Seven Years Later
Ansel was now fourteen years old. His hair was long and jagged, flowing down to his lower back—yet still maintaining a soft, silky texture. The sun had barely risen, and he was slumped against his desk chair. On the table in front of him—an educational textbook gifted to him by the second squadron of Farrah's Unity Department titled: The History of the Accessed Arts.
Ansel had been going to school normally during the past seven years, while simultaneously doing some studying for his future as a Unity Officer on the side. Most accessors come from notable families that tend to stay out of garden politics, and as such, children gifted with the accessed arts are often trained from birth.
To make up for his disadvantage, Ansel was tasked with educating himself on the history of the sky and the nuances of the Accessed Arts. The book in front of him was one he had read many years ago—covering the fundamentals. With it being the 16th of February—one day after his birthday—there was little time left to revise.
"The mortal body," Ansel began to speak out loud, his voice tinged with sleep, "...is bound to reality by a series of chords that limit the extent to which we can interact with the world. These chords are referred to as 'Agni Chords,' or... blah, blah, blah..."
Skimming through a few pages, Ansel began to read once more, "When a child is born with a broken chord, they are gifted with the ability to manipulate an aspect of reality to some extent—whether that be their personal reality (e.g., their five senses or body), or the reality that surrounds them..."
Slamming the book shut, Ansel banged his head against its hard, leather cover. He blew out a puff of air, blowing stray strands of hair away from his eyes. 'I've basically committed everything to memory... won't March just hurry up?'
"Ansel, come on down for dinner!" Elize's voice carried over from the kitchen.
"Coming, coming!" Ansel's ears perked up at the sound of his mom's voice. He rushed out of his room, descending the staircase into the living room where Hakim was sat in his regular armchair, nursing a cup of steaming coffee.
"Mornin', Ansel." Hakim gestured with his mug, before going back to reading his newspaper. "There's an article here about the Unified Training Academy... last year's graduating cohort had the highest practical exam scores out of any academy in the Zeta Layer."
"...They beat the capital's academy? Really?" Ansel asked, leaning forward against his father's armchair and reading the newspaper.
"Hmm," Hakim murmured, "I suppose you future first-years have quite a lot to live up to, huh?"
"..."
"Come on now," Elize walked in from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot. "Don't go putting any further pressure on Ansel, dear. He's worked very hard for the past seven years."
"Tch, I'm not pressuring him, right Ansel?" Hakim looked behind his shoulder, winking at his son.
"Yeah, of course." Ansel smiled, heading over to the dining table to help set up breakfast. Upon sitting down, Ansel stared at his palms, bundled in his lap. He clenched his fists then loosened them repeatedly. 'I haven't been able to use my accessed art since that day seven years ago... no matter how hard I try; no matter how long I meditate or focus, I can't do it. Could that day have been a fluke? Maybe it was a one-time thing, and I'm just a normal person after all—'
"Eat up, eat up!" Elize reached over and dropped a large scoop of mashed potatoes onto Ansel's plate, her face beaming with pride. "A growing boy like you needs to eat a lot to gain muscle... especially since you'll be going to the Unified Academy!"
"...And you tell me not to pressure him?" Hakim mumbled under his breath, earning a death glare from Elize.
"Look," Elize's face took on a more sympathetic expression, "Your father and I are very proud of you, Ansel—we're proud of the person you're becoming. No matter what happens at the academy, we will always love you and support you, okay?"
"I know, Mom!" Ansel sheepishly smiled, his cheeks going pink from embarrassment, "...Please, you don't have to worry about me that much! I'll manage fine... and I'll visit all the time!"
Hakim brushed a stray tear from his eye, thinking, 'He's all grown up...' Then, upon meeting Ansel's gaze, his head jerked back as his hand slapped across his eye with a violent noise. "Ah! Argh! Mashed potatoes... in my eye! Ow!"
* * *
It was the 28th of February; the final night before Ansel's enrollment at the Unified Training Academy. He was still in his school uniform—standing beside Simone and Rex by the garden's edge once more.
His hands gripped the fence's railings, and he leaned his forehead against the metal. It was cold, made chilly by the wind. "I'll come visit you guys often."
"Yeah, we know," Rex replied, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance, "...You don't have to act like we're saying goodbye forever, you know? It's not like you're going to a different garden."
"But the academy's a three-hour drive away..." Simone turned to face Ansel. "Hey... you don't have to feel burdened by us, all right?"
"Burdened? I'm not burdened by you guys!"
"Really?" Rex's voice was soft, "...But you're an accessor, and you're so brilliant. Compared to someone like me..."
"That's stupid, Rex." Ansel smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You're brilliant too, so don't sell yourself short. You're much stronger than me, and Simone... you're much smarter than me."
"Now you're selling yourself short." Simone smirked, "...Make the most of your time at the academy, Ansel. Make us proud."
"Pffft," Rex couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, "Hahaa! Why're you acting like Councilor Hakim?"
"Shut up!" Simone yelled through gritted teeth, throwing a light punch at Rex's shoulder.
Watching his two friends, Ansel felt a sense of reluctance creeping through him. But then—after registering Simone's words: 'Make us proud...', the reluctance fully disappeared. Ansel held himself tall, nodding at his friends.
"Okay then," he spoke, "I'll become the greatest accessor ever!"
The three boys' laughter wafted out into the night, eagerly waiting for the first rays of sun.
* * *
"It's time." Pengal was at the door early in the morning. Seeing him again for the first time in two years, Ansel froze mid-bite—porridge spilling from his mouth back into the bowl.
"Uncle Pengal!" Ansel rushed over, clambering atop the dining table and aiming a blow at Pengal's gut.
Pengal easily sidestepped, avoiding Ansel's meager attack and watching him tumble onto the front porch face first. "Heh, too slow, Little Ansel." Pengal crossed his arms, offering a hand to his dizzy mentee, "...Maybe combat just isn't your strong suit."
"I'll get a hit on you one day..." Ansel grinned, gladly accepting Pengal's hand. Bouncing back up, he brushed off some dust from his shoulder and turned to face Pengal directly. "How was your time in the capital, Uncle Pengal?"
"It was all right. The capital division's officers were a bit stuck-up, though. But then again, now I have a lot of blackmail." Pengal pressed a finger to his left eye. "Anyway, where are your parents?"
"Oh, Mister Pengal!" Elize rushed down the stairs, quickly straightening her dress. "Hakim was called to a council meeting late yesterday night, and he's yet to return. I'm sure he'll come back soon, however!"
"I see," Pengal gauged Ansel's reaction. 'What if Hakim doesn't make it in time to show his son off? That could hurt morale...'
"He'll make it. I know he won't miss it." Ansel approached the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder. "Would you like some tea, Uncle Pengal?"
"That sounds lovely."
* * *
Two hours went by. A tray of empty tea cups and biscuit crumbs sat atop the coffee table. "Well, then..." Pengal checked the clock at the corner of the room, "There's a steam carriage waiting for you, Ansel. I'm sorry, but we should best get going now so we make it to the academy in time for orientation."
"Now? But my father isn't here." Ansel frowned—his brows furrowing as his fingers tightened their grip on the fabric of his trousers.
Elize remained silent, looking at the door and silently begging. Just then—like clockwork—Hakim burst through the door, drenched in sweat. He bent over and panted heavily, wiping off his brow and taking in the scene of the living room. "Phew," he sighed, "...made it in time."
Hakim and Elize were standing on the porch, watching as Ansel walked toward the steam carriage with Pengal to pack his belongings. Elize leaned toward her husband and asked, "...What was the meeting about? It wasn't anything serious, was it?"
"Hmm..." Hakim's gaze turned distant for a moment, "...It was about Octagon."
"Octagon? You don't mean..."
"Yes, him." Hakim watched his son pack with a weary look in his eyes, "...Rumor has it he's arrived in Farrah."
"...But how? How could someone like him even get access to a skyship?" Elize grabbed Hakim's arm.
"It's just rumors, but..." Hakim's gaze was fixated on his son, "...Yeah, just rumors. Worrying about things that probably aren't true won't help us. Let's just be happy... our son is joining the Unified Academy."
Running back to his parents, Ansel opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words. He looked down at the tips of his shoes, awkwardly scuffing on the ground. "I—"
"Don't worry." Elize placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, "...Wherever you go, whatever you do, we'll be with you. If you ever find yourself in a situation that's dangerous, we'll protect you. And if you ever just want to come back home, our door is always open."
Ansel felt tears building up in his eyes.
"Do your best, son." Hakim smiled.
Ansel pulled both his parents into a tight embrace, momentarily surprising his mom. "I promise to write lots of letters and visit all the time! I promise, okay?" His grip tightened.
"Son! I can't breathe!" Hakim wheezed, his face turning red.
Ansel promptly released his vice-grip, awkwardly looking at his parents. "I-I should go now."
Elize smiled as Hakim wrapped a hand around her waist. "Have a safe trip, Ansel."