The Sons of Satrina: A Sons of Satrina Novel by Kristan Belle Page B

burden.
    This was going to be a really long night for all of them.  Even with dawn approachi ng, she knew that they all had a long way to go.
    “Everybody? New class schedules will be with y ou at some point this evening. All classes for the remainder of the night are cancelled as of this moment, something I am sure you are all aware of by now.  And for all those of you who have just started here at the academy, we know that this is a very difficult way for you to start your time here with us.  But, I am sure that the older students will guide you to the best of their ability.
    “You must all understand what this means to us all as a race and your cooperation will be gratefully received.  There will be counsellors on standby should any of you need to speak to them in this time of great sorrow.  Also, all the phone lines will be opened shortly for you to speak to your loved ones, should you so wish.  If you have any questions, for now please direct them to myself or Professor Fieldman,” Kayleigh gestured over towards the mousey brown Professor of Lamia Matris history, who she knew that she could call on to help her out and was immensely relieved when she saw her friend give her a little nod, “As I am sure you can appreciate, all of the warriors on staff will be otherwise engaged.
    “Thank you once again in advance for you cooperation and consideration during t his most difficult time.” with that she gracefully descended from the stage and headed out, wanting to find Kelton and make sure that he was as okay as he could be at a time like this.  She knew that she wouldn’t have much time before the trainee warriors came flocking to her office to find solace. 
    In a way, it was lucky that dawn was approaching in a mere couple of hours.  The daylight hours would give them all a short respite.
     
    At least Jackson now knew why he had been feeling like he had.  He was a direct descendant of Bartholomew and he should have realised earlier that this feeling came from the death of a family member.  It wasn’t something that he had ever experienced before.  He’d only heard of the effects that it had on the bloodline.  Not that he would have ever thought in a million years that it would have been Bartholomew that had died - that he had been assassinated.  It was just too absurd to comprehend.
    It was really hard to get his head around it and all Jackson wanted now was to be left alone.  You could easily tell which of the males in the crowd were the ones who were descendants of their great leader, because their expressions mirrored his own.  Lonely.  Bereft.  Desolate.  And as he watched, each of them also headed off to be by themselves. 
    It was a time for private mourning.
    It was a strange feeling for them all.  Jackson had never even met their leader, but the blood bond between the blood family was stronger than anything anyone could ever know and he personally felt the loss of his death like a hole in his gut.
    It was obvious to all of them, even without saying it out loud, that Bartholomew had been murdered.  And they all knew who by as well - the Lamia Mortuorum.  The y were the dregs of the earth. The lowest of the low.  How did they ever think that they would be able to get away with this?
    Goddamn murderous scum.
    And the consequences?  There could be so many.
    A new leader would have to be appointed, with the council reigning in the absence of a leader for the time being.  The Matris weren’t an unruly bunch, but they relied on leadership to show them the way.
    The warriors training would probably be upped as well.  They would need all the fighters they could get out there to avenge the death of such a great and beloved man.  But, who would train them?  They would need all their warrior’s out on the street.
    And who knew what else would happen?  The death of a Matris leader was something that hadn’t happened for at least a couple of centuries.  The last time that it had happened,