The classroom buzzes with voices as Zack and I take our usual seats side by side. The teacher hasn't arrived yet, and everyone is chatting in their own little circles. My eyes wander around the room, taking in the faces of my classmates. Each one tells a story, and even if I don't know them all deeply, I'm familiar with them in my own way.
On my left, Clara is waving her hands animatedly as she tells something to another student. She always has this boundless energy, a smile fixed on her lips even when she says something silly. Clara isn't exactly the brightest, but her innocence is disarming, almost charming. More than once she's made the whole class laugh without realizing why. Still, nobody mocks her cruelly—her kindness makes that impossible.
Just behind us, Florian is struggling, as usual, to fit his belongings into his bag. His quill rolls to the floor, papers scatter, and he bumps his knee while trying to pick them up. Zack leans toward me, grinning.
— "Do you think he'll ever manage a single day without dropping everything?"
I shrug, amused.
— "Maybe… but we'd probably miss it if he did."
Florian hears us and raises a thumb with a laugh at his own expense. That's his strength: he never gets offended. Even his clumsy jokes, sometimes dull, still draw laughter because everyone knows he's incapable of malice.
My gaze shifts to the far side of the room and inevitably lands on Zoé. As always, she draws attention without trying. Her long dark hair flows down her shoulders, her brown eyes shine with quiet intensity, and her clothes are impeccable. She has this gift of being discreet while still impossible to ignore. Boys often sneak glances at her, but she always maintains that reserved, graceful air.
I quickly look away. Too many memories come rushing back if I stare too long. Zoé and I once shared more than just friendship. For a few months, we were close—truly close. But our families stood in the way, and everything ended as suddenly as it began. Now we pretend we're just classmates. Yet every smile, every word we exchange, carries the weight of an untold past.
A throat clears, and the teacher enters. The room falls silent instantly. Master Halmor, a man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, wears his usual dark tunic faintly smelling of ash. His eyes are stern, yet there's a warmth about him that commands respect.
— "Good. Today, we'll be working on internal magic."
At these words, several students sit straighter. Internal magic is different from the external kind we use to conjure flames, manipulate air, or move objects. Internal magic applies to ourselves. It strengthens the body, sharpens the senses, boosts endurance. Without it, a mage could never survive close combat.
— "Internal magic," Master Halmor continues, "is what turns a mere spellcaster into a true fighter. Without it, you're fragile targets. With it, your muscles grow stronger, your reflexes sharper. It is the foundation of all serious training."
Zack nudges me.
— "Do you think it also works for staying awake in class?"
I stifle a laugh. The teacher glances our way, and I know he's heard.
— "Zack," Master Halmor says, "would you care to give us a demonstration?"
— "Uh… no, sir. I'll let you keep the honor."
The class chuckles softly. Even the teacher allows a faint smile before regaining his stern tone.
— "To begin, focus on your breathing. Feel your energy circulate through you. Magic is not only an external tool—it lives within you, feeding your cells, fueling your muscles."
I close my eyes and try to follow. A warmth spreads through my body, a faint pulse under my skin. I've always struggled with this. Unlike Astrid or even Zack, I've never had a natural talent for controlling magic. Still, I keep at it.
Around me, I hear students fumbling. Clara breathes too loudly, then bursts into laughter, apologizing. Florian nearly falls off his chair trying to "focus his energy in his legs." Even Zoé keeps her composure, eyes shut, her face serene, as if she was born to this.
Master Halmor paces between the rows, correcting stances, encouraging the hesitant.
— "Remember this: one day, some of you will leave this village. The outside world won't wait for your mistakes. Great cities, academies, guilds—they demand real mages, not children playing with sparks."
My stomach tightens. I know I won't be one of those who leave. My future lies in my father's workshop—with the hammer, the forge, the anvil. Magic, for me, will always be just a tool, a support. I don't dream of glory, nor of joining a grand guild. And yet, a quiet voice inside whispers: What if I'm wrong?
Zack cracks an eye open and whispers to me:
— "Bet you Clara's going to ask something ridiculous."
And right on cue, Clara raises her hand.
— "Sir, if we strengthen our legs with internal magic, can we jump all the way to the school roof?"
Laughter ripples through the class. The teacher sighs, though his eyes shine with amusement.
— "In theory, yes. But you'll need far more training than what you're doing today."
Clara blushes, then laughs along with the others.
The rest of the lesson continues like that—serious explanations mixed with small distractions. Zack slips me quiet remarks, Florian drops his quill two more times, and even Elton, sitting at the back, rolls his eyes as if all of this is beneath him.
When the class has ended, we pack our things amid a wave of chatter. Florian drops his notes again, triggering another round of laughter. Zack elbows me.
— "See? Officially cursed."
I laugh, and even Florian joins in, shaking his head.
As Zack and I head out, Clara runs up to us.
— "Hey, guys! How about tonight? We could get together after class. Nothing fancy, just hang out, talk, have some fun."
Zack raises his brows.
— "A party? Here, in the village?"
— "Yes! At my place," Clara beams. "We could invite Florian too… maybe even Zoé."
My heart skips at the sound of her name, but I hide it behind a polite smile.
— "Why not," I say. "Could be nice."
Clara claps her hands in delight, thrilled to have convinced us.
— "Perfect! Then it's settled. See you tonight!"
She skips away, leaving Zack and me to share an amused glance.
— "A party with Clara… this is going to be interesting," Zack chuckles.
I smile faintly. Maybe, despite my doubts, these days at school aren't so pointless after all.