A Meeting Room at the Midka Academy
"What's your date of birth?" the young assistant asked. His voice cracked mid-sentence, betraying his outward appearance.
He was nervous.
The room was full of high-ranking officials, people far above his level. He desperately wanted to appear professional and mistake-free, which might've been why his voice came out too deep, too forced.
He knew the attention wasn't on him but on the woman seated in front of the panel. But he still couldn't calm down. One small mistake could cost him future promotions or even his job.
He shifted his body slightly, pressing his right hand against his chin and held the papers with the other, hoping it looked composed.
"21st of Serenae, Year 853."
She was calm and looked in control of her expressions. Yet the strength behind her voice was undeniable. It made the secretary snap out of his thoughts. His gaze locked onto the young woman seated across the room, resting on a simple wooden chair.
She was stunning.
Her hair was mostly pale gray and carried bright sun-kissed streaks as if someone had hand-painted golden ribbons across fresh snow. Her hair wasn't dyed; technically, that wasn't even possible for her kind. It was the type of chaotic elegance only half-elves possessed. And elven bodies didn't change with cosmetics.
But it was her eyes that stood out the most. "Vivid Green". Undeniably the mark of a Forest Elf. That bright hue wasn't something you could fake.
Another feature that was strange for a half-elf was her height. The assistant glanced down at the page again, only to blink in disbelief.
She is 1.85 meters?!
I'm barely 1.70...
Elves were known to be tall, lithe creatures. But she was still something else for a half-elf. Her Elven father must've been massive.
She wasn't sitting like someone trying to impress or intimidate. There was no fake confidence. No arrogance. Just an eerie, emotionless composure. Her posture, her presence, her build; all of it showed her strength.
The half-elf wore the robe of a human mage, quite fashionable actually, but her aura felt strangely more elven.
The young man forced himself to keep eye contact, though it took effort not to glance lower. Her chest strained against the fabric of her clothes, distinctively fuller than any pure-blood elf.
She was the perfect blend. Carved from the finest traits of both races: Strong, smart, talented and beautiful.
..
Just as the young assistant prepared his next question, the higher-ranking officials in the room interrupted after reading a document on the table.
"She's already a Bearer? At twenty-eight?!"
"Gods above..."
"Isn't she the one who broke the graduation record a few years back?"
"Oh! Now I remember. They called her the prodigy half-elf, didn't they?"
Then came the voice of authority, an older man who didn't need to speak twice to silence the room. He leaned forward and addressed the woman directly.
"Why would someone like you, I mean a Bearer-Elemental Magus, go through all this just to become a teacher? Please enlighten us."
His name was Samuel, Head of the Administrative Faculty. Second only to the Headmistress when it came to all hiring decisions.
"I never understood why someone gives up teaching just to go 'find themselves' in some grand journey across the world," he muttered under his breath.
Just three days before the academic term started, a highly successful teacher had resigned and disappeared.
"The younger generation are all brainless dreamers." He said it so quietly that no one heard except the Vice Principal sitting next to him. He was damn tired after all the crap he had been through today.
Actually, Samuel and almost everyone in this room had already decided on hiring this young half-elf. Still, he asked out of formality and curiosity why a young Bearer like her wanted to become a teacher. A heavy silence followed, but the half-elf didn't flinch.
The half-elf's green eyes swept across the room with a steady and cold look. The tension was palpable. Some in the room already knew what she'd been through but most didn't.
She showed no smile, greeting or fake warmth. Then she spoke with her melodic voice.
"I'm Vivienne Ashford. Saying this for the second time, but I was born on the 21st of Serenae, Year 853."
"I graduated from Midka Academy three years ago with a GPA of 3.98. If you're wondering why I didn't graduate with a perfect 4.00, all I can say is 'ACM 120 - Advanced Mana Studies.' That cursed class forced me to make some sacrifices."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. Vivienne was already showing why her GPA was 3.98 in the best school. Her way of talking was neat and impressive.
"I was already a Flora Corebound when I graduated. But as many of you probably guessed, I chose to keep my element hidden in my final year."
"Then I joined the military to avoid using Flora Magic and to take a break from everything. Served three years at the border. Looking back, it was a foolish decision. I was naive."
"I admit this. The past 'me' was too fu*king arrogant!"
She cursed in the middle of a job interview, but it sounded so beautiful. Except for the nervous secretary, nobody cared.
"But I learned a lot thanks to my wise commanders and friends. I will never forget my military service."
"In the same month I finally chose to switch elements and start over, our unit was ambushed. A brutal and unforgiving assault."
"While I was forcing myself to suppress my abilities, my friends, my commanders, innocent civilians from the border were dying right in front of me."
"I knew I shouldn't. I knew the consequences. But I used my powers. I tried for a long time even when I knew I couldn't change anything."
"Months later, when there was no one left to save, it was already too late. I don't know how or when I actually finished my advancement and became an Elemental Magus."
"Now I stand before you as a Flora-Bearer." Her voice didn't crack even once.
"If you hire me, I won't take vacations. I won't have friends and won't rest." Vivienne stopped talking for a few seconds and looked around the room.
"I can't afford to do those things anyway." She stopped again. Then explained in a slightly lower voice. "Avoiding contact with plants means staying inside buildings as much as possible. It's not a choice but my only means of survival. I don't want to die."
The room was dead silent.
One of the professors sighed, a woman who had once been Vivienne's instructor years ago.
"I warned you countless times to wait before aligning with an element. Just a few more months, maybe even weeks and you could have synchronized with your other elements."
Her voice was stern, but her face was filled with genuine concern.
"How much can you endure now?"
Everyone in the room was now fully focused on Vivienne's hands, especially the high-level magicians.
A green light flashed and vanished from her pretty hands.
A Flora-Bearer.
A magician with her soul bound to such a cursed element was a rarity. Most had never seen one.
Vivienne gave her old mentor a faint, bittersweet smile.
"As long as I don't use magic or get too close to plants, I am fine. But the moment I use more than half of my mana, my emotions or memories begin to blur."
"When I touch non-magical plants, I can sense their state, feel what they think. But..."
She paused.
"I haven't touched a magical plant yet. And I don't intend to. It's not worth the risk. Over the past few months, I've learned to replace sleep with meditation and artificial rest spells."
"If I'm hired, I promise I'll never be a liability."
Vivienne's response left nothing out; in fact, it may have revealed more than necessary.
Most of those present in the room had, at some point in their lives, carried burdens or were still bearing them. The term Bearer didn't officially exist in the ranking system, after all. It wasn't a class or a title. Just a name given by people to other people.
Just an old custom that didn't ease the pain but showed that you understood their struggles. A name for those who carried the weight of something they could never escape.
Pain. Empathy. Fear. Regret.
Being a Bearer wasn't just difficult. It was torture. And because the next stage of power was almost unreachable, it meant bearing that pain for a lifetime.
Some bore the curse of their aura. Others, the madness of their element. And a rare few, the torment of their bloodline.
The path of a mage or a warrior wasn't the fairy-tale the common folk believed it to be. It wasn't all fun and glory. There was no salvation, change or escape. The burden would remain even if they destroyed their magic core. Even warriors couldn't undo what their bodies had become.
For most of them the burden became unbearable. But for some unlucky souls, there was only one path left.
Suicide.
Those who reached this stage, both warriors and magicians, were often crushed under the weight of their own power. Everything they had gained; longer life, titles, prestige and especially power become their chains.
But like everything else, Bearers also had tiers. And for mages, the Flora element was especially cruel.
Being a Corebound, the third stage of Magic with the Flora Element was bliss. You could manipulate nature itself; heal, extend lifespans, cure diseases. It sounded beautiful.
When you became a fourth-level magician, a Bearer, you would be an Elemental Magus. But if the element you had chosen was Flora, things were chaotic.
Among all elements, Flora sat atop the throne of suffering and its cost? Your humanity and Intellect. All of it!
The longer a magus used it, the more they lost their thoughts, their memories, their very identity. Until nothing remained but a shell of flesh and bark, a plant in human form.
If Vivienne, a Flora-Bearer were to cast even one spell or touch a magic plant, she would risk losing herself partly or completely. Vivienne's element and her situation were a paradox. Anyone who tried it before cursed it and killed themselves.
Despite warnings from her teachers, despite years of experience from her Elven father, she had made a fatal mistake in her youth. She was too proud and believed herself special.
Vivienne was trapped with no way to ascend to the fifth level. It was impossible without using her element or abilities.
She had to bear this for centuries.
..
The conversation in the room eventually shifted. They moved past the pain, past the tragedy and into more practical matters.
Academic qualifications.
Methodologies.
Preferred disciplines.
Job Details.
Salary.
The tension melted. The icy atmosphere turned to warmth. After a brief debate and even a few chuckles, Vivienne was assigned a class and a position.
Amid this strange mix of tension and tenderness, only one person remained frozen in discomfort: the young assistant. Still holding his papers. Still gripping his chin.
What was meant to be a five-minute formality had become a one-hour emotional storm. His hand was numb from staying in that awkward position.
Eventually, everyone in the room stood up and the meeting ended. The assistant let out a sigh of relief and bolted toward the door.
As Samuel shook Vivienne's hand, the door opened. Samuel's voice boomed into the hallway. "We're leaving Class 1-S in your hands, Miss Ashford."
"Welcome aboard and good luck."