"That dream again." Jackson Trinity murmured as he groggily sat himself up on the edge of the bed, letting out a tired sigh as he did so. He looked over at his clock. 6:40am. What's wrong with me? I'm never up early, he thought but shrugged it off as nerves. After all, this was his first day attending an academy prominent throughout the continent of Cinnial for churning out prodigies in the magical arts. Not that it mattered for Jackson; he was clueless when it came to magic, which wasn't abnormal. As far as he knew, it wasn't common to be born with the ability to manipulate magic, but it was becoming increasingly less rare as time went by. I just hope I can cut it as a swordsman.

After a few minutes of sleepless deliberation, Jackson stood up in a controlled and slow manner, cracking his back and arms as he did so in a measured stretch. His mid-length scruffy blond hair was looking especially dishevelled due to his restlessness the night before, and the bags under his eyes were easy to spot. He lazily cracked open his wardrobe to find a wrinkled uniform consisting of grey slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a leather tunic with the academy's crest embroidered on its left peck. He slipped it on in a haze before heading to the washroom. Upon entering, he looked himself up and down in the full-body mirror pushed up against the wall before letting out a pained groan at the prospect of sorting himself out before his first day started. Cracking open a barrel of water, Jackson dipped his hands in, recoiling slightly at the cold temperature before recommitting. He removed his hands and brushed them through his hair, getting it to cooperate just a slight bit more before wiping the water off with a nearby towel. After brushing his teeth, he headed down the hall of his small bungalow into the kitchen where his father was sat, cooking a hearty breakfast consisting of pork and whatever bird was unlucky enough to have been in his general area.

"Morning," he said with as much effort as he could muster.

"Ay, Jackson lad. You look awful. Sleep well?" asked his dad, Ulric Trinity. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a broader moustache. Muscles rippled across every inch of his body, honed from his days as a swordsman and then later on as a lumberjack. His hair was a light hazel with the sides cut short to his scalp whilst a section of longer hair sat as a strip down the middle of his head, culminating in a bun tied at the back of his skull.

"No," Jackson replied in a monotone voice. "I keep having these weird dreams that I can't make any sense of. Every time I think they've gone away, they show up again. I haven't had a consistently good sleep in, like, a month."

"Ah well, probably just nerves that is. All nervous about the big day. You're not the only one."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Speaking of, you seen my boots?"

"By the door, lad. Remember to put them away properly next time so I don't have to, alright? Save your old man a job or two."

"Sure thing, dad. Anyway, better get going. Big day and all." With that, Jackson waved goodbye to Ulric, put on his boots, and stepped out into the cool winter air. Looking around, there were several other kids already on their way to the academy, some clearly more happy about attending the first day of a new school than others. Jackson strolled nonchalantly through the tiled streets, looking around his seaside hometown of Baypost as he went. Flags and banners danced in the sea breeze on top of houses made of thatch alongside a variety of different stones and woods layered on top of each other. Some of the buildings, mainly town-owned, contained stained windows and walls fortified with plaster or concrete, with them standing tall above the smaller houses of the average citizen. The most impressive structure of all, however, came into sight after half an hour of walking, that being Academy Optima.

The main keep's walls were finely constructed out of chiselled stone and ivory marble, with large cherry trees consisting of winding branches and abundant petals acting as pillars supporting an elaborate eave towering above an open foyer. Perfectly trimmed hedges outlined open spaces of lush grass where students sat and laughed, with fountains both large and small scattered neatly and symmetrically across the area. There were a number of turrets shooting off from the main keep, all as immaculate and detailed as the keep itself. That was, literally, where the magic happened. Where young mages went to hone their abilities. Where Jackson could not go. Turning towards the now-risen sun, Jackson could see the building for the swordsman, a small shack by comparison. It wasn't necessarily an unpleasant structure, but compared to the main keep, its basic design coupled with the oak and unpolished stone walls didn't impress. Nonetheless, Jackson dragged his feet all the way to the front door before stepping into his new classroom.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Unexpectedly, nobody was present yet. Jackson wasn't used to being on time for class, let alone early, but given his bad sleep and being forced to get up early, his shock didn't last long. Deciding to grab a seat at the back of the class, he strolled past the teacher's podium and marched towards the end of the curved amphitheatre-esque classroom. Sitting down, Jackson dropped his arms on the table and nestled his head into his elbow, trying unsuccessfully to regain any amount of rest he could. Something had felt wrong since last night, and it was starting to flare up inside Jackson once again, like a hammer striking his soul into action. Ughhh, what is that stupid feeling.

Eventually, people began to filter into the room, all taking their seats. Jackson felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a man with long, pointed ears. He was smiling warmly, his long pale blue hair swaying in some mystic wind, occasionally obstructing his matching eyes. His face was sharp with flawless skin and prominent cheekbones jutting out the side of his face.

"Mind if I have this seat?"

"Uh, sure." Jackson answered. He'd never met an elf before, and he feared it was showing. The elf sat down elegantly beside him, reclining with perfect posture.

"I am Elquire Baron, son of Raccolta Baron. May I ask your name?"

"I'm Jackson Trinity. Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure, Mr Jackson. I look forward to learning alongside you."

"Uh, same," replied Jackson before an elongated moment of awkward silence formed between the two. He felt like he should try to talk some more, but he was clueless when it came to how to talk to most other people, let alone elves. "So, uhm, read any good books?"

"Oh yes, I quite enjoyed reading the textbook for this class. It was so eloquently written and easy to understand. It was a real 'page turner' as they say. How did you find it?"

"I, uh, haven't read it yet. I thought we were going to go over it in class?"

Elquire's face slightly changed into a sheepish expression. "We are, but I simply couldn't help myself. I've been too excited to get any proper sleep as of late, so I decided to make use of the additional time to get ahead. I thought you may have done the same, given your current state."

"Is it really that bad? I thought I at least sorted out my hair." Jackson responded in a slightly defeated tone.

"My apologies," Elquire said with a concerned and flustered look, "I did not mean to offend."

"Don't worry about it."

After another awkward silence, the teacher finally entered into the room, a tall slender man with dull green eyes and a long pointed beard. He wrote his name, Mr Landy, on the board at the front of the class before adjusting his long brown hair, ensuring it parted roughly down the middle of his head and revealing a streak of grey hiding amongst his locks. He began to go over the basics of swordsmanship, all purely theoretical and all strictly boring to Jackson, with it taking all his might not to fall asleep. The lecture dragged on for what felt like days, but after two hours Jackson was finally free to head to the lunch hall. Being the only room in the main keep the swordsman students could enter, Jackson was curious to see if it would be as impressive as he was expecting and hurried over.

His expectations were met, with the room's high ceiling containing a detailed, inspiring visage of mages at war painted across its entirety. Jackson shifted his gaze to the mage students and noticed their striking uniform. It wasn't completely different to his, with them keeping the grey slacks and button-up shirt, but replacing the leather tunic were immaculate, deep velvet hooded robes whose edges were lined with different colours depending on the student he looked at. The students themselves ignored his presence entirely, as he had expected. Mages tended to have a "holier-than-thou" attitude towards people who couldn't use magic, but Jackson had hoped at least the students would have interacted with him. Jackson stared longingly at the mages' uniforms before looking down at his own and giving out a quiet sigh.

As he did so, the sensation came back, but stronger than it ever had before. If the previous instances of the sensation were suggestions, this was a demand, one aimed at the core of Jackson's being. Falling down to one knee and clutching his chest, Jackson was overcome with pain bursting throughout his body, a type of pain he didn't know was possible. It was as if every single nerve in his body was firing off at once and then some, like every fibre of his being was forced into movement. He attempted to scream, but nothing came out. The world began closing in, his vision getting blurry and his head pounding. But for a moment, one exquisite moment, he could see clearly. Surrounding the mages, there was a multitude of different colours, both dull and vivid, bright and dark. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, anything he had ever felt... and it felt like magic.