September 6th, 2021
An orchestra of fierce strings that becomes a neverending loop.
The music resonates throughout the room. It’s calm and otherwise quiet. A circle rotates on the TV screen, the word “PAUSE” flashing in and out. The sun peeks from behind the desk curtains, making its way past computer monitors, onto the skin of a rather exhausted woman. Snores interrupt the silence. It’s the aftermath of a late night and the beginning of the next morning. Outside, further down the hall, a door closes. Footsteps walk towards the stairs leading down, stopping right before taking the first step. The music is faint, but not quiet enough to a mother’s sharp ear.
The sleeping woman’s hand hangs from the couch with a twitch, touching the floor. She, ever so slightly, feels vibrations. Then, a crescendo. Video game sound effects accompany the score. Hazy visions of dreams mixing with darkness, the pitch black of closed eyes. Comfy, she wants to ignore what’s happening in her surroundings, to rest for a few more hours, but the vibrations…
The damn vibrations.
Vibrations? With that thought, it doesn’t take long to regain some consciousness. She, unknowingly, fell asleep, and the vibrations are probably footsteps, ones belonging to a mother who wouldn’t be pleased to see her in this state. As she sits up, her bedroom door creaks, slowly opening. With a swift wave of a hand, the door slams shut, closed to all prying eyes.
During this brief window of opportunity, she hurries to the desk and clicks her computer mouse. The screen turns on. Typing away, she searches YouTube for “exercise warm-ups,” clicking play on the first result. She follows along with the video as the door, again, creaks open behind her. The woman faces the opposite direction as her mother stands there, leaning on the door frame, crossing her arms as she watches the demonstration of physical prowess. Is it believable, this facade? Honestly, yes it is. The woman exercises regularly, so this isn’t a strange sight, however, a mother knows a lie and, more obviously, there was one thing the woman forgot to do to really sell it.
Turning around, facing her mom, they look at each other, nothing spoken, both parties almost expressionless.
“Mhmm,” her mother points at the TV screen.
It’s still on.
“Uh…” there’s nothing that can be said for the woman to talk her way out of this.
“Uhhhh-” her mother mocks, “-hurry the hell up and get ready for class,” she continues, barely changing her expression, but the severity of her words is still being perceived.
“Now,” the room door shuts, magical sparks flying upon impact. The young woman is left alone.
She sighs in annoyance. How could she forget to turn off the most obvious thing? She curses to herself and moves on, getting ready for the day. She makes sure to grab the remote, pressing the power button before leaving the room.
Her head is pressed against the wall. The water is warm. It’s pleasant and helping with her exhaustion. She, unfortunately, can’t stay in the shower for long since she is running late. She steps out and walks toward the mirror, wiping away the condensation from the glass. She looks at herself. Her eye bags are heavy, but to others, her silver eyes are more noticeable and striking. She is Ester Faye, and starting this semester, a junior, at The University of Eastwynne.
Placed on the bathroom counter, her phone begins to chime, rapidly. Ester is being bombarded with notifications from various social media applications. She checks, seeing what’s causing the commotion. Someone has taken her #1 spot on a mobile game’s leaderboards.
“You gotta be shitting me!” she fumes.
If one were to ask Ester what one of her most important attributes is, she would say “Not to sound too cocky, but I’m a gaming prodigy.” to lose her spot is a heavy blow to her digital reputation.
Finishing getting ready, she puts on her clothes without letting the phone out of her sight. She has to continue to assess the damage to her leaderboard rank and wishes she could skip class, but would rather not face the wrath of her mother.
Downstairs, the only thing between her and the front door is a few feet, but she had left her shoes in the living room. Ester tries to make her escape in stealth. She hears the faint score of the morning news as she approaches. Maybe her parents will be distracted enough to ignore her. Ester slowly opens the door, feeling around. She eventually grabs her shoes and pulls them back. She was almost successful, but the door swings open with massive force and Ester is pulled, or more appropriately pushed, into the living room by a strong gust of wind.
There her mother, Velvet Faye, stands, examining her daughter to make sure she is presentable. Her control is strong and Ester can’t evade the spell, so she decides to accept her fate. She remains still, returning back to her phone. Velvet approaches, beginning to brush off Ester’s clothes, a levitating lint roller assisting in the task.
“You clean up so nicely,” Velvet smiles. “Maybe this semester you’ll try to apply yourself more. Make some actual friends instead of those strange internet people, and
participate in some extracurriculars. Those will look good on your transcript.” Ester is not really listening to a word she’s saying, which is typical when it comes to any conversation about school. Ester may be 22 years old, but she still lives with her parents, and Velvet very much cares about her daughter’s education.
The lint roller is starting to become more aggressive with its cleaning, clearly being affected by Velvet’s increased frustration. “Yes, you will make new friends, participate in extracurriculars, and become a more well-rounded student or I will shove the wasted tuition money so far up your-” the lint roller is practically hitting Ester now.
Ester breaks her attention from the phone. “Mom!”
“What? I was going to say nose,” Velvet retorts as Ester makes a disgusted face before looking back at the small screen. Velvet knows her words don’t hold much weight, so she looks to her husband, Ester’s father, Robert Faye. “Honey, do you have any motivating words for your daughter this morning?” she asks. He’s engrossed in a newspaper. If one were to ask about his important attributes, consuming the news would be it.
“Mhmm. That’s nice.”
“You know how he is in the morning. Nothing can separate him from the newspaper,” Velvet smiles with tight lips, an eyebrow twitching.
Ester takes the opportunity to utter a quip, “Like me and a keyboard.”
At this point, Velvet has had enough of them. “You just don’t know when to give up.” She looks at the clock. “Well, would you look at the time.” Suddenly, Ester is pushed out the front door. “Bye, have a good day. Remember to aim for a better year.” Velvet’s final remark comes across more like a thinly-veiled threat as opposed to words of encouragement.
The door closes and Ester proceeds as if none of the previous conversation happened. Reluctantly, she walks down the front door steps. The trek to the campus begins, but not without playing music to lift the mood.
* * *
Eastwynne University — the top-rated school in the Commonwealth, only rivaled by Acadia in Saint-Lanester. To be accepted here means one has accomplished something great, notable, or is in possession of something great. One could imagine this would divide the student body, which would not be incorrect, but there is some overlap. Not all of the most privileged are without skill. Furthermore, it’s not as if those who aren’t as fortunate can’t find their own questionable methods to gain admission.
It is all around, that feeling. A presence. It flows with the air, dancing through the old Georgian courtyards and bustling hallways. Upon entering the campus, it is unmissable. It’s either a sense or, usually, something one can see. This university is not in a typical union of nations, but one of the arcane, the Commonwealth of Magic. Home to mages. New inventions and feats of the impossible are on full display. Is the first day of the semester not the best time to show off? When else to boast about how one has mastered a classical element, changed appearance into a celebrity’s, or turned silver into gold? Remember — to be a student here, one must possess greatness.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
An announcement booms from the speakers. The faculty is proud to welcome those from all walks of life, paying no mind to societal status and differences. It’s the same speech every year and for Ester, going in one ear and out the other. She makes her way to the campus map, putting a finger on the location of her first class.
“X marks the spot.” She speaks before a sudden shimmer creates a waving effect on the glass. An orb of light exits, leaving a trail of particles. It circles around Ester like a pixie spreading dust.
“Hello! I’m a navigation assistant provided by the College of Applied Magic, patent-pending,” says the enthusiastic orb.
“Uh, okay…” Ester is caught off-guard by its sudden existence, but impressed.
“Which building are you heading to?” It continues.
“Humanities,” she answers.
“That’s located on the northwest corner of the campus. Would you like any assistance getting there?”
“No, thanks. I’m alright,” Ester declines, walking away from the map.
“Well, if you ever need any help, please come again!” Then, the orb floats away to help someone else.
Class is about to start. There is idle chatter during the wait and fixations on two people sitting near the front of the room. They’re the subjects of both adoration and fear. The man, adoration, and the woman, fear. Suddenly, there is a loud screech of a chair moving backward, then silence.
“Ah, you’re right! Our time together must regrettably come to an end. Until we meet again my fair Raena,” says the man standing up dramatically, wanting to cause a scene. All eyes are truly on them. In response, Raena looks at her nails, ignoring him. Upon first glance, you would assume she couldn’t stand him. Still, he smiles at her, mischievously, because the annoyance is, mostly, superficial.
On his way out, the man passes by Ester, who has just arrived. They look at each other with a sense of familiarity that neither can pinpoint, but there’s also something else. Their moment is brief, neither of them doing more than staring.
Ester scans the room, searching for the best place to sit, preferably away from the view of a teacher. She finds a spot and makes herself nice and snug. Being in a historic building means most of it has been left untouched, adding to its value and history. But it also means it sacrifices amenities and certain comforts. Although, it doesn’t seem to bother Ester, who is drifting off.
“Alright, everyone, welcome to General Magical Knowledge and History. I’m Professor D’Marco,” upon noticing the professor, the chattering begins to quiet down.
“Ey, you think this class is gonna be easy?” whispers a student.
“Don’t know and don’t care. I’m cheating my way through,” whispers another.
“Already starting the semester strong…” D’Marco mumbles to herself, overhearing the remarks. She clears her throat and continues. “Okay! For today’s lesson, we will learn about mage life pre-Gaia.”
“Gaia?” asks a student who is actually engaged in the lesson.
“I’m glad you caught that,” says D’Marco, feeling a sense of hope after all. “Pre-Gaia is before our time on Earth. Although mages have been here for a while, we weren’t always inhabitants of this planet. Our history is very rich with interesting events and not many people know that.” She begins to lecture about the generation being too focused on social media and hopes the course will lead them to become “more conscious individuals in our society.”
Ester is awakened by the noise of creaking wood and chairs scratching the floor. Class is over. She stands up, ready to move on to the next, but she hears a chime.
“Remember, make this a better year!” A text message that would be more endearing if it wasn’t her mother sending it.
Ester sighs and looks towards D’Marco sitting at her desk. This is a threat she can’t ignore.
“E-Excuse me, uh, professor,” Ester stammers. Speaking to someone of authority is awkward.
“Yes? Miss Faye was it?” D’marco smiles pitifully, noticing Ester’s nervousness. “It’s alright, I get it. Professors definitely have an intimidating presence.”
Ester nods, calming down a bit. “Clubs, I’d like to join one. I deleted the email that was sent out and was wondering if you had any info?” she considers that there are other ways to find out that don’t involve asking the professor. “Actually... I guess I could look at the bulletin board-”
“It’s okay. Thriving to apply yourself, I see?” D’Marco reassures her, and Ester gives an expression that clearly shows that’s not the case. “Or your parents are making you?”
“Bingo,” Ester replies.
“Well, regardless of the reason for joining, clubs are a good way to
spend your free time. There are a lot of clubs and organizations on campus.” D’Marco proceeds to list the various activities. They all seem boring to Ester except for one. “They’re pretty self-explanatory — well, I suppose not the combat club.” She continues, “I can’t imagine it being entirely safe or operating within school regulations…”
D’Marco looks up at Ester, whose interest is visible, “Seems like that doesn’t bother you, though.”
Sparks and bodies fly everywhere. The smoke from fired-off spells fills the air. There are battles left and right. It’s chaos, anarchy — it’s great. Ester, moved by it all, throws out a few punches herself, watching the spectacle.
“Badass…” She says in awe.
“Badass is correct.” A man approaches her, the club president. Ester turns to face him, his build imposing. He’s tall, taller than her — and she isn’t short by the average standards — and he’s very muscular. The man takes the club seriously.
“Sign me up, coach!” This is one of the rare times Ester has ever shown excitement for anything related to school.
“Not so fast. Obviously, not everyone can join this club. Our members take this very seriously and have been training hard. You gotta prove yourself, earn your keep,” he replies.
“I’ll do anything.” And she means anything. The president smirks at her determination.
Water splashes as it comes in contact with the floor. She mops with enough force to put a hole in the floor if it weren’t made of concrete, and luckily the pole of the mop is sturdy enough not to break. Earn my keep, huh? She snarls her grievances, left alone to do this.
Suddenly, Ester heeds a familiar tune getting closer and closer. It’s recognizable, as if she listens to it all the time. She stops mopping, knowing what it is, precisely. Her feet have a mind of their own, leading her to the music.
In the hallway, a man is playing a video that can be heard from his phone speakers. “Light of Dawn.” She’s caught up with him.
He turns around, confused, not expecting to be spoken to. It’s the same man she passed by entering the history class.
“Union of Fables — Light of Dawn. Track 26 on the official soundtrack,” Ester continues.
“Yeah, it is... With such precise knowledge, you have to be a fan,” the man answers. He’s used to it, but Ester doesn’t seem to notice the curious survey of the others in the hallway.
“Fan?” she scoffs, “I’m a little more than just a fan. I have 2,000 hours clocked in and the title of grandmaster,” she says proudly. “You play?”
It’s quiet, but the gossip starts from the onlookers. They can’t get too close but are still managing to eavesdrop.
“I’m afraid I don’t. Video games really aren’t my thing,” he answers and now to Ester, it’s apparent. Of course, he doesn’t play video games. Compared to other gamers, especially those of her caliber, this man is too put together and clean. His hairstyle is perfect, any strand out of place, intentional. His skin is blemish-free and has no eyebags to hide his hazel eyes. It’s unsurprising that he draws attention; even Ester is captivated. He lacks any of the telltale signs of someone who dedicates their life to this hobby, but she still is failing to realize something.
“Oh…” Her face burns red as embarrassment grows. She steps back.
“But after seeing someone approach me so passionately about it, I have to give it a try now right?” He attempts to remedy the situation.
“Yes!” she stops herself from being overly enthused, “I-I mean only if you want to. It really is a good game though, so I don’t think you’d be disappointed.”
“If the grandmaster says so, it must be true,” he sincerely teases.
“I g-gotta go-” Ester leaves, hastily, probably not detecting his sincerity over the overwhelming humiliation.
“Wait — I’m Vincent by the way!” he yells down the hallway, but to no avail. She’s gone.
* * *
There are heavy steps along the sidewalk of the street, accompanied by a bowed head and low spirits.
“What the hell was that?” Ester recalls. “So very awkward and I didn’t even get to introduce myself. I’m definitely on the fast track to becoming strange internet people,” she sighs.
The horn of a ferry blares, catching her gaze. The boat sails to the unoccupied island offshore. She’s never been and would like a chance to clear her head.
The island is peaceful. So far, Ester has seen no one else, solely trees and wildlife. She travels through the forest, eventually making her way to a clearing with a cliff and a lighthouse. Breathing in the fresh air, she relaxes. The environment makes it easy to do so. Just her and her thoughts. The melody of nature, animals scampering, birds chirping, the ocean waves hitting the coast, and metal clanging.
It’s manmade. She’s not by herself. The sound is coming from behind her. She looks up. There’s a small boy at the top of the lighthouse, balancing on the railing. Unconcerned about the danger he’s in.
He loses his footing, falling from high above. Instinct takes over. Ester suddenly lifts her hand forward, a current of wind expelling and circling the child, stopping his fall. She lowers him to the ground.
“Are you crazy kid?! This is real life, there’s fall damage!”
The boy raises his arms, running around, imitating a plane, “I was flying! Like a superhero!”
Confusion and disbelief cross Ester’s face. He could have easily met a very sudden end and doesn’t care in the slightest. “Unreal…”
It’s no exaggeration how good the child’s fortune is because had it been someone else there, he may not have been so lucky. Elemental magic is difficult to wield, and Ester doesn’t have much practice, but she is a student at Eastwynne University for a reason.
The commotion was a distraction. Ester didn’t notice anyone else, but quite obviously, the island is not completely secluded. Amidst the trees, there’s a snap of a branch. They’re not alone.