AELLARIA

Zenithor was thriving in the body named Aellaria. She was physically sixty years younger than he was, and Aellaria realized just how much Zenithor had relied upon his aeromancy to live comfortably. Aellaria walked without the assistance of a single gust. Her joints didn't hurt. She was stronger. If it weren’t for Zenithor being so singularly focused and self-serious, she would be dancing as she entered the Spire campus.

By the time Aellaria walked into the courtyard past the gate, most of the carriages had arrived and been emptied of their passengers. The gardens looked almost precisely the same as they had sixty years ago when Zenithor attended Spire. Beautiful gardens and natural paths weaved all along the area between the outer walls and the massive tower.

The wings of Spire were intimidating from below. Aellaria remembered Zenithor’s anxiety when walking through the gardens. It always felt like the great Phoenix wings would fall and destroy everything below. However, even now, the wings still cradled the beacon of Spire.

Only a handful of students still lingered in the courtyard. Most have gone inside to start touring their new home.

Aellaria entered the great Spire doors and into The Heroes’ Gallery. This Gallery held replica artifacts, portraits, and even a small library. All of it was dedicated to the deeds of the Master Sorcerers that graduated from Spire. Aellaria was relieved to see nothing on display for Zenithor. Zenithor’s efforts in the shadow and living among the enemy were not flashy enough.

At the far end of the Gallery was the registration desk. Aellaria produced her identification. This government-issued ID was required of everyone with talent and was a thin piece of slate with a simple enchantment. It stored a mage’s unique magical pattern and tied it to official records. This ID, homemade by Zenithor, tied Aellaria’s pattern to an Aellaria that died over sixty years ago.

The registration worker checked Aellaria’s ID and compared the pattern of her body to the entry for Aellaria. By Zenithor’s design, the pattern on the ID card matched the one from the body he created. Eventually, she would need to break into the capitol’s records and update them. However, unless someone manually checked the paperwork in the capitol for Aellaria’s records, she would be fine.

Aellaria felt on edge looking at the woman behind the desk—a middle-aged woman guarding the only route to the higher floors. The woman had unnatural gold-ringed irises and enchanted metal grafted over the skin of her cheekbones. The shimmering enchantments on her robes, facial implants, and jewelery told Aellaria that this person was more than just a desk worker, but someone to take seriously: a Master Sorcerer of Spire.

“Aellaria huh? Are you named after someone?” The Sorcerer asked. She looked at Aellaria closer. Aellaria’s old-style sorcerer hat and name were certainly out of place. Additionally, Aellaria knew her unapproachable expression would be out of place when every other student was wide-eyed and excited to be in the historic and prestigious structure. Aellaria could only dilute Zenithor’s wild anger so far, resulting in a permanent unfriendly scowl.

“I come from an old family,” Aellaria lied.

The gold rings in the sorcerer’s eyes tightened, and for a moment, Aellaria felt the pressure of this woman’s gaze before it relaxed. “Welcome to Spire. May you rise up,” The registrar said before handing her her student identification pin and dorm room key.

Aellaria nodded politely before continuing into the depths of Spire. She walked up the stairs and into the entry hall. There was a tour line. New students could follow the tour line through the cafeteria, dorms, lecture floors, and sparring arenas. Then, the last stop was meeting your lecturer. Aellaria already knew how slowly time moved for education. Spire was the same institution Zenithor attended all those decades ago, albeit with a younger staff. Instead of all of that extra walking, Aellaria moved to the unoccupied teleport rings beyond and went straight for the finish line.

Aellaria was comfortable with the sensation of teleportation. Teleportation sickness was typical the first several times anyone did it. The instant shift in physical space resolved, and Aellaria felt no nausea. This thaumaturgical advancement would have been a breakthrough for those who study magic theory, but to Aellaria, it was nothing more than a neat observation.

As her sight adjusted to the new room, memories came flooding back. The Banquet Hall near the top of Spire is where Zenithor celebrated significant achievements in his academic life, such as winning an appraisal, surviving each year, graduation, and induction. These significant milestones were some of the best and worst memories Aellaria had from Zenithor’s long life. The Banquet Hall represented the pinnacle of what students could achieve at Spire. The only higher places in the tower were the Professor’s Quarters and The Sacred Flame. The stone walls encircling The Banquet Hall had all been enchanted to be transparent. Aellaria saw the Misterran Forests, Son Lake, and even Mistfall from this height. The setting sun in the distance cast an unnatural glow.

In this historic place, Aellaria realized that these pressures and unnatural feelings were not accurate. It was the lens she looked through. Aellaria was the outsider.

Around the room, Aellaria saw four desks. Each had a tired teacher, ready to meet their students and answer questions. Her blue student identification card told her that her teacher was blue; this corresponded to the teacher sitting at a blue table.

The Blue Teacher looked a touch more peppy than the others. He had to be. He was the water teacher– the least popular element of magic. It was never flashy, required great mastery to use in any combat scenario, and the other elements of magic tended to make piss jokes at any Aquamancer’s expense. The Blue Teacher had a shit-eating grin on his face as a pair of students piled more hypothetical shit on his plate.

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“Father said that I would get to be with Bren every step of the way! Why does it say here that Bren goes to the super cool fire teacher, and I am stuck here with the worthless aquamancer!” Flair whined. From behind, Aellaria could only see Flair’s radiant red hair and Bren’s brown curls. Both girls were wrapped in expensive silk robes, undoubtedly corresponding to their respective elements: red and brown.

Aellaria knew precisely what type of girl this person was. They grew up never having to face any adversity. They became best friends with their parents' best friends' child. These children got whatever they wanted because their parents would prefer to bend the system over listening to their child’s whining.

“I understand your frustration, Flair! Might I say that is a fantastic name? I believe your father may have been talking about the dormitory system. You and Bren are assigned the same room, but we do not waver on our class assignments.” The Aquamancer explained.

“I’m not stupid, Niall; I know what my father said,” Flair responded. Her indignant fist landed on her hip, and her other hand pointed at the poor teacher. Aellaria thought this action made the young woman look like a teapot.

“If you would like to try to get this changed, you will need to speak with Professor Rietta, but in my decade here at Spire, I have never seen or heard of assignments changing.” The patient Aquamancer responded.

“Useless!” Flair shouted. She then turned around, and recognition hit Aellaria like a runaway carriage.

Flair was from Frostholm. She was one of Lilium’s classmates. There were flashes of memories of Lilium feeling great pain by the actions of Flair, and a hostile scowl marred Aellaria’s face. Flair’s charcoal eyes ignited a white-knuckled rage in Aellaria.

“Oh great! I get to be in the same class as fuckface floppy-hat! I saw your hat dongling around for a mile on the carriage ride in, and Bren almost threw up laughing at you.” Flair responded, but Aellaria was too busy trying not to get lost in her rage and succumb to the thrumming of blood in her ears. “Also, nobody wears wide-brimmed hats anymore. What are you, homeschooled?!” Flair said. “Whatever, just stay out of my way.” Flair and Bren returned to the teleportation circle Aellaria had used just minutes before.

Aellaria didn’t even have time to process the flicker of emotions firing in her mind at seeing Bren, too. Aellaria felt the urge to lunge at Flair. She could not recall any details of what Flair or Bren did to her daughter, but she knew how it made her feel. Those feelings threatened to overwhelm Aellaria until a voice spoke up behind her.

“I think your hat is quite distinguished! Not the most practical thing, but it makes me feel like I am in the presence of one of the great magicians of yesteryear. My name is Niall, and I will be your teacher these first two years of your adventure here at Spire.”

The Aquamancer, Niall, was handsome and just reaching the end of his young adult years. Aellaria looked closer at her teacher and saw he had an absurd little beard and a pointed handlebar mustache. All visible hair on his body was either dyed or magically altered to be an unnatural blue. The only part of the Aquamancer’s attire that Aellaria vibed with was his popped collar vest. Its sole purpose was style, and the absurd garment helped to gently tug Aellaria from the edge of unbridled rage.

Aellaria paused to compose herself, then responded, “Niall, what time is the fight tomorrow? I’m feeling tired and wish to retire to my dorm.”

Niall recoiled at Aellaria’s direct question. Aellaria knew this was supposed to be a fun surprise revealed during the induction dinner, but she was tired. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask anything about Spire? This is an exciting stage in your development as a sorcerer!” Niall persuaded.

“Yes,” Aellaria responded, leaving as little room as possible for conversation.

“I’m sorry for being long-winded. I’m used to students being excited for their first days at Spire! If you are feeling tired, I will let you go, but if you need healing after your journey. As an Aquamancer, it is one of my specialties…”

“Time, Niall,” Aellaria said quite rudely.

Aellaria saw the water mage’s hurt expression. ‘This man is supposed to be a Master Sorcerer?’

“8:00, just after breakfast service finishes. May you rise up…” Niall responded promptly, meekly adding the words of Spire.

Without another word, Aellaria left to go back toward the teleportation ring.