Xerxyna's POV
The royal craft academy was a normal thing for a child of magick. So, on the day of my sixteenth year, my father thought it best to send me by carriage. My mind went back to the lone stable boy- Ray. Somehow as we grew, we became better friends.
I sought the guise of learning as a means of being in his company. For the first time in my life, I had found a friend- but it was short-lived and I hadn't seen him even after years had gone by. The next day, I arrived at Aldotha, the capital of our country.
The city that was known for its beauty and wealth. They called it the city of jewels, and I imagined it was because it housed the country's most prestigious.
At the heart of the city was the King's Dome, a gold palace built long ago by the strongest magi council. As a child, I heard it was only the most powerful that could be graced with the privilege of entry.
Far off from the Dome, the academy sat majestically over a hill.
And it was greatly vast in size.
As the carriage drew closer, my attention was drawn to the large monad haze that formed over the pinnacles of the academy. Our path led us through the large gates and I gasped at the sight of it all. It was a world of its own- and it enclosed much more than a grand building- there were numerous.
It was the eminence of power itself.
°
The first lesson I had was designed to teach direction. The mage leading the class was a mistress whose demeanor commanded attention. It was as though you had no option than to pay it. When she looked you in the eyes, you could only cower.
"..and remember, once you've learnt to direct the surge, you have control of it," she said.
We were grouped as scholars into three rows, six in each, taking turns to study the object placed in front. It was a small red apple, and I wondered at the objective.
"The goal is to cut through with precision. A slice is all you need, and if you fail to do that," the mage looked directly at a girl with a slouched posture as she spoke, "you'll have no choice but to repeat this class over and over again until I decide you're too useless to be in it," she said, voice sharp and unmoved.
The girl seemed used to being scapegoated. The other students snickered quietly. I looked at her and she tried to hide her face- to bury the shame she felt.
I retracted my focus to the apple, watching as the students aimed their magick at it. The first to be called up was a boy with dark hair. His expression was as stern as his posture. He gently lifted his right hand towards the fruit. Two fingers were directed- and we all watched quietly as electric threads dissected through the apple, carving it into two halves.
A tremor of claps sounded all over the room, and I couldn't understand why.
The next student was called up, the apple already replaced with another. She was less serious than the other boy, and she gave a confident nod towards someone I presumed to be her friend. They both laughed momentarily as if a joke had been quietly understood.
"Do not waste my time, Myra," the mage commanded.
Without wasting time, the girl turned towards the apple, stretched out her hands and launched a full force of fire at the little fruit. The flame caught on to more than just the fruit, and in seconds Ms. Littlehorn commanded a wave of wind to quench the inflamed objects on the desk.
"That's it, Myra! I am tired of your perpetual foolery. One more strike and you will be expelled from this class." She barked in fury with a pound of her fist to the table.
Some of the students burst out laughing, as did Myra and her friend. We were all excused then, when the mage decided she was too fatigued to continue the class for the day.
On the way to meet Magus Pekkah- a man who was assigned as my head master- I stumbled into the boy from class.
He ran, and when the impact caused him to slip, he fell over me. I groaned in pain as my side hit the floor with a small crack. I fought to get him off me immediately.
"Endeavor to look where you're going," I groaned.
He stood up, dusted his surcoat… and simply observed my shame. I felt indignated as to why he wasn't offering me assistance and helped myself up instead. It felt as if all eyes were directed at me as I stood, embarrassed, in the hall. He squinted his eyes carefully, scrutinizing me like I was something odd and out of place. Then, the two girls from class- Myra and the other- approached us.
"Who is this"? One of them who wasn't Myra asked.
"She must be new," Myra replied.
The other one scoffed, "she must be lost."
"Clearly, you don't belong here," Myra said, taking the ends of my hair in her palm and shaking it off like it disgusted her.
The boy rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Is she bothering you, Ash?" The blonde girl ask, stroking "Ash" by the cheek. He must've felt insulted because he nearly slapped her hand away.
"Leave, Cezilley. Nobody called you," he said, voice cold.
"Will you really defend the rodent?"
Rodent? How preposterous!
I parted my lips to give a ready response, but was cut off by this Ash person.
"You'd better leave now," Ash said. Somehow, it felt like a threat even though nothing indicting was said.
The girls exchanged a knowing look and left without a word.
I looked up at Ash only to find his grey eyes already staring down at me. The fall had roughened his hair and it now fell over his face. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you," he said.
"N-no" I stuttered, slightly thrown off balance by the intensity of his gaze. "Well, y-yes.. You nearly killed me," I objected.
The corner of his lips curved up in a smile.
"That's a bit of an exaggeration," he laughed. "It's nice to see a new face around here," Ash looked away and I couldn't help but follow his gaze. He was looking at a man down the hall. The man stood still, watching us from afar. His presence felt ominous to me, especially because I could not see his face. "Hopefully, you can learn to stay on their good sides."
"They?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"The council," Ash replied.
"And who was that?"
"That's Lord Thyrane, head of the council… Not a very delightful person," Ash's voice was lowered now.
I smiled and extended an arm as a token of appreciation. "My name's Xerxyna."
"Ashby Hill," he took it and the touch lingered.
Ashby felt as if he was the Great's way of apology. Only for taking Ray away.