Jackson opened his eyes slowly, taking all the time he needed to get his bearings as he looked around. Sterile white plaster walls surrounded the modest bed he found himself in, its rough covers chafing against his skin ever so slightly. The thumping in his head and chest had stopped, but something of that prior sensation remained; he could feel it shooting quietly throughout him like electricity. A single hushed creak stretched through the room as someone opened the door, and Jackson turned his head to observe who it was. It was a short woman of large stature, a well-maintained blonde beard swaying from side to side as she swaggered up to Jackson in his bed, her vibrant green eyes locked onto him.

"Oi, you. What's ya name, boy?" the woman asked in a thick, undiscernible accent.

"Um, Jackson, Miss."

"Last name too, you eejit. You have any clue how many bloody 'Jacksons' attend Optima?"

"Uh, no, not a clue."

"Well, me neither, that's why I need ya last name. Come on, chop chop, don't have all day."

"Trinity. I'm Jackson Trinity. Is that good enough?" Jackson was a little annoyed with the tone the woman was taking, with said annoyance managing to seep into his words.

"Don't get pissy with me, lad. You've been in my office for the past two hours."

"Wait, two hours? What do you mean, two hours?"

"Lord almighty, did you sustain some brain damage I missed? You passed out in the middle of the dining hall during the break period. That Baron lad rushed you here pretty quick, but you've been out cold since then. So tell me, Jackson lad, any lingering symptoms? Headache, stomachache, nothing too small to mention."

Jackson contemplated his answer. For some reason, he felt as if he shouldn't disclose the true extent of the sensation. He wasn't sure why, but something inside him was vehemently opposed to the concept. "Uh, just some tingles is all. Probably just need to eat something. Get my energy up and all that."

The woman looked at him with focused eyes before her face relaxed into a wide, pleasant smile. "Grand. Well, you come to me if anything comes up, alright lad? Name's Cealta Croi, best dwarven nurse this side of Cinnial, and you'd do well to remember it."

The corner of Jackson's mouth curled into a half smile. "Will do. Thank you, Miss Croi."

"Drop the formalities, lad, just Cealta is fine. Now, hurry along. School day's almost over, and I'm sure ya parents are worried sick."

Jackson nodded, his strength now returning to him as he stood from the bed, slipping on his boots and leather tunic before leaving the infirmary, giving one last thanks to Cealta as he did. Given he wasn't going to make it to his final class before it ended anyway, Jackson took his time strolling towards the main keep's exit, observing the architecture and intricate décor. Portraits of alumni coupled with plaques detailing their names and achievements lined the main hall with faces of Optima's best and brightest. Jackson slowed his pace as he passed them, staring intently as a hint of envy sat in the pit of his stomach. Lucky, he thought. I wish I was born with magic. Averting his eyes and quickening his pace, he hurried towards the end of the hall, exiting the main keep just as the bell rung, signaling the end of the first day. He continued on his way past the trimmed hedges and flowing fountains, making a beeline for the academy gates with such single-minded drive that he obliviously collided with a person crossing in front of him, knocking both of them to the ground.

Jackson put a hand to his head, processing what had just happened before turning his attention to the person he ran over. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you at all."

Stolen story; please report.

The person looked up at him, a girl with shoulder-length wavy hair that seemed to flow from orange at the roots to a bright, fiery red at the ends. She looked to be average height, with sharp features placed symmetrically on her face. What caught Jackson's attention the most, however, was her uniform. The crimson robe of a mage, the edges the bright vibrant shade of a marigold. I'm finished, he thought to himself. I'm dead.

"Watch where you're going."

"Yeah. You're right. My bad. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. I'll do anything to make up for it, I swear."

"Huh? You? What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous. You need to watch where you're going, or you're going to get yourself hurt. Are you alright?"

Jackson stared at the girl with a look of befuddlement. He had expected to be hit with some sort of arcane force at the very least, but the girl just looked back at him with a mix of concern and slight annoyance. "Hello? I asked you a question. It's rude to leave it unanswered."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

"Good," the girl said with a sudden bubbly tone, "pay more attention to where you're going in the future. Others may not be as understanding." With that, she walked off with a confident stride, her movements elegant and purposeful. Even with her average stature, she seemed to stand a head above everyone else.

A few moments went by before Jackson got to his feet, still shocked he hadn't recently become a corpse. He felt something nag at him as he watched the girl walk further away. He wasn't sure what it was, but it spawned an idea. I wonder, he thought to himself, recalling the incident that had occurred earlier that day before beginning to focus on the lingering sensation he felt sitting inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated all he had on the sensation, willing it to move, spreading it through every inch of his body, pumping it around with his heart as if it were his blood itself. It was difficult at first, but as he continued, his subconscious began to automate the process. An electric feeling began building behind Jackson's eyes before, all of a sudden, he could see it. The flashes of color he had only caught a glimpse of earlier that day revealed themselves. It was a strange display, one that Jackson could only appreciate thanks to the absence of the pain that had previously accompanied it. It felt like throughout his whole life he had been looking at the world as a puzzle, never realizing it was missing a central piece until it burst out before him. Jackson's eyes darted to a mass of pointed, opulent scarlet that waltzed around the girl from earlier. He couldn't take his eyes off it. It was truly beautiful. Mustering all the willpower he had, Jackson turned his attention to other students to see if he could see hues enshrouding them as well, focusing on a group of swordsmen. There was nothing there. "Weird," he muttered to himself. Jackson felt his energy leaving him every second that went by, before finally relinquishing his new vision. Trying to reconcile the sheer volume of different colors he had seen in the dining hall earlier with the single one he could see now didn't seem possible.

Walking out the gates and heading back down the cold stone streets to his home, Jackson continued mulling it over before a solution struck him. Magic, he whispered, it has to be magic. The reason he saw so many colors in the dining hall must have been because there were so many mages, and the reason he could only see color around the girl was because she too was a mage. It was the only thing that made sense. Having put the pieces together, he was left with more questions than answers. How could he see magic around people? Why couldn't he before? What little sense of knowing Jackson had quickly slipped away from him as he became even more confused by the day's events. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it should, but that was for one simple thought. Could it be possible? Could I have... magic?

He arrived home to his dad passed out on a cosy armchair stationed inside their quaint living room. He'd clearly been working hard all day as usual, so Jackson let him rest before heading to the kitchen to grab some food. There was a cold plate filled with vegetables and low-quality cuts of meat, probably leftovers bought at a discount from the butcher, with a note placed on top in messy printed handwriting stating 'eat up lad, growing boy needs his food'. Jackson smiled to himself and put the metal plate on top of their stove, freshly filled with firewood, heating it up for a minute or two before digging in. Once he was done, he tidied up and put out the fire before returning to the living room and placing a nearby blanket over Ulric. Jackson headed down the hallway to his room, collapsing onto his bed before even removing his uniform, not bothering to light the candles in his room. Magic, he pondered before chuckling at the prospect. No shot.