I went to my first class with Professor Shia. Entering the room, I felt like I was in a special chamber in a temple. The floor space was wide and clear. It was quiet, but I was also one of the first few students in the class. The other kids sat on the ground with their legs crossed, reading scrolls on their laps. I had never meditated in my life, but I felt like I could in that classroom.

Professor Shia came strolling in and smiled at me immediately. "How is everyone today?"

The kids studying from their scrolls glanced up and said hello. Professor Shia nodded and approached me. "Rollie, I'm so glad you're here. Sorry we didn't meet yesterday, but I've been meaning to give you the class textbook, which will be very important for you. There are scrolls, too, to quickly reference important notes. This class can be tricky."

Professor Shia escorted me to the back of the classroom, she pressed her hand on the wall and it drifted open. I couldn't tell there was a door there; it blended with the wall perfectly. We were inside a closet, with a tall ceiling with bookshelves covering the walls. Professor Shia scanned the tomes and pulled one out close to the entrance. She handed it to me.

"This is a difficult class for everyone. It's like learning a new language. I need to brief you on some things. There are a variety of factors that go into your ability to control fire with your hands. One of the most important factors is studying well and learning the material," Professor Shia said.

"Really? A lot of studying goes into it?" I arched my brow.

Professor Shia pulled out another book and flipped through the pages. "You see these illustrations?"

On the page there were multiple insignias I had never seen before- it was like looking at hieroglyphics.

"You have to learn these and spell out 'fire' in your head using these symbols. These symbols are called runes. It awakens the magic and elemental force within you as your brain recounts the images. But to spell 'fire' in this old, magical language, it takes memorizing 30 different runes."

"I have to memorize 30 different runes?" I flipped through the pages with Professor Shia and felt overwhelmed. Each page had four runes to it, but they were a mess of lines that were hard to distinguish from one another.

"It's okay, Rollie, everyone can do it. You can go at your own pace. Unfortunately, you have missed a month of school, but with the help of your mentor and a little extra effort, I think you'll catch up with the rest of the class in no time."

"Uh, I don't know, Professor Shia. Studying and doing academic work wasn't really my thing back in my home world."

The corner of Professor Shia's lip curled up. "Rollie, can you do me a favor? Can you count from one to thirty?"

"Uh yeah, of course."

"So, let's see it. Count from one to thirty as fast as you can."

I obliged her request and counted so fast it was like a blur of words, but they were still audible and distinguished.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Perhaps you don't remember this, but it took some time when you were a child and you had to learn the numbers one through thirty. But as you became more familiar with them and grew older and more mature, you were able to list those numbers as fast as you just did. And that's exactly how rune reading goes. You could also look at it like learning a new alphabet."

I stood there, stunned but also annoyed. That would still be a ton of work for me. I was hoping the whole process would be as easy as holding up my hand and yelling "fire blast," and then fireballs would shoot out.

"Wait, Professor Shia," I blurted, "you did say that rune studying was a major factor. What other factors go into shooting fire out of my hands?"

"Ah, yes. So there are other things that go into rounding out a good talented mage. The other things that help build your skill are mage baths and meditation. Mage baths are something that we do once a week. We go to the bathhouse here, each with a separate tub. We step inside and sit for about a half hour. Total silence. Each bath has water that contains remnants of shaved topaz. Throughout history, there have been many studies on mage baths. Our society has found that once a week for 30 minutes builds up skills for younger pupils, but as you get older, there's no need anymore. It doesn't strengthen your skill or aim any further. It only helps in the developmental phase."

"So, sit in a tub for 30 minutes? That seems pretty easy." I laughed dryly.

Professor Shia wagged her finger. "But you mustn't do any homework. And you must stay awake."

"That doesn't sound so hard."

Professor Shia shook her head. "But it's always a challenge because the water is a hot temperature that does make everyone drowsy. Be sure you get some sleep the night before."

"Sure thing. But there's also meditation, yeah? That seems weird. I've never meditated before in my life. I don't know how to do that."

"Don't worry. Many new students have never meditated before, but you'll be okay. And this doesn't necessarily pertain to you now, but to improve to the next level of fire sorcery, shooting fire strikes, you have to grow and mature as a person. Finding that maturity is much harder to reach than it sounds, and many students struggle with it. But that's also the final step with fire strikes. Like I said, it's a little early to introduce that aspect to you, but it's good to have in the back of your head."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Got it. I'm still so impressed, but it's definitely overwhelming." My eyes bulged.

Professor Shia smiled. "You'll get used to it. Let's get started with our class, shall we?"

Heading back inside the classroom, most of the students had arrived. Professor Shia divided us into groups. I sat with a few kids off to the side while others stood by a marked-off lane, throwing fire bolts at wooden targets, but they didn't catch fire. Professor Shia assured us that we'd all be at the same skill level by the year's end. Tim was in my class, but he was with the overachievers who could already shoot out fire bolts, although their aim was way off, and the bolts were tiny.

"We're making improvements, but they're not true fire bolts yet. You'll see a ring shoot from your palm after a successful bolt," Professor Shia said.

I spent the entire time reading the textbook in a sectioned-off area. Only three other kids were with me, taking notes in silence.

I read the textbook and learned that each rune illustration had its own pronunciation. Some of them weren't just one syllable. They were more complex. Professor Shia was right. It was like learning a new alphabet, except it was longer and a little more complicated. I practiced saying some of the runes out loud under my breath. Even though it would be hard work, I didn't mind it. I kept reminding myself that I would have the ability to shoot flames from my fingertips. As class wrapped up, everyone stood up to leave, and everything seemed normal at first, but then I noticed Tim whispering to one of his friends, and the two of them looked at me and giggled.

He deserved to get a punch in the arm, but I hadn't reached my boiling point yet.

I went to my next morning class, Intro to Elixirs, with Professor Gumphil. The room reminded me of my high school science wing, except the tables were made of smooth stone with special burners, glass containers, and tubes.

Professor Gumphil seemed friendly. He had a smile that showed a lot of perfectly straight, white teeth; he was tall and semi-athletic in build, with some wrinkles and model-like gray hair. He wore a pastel yellow Voltrun cloak. "Hello! You must be Rollie!" he greeted me with a booming voice and wanted to know all about what life was like in the Nomagi World. But I reminded him there was little time to give me materials before class started. So he rushed to provide me with a textbook, some scrolls, and a bag of materials that were only powders of different colors.

I was worried the class would be brutal, but it didn't seem too bad. We made an elixir in class that gave a sudden energy boost, similar to a cup of coffee, but more powerful. Although, it didn't last longer than 5 minutes. The elixir wasn't popular amongst consumers in Attleton and Lementum, but it was good practice on how to make an elixir. It was called: "The Tonic of 5."

My mind swirled with ideas of possible pranks. Stink bombs made with elixirs made me crack up, but I wasn't even sure if that was possible.

My next class was with Professor Hawthorne, and I heavily debated skipping, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he probably wanted me to miss it. Professor Hawthorne wanted me to keep failing so he could keep telling himself, "I was right about that Rollie Magpie. I knew he'd be a bad student. He thought he'd be different, but I know the type."

But also, who cares what he thinks? However, I'd probably have to retake his stupid course if I failed. May as well try to go, I guess.

Back in Hawthorne's classroom, I showed up early. It was funny, Adeline had shown up first, and he delightedly greeted her. Then I walked in, and he said nothing but gave me a stink-eye as he saw my mohawk.

Sitting in the back of the class again, another kid sat a few desks away from me. He was a few inches taller, bulkier, and had a naturally mean-looking face. Reminiscent of an angry bull. He looked a little older with his stubble and minor acne scars on his cheeks. His eyes were bright blue, and he wore a Voltrun cloak. He was on one end of the room, and I sat on the other. Both of us were in the back.

The rest of the room filled up with students, and I noticed Tim was there as well, one row in front of me towards the center. We didn't make eye contact, but I also had my eyes glued to my opened textbook.

Professor Hawthorne cleared his throat and began his long winding lecture. I could follow along with my textbook at first. It was as if he had memorized the first two paragraphs of our current unit. Then he went off book on a tangent, but his voice was dry, dull, and lacked excitement and enthusiasm.

I couldn't help but tune it all out. My mind started daydreaming about riding a dragon bike around the campus.

Then I snapped out of it, noticing the kid to my left throw a crumbled-up paper ball at the back of Tim's head. I couldn't help but smile, I almost laughed, but Tim didn't respond. Had Tim turned around, I would've cracked up. Then another balled-up paper hit the back of his head, and I snorted. Tim spun around, facing the other kid. "Could you stop!" He yelled.

"All right, that's enough of that! What's the matter of this disruption?" Professor Hawthorne barked.

I buttoned up my lips and held a straight face, staring ahead confidently.

"Houston keeps throwing crap at me!" Tim snapped.

"Yeah, right," Houston said, the mean-looking kid sitting by my side.

"Well, someone has disrupted my class, and knowing what I know about you, Houston, I wouldn't put it past you. Another disturbance and the two of you can serve detention. And Houston, if it was you, you better straighten up. You don't want to repeat this class again."

Houston furrowed his brow, muttered something under his breath, and put his forehead on the desk.

"Pick your head back up, Mr. Smith. All my lectures require full attention from every student. No matter how many times you've taken the class," Professor Hawthorne said.

Houston grumbled and picked his head back up, glaring forward at Hawthorne. The rest of the class dragged on, one of the most boring experiences of my life. I crumpled up a small piece of paper and checked to see that Houston was looking out the window. I threw the wad at Tim's head as Houston stared outside.

"Really! You seriously haven't learned your lesson yet?" Tim snapped at Houston.

"What are you talking about, bro?" Houston yelled.

I did everything in my power to hold my breath. One snort, one chuckle, one grin, and I was a dead man. Never had I needed to keep my composure so resiliently.

"All right. I've had enough of this. Houston, you owe me a detention, and Tim, you owe me a detention as well."

"I swear I didn't throw anything that time! Why would I want to get detention?" Houston asked. "I think he's making it up!" He pounded the desk, giving the room a slight quake.

"Why do I deserve detention? I'm the one who's the victim in all this!" Tim cried out.

I was about to explode laughing, but I kept it all bottled in. My chest twitched as I held my breath and silently laughed.

Class dismissed.