The next morning, Sebastian's alarm went off at 7:00 AM. According to the information brochure that Fynn and their father had brought back from the school, they were supposed to be there by 8:30 and it ended at 3:15.
He was about to pull on his usual clothes, the uniform of a shadow army's captain, when his father appeared from the darkest corner of the room. Sebastian swallowed slightly; he had grown up seeing his father, but even after knowing him for sixteen years, he still feared him.
His father was a tall, muscular man with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. His previously handsome face was now broken and scarred, his nose at an odd angle and his upper lip stitched in multiple places. Even with his ugly looks, he was highly regarded in the shadow army. He was the general of their army, after all.
He carried a sword and a selection of other sharp, dangerous weapons at his belt. The weapons weren't what Sebastian feared, though. What he feared most about him was his eyes; they were dark brown, almost black, unlike his own pale green eyes, and they had a cruel, malicious glint to them.
“You can't wear your uniform," his father told him in a cold tone, speaking to him as if he were stupid not to know this. "The mortals wear different clothes. You'd stick out."
Sebastian forced himself to look at his father, suppressing a shudder when their eyes met. "I don't have anything else to wear."
Normal army warriors would be killed for not speaking to their king in his respected name, but since Sebastian was the son of the general and a captain of the army, people allowed him to bend the rules a bit.
His father reached into his black, flickering cloak and dropped a pile of strange clothing on the ground. "I figured you wouldn't."
He kicked the clothing forward with the toe of his boot and disappeared back into the shadows.
Reaching down, Sebastian took the clothes and wrinkled his nose at them in disgust. "Why do mortals wear such horrid clothing?"