First+Person+Point+of+View

This evening found me skulking down the empty, lower-wing dining hall of The Academy. Late-afternoon sun filtered through the giant, narrow windows that climbed all the way to the top of the grand hall, lazy particles of dust shimmering in the golden beams. It was well past dinner time, and the large dining hall was completely empty, save my scurrying self. I make my way out of the hall and into a wide corridor, glancing at the faces of the few people I passed. The great heights of the Rocky Mountains could be seen from the windows that I passed, their snowy caps glinting blindingly in the setting light of the sun. I grumble as I continued into a cozy lounge. A great window filled almost the entire opposite wall, giving the whole room the magnificent, lower-wing view down into the Rocky Mountain valleys of Old Colorado. The Chasm could be seen far off in the distance. It was a great, dark blemish carved into the mountain range, left by the Dwarven siege that occurred there over a decade ago.

Spying my mark, I shuffle across the room to a puffy leather couch that faces a large-screened television.

"I've been looking for you," I spoke, leaning over the back of the couch to rest my elbows on the head of its occupant.

"Good. I was hoping you'd come join me. Reset the console and grab a controller," the young male replies, tipping his head back to look up at me with a calm smile. I pat his cheek lightly.

"Unfortunately, that's not the reason I was looking for you," I grumble, and the boy blinks his deep eyes at me. "Our division has been stationed to guard the upper-wing ramparts tonight. I already told Hannah and Ace." The boy gives a big sigh, letting his head fall to sink into the back of the couch.

"Really?"

"Yes, Henry."

"But we covered the patrols last week. Shouldn't Jame's division be up for this?"

"I guess they were assigned a different mission for tonight... it was last minute, so we're filling in on their patrol."

"Cool... I guess my night of respite won't be spent playing Xbox with you."

"No, Henry," I chuckle. My division partner sighs as he flicks off the game, and then the television. He spreads his arms high into the air as he stretches his muscular frame thoroughly before standing. He smiles drowsily at me as he does so, straightening his plain white, couch-wrinkled shirt. The color makes his olive-toned skin pop, and contrasts starkly to his dark hair. In contrast, because of my elvish background, I inherited the distinctive looks of my people. My skin is oppositely pale, near-white with rosy pink flush, and my short-cropped hair is a soft, elven platinum.

Henry led the way out of the lounge, and we make our way to the upper-wing section of the Academy. We meet up with the other half of our squad in the barracks.

Hannah stands with Ace, handing him small, glowing tanks of Cerophyte that he proceeds to infuse to the long blade in his hands. Hannah looks up as Henry and I make our way to the rest of our squad.

"Hey, Phae," she greets, an expressive smile lighting up her features. I grin back at her as Henry retrieves his Crytan longsword from our squad's rack. He gives it to Ace, who wipes the sweat from his brow before handing me the blade he had just finished infusing with cerophyte. He gets to work on Henry's as Hannah and I begin to help each other equip our gear of thin steel-plated leather armor.

Twenty minutes later, our squad of four are stationed high on the upper-wing ramparts of The Academy. The cold mountain wind whips at our clothes and hair up in the exposed heights, and we huddle together under the fading light of the sunset. Our duty tonight was to guard these ramparts from the possible lycan attacks that have been happening recently. This section of The Academy was farthest from the fortified areas of our school, and apart of our training, the squads of the upper-classmen took on the responsibility of guarding this area in turns.

As evening turned to night, the watch-lights of the ramparts flickered to life, and the four of us stood in a vigilant row along the narrow strip of the high wall. We silently gazed down from our lofty perch at the craggy descent of a mountainside that spilled down into the Rocky Mountain valley below. I rubbed my leather-gloved hands together furiously as the chill mountain wind caused my white hair to fly about my face. I turn my head to look down the straight rampart at Henry, who's gaze soberly scans the descending mountainside. His legs and body are lit with an emerald tint, cast by the glowing cerophyte infused in his longsword. His hands rest casually on the massive blade before him, of which he placed upright on the stone floor. He turns his head to look up at me with his steady gaze, and we exchange a look. He appears to be on the verge of saying something, his mouth hitching up into a half-mouthed smile, before the bone-chilling howl of a wolf splits through the frigid mountain air. My squad and I hold our breath as we all scan the mountainside. My heart begins to pound as I grip the handle of my Crytan rapier. A second howl, more distinct than the last, reaches a blood-chilling note. Its timbre causes my hackles to raise, and chills wash down my back and arms.

"There," Henry hisses, indicating the loping form of a terrifyingly huge lycan making its noisy, panting way up the crest of the mountain towards the base of the parapet wall. Hannah moves swiftly, both of her Crytan pistols glinting in the watch light's glow as she aims them steadily at the lumbering beast. She fires, the shots ringing out to meet the mountain wind. A feral screech tears through the night as the bullets tear through the