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[h2]Zafiriel[/h2][/i][/color]

Before Zafiriel had recovered from her stupor, yet another person rushed in the vast room. It was a tall man clad in a green cloak. Zafiriel felt a tremor through her spine. The air in the office became chilly and damp, as if she had been out in marshland at night. It was as if the reaper himself had come to get their shaken souls.

"Do you think I'll make a full recovery, doctor?"

If Firiel was disgusted or shocked by the sight of the man’s broken arm, it didn’t show on her face. She would withstand the ghastly smell emanating from the wound. It was as if the man was not human at all. For a short moment, Firiel wondered what his face looked like. She was almost fascinated by the man standing a few metres from her. She had seen a similar character in a painting back in Paris.

”…you don't have any blood. I can't do anything to help you without it."

It was when the man’s hand was regenerated, when Firiel suddenly came back to life. Her rapid breathing was drawn in the air. She felt steam rise off her shoulders and head.  That man. He was an elementalist, right? He looked like he had lived past his given lifetime. The headmaster looked at his students, as if to make sure they had seen what he had done. 

Zafiriel could not take it anymore. The other seemed to be mildly stunned, whereas Firiel suddenly felt light-headed. As embarrassing as her entrance in the office had been, as mortifying was her exit. She made a run for it. Images of the almost-rotten arm flashed in her mind as she ran. Before long, she felt hot tears run down her cheeks. 

’W-what is going on? What is this place? What is happening to me?!’

But she kept running through the crowded hallways. When she finally found a quieter corridor, she slumped on the floor, hugging her legs. She wished she was back at that horrible villa in Paris. Back where her foster family could pester her. Even having those people around would be better than running away from everyone here.
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