*
A burst of blue light, blasts from the castle walls that loom over our trench.
A dozen fellow soldiers drop dead. They, like us, had the awkward growths of early puberty. The fresh corpses are only a stone’s throw away at our backs.
I scream at our commander, "Thirteen days!"
Our commander turns to me furious. Their features are fouler and pronounced in a dream.
In a dream?
Gareth shouts back, "We cannot reach the walls, not with our Magi dead."
"Then use magic yourselves."
I shout in frustration. Too angry for words.
Gareth explains. "We are not trained, that is a certified High Mage."
Our commander with a dead stare, says with a tone of finality. "Enough excuses, Sir Gimbly has given the orders. We make for the wall."
The siege fades for a moment, "It is your death." I whisper with a future certainty.
Our Commander shouts out encouragement, "Trevlan will fall!", then we dash out.
Our mad sprint kicks up the dirt.
An arrow flies towards us, and I tackle Alessia. We collapse to the dirt as it narrowly arcs over and hits the ground behind us.
"Up!" I shout and we run to catch up with our small band of soldiers.
A Giant Horse, twice the size of a human, with a gaping, toothy maw from neck to stomach charges down our position.
It eats Jules.
The High Mage lobs a ball of fire toward the approaching soldiers. Towards us.
Our commander dies, screaming in agony as he burns.
I call out, "Retreat!"
*
I am becoming aware. I feel a dull, throbbing pain at the temples and I squit in response. Thoughts of the day ahead flood my consciousness.
It's tournament day. You are going to lose, you useless trash.
I frown.
A better person would be stronger, more powerful. You're the dregs that drunks piss out on the streets. Only the best get to stay at the academy. You're nothing but a waste that should have died long ago.
I wet my pillow where my head lies with my tears. I find comfort in the feel of the soft mattress. I discover a simple pleasure in noticing the texture of my thin cover.
Birds, perching out of sight, tweet nosily.
I listen, paying attention to the world.
"I can't lie here forever." I say to myself.
I sit up. I reach out pulling back the blinds with a swift tug.
Sunlight pours through the glass.
I blink until my eyes adjust.
A few buildings block the sunrise. The golden edges can be seen around the obstructing stone. The structures themselves are finely carved and centuries-old. They date back to the early years of the academy’s history.
I push off the covers with gradual movements.
I take a glance at the mirror at my desk. My reflection stares back.
Stolen story; please report.
[https://i.imgur.com/2Z9RYhK.png]
The more mature features of a young cis man.
Ugly.
I sigh and look away.
The cool air chills my bare skin, for I only have a set of underwear on. I walk over to the wardrobe and throw on my finest robe. Hooded and dyed in a russet shade. A colour that matches well with my red skin tone.
A half-smile forms on my lips.
Looks good.
I tighten the robes around the waist a few notches on my lean frame with a leather belt. My slim tail no more than a foot in length hides inside the robes.
I pick up the slices of bread that I had left on a wooden plate last night. I have a quiet breakfast alone.
Leaving the room, I descend the stairs. I venture out with only one destination in mind.
The arena. It is the first day of the Trials.
The weather was far too gorgeous for what was going to be a difficult day.
I take a quick drink from the well and a few deep breaths. My hands shake slightly as I grasp the bowl to my lips. I make the short walk to the arena.
The arena is a wide building in the shape of a coliseum made out of stone and as tall as a short tower. Able to fit a few hundred spectators at max capacity. No noises so far but a few early risers and officials make their way inside the arena.
I follow behind but enter through the contender’s passage to the right. A glance from the guard to verify me and I am free to enter with a brief but polite greeting.
I take a deep breath and say to myself, "We will win, or else this really will be my last day in this strange, wonderful place. I'll win and prove I am worthy. That I too deserve to live."
I feel ever so small like a cat by a doorway. I walk down these open halls with no one in sight. The arches loom above, tall as trees. The sheer scale and artistry of the design of the building is a continual reminder of the power of the Magi Council of Athfen and the wealth funding the academy.
It is a short distance down the hallway and taking a right at the first door. I enter our preparation room. It is a small space in the shape of a box with two wooden benches. I am the second to arrive in the preparation room an hour before the start time.
Boeri sits on a bench and looks up at my entrance with a shadow of a smile, "Morning, August." She says quietly almost in a whisper.
Her right leg bounces up and down shaking as she bites her thumbnail. Her skin is peculiarly pale today and a sheen of sweat coats her face.
"Morning." I reply, my thoughts are too foggy to come up with any further conversation.
"I want to throw up." She admits bluntly and is now clutching her stomach in a self-hug as she leans over, eyes to the floor.
"I get that. I want to run away too. Hide in my room." I share.
Wrapped up in my covers.
I sit on the bench parallel to her so I am facing her. Borei has straight brown hair that at the moment is tied up in a simple ponytail. A few freckles dot her nose and her brown eyes stare at the stone slabs beneath her.
She wears simple but suitable clothes over a broad body. She foregoes the usual robes for a billowing shirt, fitted trousers with a belt and a pair of boots. We pass the time mostly in silence with a few only stilted words spoken until Rina enters.
"Morning, how are we all? Waiting on Gareth? He should be here shortly. He wouldn’t not turn up, would he? August, he is your friend? Where is he?" Rina speaks her words coming out so fast they almost merge.
"He will be here." I answer without elaborating looking her in the eyes without blinking.
She smiles, "Of course. He must," and then paces up and down the small room.
I glance at her noting that she too looks pale. Otherwise, she looks and dresses the same. Her curly fire like hair stops at her shoulders while her fringe frames her brown eyes. She wears black robes dark as night with a few small stars along the chest section woven with golden thread.
A short while later Gareth arrives wearing his finest white robe.
Like mine his pales in quality to Rina’s.
It fits tightly around his broad shoulders and thick muscular frame. He smiles and says, "Morning, all. How are we all doing?"
"Feel sick." replies Boeri.
"Splendid." Answers Rina.
"Alive." I say.
"Good. I… sorry to hear that Boe. We should start soon, need a spell to calm the nerves?" He says looking over each of us in turn before settling on Boeri.
She looks up and flashes him a smile, "Thanks, but no. I’ll feel better when we start." She then glances at Rina and me before staring at the ground again.
“The waiting is killing me." Boeri says and with that, we fall into an awkward silence until five minutes before we begin when two official magi enter and inspect us and check our gear before the match to ensure the legality of the contest.
The officials leave almost as soon as they arrive. One of them with a long scar down her cheek offers a, "Good luck," as she leaves.
A knock resounds on the door a few moments later. It opens and a head pokes through.
I notice blue eyes visible under thick white brows with wrinkles across the skin and a bushy white beard. A second passes before the door opens fully and the figure becomes fully visible. He is wearing long midnight blue robes with a smooth cut wand poking out of wide sleeves held firmly by thin fingers. Runes that run along the wand are currently dim.
A proper High Mage. Not like us pretenders.
"Well are you ready team Goblin Tooth?" he asks his lips hidden under their beard with a thick Marroon accent with its high tones.
"Yes, we are, Professor Trew." Answers Rina for the group and I nod as confirmation.
Our trials begin.