Cyite awoke in the morning to be greeted by two red eyes staring down at him. He jumped up with a scream and the figure whose eyes they belonged to fell over to the side of the bed. Psycho jumped up from the side of the bed.
“Damn you scream loud…” he said as he rubbed his head.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” he shouted back. “And how’d you get in?”
“Pfft, doors don’t stop me.”
Cyite glanced at his clock and screeched yet again, he had ten minutes before he was going to be late. He shoved Psycho out the door and quickly brushed his teeth and got dressed, the shower could wait. The last thing he needed was to be late for a special appointment with his instructor.
As he ran down the main hall Psycho jumped out of the shadows again and followed behind him so as to whisper into his ear.
“The meeting last night was fairly interesting.”
“Oh?” Cyite replied, only half interested, he was in far too much of a rush.
“Yeah, Kylite gave a report on you and then the Order head gave him a dagger to use today.”
“A dagger?”
“Yes a dagger, I assume it’s for you…good work pretty boy.” He said tauntingly.
Cyite turned to face him but before he could Psycho had disappeared again, into no where. Kylite had been given a dagger…it was a clean way to do it, had he really failed? This couldn’t be happening, he did everything he could to please his instructor, why? He figured his life had gotten too good to be true anyway.
“Fine, if this is the way it has to be…” Cyite said to himself as he grabbed a short sword off the wall. “I’ll do it myself.”
He looked down at the silver metal weapon as he walked slowly down the hall in silence. It had belonged to Kylite; the sword was given to him by Lord Terron after he had won a fierce battle. His name was engraved on the blade, so in a way it was a part of him.
Cyite walked to the edge of the garden which was walled in by tall stone walls that were covered in vines and foliage. He opened the large wood doors and walked into the green and gray courtyard. Plants covered most of the walls and ground, only a stone path was cleared along with a statue in the center. It must be a grave stone for one of the Dark Kingdoms mighty heroes. Nobody ever remembers the dead champions of this place, like the garden they are forgotten.
He drew the sword from his belt and kneeled down on one knee with the point of the blade pressing lightly against his chest. As he took a deep breath he began to push the sword into his belly but quickly halted and opened his eyes. Even while attempting to end his own life he wanted it to be perfect for his instructor.
After thinking for a moment he quickly fetched his robe from his bathroom, making sure that no one noticed him. When he returned all was as it had been before, nothing had been disturbed; it was still the perfect scene.
He stripped out of his Black uniform and boots, folded them up neatly and placed them by his side. After putting on his robe he kneeled on one knee again and placed the sword in the same position as before.
It was the perfect scene for a painting, a lovely boy with pale complication, sad looking eyes, looking down at his own fate, with a silvery blade ready to fall on the whole scene sending into a bloody end.
Cyite opened up his robe so the blade wouldn’t cut through and ruin it; he wanted Kylite to have something to remember him by. He knew the price of failure and he understood it, he wanted to spare the pain of having Kylite carry the burden.
As he began to lean over the blade, pushing it hard against his belly, he felt the cold tip press against him several times as he breathed. After readying himself he prepared to fall forward onto the sword, completing the ‘painting’.
“Cyite!” a familiar voice barked. “What are you doing here?”
He flinched at his voice and tone as he closed his robe and got up, hiding the sword behind his back.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again.
“Meditating, my lord”
He couldn’t tell the truth; he had failed again, even at this task he failed and he couldn’t bare it.
Plus ‘He has come to kill me’ Cyite though to himself ‘All the threats, failure is awarded by death, clear and simple.’
“What are you hiding behind your back?” he demanded.
He looked at his instructor; filled with shame and grief he dropped the sword in front of his bare feet not caring how loud the clang of the blade was as it met with cold stone. Kylite walked up to him with a silver dagger in his hand, it glistened in the morning light.
“Now what’s all this about…?” he asked softly yet mockingly. After a moment of waiting for an answer Kylite sighed and looked at Cyite again. “I’m sorry it had to come to this Cyite.”
“I’m happy to die if I am with you, my lord Kylite.”
“That’s nice to know…” he sighed.
As he took a deep breath to answer he felt a sharp pain in his side let out a gasp of air. His instructor had jammed the dagger in his side; he grabbed his arms and tried to push him back but was far from strong enough. The blade had only been put in just past the skin, not enough to do any damage.
“Cyite I want you to listen to me.”
“Take it out!” he screamed as he struggled.
As Cyite struggled to get free from his iron grip around his arm and the dagger being pushed in his side, Kylite only dug it deeper into his side. He could feel it slicing through his flesh.
Why did it have to be so slow and painful, why couldn’t he just get it over with and finish it? Did he enjoy seeing him suffer? Cyite glanced up at his instructor for what he thought would be the last time. His face showed no emotion as usual; at least he wasn’t enjoying it as some others would.
He could feel the dagger dig deeper, the blade was halfway in him now, he could feel the cold steel piercing his flesh.
“Cyite listen to me!” he shouted as he grabbed Cyite’s face with his hand. “You would have killed yourself if you kept going.”
“My lord…” he mumbled softly. “Please, take it out…”
“Listen to me!” he shouted again. “This dagger is a part of you, like the book I told you to read; we’re all a part of it.”
He dug the blade deeper and angled it up towards Cyite’s heart.
“You must learn to understand that when something’s a part of you, it can’t hurt you, it can only change you.”
“Don’t thrust it deeper!” Cyite screamed in reply. “You’ll kill me!”
Kylite ignored his pleas continued talking.
“Now that I’ve got your undivided attention,” he started. “I know what you think of me, your little act the other day was more then a hint and I think the rest of this will be a treat for you.”
He reached under Cyite’s robe and tugged it open, revealing his most private areas. In response Cyite struggled harder to break free from his grip.
“Cyite, stop struggling or you might loose something!” he shouted and he obeyed. “Good boy.”
Kylite reached down between his student’s legs and caused Cyite to squirm and blush, even though the dagger was still in his side.
“Heh as I thought,” he chuckled. “You are what everyone says you are.”
Cyite blushed as his instructor’s gloved hand ran between his legs; he was only brought back to reality when he pushed the dagger in a little deeper.
“Cyite, this will be the final thrust, I just want you to know that it’s been a real experience having you as a student.”
At the end of that sentence Kylite leaned forward a kissed him full on the mouth, he also shoved the dagger all the way in, piercing his heart. But what he felt wasn’t pain, it was warm and liquid like, the blade had melted into a strange liquid that his body greedily absorbed and the hilt fell to the ground.
His instructor’s kiss wasn’t over either, he opened his mouth and more of the liquid flowed up from his throat and seemed to stream into Cyite’s own as he let it pour down his throat and also be absorbed. Kylite broke the ‘kiss’ and held Cyite in his arms, he was so dazed he couldn’t possibly stand.
“Good boy,” he said softly. “Now you’re so full of magic you could burst.”
But he didn’t burst, instead he felt the power inside of him, he felt it flowing through his veins. Before his ego could adjust to this new feeling he felt Kylite’s hand guild his head to his own.
“Now, give it back.” He said softly with a grin.
Inadvertently he wrapped his arms around his instructor’s neck and kissed him on the mouth. The strange substance flowed up and out of Cyite’s mouth and into Kylite’s as he gulped it down. As he broke the second ‘kiss’ he left out a gasp of air and closed his robe with a blush.
“My my Cyite, that was a treat, wasn’t it?” he said softly. “Remember a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled.”
He patted his student on the head and brought him in closer.
“I’ll always give you half of a task; it’s your job to complete the other half, so the pleasure of doing it can be shared.”
“Yes my lord.” He replied at a whisper.
“Good,” he ran his fingers through his own hair to brush it back, only to have it fall back into its wild state. “Welcome to the Order, let me show you to your new room.”

After that moment everything changed for Cyite, he got a new room in the tower by his instructor, he got a new uniform and he felt more accepted. His new power was magnificent; he could finally make the fireball appear. Magic flowed through his body, he could call it from his hands, raise it from his skin, pull it from his throat, blink it from his eye. He was rolling in it, the same power that made Kylite so powerful was now his own as well.
A few weeks later Cyite would share more then just his power, they also share a bed exclusively in Kylite’s main chamber. Cyite’s old room only holds dust and bad memories, dark and empty. The books on the shelves were no longer a problem, he read through them as easy as any other book.
Little things now became apparent to him, all the details he missed flourished, the echoes in the halls. All the little whispers only meant for him, for example. “I like your boots.” “Hot today, isn’t it?” “Kylite’s down the hall.”
And for the first time he noticed something, Kylite’s smell, it was familiar, comforting. Once Cyite spent fifteen minutes smelling their sheets, trying to soak up every last bit of this strange yet tender divulgence. Although they share a bed, their secret could never be known to the others, even at his current rank Kylite was subject to rules and codes. This broke several cardinal rules and the heat always fell on the lesser of the two. Cyite didn’t care, he knew his mentor would never give him up and he had no plan to ever leave his mentor’s side or bed.