“Ashlem, you better wake up, or you’ll be late.” My mother, Fiona, woke me up. I opened my eyes, which were still a bit foggy, but I could kind of discern my mom taking all my dirty laundry off the floor and placing it into a wicker basket. “It’s your first day, and you are not going to be late on your first day.” She threw a stray pillow that was on the hardwood floors at me. She finished cleaning my room and left, closing my room’s door with a heavy thud. God, I sighed. I stretched out more arms while lying on my back. My first day.
I finally got up after five minutes of staring up at my ceiling—contemplating and worrying. As I got dressed, I looked at my Ashbark clock every two seconds; I was already running late.
I ran down the stairs, threw on my backpack, grabbed a spare piece of toast, kissed my mother goodbye, and practically jumped out the door. Noma was waiting for me in a carriage outside my house. “Now, you’re going to make us both late.” She frowned at me, indicating that I should get in the carriage by violently waving her hands around in a circular motion.
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” I smiled at her in an attempt to calm down her agitation, but all that did was aggravate her further.
“Well, thanks for being sorry, but that doesn’t solve anything! What if you just don't be late the next time? Hmm?” She grimaced, reaching over my lap, and closed the carriage door behind me. “You know what? It doesn't matter. It's the first day of Breakwood, and we should be excited. Not mad.” Noma forced a smile.
“Exactly, so no more being mad.” I smiled back at her—mine was at least a little more authentic than hers.
Breakwood Academy was a little way away from Cerara, so we had to stop for the horses to rest a couple of times. We also had to stop to pick someone up in a town called Sternfields. A small, floppy eared, cotten-tailed, and pink nosed girl nearly bounced into the carriage—evidently a Drewlian. “Avera.” She stated, firm and detached, clearly not one for chit-chat. I nodded and returned my gaze to the passing trees and roads, which were most likely carrying other Breakwood Academy students eager to begin the next chapter of their lives.
“Noma Marie, and that strangely silent human is Ashlem.” Noma smiled at Avera, trying to make a good first impression. Avera nodded; she was also watching the scenery go by.
Avera’s ears twitched as the carriage stopped for repairs. As we sat there in silence, I could tell Noma was getting antsy. “What are they doing up there?” Noma asked while poking her head out the open carriage window.
"Sorry, Miss, we are having some trouble with the axles of the wheels.” The coachman tried to reassure Noma. Noma smiled at him, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. As he left, Noma sat there and huffed in annoyance.
“‘We are having trouble with the axles’”, Noma quoted with her hands. “What does that even mean? ‘Axles’, What the heck are axles?” Noma almost yelled, folded her arms, and took deep breaths. I looked over to Avera, who was sitting next to Noma, and Avera rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Avera?” Noma questioned Avera—who was also agitated by the carriage's stalemate.
“Well.” Avera twisted her body so she was looking at Noma. “You just seemed very entitled.” Noma was astounded; her eyes bulged so much they looked like they would fall out, and it seemed as if her jaw could’ve been fixed to the floor.
“I am not entitled,” Noma said, in a soft but—somehow—menacing voice, clenching her fists and pressing them into her white-laced thighs.
“Sure.” Avera once again rolled her eyes, turning to look out the window, her chin in her hand. Noma looked like she would explode if she didn’t calm herself. Or I didn’t calm her.
“Noma, it’s not that big of a–” The coachman stopped me mid-sentence and announced that the carriage had been fixed and that we could proceed. The tenseness of the atmosphere fell noticeably and we trudged on.
The bustle of the first day of school at Breakwood Academy was unrivaled. People were going left and right, trying to get where they should be. I, for one, was getting a little turned around. Noma came up to me, noticing that I had lost her; she grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. “Ashlem, come on, we have to get our IDs and class schedules. Come on, dingus!”
“Oh, is that what you are going to call me now? Dingus?” I grinned. Noma laughed and nodded. As Noma started to run, she dragged me along with her. We slowed to a stop as we reached the entrance of the academy. Breakwood Academy was no Sempal Castle, but it was still grand. The entirety of the building was made out of red brick, except for some recent additions that had been built the summer prior, which were shingled. The vines and ivy covering Breakwood gave the building a sense of wisdom while also looking wild. “What is it with you and big buildings? Come on.” Noma dragged me the last two feet, letting go of my wrist to answer the student volunteers who were manning the entrance tables.
“Noma Marie Marielle Tristin.” Noma answered as the Dark Elf student asked her name. The look of surprise on the Raecan student, who was sitting next to the Dark Elf, matched mine as Noma lied about her surname. Most of Sempal’s citizens knew what the Blaine family looked like: thick black hair, piercing blue eyes, dark, tan skin, and a jaw that could cut. The Dark Elf looked unphased, looked over to its fellow volunteer, and pursed her lips, unimpressed.
“You're in Class C1; here is your ID badge and schedule. Go to the entrance hall to start your major examination.” The Dark Elf handed Noma her items and gave a fake smile. Noma smirked, then left. “Next.” The Dark Elf shouted indifferently. I stepped up to the white plastic table that they were sitting at. “Name?”
“Ashlem Pierre Beckett.” The student looked up at me while she was flipping through her binder of names.
“Regal name.” The Dark Elf finished flipping through the binder and gave me my ID and schedule. “You are also in Class C1; please go to the entrance hall to start your major examination.” I nodded and joined Noma, who was waiting for me in the doorframe.
“What class are you in?” Noma asked me while we were being pushed toward the entrance hall with the other students from Breakwood.
“Same one as you.” I answered. As we entered the vestibule, I was astounded by how huge the hall actually was. I had heard rumors before about the sheer immenseness of the corridor. But it didn’t look like the room could’ve fit in the whole school from the exterior. The ceilings were at least 20 feet above us, and there were columns everywhere. There was an upper floor that looked like it was made from only beams, arches, and marble barriers that kept anyone from falling to their deaths. A portion of the ceiling was also open, allowing some of the students' bonds to fly in and out, reminding me of something. “Oh, Noma!” I yelled after Noma, who was already beginning to venture into the hall.
“Yes?” Noma walked back to me, clearly wanting to wander.
“Are you going to bring your bond to school?” I asked, still looking up at the griffins and dragons circling above.
“Oh, yeah. I'll bring her once we're all settled into our dormitories. You know how she is with crowds.” With a boom, a noble-looking person emerged from one of the upper-level doors. The reverberation of the grand doors hitting the sand-colored-and-textured brick walls hurt my ears.
“Welcome students to Breakwood Academy and the beginning of your lives.” A grand but small-statured woman boomed. As she peered over the railing that kept her from falling, she glanced at me for a moment and continued on. As she was walking down the stairs that had a spiral at the bottom, the woman had people following her, diligently taking notes in the notebooks they were holding. Every time she stepped, even breathed, they wrote it down. It looked exhausting, having people analyze your every move. I applauded her, even though I hadn’t seen her in my entire life, though I had heard of her.
She clapped her hands twice when she reached the ground floor, which probably took her five minutes because of how slowly she was walking. Every bond flew down and stood next to their persons in response. The claps also made two student volunteers close the doors that Noma and I had just come through. This activated smaller chain reactions from two dozen Assigners that I had noticed a moment ago. They stood up from the foldable chairs that were situated at each one of the hooded booths in the center of the hall, then sat back down to show respect to the woman who had sovereignty over the entirety of the building. “Let’s begin.” The woman clapped a third time.
It was easy for me to determine that the Assigners were, indeed, Assigners because every single one of them wore the same thing: a blue sweater, a cuffed and collared white undershirt, glossy dress shoes, and black slacks. They had kind of haunted my dreams ever since I was four; it was the first time I had ever seen my own blood. They pricked my finger until they drew a bead of blood and placed it onto an ashbark contraption of some sort. Then a few moments later, it beeped and glowed the words, “POSITIVE.”
The Assigners all put up a card that listed a name on each of their booths. I searched for mine, row by row, but I couldn’t find anything. “Oh, bye, Ashlem; I see my name. Wish me luck!” Noma smiled, waving goodbye as she strided to the booth that had her name on it.
I sat there, on one of the stone benches under the upper levels, waiting for my turn. Noma came back ten minutes after doing her major examination. "Oh, my god, Ashlem. Can you believe it? A healer? I promise you’ll never be hurt again.” Noma grinned and giggled while she laid her head on my lap. I once again scowled the room for my name and didn’t find anything. I combed through Noma’s hair with my fingers after giving up the search. “Oh, Ashlem, it’s your turn.” Noma turned her head toward my face, pointing at a booth around the top right corner of the hall. She sat up, allowing me to leave her. “Good luck!” She yelled after me as I left for my major assignment.
“Hello, Ashlem.” The Assigner stated frankly, but was ever so grinning, trying to suppress her excitement. I sat down at the booth, a little weirded out. “We are going to be seeing what your major is. First, we will see if you have a deviant and ramp our way down to the normal majors.” The Assigner, a blonde-haired elf, explained. First, she picked up an orb of light that was encased in glass. “See if you can dim the light.” She handed me the ball, not warning me it was a little warm. I faltered, but quickly corrected myself, not trying to embarrass myself. But she noticed and grinned at me. I focused on the brightness of the orb, trying my damnedest to make it less bright, and I swear I saw a flicker. “Nope!” The elf said, way too cheerfully. “Don’t sweat it; that was for Gildism. No offense, but I doubt that you’re Gilded. The last one was Jakob Ashlem, and that was over 300 years ago. So I wouldn’t worry too much; you still have plenty of chances to become a deviant.” The elf paused, seemingly seeing my pained facial expression. “I am rambling again, aren’t I? Sorry.” She smiled. “Next one!”
We continued to test my abilities. If I was a Shadower, a Healer, and finally a Seer. “Okay, hold this glass ball; it supposedly enhances your Seer powers, that is, if you have any.” I held up the crystal ball to my eye level. Peering deep into the ball, I wasn’t about to let Noma be the only deviant in our friend group. But I guess fate had different ideas. “Not that either, so no deviants. You know–” The elf started but stopped to put the ball back in a trunk that I could see behind her, though it was dark under the deep blue covering that was sheltering the booth. “Sorry. You know, it’s getting rarer to not find a mage that is a deviant; I feel like there have been a lot more of them popping up recently. So you’re rare! I guess…” The elf smiled. I’m rare? Yeah right.
“Time for the rares!” She clapped her hands together. She looked down at a ledge I could just barely see, for it was hidden behind the wooden table that separated me from her. “Read my mind.” I raised an eyebrow. But, choosing not to question it, I relaxed my face, and mind, trying to indulge myself in hers. “Did it work?” I shook my head no, and she looked kind of sad for me. “Well, that’s okay. Next is what I have: psychodensity. Try to control what I do.” Nada, zilch, none of the matter, obsolete failure. And a failure is exactly what I felt like.
-Go to #2 of Chapter 2-
Comments (0)
See all