explained as he continued to march forward.
“Houses?” Jon interrupted as he glanced around the giant ice room.
“Yes. Or dorms of sorts. Over to your right is the House of Fulls. As a full blooded elementalist, that is where you will make yourself home,” he paused as he pointed to a large building that was connected to the Gran Hall. “And to the left if the House of Halfs. That is where your three brothers will be living. You should be thankful. There are only forty-three students in House of Fulls. Your rooms are much more spacious. Much more private.”
Jon could only nod as his guide continued to walk through the grand room and into a large dining area.
“These tables here are for eating between classes. Instructors and mentors eat first. The full bloods usually sit with their mentor. And speaking of a mentor, you should meet yours!”
Again he nodded as he studied the dining halls. In it sat rows of solid, wooden tables and chairs. They were smooth and detailed as Jon managed to run his hand along the back of one of the many dining chairs.
Before Jon had a chance to further examine the room, he was pulled through several halls, up several staircases, and into a completely different area of the academy.
“This is the training area,” the man said with an unusual glint in his eyes. Jon looked ahead through a large ice window to see several students practicing their bending skills in the room below. “This is where the magic happens.” Jon didn’t know how to describe the way the Grand Master spoke as he rubbed his fingers together. But if he could find a word for it, sinister might have fit. “And here comes your mentor now!”
Walking toward them from the opposite end of the hall was a tall, pale, dark-haired man.
There was something very familiar about the man that Jon could not put his finger on.
As they came face to face, the Colewell grew uneasy and decided that whatever was familiar about the man, was not a good familiar.
“Ah, so you’re Jon,” the man boasted with an arrogant, white smile spread malevolently across his face. “It’s good to finally meet you. Welcome to Glicer.”
