A young man's life is cut short by a tragic accident. Instead of being the end, the man is reincarnated into one of his favorite fictional universe's, "Warcraft", as an infant High Elf.
In the body of a girl...
Now she must not only come to grips with her new reality, but also uncover the mystery of why this happened to her. The world of Azeroth is very much as she remembers, but also different from anything she anticipated. All the while, sinister forces work in the shadows to acquire those very same answers for themselves.
If confused, see Threadmark "Rewrite in Progress" in the Information tab for details.
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I never saw the car that hit me.
I certainly felt it, just like I felt being sent skidding across the pavement. The icy street only kept me sliding longer. Skin blistering off and bones cracking into pieces. I could barely think straight with all the pain. My arms and legs felt like they were on fire, my breathing was labored, and the pain in my head was excruciating. More than that there was a loud ringing sound. I barely even heard the shrill cry of the driver, racing from her vehicle to my side.
I tried to tell her that I was having trouble breathing, but all that came out was a wet coughing sound.
She kept panicking, hyperventilating, eventually running back to her car. Presumable to call for help. Doubt they get here in time. My eyes felt so heavy. I tried to get her attention, but everything was getting too heavy. My voice was little more than bloody coughs echoed the quiet road.
As I laid there, in a slowly growing pool of my own blood I knew it was over.
I didn't get the whole 'life flashing before my eyes' moment, but I was filled with equal amounts of fear and regret. Regret that I didn't get a longer life, and fear about not knowing what would happen next.
I closed my eyes, only for a moment of course.
But that is when something strange happened. After I shut my eyes, all the pain in my body vanished. I felt my breathing also improve, blood no longer filling my lungs. The fog in my mind cleared. Without the pain I could think again.
And I Immediately knew something was wrong.
I was not on the ground anymore, but neither was I in a hospital bed, or car seat, or anything at all. Just floating. I tried to open my eyes, only to realize they had been open since the pain stopped. All around me was darkness. Impenetrable darkness. I couldn't even see the hand I knew I was pressing against my face.
Where was I?
Purgatory?
Hell?
I was not what one might call a religious person, or a believer at all, I was certain I was going to die, that I did die, on that pavement. Given my surroundings it's possible that whole religion thing was real after all. I was confident this was not Hell; I was not in pain or anything. Neither was this Heaven; no clouds, angles, or pearly gates to be seen. Just, emptiness.
Naturally, this could be a hallucination from the pain, or from painkillers administered when someone scrapped by sorry ass off the street. But something felt off.
I don't know how long I floated there. It felt like hours but could have been only a few minutes. Then I saw it. A tiny light, just at the edge of my vision. The more I focused on it, the brighter it seemed to get.
From the size of a grain of sand, to a seed. From seed to a grape. And on and on until I was being blinded by it. I couldn't shut my eyes or turn away. A slight humming sound began to echo all around me. As the light engulfed me, a shrill sound deafened me.
Then, without warning, my senses returned to me all at once. I was cold! Freezing! Like being dumped into a pool of ice water. Oily shadows slithered across my vision. A pressure began to build against my ears. A rhythmic beating like drums! Then the sounds began: inhuman cackling, monstrous howls, and gurgling laughter.
Then the pain started.
Beginning on my back, but slowly spreading across my body. Sharp pain danced across my skin like knives. Cutting, slicing, flaying down to the bone. The oily shadows enveloped me, bit by bit.
Then, all at once, it was over.
The pain was gone. As were the sounds, the pressure, and the shadows. All that remained was the cold. Rather than a nebulous cold, this felt like I actually was surrounded by ice! The sensation slowly morphed into a burning one as time passed.
All I could was scream.
I don't know how long I laid, screaming my throat raw.
After a time I heard voices. Footsteps. People.
I never saw them before I blacked out. While I was on my last legs, and probably delirious, I do remember the strangest thing. Before closing my eyes, I saw a large thing, with glowing blue eyes staring down at me.
–
I don't know how long it took for me to regain my senses. But after I did, I quickly realized something was amiss.
At first, I took the whole "can't move or talk thing" as just the result of surviving a car slamming into me. Not understanding a word of what was being spoken around me could be explained by a hint of brain damage. Just like my uncontrollable bowl moments. The fact that everyone I saw seemed to be glowing eyed giants could be merely me tripping on painkillers.
But these strange sights never went away. Quite the opposite occurred. My senses became clearer, I noticed even more oddities. My bed was less of a 'bed' and more akin to a massive wooden crib; or was I small? My sheets were not a sterile color found in hospitals, like white or blue, but a vibrant yellow-red wool textured blanket.
And the giants I kept seeing? I could count about five or six different ones who seemed to tend to me. The one I saw the most of was a silvery blonde. Whenever a made a ruckus, such as a failed attempt of slurred speech, it was she who came over to me often. Others helped as well from time to time. They were all some shade of blonde. In addition to the glowing blue eyes, each had a pair of pointy ears.
Now, I am a rational man, but there is only so much stuff that can be shoved in my face before even the absurd turns reasonable.
Such as today.
After waking up from my all too frequent sleep, I was taken from my bed by the silvery blonde giantess. She wrapped me up in a bundle, cooing at me in the same language all these giants seemed to speak. I tried to observe my surroundings as she carried me, but my eyes grew heavy. I was asleep before I realized it.
Later I was roused by the sounds of children.
Without realizing it, I had been plopped down into a large, enclosed, area by a different giant then the one who had carried me.
I was surrounded by adult sized babies! A short, wooden wall encircled the immediate area. Large toys and plushy animal like things were strewn across the mishmash floor of quilts and fabrics. Another giantess, this one with bleached white hair, watched from a massive wooden throne. She read slowly from a large, colorful book in that language I did not comprehend.
All around me, the giant and enormous babies alike had pointed ears and glowing blue eyes.
I felt a sense of déjà vu. Like I had done this before. Sitting here that is. Listening to the giantess softly read from her large tome. Perhaps I had been taken here before? It all seemed vaguely familiar.
Minutes passed, and the giant softly told her story. Page after page was turned. Light crept in from a low window. It was quite relaxing.
I felt a tug on the oversize gown like clothes I had been garbed in. To my left was a giant baby. He/She, hard to tell with the doughy childlike face, started intently at me with bright blue eyes. A pudgy hand wrapping the fabric of my clothes. They had the tiniest hint of crimson red hair upon their head.
Never though hair could go that shade of red.
It just sat there, staring at me. Refusing to let go.
I turned away.
Then it happened. It struck me!
They slapped me across my arm. Sharp, pudgy, nails dug into my skin drawing blood. I let out a startled cry, shoving the body away from me with all the atrophied might my own, equally pudgy limbs, could muster.
My attacker landed on their side, with no obvious injury, and began to wail.
This caused a chain reaction. More babies began to cry. Some, thankfully just sat there, dumbfounded by what was happening.
The giantess seemed to tsk at the interruption. She closed her tome and raised out her hand. A bright light illuminated from her palm, bathing us in its brilliance. One by one, the overgrown infants stopped their crying and became passive once more. Even my attacker now just laid on the ground looking at the light. I also felt calmer now.
Moments later, the light show stopped. Thankfully the babies remained calm.
The giantess knelt to me and examined my wounded arm. She said something to herself, I didn't understand the language, before placing her palm just above the wound and bathed it in light. The stinging from the wound went away in mere seconds. Once finished, the woman took a white cloth provided by another giant who had entered the wooden enclosure, probably when the light show was going on, and wiped away the blood.
No wound remained. Not even a scar.
I obviously had a dumbfounded look on my face given the giantess reaction, that of soft laughter and a gentle rub on the head. I could now feel that I did not have as much hair as normal, given that I felt her fingers slide across my scalp.
Just as quickly as she stopped the wailing and healed me with, what I presume to be magic lacking any other explanation, she was back to sitting in her chair. Tome in hand. Continuing from where she left off.
The woman finished her story with no further interruptions. I was then taken from the pen by a giantess sometime later and handed back to my original, silvery blonde, giant. The red head had also been exchanged to their own giantess. Despite that, it kept staring at me as our respective giants walked us out of the room.
I was again asleep before I left the building.
Waking up in my wooden crib like bed, I finally realized I did not have a penis anymore.
Something was very wrong.
--
--
Miracle child.
A babe found in the depths of winter. Half burred in the snow. Completely bereft of even the decency of a blanket. I was left in the woods to die. Not even a day old. At least that's how Mom described it. She found me and brought me home. She put a roof over my head and took me in as her own.
After gaining an elementary grasp of this bizarre new language, I had asked her about myself. Or more accurately, my predicament. Like if she knew why I was in the woods? Where in the woods exactly? Does she know who's baby I was to begin with?
She would smile, give me a hug, and say I 'was her little girl no matter what anyone said'.
The correct motherly answer, but utterly useless for my line of questioning on figuring out what the hell was going on.
Four years on, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. The elf and magic things I could, kind of wrap my head around by now. But the World of Warcraft thing, the FANTAY setting, that was quite another thing entirely.
How did I reach such an outlandish conclusion. Simple, by listening. Sure my command over this damn elven language was difficult at best, but I still caught on to words here and there:
Silvermoon.
Lordaeron.
Dalaran.
Sunstrider.
Farstriders.
The Sunwell.
One of those phrases, I could maybe write it off. All of them, and oh boy am I in for some shitty times. Not only because I was a High Elf, the fantasy equivalent of a meth addict, but because I was living in Silvermoon. I was basically at ground zero for Arthas's genocide fun times to revive Kel'Thuzad.
Now if that was just the only thing I was dealing with-
"Silly! Wake up! Story time!" a pair of pint-sized fists beat my shoulder.
My eyes shot open. I wormed my way out of my blanket cocoon. The light from outside stung my eyes for a moment. Blinking and adjusting my eyes, I saw the other kids waking up and moving about. I could hear Miss Elma in next room.
Looks like nap time was over. Meaning now was story time at this cheerful daycare.
To my side, unsurprisingly was Noly. The girl was the only kid here who would put up with little old me.
Apparently, most of the kids though I was lazy, or just plain boring. I didn't want to play outside all the time. I didn't scream at the top of my lungs when running around. Nor did I rough house with the other kids when prompted.
It's not that I am lazy or anything, as a spry four-year-old I feel that I am quite energetic. The problem was I didn't know how to deal with other children as a child myself. I might physically be a child, but my mind was fully developed. Outside of not understanding the language being spoken by the adults, I was far more advanced than my entire age range.
In short, I felt out of place around them.
Coming back to Noly. The redhead concluded, in the way only a young child can, that the reason I didn't hang out with the other kids was because I was 'shy'. Not only that, but she knows that I'm 'cool' and 'way more fun' than the others. So, she, being the 'smartest' and 'nicest' girl here, took it upon herself to break me out of my shell.
In truth, she's a hyperactive tomboy whose antics are too much for the other kids. Mealtime talks with her mouth full. Nap time, snores like a dying motor. Play time, never shuts up and doesn't seem to know what personal space is. Finally, of course, story time: where she constantly makes noises, 'oohing' and 'ahhs' mostly, while she whispers to other people; distracting others from said story.
And I hated that damn nickname she gave me. My name was Syllia! Not Silly!
A handful, absolutely. But I find her quirks kind of cute in that puppy kind of way. Add in that doughy like face, rounded by baby fat, and the sheer positivity radiating from her, and I just couldn't find it in myself to tell her off.
Add in the fact that our moms are friends at work, it almost seems preordained that we would be 'friends'.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes and moving a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Looking at her I blinked, "what?"
"Silly its story time!" she repeated, pulling at my pile of blankets. Her bare feet incessantly tapping the floor, "Come on!"
I groaned to myself. Honestly, for a kids book, the four to seven range, it wasn't that bad. But for someone of my 'age' it is boring: Princess is kidnapped by evil trolls. Prince charming goes to saver her with his fellow knights. Drama. Character growth. Heroes overcome challenges. Beats the trolls. Happily ever after. The end.
I yawned, turning to get out of my pile of blankets, stretching my arms. "Okay, just-" Before I even finished her hands clasped mine, and I was being pulled across the wooden floor. The smooth surface allowed me to be effortlessly dragged out of the room, hitting every stray plushy and wooden toy in the way, by the energetic four-year-old.
"Come on!" Noly didn't even wait for me to stand, she just pulled harder. I decided to just go limp and wait it out.
Thankfully, I only hit the wall twice, and clipped the edge of a door, on the way to the next room.
–
While I had known where I was, Silvermoon City, the question of when had always eluded. When I would ask what year it was, all I would get is a string of numbers from the elven calendar that I had no reference point for. All I had was, before Arthas arrives and after Lordaeron was founded. Quite the massive length of time. Anywhere from one year to hundreds of years before the main story.
Recent news coming from the south shattered any ignorance as to When I am.
Stormwind has fallen. The Orcish Horde from beyond the Dark Portal has thoroughly sacked the city, Stormwind's king is dead, refugees were flooding into the northern human kingdoms, any who remained, or were left behind, were being decimated. A Grand Alliance had been formed to combat the threat of the Horde.
The horrors of war that had been kept from me and other children, and ignored by the common masses, was now the focal talking points all across Silvermoon. On every street, in every alleyway, every tavern, every nook and cranny. It was all people talked about now. Some people flat out stood on crates to scream at people!
We must join the Alliance of Lordaeron!
No, defend the Kingdom, let the humans deal with the Horde themselves!
Better fight the Horde in the human lands than risk bringing the war to Quel'Thalas!
We can't send our armies south, the trolls will move across the Eversong unchecked!
The trolls could never challenge us, the Horde is the greater threat!
And on and on it went. Guards had their hands full beating down all the sporadic protests and panic such public speakers made. But like whack-a-mole, for every riot crushed or armchair general thrown from their pulpit, another panic happened, or another five speakers took to their own stands.
This fever lasted only a short time, thankfully. When no Orcish Horde magically materialized outside the gates of Silvermoon, people began to calm down. Sure, people still spoke their mind to anyone willing, or more often unwilling, to hear them. But to most people, the Horde was now a distant threat. Still dangerous, but not directly to Quel'Thalas.
By my fifth year in this world, the Horde's advance seems to have stalled around Khaz Modan; the home of the dwarfs and gnomes. The Orcs trying to siege them out from their mountain homes. A fool's errand if there ever was. Still, better to be standing around than marching up the continent.
–
"Syllia are you ready, we really have to- oh there you are honey," Mom was halfway out the door. Wrapped up in a bright coat, A small bag slung over her shoulder.
Cold air rushed in. My cheeks and nose reddened by the sudden blast. Soon I felt the tips of my ears follow suite. I secured my scarf and coat snugly around me. Retaining all the warmth I could before venturing out into the cold morning.
I hated the cold.
She waved me over with a mitten clad hand, "Sorry for rushing you, but mommy needs to be out early today."
"It's okay," I rushed to the door, narrowly avoiding the table's edge clipping my head. I put on a happy face, but underneath I was anything but.
Frustration was all I felt. No less than twenty minutes ago, she had woken me from my deep sleep and said to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Dawn had only just broken, it was freezing this time of year, and she was rushing me out the door! I didn't even have time to eat anything! Of course, I was not 'Okay'!
But I'd be damned if she knew how I really felt. She's got far more than enough on her plate juggling work and me without my whining to add to it. And judging by the dull circles under her eyes and the frazzled nature of her hair silvery hair, I bet she's not all too thrilled to be rushing out at this hour either.
So I put on a smile, the brightest my half-asleep mind could provide. We were on the main street moments later.
People were up and about on the street. Night workers coming home and day workers going out. The occasional pair of guards walking the street to keep order. But no real activity though. No merchant stalls were up. No store was open. The city seemed to still be half asleep.
There were a few people by the gates, rangers mostly, getting wagons and horses ready. Marching south to the front most likely, a normal Troll Hunt mission wouldn't need that much preparation. While Quel'Thalas was not technically at war with the Horde, yet, the King had was drip feeding reinforcements south to aid the Human cause.
But to march in this weather? Ugghh.
Piles of snow had formed over the cold night. Puddles of water froze as well. Little icicles, like icy fingers, reached down from the windowsills. Winter this far north, while not harsh, was very cold. I shivered. Even with all the bundles of clothes, I felt the chill seep in.
Most races say Quel'Thalas is the Land of Eternal Spring because elven magic controls the seasons and keeps the realm in a state of perpetual spring. A lie. We do have seasons; they just tend to be far milder than the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms. So instead of four seasons a year, we get something akin to ten months of spring, followed by two months of winter. A nitpick I know.
"I'm sorry honey," Mom apologized again. She kept her hand tightly clasped with mine as we walked. "I need you to stay with Auntie Kaden this morning. She'll take you and Noly to Miss Elma's after breakfast. Okay?"
"Okay," I quipped back. What else was there to say? 'No Mom don't leave me at the whorehouse with my friend and her Mom'? I had assumed Auntie Kaden would be taking me with Noly when you dragged me out so early.
"She'll also take you home later," Mom continued, "I'll be back home after your asleep."
Oh. It was one of those days.
"Okay."
We came to a stop. Mom went down to my level, a strained smile on her face. Her nose, ears, and cheeks as red as mine. The dark around her eyes seemed even more intense up close. "I'm so sorry sweetie. I know you don't like it when I come home late, but I-" she searched for the words. "If I work all today, I'll be able to spend your whole birthday with you tomorrow. Just you, me, and anyone you want. I promise."
"Really?"
She stroked my head, pushing a stray strand of blonde out of my face, "Really. I promise."
I broke out a bright smile and wrapped my arms around her neck. She returned the hug with equal fervor.
I knew that there was, in reality, a fifty-fifty chance of her keeping that promise.
She said the same thing for my fifth birthday. Granted she did spend the whole day with me, but she left for work around nightfall. From what I gathered from her drunk ramblings the following morning, some blue blood magister had an 'eyes wide shut' party for his son's appointment to the rank of magister. Such a celebration required the 'aid' of many women like Mom.
She never outright told me what she does, nor have I ever actually asked or caught her in the act. I only heard about it from her drunken ramblings during the mornings after long night at 'work'. Add in that her work wardrobe seems dominated by either skimpy casual clothes or silks that barely covered anything, and it was kind of obvious that she was a 'lady of the night' as they might be called.
I know we really need the money. I saw the looks she had when paid for things. I knew we were walking that every so fine line between poverty and low income. Hell, we live in one of the poorest areas of Silvermoon, right beside the walls at the city's edge.
Thankfully, while it was poor, it wasn't the most crime filled part. That was the districted next door.
Her options for work were limited. So, she took what she could. For a lady with a pretty face and a nice pair of breasts, that meant the world's oldest profession: prostitution.
What makes this whole situation worse is that she doesn't have family to call on, nor she didn't apprentice with a trade when she was younger so she had no credentials for any high paying job. Add in her lack of any magical talent beyond the instinctual stuff found in all high elves, and being a forty something year old caring for a kid alone (the elven equivalent of a teen mom) and her options grew ever fewer.
And I wasn't even her child, I was just some random babe she found in the woods one day and took home!
Also, occasionally a guard, random merchant, or even the odd neighbor would ask me to tell her how much 'fun' they had the previous day and to pass along that they want to see her again. Because that's not creepy at all....
I felt her release the embrace and tug me along. Her smile seemed a little brighter, "now let's get you to Auntie Kaden for some breakfast."
True to her word, she was there for my sixth birthday. Day and Night. Presents, cake, and some time with Mom. It was pretty fun.
On a more somber note, the war seemed to draw ever closer to home as the year dragged on.
--
Quel'Thalas was at war.
Truthfully, we had been at war since we sent rangers south, but now it had come to the kingdom's borders.
Word on the street was that the troll Zul'jin had allied the Amani Trolls with Orgim Doomhammer's Horde. The Orcs were now bypassing Loredaeron entirely to strike at Quel'Thalas. The obvious target being Silvermoon. Skirmishes had already broken out across the Eversong Forests. Rangers, even some venerable Troll Hunters, clashing with Amani berserkers across the woods. Dragons setting fire to vast swaths of the Eversong. Mages and warlocks engaged in titanic battles that leave swaths of land utterly dead.
But as the fighting dragged on, refugees fled the countryside in ever growing numbers. They started flooding into the city soon after. No matter the time of day, scores of refugees rushed for the safety the high walls of Silvermoon provided. The lucky ones were evacuated before the Horde even reached their settlements. For the rest, they were lucky if they only saw their homes burned down. Better that then seeing loved ones incinerated by dragon fire or be cut down by some berserker. Worst, some villages simply vanishing overnight as the orcs and trolls launch brazen attacks deep into high elf territory, villaigers were either dead or taken.
And as if the situation couldn't get any more dire, Ranger General Windrunner was killed. Amani berserkers ambushed her group while evacuating a town they say. Now her daughter, Sylvanas Windrunner, has succeeded her and has been charged with leading the defense of the kingdom. Of course, that caused a bit of grumbling among some people. By some, I mean the puritans: those who valued elven purity, on a racial and cultural level, above all else.
Even destruction in war it seems.
They whispered that Sylvanas a whore. That she was prepared to surrender all the Farstriders secrets to her human boy toy that she was training to be a ranger. They spun extravagant tales of treason and lies in some insane character assassination of one of the Kingdoms most capable leaders in the middle of an invasion. Clearly, these puritans knew what their priorities were…
Ironically, at least with my future knowledge, those same purists decry that Sylvanas's her older sister, Allaria, should have been picked as Ranger General. They argued that not only was she more experienced, but she also led the charge against the orcish Horde before the Kingdom even formally joined the Alliance. A action these very same purist criticized her for in the past but hey, details!
They also claimed, most importantly, she would never fall for a human or put other's concerns above those of Quel'Thalas.
Heheheh...
Thankfully, those people were in the minority; a very vocal minority. Most welcomed their new Ranger General. All we had to do now was wait for the Alliance's main army to arrive and relive the pressure on the kingdom.
As for how I, a lowly commoner from, the poorest area of Silvermoon, become privy to such information? Simple, the guards talk to damn much. Some may call that eavesdropping. But can it really be called eavesdropping when they gossip in front of your house without even trying to lower their voices?
–
People tried to go about their days as if nothing was wrong.
Keyword being 'tried'. Everyone knew better.
There was a tension in the air. Everyone could feel it. From the youngest to the venerable elders. Even the sky seemed to reflect the menacing mood, gray overcasts for days on end. To say people were getting 'jumpy' was an understatement. Everyone walked around as if at any moment the Horde would be battering down the main gates.
It was ridiculous, Mom told me. Silvermoon has never fallen. The Ban'dinoriel would protect the city in the worst-case scenario, mother assured me. Ah yes, the Gatekeeper. A magic shield that protected Silvermoon. Powered directly by the Sunwell itself, and overseen by the highest authorities in the kingdom, it has never failed. Not once. Army after army of trolls has smashed itself against the barrier. And time and time again have armies been turned back.
I'm not sure if she was talking to me, or to herself.
So yes, the city was very much on edge.
Soldiers were constantly marching day and night up and down the cobbled roads. It seemed like every few hours, day or night, they would march through the gates just beside our house. Off to reinforce doomed positions or bolster flagging areas. The city guard also seemed to have swelled their numbers a dozen times over, not counting the ever-growing irregular militia. The sound of their marches has woken me far too many times in the dead of night. Maybe it was just the guard's way of showing the citizens that they are ready at any time to repel any and all attacks. But damn was it loud.
At least when the magisters scooped up people out after curfew, they weren't clanking around in plate armor!
Food, medicine, bandages, and other supplies were being stockpiled in unprecedented amounts. Hoarding, in this time of war, was forbidden. I've seen plenty my 'upstanding' neighbors be dragged out of their homes by guards for holding some item or another. The whippings they got were brutal enough that it made people more scared of being caught with food than starving. I know we're probably not going to starve, hard to starve a population that can literally conjure food and water from nothing. Maybe this was just to keep war profiteering down?
Maybe the magisters were afraid that the orcish warlocks would find a way to breach the shield? Take the fight to the streets? Magic spent on conjuring food and water was magic better spent fighting. I assume teleporting in food is probably not possible. Would be kind of a waste of magic if all it took to get past the shield was to simply teleport oneself into the city.
Despite all the fear in the air, all the paranoia, all the mumbling, I know Silvermoon wouldn't fall.
At least until Warcraft 3 when Arthas brings it down. Until then however, it was utterly impregnable.
But feeling safe, and being safe, are two different things.
Mom tried to keep my mind of the war, telling me stories of her childhood to pass the time, but it was kind of hard when our home was just a stone throw away from one of the main entrances to the city.
One day, Mom shut the blinds to stop me from seeing a caravan of injured refugees pass our home. Didn't help much. Sure, I didn't see them, but the screams of burn victims, ugly sobbing of people who lost everything, and military orders being barked out left little to the imagination. It was a little awkward. Her trying to keep me from seeing the horrors of war, while simultaneously hearing clear as day.
She still tried. I doubt she wanted me to be scared for life from the visuals. Every little way to keep me from being frightened.
Many sleepless nights later, hearing voices in my dreams, I think she was on to something.
–
The Horde eventually reached the gates of Silvermoon. Sounds of battle and war had been steadily getting louder day by day as the battle lines were forced back. We were winning every battle, but simple math was against us. The Horde could replace their losses, we could not. Sooner or later, we'd be bled dry.
There was no warning when The Horde finally reached the walls.
In the dead of night when gates flung open with enough force to shake the foundations of all the houses (hovels) around it. My own included. The sounds of battle were louder than ever before. Where I could only just make out the orcish and elven voices, I heard them now in all their horrific choir.
Whereas once the walls were manned by orderly and calm defenders, now it was a chaos. Archers raining arrows from above, calling for more ammunition or screaming as they were injured by return volleys. One unfortunate archer took a javelin to the shoulder and fell to the ground below face first with a heavy crunching sound accompanying his landing. Mages cast massive spells to obliterate any foe near the gates. Tightly packed groups of spear and swordsmen were standing ready, waiting to repel any attackers that tried to rush the open gates. Everyday more and more had been joining the ever-growing columns in preparation for some big rush into the city that never materialized.
Some mage even lifted a ballista up onto the walls with magic! I even heard it fire a few times.
Damn my window's angle, it was hard to see anything that high angled!
It's kind of funny. Despite being one of the poorest areas of Silvermoon, and being so close to the walls, I'm pretty sure I now lived in one of the safest areas. No other area, outside the royal palace, the other gate houses, or the Sunwell itself had this concentration of forces. Granted, they weren't necessarily protecting 'me' but it was still a lot better than most in the city had.
As the final caravan of refugees, soldiers, and wounded, rushed on in new orders were barked out. They sent the golems out. The arcane golems had been gathering by the gates for a few days now. Their numbers swelling into the dozens. Now, one by one, row by row, they charged out, uncaring of their own survival. Sacrificial pawns to buy the defenders time to seal the gates.
The gates shut. Sounds outside were now of rock crushing flesh and metal bouncing off stone. Orc and troll cries of pain intensified under the crunching and rending of flesh.
Wasting no time, one of the mages threw a spell into the sky. It detonated like firework in the night sky. Magical signal flare?
A minute passed.
Suddenly, a great pale light erupted from the ground just beyond the walls. I shot my head out the window for a better look. I was a dome. Stretching up into the night sky, meeting other walls of pale light covering at a point above the city itself.
So that was the Gatekeeper? A magic city shield.
Sound from beyond the barrier ceased. Where once I heard battle, now only ragged breathing, and cries of the wounded outside my home remained.
The siege of Silvermoon had begun.
--
Several days into the siege nothing of note happened.
The initial shock of the invaders just beyond our walls has died down a bit. People were scared, of course, but it was manageable. There was quite the panic when the first red dragons were seen breathing fire against the shield, their orcish riders screaming insults that are lost behind the barrier, and amount to nothing more than a light show for the city dwellers. I even saw a few boulders smash against the shield; rocky chucks rolling down the slopes of the dome.
I can only imagine what the Horde was doing to try and lower the shield. Smashing spell after spell against it? Using a battering ram to break it down? Trying to stop the flow of energy from the Sunwell from beyond the city limits? It was hard to tell.
What forces remained in the city kept the peace as best they could while the main royal army was linking up with the Alliance forces. They were meeting up to smash The Horde from behind while our rangers continued their skirmishing in the Eversong.
The only news of the outside world now came from a royal envoy who brought word to the people three times a day to update us on the siege and the way in general.
"Come on!" Noly rushed on ahead. Stopping occasionally to yell back at me "I don't want to miss it!"
And every day, since the siege started, Noly would drag me to the Bazaar to hear the envoy after we left Miss Elma's. Yes, old Miss Elma still held her lessons, despite the ongoing war. Probably trying to just keep the kids preoccupied with something other than the violence occurring just a short distance from the walls.
It's kind of ironic, how excited Noly is to hear about the war.
Since word of the Horde reaching the Eversong Forest, Miss Elma has been supplementing our regular lessons of writing, reading, and mathematics with an hour each day of 'historical stories'. Of how our people fought off invasions of Trolls across the ages. How, in the darkest hour, we also snatch victory from the jaws of defeat time and time again. That it was not our merely naturally gifted magics or superior weapons that won the day, but our ingenuity, bravery, and the righteousness of our cause that are our greatest weapons against the barbaric hordes.
In other words, propaganda.
That might be a little harsh. She could just be trying to show the kids how all hope is not yet lost. But it sure sounded like propaganda to my twenty first century mind.
Noly, of course, was too busy drawing doodles on her scrap paper to listen.
But this? Perhaps it was because it wasn't Miss Elma who was talking but a collection of Magisters and Farstriders. Specifically, Farstriders. The girl had an unhealthy obsession with the rangers in general. Being told news by your heroes is far more interesting than listening to the, in her words, 'old lady'.
"I can't... run as..... fast as you!" I cried back, heaving, and huffing with every step.
She looked back, "hurry up, we lost time! Need to move!"
Lost time? Was that what she called picking a fight with several boys? I don't even know why she was fighting them. Or if she even started it! Maybe they pulled her hair or something? I'll never get what sets her off.
Before she could say anything, we hit the Bazaar. Or more accurately, we hit the edge of the crowd gathered at the Bazaar. And we were still three blocks away. The crowd was massive. In a time without internet, or even radio, this might be the closest thing people had to getting important news.
Noly groaned in annoyance as the crowd refused to part for her, no matter how much she tried to force it. The unstoppable force has met an immovable object. She jumped up and down, looking along the road. Looking for an alternate route.
I caught up to her, coughing for breath. "Just give me a moment. have to- have to catch my-". I didn't finish. My hands found my knees for support.
Was I out of shape or was she just that much faster than me?
Growling at the obstacle, Noly looked around finding a less crowded alleyway to our side. Smiling, she locked elbows with me, "Just hold on Silly, I've found us a shortcut."
"You-"
She charged headfirst without warning. I almost fell before catching my feet. Our combined mass allowing us to force our way thought this less dense area.
We exited into the Bazaar proper moments later. The crowds packed the area. Where there was once merchant stalls and vendors, now stood an ocean of people.
"Aggh here too!" she bemoaned. At least she released me from her hold.
Before she could vent her frustration further to me, a collection of blue crystals appeared overhead. They sat there, lazily floating above the crowds.
She ignored it, taking sight of a tall pole. Grinning, she rushed over, and began shimmying up like some kind of monkey.
Moments later, a voice. A man, clearing his throat. It was coming from the crystals. Magic speakers I guess.
"Citizens of Silvermoon! I come bearing news of the War," the man's voice, most likely a mage, echoed across the streets. Looks like we arrived just in time. I looked up to find Noly, sitting at the top of the pole. Smiling and waving. Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear her voice over the crowds and the speaker. She was pointing frantically towards the center of the crowds.
Must be able to see a ranger.
"I bring word at this hour, that his majesty, King Anasterian, gives his personal assurances to not only the people of Silvermoon, but to all people of Quel'Thalas, that this conflict will soon be over. Our noble rangers and proud soldiers have inflicted terrible losses against these barbaric invaders. Soon, the Alliance of Lordaeron's army, with aid from the royal army, will smash these brutes from our lands."
That got a cheer from the crowds. Some clapping here and there. Any bit of good news I guess.
"With our combined might imminent, the main bulk of the Horde scatters even now! When they do battle, these barbarians will be laid low! Never to threaten civilized society every again!"
The mage waited for renewed revelry to die down before continuing. "That being said, his majesty, with the assurance of an imminent victory against the vile Horde, now looks to the future. Specifically, the future of the vile Amani, who have inflicted unimaginable suffering to the Quel'dorei and even now seek the death of our very race. With the future of our very people at stake, His Majesty has taken council with the wisest magisters of the Convocation and with our new Ranger General to seek a solution to the Amani threat!"
A 'Solution' to the Amani threat? Oh, that sounds really sketchy.
"After tireless hours of council, his majesty has made his decision: let us end this threat once and for all!"
The applause started. A thunderous choir of jubilation and excitement.
"Let us not allow these beasts time to recover, to rebuild, and to nurture future wars!" the speaker continued to hype up the crowds, cutting through the riotous voices. "His majesty has ordered there to be a great scouring of the Forests! Let no village be spared, no hamlet untouched. Let not even a single brick remain upright! Let us strike the trolls with such righteous vengeance, such overwhelming power, that even their blackened gods will leave these savages to their fate! Let the fires burn unending until all is ash!"
The crowd went wild! Thunderous cheering that made my head hurt. My hands slammed against my pointed ears. I felt my teeth shake.
"We do this, not only for our own peace of mind, but for all our people. Past, Present, and Future. Each martyr who has fallen for the Kingdom. Every life snuffed out by their barbaric alliance with the orcs. And for every child who will ever be born. We shall achieve a brighter, more secure future for our people. Let none question our resolve or the rightness of our cause!"
The cheers went on and on. My ears felt like they were bleeding from the roaring.
He went on about other things, but nothing else said that day could be that performance.
Later on, all Noly would talk about was the rangers she saw from her vantage point. She would go on and on about their bows, arrows, swords. How they looked in their armor. How cool they were. How she wanted to be one someday. How she was going to be a troll hunter one day and protect the kingdom.
I don't think she even comprehend what the envoy had said. Or the implications it held. Would kind of ruin her chances of being a Troll hunter.
She saw how I was a little quiet after that whole thing and chalked it up to the noise and crowds. The shyness she believes I have. I can't remember how many times she apologized for forcing me into such a crowd. Of how she was such an idiot to drag me into something like that. How she would be more considerate in the future.
She kept me company until Mom got back that night.
–
True to the envoy's word, the siege was broken the next day and the shield was lowered.
The Horde had been broken by the advance of Lord Anduin Lothar and Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner. Celebrations lasted the whole week for the heroes of Silvermoon. The Alliance forces had a brief parade along the streets of the city. Looked like something right out of a roman triumph. Humans and elves marching side by side. Victory through cooperation. Bonds forged by war. Peace in our time. Etcetera, etcetera.
My personal highlight was seeing Alleria in person! I mean I saw her from among the crowds as the Alliance procession made its way through the city. But it still counts!
On Mom's end, it was quite the good day for business if the heavy coin pouch she laid on the kitchen table was any indication.
After a brief respite, the army was once more on the march again. The battle for the city may have been over, but the war still rages on. Doomhammer escaped capture, pulling his forces back to escape encirclement when he realized what the trolls either could not understand or did not want to, that Silvermoon was impregnable by conventional means. He was now marching towards Lordaeron, with the Alliance forces in pursuit.
Yes, the war was still ongoing; but not for Quel'Thalas.
Allria would remain attached to the Alliance forces, chasing the Horde out of the Kingdom. A contingent of mages, priests, rangers, and dragon hawk riders would follow the Alliance army in pursuit of the fleeing Warchief.
The royal army busied itself with clearing out the Amani holdouts in the Eversong. They were stubbornly holding onto their gains even as orcs pulled back. Without the Warchief's tactical genius, and the muscle his Horde provided, the Amani were now on the retreat. Lost towns were reclaimed, slaves liberated, and Zul'jin himself had been captured. Soon, the Amani host had been driven all the way from our boarders.
But true to his word, the King did not stop there. He ordered his forces to keep pushing east, into the Amani heartland.
For as far as the people of Quel'Thalas were concerned, the War was over.
Because you don't wage war on 'animals'.
You just get rid of them.
----------------------
----------------------
Yes and this first chapter comes to a close.
For anyone that is curious about the title: "A Child of Noble Birth" is a play on words. High Elves in Warcraft are called "quel'dorei" in their own language, which translates to "Children of Noble Birth". Therefore, Syllia is a "Child of Noble Birth" because she is a High Elf, not because she is an actual "Noble".
And as mentioned above, this is the rewrite of the original first chapter.
Technically, it had been decided some time before, during the battle of Lordaeron. But now, it was firmly decided.
Aduin Lothar was slain in battle. Turalyon captured Orgim Doomhammer. The Horde's been scattered. The Dark Portal was closed. Victory! Peace in our time! Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Everything was proceeding just like the games. I think. Which means I have, at most, a decade to prepare for Arthas's turn to the dark side and the genocide of the High Elves.
With all that being said, so far as I can tell, everything was going according to the story.
Despite an overwhelming victory, The Alliance was splintering over how to treat the orcs. The policy right now was to round up all the orcs into internment camps; basically fantasy concentration camps. When the question of the costs of maintaining these camps was brought up, both the Kingdom of Gilneas and Stromgrade left.
They argued for complete extermination. Why should their people pay to keep the orcs alive?
So Gilneas went off to start building a wall and Stromgrade is just there right now.
As for Quel'Thalas? We left the moment Lothar died and the orcs were defeated. It was argued that Quel'Thalas only joined the war because of a debt owed to the Arathi people from their aid in the Troll Wars two thousand years ago. Lothar, the last of the Arathi, called in the debt, and so Quel'Thalas marched to war. Now that the orcs are broken, and more importantly Lothar is dead, King Sunstrider didn't see a reason to stay in the Alliance. So Quel'Thalas left.
At least, that's how it was being spun.
Truth was, High Elves didn't join the war until the orcs marched into Quel'Thalas. Before that, King Annesterian had been saying that the orcs were "a human concern". After the Alliance drove the orcs from the Kingdom, the King ordered our armies into a punitive campaign against the Amani rather than marching south. He complained the Alliance didn't help the Kingdom when they 'needed' them, so his kingdom would leave the Alliance since the threat was now gone. Why he expected to be aided by the Alliance before joining the Alliance, I have no idea. Maybe the king was just projecting a little.
But all of this was way above my head.
All I could do was live my life as best I could until then. Grow up. Grow strong. Hopefully I could do something to save Silvermoon in the future. It might have been a fantasy city in another life, but now it was my home.
I just hope fighting for it doesn't leave me dead.
--
A hand wrapped against my door.
"Syllia, are you awake?" it was Mom.
"Yes Mom," I replied.
I yawned. What time was it? I shivered from the lack of a blanket covering my body. The light from outside momentarily blinded me. I swore; blinking my eyes in an attempt to get them to adjust.
"Good. I went in a few minutes ago to check on you and I didn't want to wake you so suddenly," her footsteps creaked against the wooden floor as she walked away. "I wanted to let you know I was making breakfast in a few minutes! I don't want you going to Mentor's Day without eating anything!"
"Okay! Be right out!" I called back.
Right.
Mentor's Day.
The day when mentors would flood daycares, schools, and early learning centers across Silvermoon to try and attract young children to apprentice under them. Basically career day in my old life. It basically allowed young kids, or parents, to put a foot in the door so to say. To establish an early connection with a mentor before actually formally seeking an apprenticeship. In short, a really good way to get a leg up on other prospective apprentices.
The catch? You didn't know ahead of time who was actually going to show up.
It was wholly voluntary. Sure, parents tend to show up to their own kid's Mentor's Day, and the private academies and early learning centers got a lot of attention. But for the places that were located in some of the poorest areas of Silvermoon. Oh we're shit out of luck.
I heard from one of the older kids that Miss Elma actually has to vet the people before they come in because of a few incidents in the past. The example I heard was that a few years ago some gang tried to recruit kids to become 'alchemists' (drug cooks).
So yeah. I'm in for quite the interesting day.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Ten years on and it was still odd to look at myself. Even more so now that my body was phasing itself out of 'androgynous' to clearly feminine. My features were becoming more defined. My figure, ever so slowly developing. Even my smooth blonde hair was looking better at my shoulders than it ever did cut short.
Just another sign that time was moving on.
And the doomsday clock ticked ever onward.
The Dark Portal reopened last year. Orcs came through, but were quickly pushed back. Eventually, the Dark Portal was sealed again, this time from the other side when the Sons of Lothar, an Alliance group, decided to counter invade the orc's homeworld. They are presumed lost.
Of course I know they aren't. They're still fighting Ner'zul and his Horde.
But I knew I was living on borrowed time. Rationally I knew that Arthas wasn't just going to roll up with his undead army tomorrow, or even in the next year. I probably still had a decade before any of that, but it still sent shivers down my back.
How unlucky would it be for me to die to an undead invasion after being reincarnated? Maybe fate would make me a forsaken to make up for dying twice before my time? I shook my head. No use dwelling on these things right now. Focus on the here and now. Worry about the undead when I have the power to do something about it.
–
When I got to Miss Elma's, adults had already begun to congregate outside. Miss Elma herself was out there with them. Looked like she was grilling some of them if her arm gestures were anything to go by. Some guy tried to get a word in edgewise, only to be cut off by a torrent of accusations, denunciations and other threats.
I ignored it. I had faith she would filter out the odd offensive or illegal individual attempting to sway impressionable minds. Walking in I took my usual seat next to Noly. She wore a colorful green dress. The kind I would normally wear. Actually everyone looked like they were wearing nicer clothes than normal. Dress for success I guess.
Normally, I'd be forced into something similar, a soft blue or bright red dress for example. Mom was always telling me to 'dress better'. To 'try wearing more dresses' like the other girls. But today, I was the one who left home last. So it was a nice pair of shorts and shirt for me today!
"I heard that Ranger are coming today!" The redhead was excited. Squirming in her seat from excitment.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Feldin saw two rangers talking with the old lady earlier!"
I have no idea who Feldin is. Then again, I don't know most of the kids here by name. "How'd he know they were rangers?"
"Well, he said they had bows and wore leather armor. Oh! And he heard them say they were from a nearby lodge!"
That actually sounded reasonable. Mentor's Day. Talking to an instructor. Makes sense. If they were rangers.
I moved my little lunch bag under my desk with a swift shove from my leg, "so when are they coming in?"
"He didn't know," Noly kept smiling. "But they are coming in today!"
I wasn't going to question her any further. Mainly because I didn't want to argue with a ten year old about seeing their heroes in person.
"Do you know what you're going to ask them?"
Her body stilled its jittery motions. "No. I have, like, a million questions I want to ask them but I-" She looked me in the eyes. "What I I come off as stupid. What if they think I'm-" she didn't finish.
Oh boy, hero worship. "Just talk to them like normal and you'll be fine."
"But what if-"
"Don't over think it Noly," I smiled. "Just be yourself."
That seemed to build her confidence back up.
A few minutes later, filled with aimless chatting, and Miss Elma came back in. She told us to be on our best behavior. To be respectful for all the mentors coming in today. To mind ourselves and ask proper questions.
Mentor's Day had officially begun.
But I will call it what it really is, Career Day.
First mentor to present was a glass blower. He was an older man; wrinkles, bleached white hair, and needing a pair of spectacles to see properly. Looked physically about eighty or so, meaning he's well into his thousands probably. Wore some pretty basic clothes, so he wasn't from this particular city district, but probably wasn't rolling in the gold. Gave off that 'grandpa' feeling when he talked and from his interactions with the rest of us. He showed off some of his merchandise and talked about the process of creating glass. It involved magic, of course, but not enough for him to be called a mage by elven standards.
Next was a clerk. Not a magisterial clerk, just a run of the mill paper pusher. Dull blue robes, bald, had a perpetual frown. Had this expression that gave the impression that, at any moment, he was prepared to smash his head into a brick wall to end the monotony of his existence. The way he spoke, of the 'joys' of accounting and managing, almost made me want to smash my head in as well.
He was followed by a priestess of the Light. Bright white and gold robes. She looked normal, but quickly came across as a bit of a cultish. She waxed and waned about the glories of the Light. Of how we should all dedicate ourselves in our entirety to the Light. Exaggerated arm gestures followed by more zealotry. The only interesting thing she did was put on a show with Light magic. Honestly by the time she reached her whole 'joining in Holy covenant with the Light', her stay was starting to wear thin.
I wasn't the only one not amused by this thinly veiled proselytization. Miss Elma pulled her away, saying she had to leave early for something important. From the sounds just outside the room, she must have gotten into a pretty heated argument with the priestess. Lots of swearing. The sudden sound of a slap and a threat to call the guards certainly ended it.
And on and on it went. Blacksmith. Fishmonger. Stable hand. Even a city guard came in. All these people, sans the priestess had one thing in common: they were all low level jobs. The jobs one associates with the lower end of society. People who, while important in the grand scheme of things for the smooth running of society, do not tend to live exciting lives.
Call me petty, but I want to be something more. Okay, sure, the city guards might be a little exciting, but they mostly dealt with common thievery and drunken brawls. I was reborn into a fantasy world! Could I even say I was living my life to the fullest if I didn't at least try for more! Epic adventures. Heroes! A world of constant struggle and change. Why aim to be a nobody when I could be somebody!
Sadly, a lot of paths are blocked off by my societal class. Daughter of a whore. Just the phrase is enough to make potential mentors treat me like a leper. A lot of baggage came with my background. The ones that don't see anything wrong with it aren't really the kind of things I want to do: dancer, escort, or other roguish things.
Did that make me arrogant? Prideful? Dismissive of opportunities just because I thought they were 'beneath' me. Mom probably had more aspirations for herself that didn't involve sleeping with people almost everyday and night. Others probably did too.
But it made me wonder. What was I going to do with my (second) life? Yeah I was only ten, but....
I want to be useful. This was a fantasy world! Who could stand being reincarnated into such a place and just settling for 'normal'? And I knew what was going to happen. I just couldn't find it in myself to sit by and twiddle my thumbs when I feel like I can make a difference. I could stop the Scourge! Maybe keep the High Elves from ever being exterminated!
But then it all comes back to my limited options....
I don't know how long I sat there debating with myself. All I know is that Noly brought me back to reality.
"Look," she whispered while tugging my sleeve excitedly.
Sure enough, I looked up to see Miss Elma gesture to a pair of rangers at the front of the room. A man and a woman. They had similar appearances: brown hair, sharp facial features, and slightly tanned skin from all the time outdoors. They wore somewhat revealing armor; lots of leather, greenish coloring, and exposed skin. Bows were slung around their arms.
The lady looked quite exposed, wearing nothing more than a tube top, long pants, with shin and elbow guards. The man wasn't off the hook of course, his tummy was also exposed as his compatriot's. Physically, I'd guess they were in their early twenties; not that guessing ages based on appearances was really possible with elves. Bodies were well maintained with lean muscles not unlike those found on a professional swimmer.
"Now our next mentors are Sylvain and Elyssa Evergreen," Miss Elma introduced them. "They are Farstriders who have taken time out of their vacation to speak with us all today about their experiances as rangers. Say hello children."
"Hello," twenty or so childish voices responded. Unlike the other mentors, the kids seemed to actually mean it.
And who would blame them, they were Farstriders! The closest thing to knights that children in Quel'Thalas had. While the Kingdom did have armored mounted cavalrymen who could claim the title as knight, it just didn't hold the same weight in elven society as it did in the human ones.
"Now I know you all are brimming with questions, but please raise your hand and wait to be called on before asking them." Why did it look like she was staring at Noly when she said that? She turned back to them, "well then, why don't the two of your properly introduce yourselves."
The man, Sylvain, took a step forward to talk, but was cut off by his female counterpart.
"Hey kids!" Wow she's loud. "I'm Elyssa. And this is my big brother Sylvain! We've been rangers for the last forty years! We know a lot of stuff, so don't be shy about asking us anything!"
Huh, though they were a couple given the last name. Now that she said it, it definitely explains the similarities.
Slyvain seemed to try and dial back his sister's enthusiasm, "like my sister said, we'll be happy to answer any questions you might have. So just raise your hand if you have a question."
Noly's hand was in the air before he even finished. To her dismay, she was not picked first.
"How old are you?" some boy in the front row asked. The kid looked kind of pudgy. Didn't remember the name.
"As of last week, we're both sixty three!" Elyssia answered in a peppy tone with a bright smile.
So twins then.
Slyvain pointed to another hand, also not Noly's, a small girl in the back.
"Umm... What do you like most about being a ranger?"
Slyvain answered this one. "Helping people. The rangers do much more than fight trolls. We escort people lost in the Eversong back to their homes, provide first aid to minor injuries where we can, we even serve as impartial mediators for smaller disputes between outlining communities." I think he realized that most of the kids had no idea what 'impartial mediators' were. "Meaning we help people with problems too small to bring to the magisters. There's far more to being a ranger than learning marksmanship."
Elyssia said something under her breath. Don't know what it was, but the soft slap behind the head followed by her laughter meant it was probably a joke at his expense.
And on it went. The brother sister team had by far the most questions of any mentor so far today.
Finally, Noly was picked to ask her question.
"How do you become a ranger?"
The sister smiled, but she seemed more subdued now. "Well not just anyone can be a ranger," her voice toned down drastically. She looked less like an overly excited gerbil and more like a, well, a ranger. "You need training. Me and brother dearest for example, trained for almost two decades before we were fully inducted. Some train longer. Others get recruited in under a decade."
"Do you need to know how to use a bow before joining?" Noly asked.
"Not exactly", Slyvain responded this time. "Like I said earlier, being a ranger is more than using a bow. You need to have the right mindset. You'll be out in the Eversong most of the time. It can be lonely spending weeks away from home. You have your fellow rangers to keep you company but even that has its limits depending on what you're tasked to do."
"Yeah, your mindset is more important than using a bow," Elyssia cut in. "I actually never touch a bow in my life before I began my training. What's most important is being sure that this is what you actually want to do."
Noly squirmed in her seat before continuing, "how can I join?"
Ah that was the real question.
The woman smiled, "What's your name?"
"N- Noly", she stuttered.
"Well Noly, why do you want to be a ranger?"
"Well I-" she stuttered. "I want to be a ranger because I want to help people."
"But couldn't you join the city guard? Plenty of ways to help people there."
"It's just...." Noly went quite.
Elyssia walked over to our table. She knelt down to Noly's level, hand on her shoulder, "It's just?"
Noly took a deep breath and looked the ranger in the eyes, "Its just.. I want to be a hero."
"A hero?"
Noly's form retreated into herself. She slummed down, breaking eye contact, "Rangers help people. All across the kingdom. I know its stupid, but I want to go places and see new people, and save people all over."
"Hey," Elyssia tried to cheer Noly up. "I don't think your stupid."
"Really?"
"Really. You have a big heart. But being a ranger isn't something for everyone."
Noly began to tear up. Ouch. Being told by your own hero that you should stop-
"But," she continued. "If you're really sure about this, how about this: my brother and I are staying at the Silvermoon Lodge just outside the city. It's maybe twenty minutes from the central gate. If you're certain that you want to be a ranger, go there with your parents in the next day or so and ask for either Sylvain or myself. We can go from there."
Noly looked like she was about to burst with excitement. Her sadness was no longer present.
"Y- Yes. I mean, I will, thank you!"
She smiled at Noly's excitement. "No problem kid."
Okay, I wasn't sold on her before. But that whole exchange was pretty sweet.
Following Noly's question, and little heart to heart, Miss Elma told us to break for lunch and be back within the hour.
–
After lunch, there was yet another gauntlet of forgettable people. Innkeeper. Scribe. Bank clerk. All in all, kind of a let down after the height that was two rangers.
But then, the last pair entered.
They were mages. Not people who use magic, but proper mages!
Both wore bright red robes accented with ember gold threads. The first one's robe was visibly more elaborate and well made than the other's. He was balding and had a weathered face that told of his advanced age; of course with elves it's always hard to tell ages. Someone who is over a thousand years old could have the appearance of a twenty year old. To actually 'look' old implies he is quite ancient.
His helper, maybe apprentice, looked far younger. He was carrying around some bloated black bag.
Both looked at the class with utter disinterest.
"Alright children. The last mentor coming to speak to us today-"
"Forgive me madam, but I wish to introduce myself if possible."
Wow. Less that three seconds, and I already understand why some people really don't like magisters.
"Of course. Forgive me, your excellence." If Miss Elma was offended by the interruption, she sure didn't show it. But knowing her for years I knew her tells. That wringing of her dress, knuckles going white; oh she was upset.
The man waved her off, "I am Magister Darriel Firebrook. Lesser Magister to Senior Magistrix Shalenn Silversun. This is my attaché, Arcanist Merril. My purpose today is to not only explain the role of the magisters in our kingdom but provide useful aid and guidance to any seeking admission into our order."
Holy shit. This guy! I actually couldn't tell if he was talking to the only adult in the room, or was just so far up his own ass that he forgot he was talking to literal ten year old's!
"Magic is the birthright of our people," Firebrook began. Oh boy, we were in for a monologue. "It is through magic that we have built our civilization. Through magic we have tamed this land. It is by wielding magic that we have defended it. But who, I ask you, is most suited for this task? To wield such power and be responsible for tending to the magical needs of our kingdom. That, children, is the task given to us magisters: to care and manage this land. For only we, with our knowledge of the arcane and dutiful foresight, are most fit for this most honored task."
Wow. Just wow. He sounded like he was giving a force statement rather than anything genuine. His voice held just the right amounts of disinterest with that small dash of moral superiority.
"But to execute this most honored task, there must be magisters. It is for that reason I have come to you today. Know that we are a truly blessed people. For none among the civilized world can reach the heights of magic that we have achieved. Nor can any race hope to see the peaks we have climbed. To facilitate the training of new members of our must august order, I have come to you, at the behest of the King and the Convocation to seek out magical talent, wherever it may lay."
With a quick snap of his fingers, his attaché approached with a large bag. The magister pulled out a small purple gem, "we shall perform a test of sorts. You will each be given a gem like this. You will channel your mana into it. As much as you can. From its glow, we shall learn if you are suited to joining our honored order."
Children buzzed about with whispers. The assistant handed out purple crystals to all the children. He held the bag open, and each kid picked out one gem from its contents. When I got mine, I found that it was jagged and had a smoky texture to it.
While asking a class of literal children to channel mana might be a bit too much to ask of other races, for High Elves it was as simple as breathing. Everyone knew the basics of channeling mana, like how a baby knows how to breathe when they are born. You just know.
Hell even I knew! I channel a little mana into a crystal by my bed to give me light to read at night, then syphon it away when I want it dark again. Damn things are a little too brittle for my taste though; they always seem to break if I don't pour the smallest amount of mana possible into them. Mom says that I just need to learn to not push all my mana in at once.
I don't think I'm pushing all that much in...
"If you would, children," he tried to quiet the class down, "please focus on channeling your mana into the crystal. How bright it glows is a general indication of the amount of mana you currently have. This does not mean you cannot grow your reserves with training and further learning, it only shows what your innate predisposition to magic is at this time."
So if dull, not much magic. If it glows, 'yer a wizard'. Not quite of course, all High Elves can, technically, use magic, but...
Honestly I was a little nervous. Wait for me to find out I was reincarnated with a body that had the lowest possible mana reserves an elf could have but still be alive! It would be a sufficiently protagonisty thing to be. But if my mana reserves were good, maybe I could learn magic in the future. Well, only one way to find out.
Grasping the crystal firmly in hand, I closed my eyes. It's kind of like when you get a grade in school, you really don't want to see it right away. I'll look after I channeled the mana. With a deep breath I pushed my mana into the crystal.
Crack
I felt something move in my clenched hand. Opening my eyes, I saw that my crystal looked a bit off. Uncurling my fingers, my purple gem fell onto my desk in a dozen chipped pieces.
Oh dear, not again.
To my side, I saw that Noly holding her gem. I could barely see the faintest purple glow in her hands. She noticed my attention and turned to me.
"What's wrong?"
She then saw the broken crystal.
Before I could say anything, her hand shot up
"Mr. Firebrook!"
The magister turned to us and walked over. He looked annoyed by how he was addressed.
"Yes..."
"Silly's gem broke," she explained plainly
His gaze seemed to borrow into me.
Oh god she's putting me in the spotlight!
"It is no problem. I assumed this might happen," he gestured to his aid to bring another crystal. He placed it in my palm. "Remember you do not need to clench it in your hand. Simply keeping it on your open palm will suffice."
"Yes si- your excellence" I stopped myself from saying sir. Don't need to piss this guy off any more than I already had.
He gave me a curt nod before returning to the front of the room to converse with his attaché.
I sighed, looking at the smoky purple gem. Alright, try number two. I began to push my mana into the gem. It began to glow-
Crack.
The light was gone, and the gem shattered in my open hand. Just like the last one.
Oh fuck this is not good.
A few other kids had kept watch since the magister left and saw it too.
"Mr. Firerbook!" Noly called out again.
'Shut up Noly!'
Firebrook seemed to groan as he made his way back to our table.
"I believe I was clear when I said to not clench it in your hand? It matters not how hard you grasp it-"
Before I could answer him, Noly spoke up, "but she didn't do that. It glowed really bright for a moment then broke."
His gaze was no longer thinly veiled disinterest. He seems to genuinely be curious himself, "Is this true young lady?"
"Y- Yes your excellence." What else could I say?
"We shall see," he turned to his aid. "Bring me the satchel."
The arcanist brought it over. Firebrook opened one of the zippers and fished out another crystal; placing it in my hand. The whole class was now watching, all of their gems glowed a dim purple. Some brighter than others but overall faint.
Oh boy did I feel nervous. Deep breaths.
"You may proceed," Firebrook watched the gem intently.
Third time's the charm.
I pushed my mana into the crystal. It was glow-
Crack
And it shattered again. Wow I was going through these really fast. It was reminding me of when Mom was teaching me to not break the 'light crystals'. Went through five whole boxes of them before I figured out how to not break them.
But the magister didn't seem annoyed anymore. Far from it, he was smiling. Muttering something under his breath, then rifled through the satchel. He pulled out another gem. Unlike the other three, this one was pale blue and had smoother edges than the previous ones.
Firebrook placed it in my palm. "Try this one," his voice was much softer this time. More understanding. Like he actually cared about me.
This was getting weird.
I did as I was told. I took a deep breath and pushed my mana into the gem. It glowed, but unlike the other times, it didn't shatter. A soft blue light that slowly morphed into a near white glow. The magister smiled at me.
"I thought that might be the problem."
"Your Excellence?" I was officially confused.
"The reason the other gems broke was because you were pushing too much mana for it to handle. Hence the shattering," Firebrook explained. He pulled out one of the purple gems. "This gem is used to gauge mana potential in the common masses. It's not meant to measure a mage's potential. While that one," eyeing the glowing blue gem, "is solely used for that purpose."
What?
"All quel'dorei can use magic," he began to explain. "But not all are suited to be mages. True, the average commoner is more attuned to magic than the average mage of the other races. And yes they can learn spells, channel mana, and can expand their mana reserves, but only to a point. Beyond extreme circumstances, mana pools can only expand so much with sheer effort. Others have naturally large pools beforehand. Which become proportionally larger with training."
"You mean- I could.." Could this be my stepping stone?
"That you could be a mage? Absolutely! Look at that glow. That intense soft blue. The color of pure arcane energy. You, my dear, have a gift. You see that glow Merril?" Firebrook was far more jovial than earlier. Whereas before he looked like he was just going through the motions, doing a job he disliked, now he looked positively animated.
He had seemingly forgotten that anyone else was in the room.
"Yes your excellence, " Merril answered blankly. The aid looked like he wanted to anywhere but here. "It is a clear indication of potential."
"Indeed it is. What's your name dear?" his question brought me back to reality.
"Syllia, your excellence."
"Syllia..."
I frowned, "Just Syllia." Did I even have a last name? Mom never mentioned if we had a family name.
Were we that poor?
"Well then 'Just' Syllia," he joked. At least he was acting nicer now. "Are you being picked up by a parent? I believe we will have much to discuss about your future."
"My future?"
"But of course! Talent like your should not simply be wasted. I might be a magister, but I am also a teacher." He frowned. "I hope its not presumptuous of me, but it would appear that your current living standards would not allow for the usual smooth entrance into a magisterial academy."
Magisterial Academy! Entrance!
I didn't say anything. My silence was enough of an answer for him.
"Quite so. I wish to discuss with your parents how best to get you the resources you need to enter one of the academies. A scholarship if you will. To help pay your tuition and get you supplies. For my part, I happen to be a member of the admissions board of Silversun Academy. I've seen its halls welcome mages with only half the brilliance of this glow, and I'd be damn if I let such potential languish unrefined because of something so mundane as monetary burdens. Of course you will still have to be tested to meet the minimum academic requirements. But some basic tutoring can bring you up to the standards expected of young initiates."
This was it, wasn't it. The thing I was looking for. That glimmer of hope for more I had been praying for! A chance to climb my way out of this way of life and into the lap of power and influence! I could make a difference in the world! I wasn't going to be just some random person going about their lives without an ounce of agency! The first step in my-
Crack
In my excitement, I had been channeling more and more mana into the gem during our conversation. Filling it up like a water balloon. Its glow had been brightening as we talked. But like a water balloon, it can only take being filled so much before it popped.
And now its shattered fragments fell onto my desk like the other gems before, overloaded by the amount of mana I pushed into it.
The entire room was silent. Noly stared wide-eyed at the broken blue bits on my desk. Firebrook looked at the gem's remnants flabbergasted, then back to me. His smile grew larger.
I'll be honest and say I was hearing the Harry Potter theme song when Syllia was trying out the gems. Also, I imagined Hagrid saying 'Yer a Wizard Syllia' at the end.
Amiria didn't really know what she would come home to. She had hoped to surprise her daughter by arriving home early.
Early in the sense that she came home before nightfall.
What she never even considered remotely possible, was seeing kitchen remade into a makeshift mage workshop.
The old wooden table was covered by an expensive red tablecloth, probably worth more than the house. An expensive looking tea set laid upon its silken surface. A pair of books magically floated, aimlessly, around the room. Enchanted quills writing who knows what on their pages. Crystal like bubbles floated about emitting rays of light as if they were scanning the area.
At the table she saw her daughter, and an old mage. They seemed to be deep in conversation about something. Amiria just caught the end of a sentence as the door closed behind her.
"-at least that's what I think." Syllia finished. Whatever her explanation was about, it intrigued the mage.
"Interesting," the mage nodded. "I can see what you're getting at. Though most priests would be livid at the insinuation."
"They're still doing good though. For the most part anyway. All I mean by-" Syllia stopped when she saw her walk in. "Mom!", her daughter rushed out of her chair and threw herself into a hug.
"Syllia, what in the world did you do to the kitchen? And who is this man?"
Syllia looked up and smiled, "Mom, I'm going to be a mage!"
What?
"Oh, right. Need to explain it first" Her daughter mumbled. She gestured to the mage, "that's Lesser Magister Firebrook. He came to Mentor's Day, did some tests, and said I have the potential to be a powerful mage!"
The balding man in question also rose from his seat to offer her his hand, "A pleasure to meet you ma'am. But please, simply Magister Firebrook will suffice. Instructor and a member of the board of admissions at Silversun Academy. And you are.."
She took his hand, "Amiria."
"Just Amiria," the magister seemed to smile, her daughter groaned, at some unsaid joke.
What followed next was a flurry of information from the old magister and her excited daughter. But it all boiled down to this:
Syllia was gifted.
Syllia was special.
One of a kind.
Destined for great things.
The conversation went on for the better part of an hour. Throughout it all she smiled and nodded. All throughout the praise, one though wormed its way into her mind.
She didn't like the way that mage was looking at Syllia.
His eyes. That possessive glint in his eyes as he watched her. It wasn't out of lust, as far as she could tell thankfully. Yet, at the same time, it might be just as bad. She didn't buy the whole 'teacher' act Firebrook was putting on. Oh, he was good at hiding it. But not nearly as good as he seemed to think he was.
No, his eyes were that of a dragon looking for a new treasure to add to its mound. Greed. Pure and simple. He didn't see her as a person, just a thing to collect and use.
Seeing that mage's attention on her daughter disgusted her. Amiria was going to get to the bottom of whatever this thing was.
After a lengthy monologue by her daughter about schools, magic and some other things she genuinely didn't care about, Amiria gently cut her off, "Before I forget sweetie, could you go to the Bazaar for me? I think we are running low on spring water."
Syllia stared at her for a moment, owlishly blinking.
Amiria gave a warm smile, realizing she might need to be a bit more blunt. She pulled out a purse and placed it before the girl, "also get something for yourself while you're there. And please," she emphasized, " take your time. There's no need to rush."
A glint of realization finally dawned in Syllia's eyes.
"Oh- Oh. Sure Mom. I mean- of course I'll go. Always need spring water. I'll be back soon- I mean later! I'll be back later!"the girl stood up, purse in hand, and rushed out the door.
Very smooth Syllia, Amiria grinned at her daughter's antics. She got up to peeled the blinds back to watch her baby walk down the street. Catching sight of Syllia looking back twice as she walked down the street.
"I must say, you have raised a fine young lady, ma'am," Firebrook began. He closed the book he was rifling through during Syllia's recounting of the day. He picked up why she sent her out, "I actually find myself quite surprised. You couldn't have been more than sixty when you had her."
"Forty-two," she corrected, not bothering to turn around.
Sometimes, Syllia seemed so mature for her age. Hell even more mature than she was! Others, Amiria was reminded that Syllia was just like any other kid.
"Forty-two! And you've managed all this," he gestured around the small house. "It seems I now know where little Syllia's brightness comes from!"
She'll give him this, if she didn't know any better, or wasn't experienced in bullshitting people, she would have probably taken his words at face value.
"I must say, madam, that in spite of your youth and financial state, you have raised a remarkably well behaved and bright little girl."
She waited as Syllia walked out of sight before turning to meet the magister's gaze.
"Why if some-"
"What are you after?" Amiria cut off whatever it was the magister was going to say. Gone was the smiling, cheerful persona she had meticulously crafted over the years. The persona that had gotten many men and women in the past to lower their guards just enough for her to move in for the kill. The persona her parents helped craft for her to easily go unnoticed in a crowd. If this discussion was going to be only about her, she'd probably continue playing the every so slightly ditzy, young mother.
But it wasn't about her. It was about her little girl. And Amiria refused to play games when it came to her. Part of her was glad she changed out of her work silks before coming home, would have made being taken seriously difficult at best.
Firebrook cleared his throat, "Pardon?" Her tone shift took him by surprise.
"What are you after?" Amira repeated. She took her seat, leaned forward, her gaze burned itself into him. "I've met quite a few magisters over the years, and none of them ever struck me as the type to be charitable on a whim. Yet here you sit, telling me you're prepared to make all my daughter's wildest dreams come true and all you have to say for yourself is that 'you're doing it for her future', that 'you care about her livelihood'? Forgive me for being skeptical."
Her face betrayed no emotion,
She learned from her mother at a young age to always keep your interrogation subject off balance. Cut them off. Contradict them. Attack their pride. Point out their failings. Needle their feelings. Threaten their loved ones, or baring that, whatever they hold dear. Anything to get them to slip up, even for a moment. Compromise them in some way. Never give them time to build up momentum in their speech or thought process. Never give them any room to breathe. Preferably, this should all be done with drugs coursing through the subject's veins to set their emotions wild.
But you work with what you have, not what you want.
The man blinked, he was quiet for a moment. For his part, he adjusted remarkably quickly. His mind running though the question thoroughly, humming to himself, "I can see how, in light of your," he rung his fingers on the table looking for the right word, "life style, that this can be perceived as false altruism with a sinister end goal. If that is the case, allow me to put your worries to rest. I am completely genuine in my desire to see little Syllia succeed."
"Why?" Amiria didn't believe the man. Not one bit. "Why Syllia in particular?"
"Your daughter has a gift."
"You didn't answer the question. Why Syllia in particular? You said it yourself, you're a teacher at an academy. Why not 'desire' to see your own students succeed?"
"I do," he replied a little too quickly for her liking, "But her gift is truly remarkable." He answered with a sense of clarity that made his assumption seem as if he were explaining that the sky was blue because it simply was. "It sets her apart. I've never seen a child hold so much potential for magic. Student or otherwise."
"And you know this, because?"
"I know because of this," he pulled out a smooth gem from his pocket. It was a soft blue color. He held it in his gloved hand and it began to glow. "This is a mana crystal, a simple tool we use on our students. A student simply pushes as much mana into the gem as they can, and depending on the intensity of the glow, we gauge how much mana they have. It gives a good indication for potential growth in the future. Larger initial pools will always yield proportionally larger growth."
Amiria's frown deepened, "so my daughter made it glow. I assume brighter than most given your interest in her."
Firebrook seemed giddy with himself, "it did not merely glow, it shattered." To illustrate, the gem in his hand began to glow more intensely, then shattered with a satisfying crack into several fragments. "Her output was high enough that she broke it. An instrument used to measure mana was shattered by a child."
"But that in and of itself doesn't seem so difficult. Any mage could probably do it." she looked at the broken gem, then glanced up at the magister.
"Yes, any mage could do it, with varying degrees of difficulty. Proper mages, arcanists, magisters, and the like, without a doubt. My senior students, it would take some time to build up the flow, but they could replicate the feat. Fresh apprentices, if they jointly pushed their mana into the gem, I could see it straining under their collective channeling. But a girl of ten, without any prior magical instruction managing the feat with as much ease as myself, a magister with millennia of experience? That is unheard of."
"And you want the credit for discovering her." it was a statement.
He didn't respond immediately. Choosing his next words carefully, "I only want her to succeed. Just like I'd wish for any of my students to succeed."
You already see her as one of your students. No, something you own, Amiria thought bitterly remembering his dragon-like gaze.
"Forgive me for changing topics, but I feel I must ask, is her father involved with raising her in any way?" Firebrook pivoted away from the subject, "I'm under the impression she is not aware of any involvement, but are you-"
"She doesn't have a father."
The magister rolled his eyes, "I meant to say the man you conceived her with. Does he aid you in any way?"
"I don't know who he is." she replied forcefully. It was the truth. As far as she was aware, Syllia didn't have a father. Hell, given the circumstances, maybe she didn't have a mother either.
He thought about his next words carefully, "I understand given your lifestyle," the magister continued, undeterred by her statements, "and employment it might be difficult to pin down any one man. A simple collection of names would do. Or even just places, the high born tend to not stray far from their homes-"
"Why do you care?" She cut him off again.
He smiled, "I only ask to see if you had other streams of income besides your own to rely upon."
"I don't need your money." Rule one Father hammered into her thick skull: Never borrow money you can't pay back. It's the quickest way to end up destitute.
He shook his head, "Oh no, I wasn't asking in that sense. I was asking in order to gauge your capability to pay for her magical education."
"You assume she's going to be a mage?"
"You saw her earlier, she's infatuated with the idea of learning magic. And unlike most children, she has the potential to actually follow through on her desire."
Amiria swore to herself. He was right. Syllia had always been interested in magic. From the little crystals that lit their home at night, to the mightiest displays of magic she saw on the street by magical performers. That fantastical force always got her excited. She even remembers some years back that Syllia asked her if she could learn magic one day.
Naturally she said 'yes'; of course. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't encourage her daughter to follow her dreams.
How in the world was she supposed to know a mage- no, a magister, would pick her out of a line up of children!
Truth be told, she had already worked out Syllia's future education. A merchant of less than legal merchandise who was friends with her parents had offered to include Syllia with his kids with their personal tutor. Granted, she had to give him a steady supply of her homemade 'rat' poison, but the ingredients were readily accessible.
But even she had to admit, admission into an academy, any academy, would open so many more doors for Syllia than a mere tutor could.
She sighed, "how much would Silversun cost?"
"Oh, I assume, substantially more than you make in a year, even given the heavy discounts I would lobby in her favor."
How generous of you. She pinched the ridge of her nose, "so you want her to go to an academy we can't afford?" she gave a dark chuckle, "If you want me to be a debt slave to you, could you at least be honest about it."
"I am insulted at the insinuation ma'am," he didn't sound like he was. "While having more money would be beneficial, there are other ways to get into Silversun, and pay a pittance of the admission fees."
"How?"
He smiled, "simple, we don't apply to Silversun. Instead we sent an application to Dath'Remar."
What? The fucking blue blood academy! The one where the royals, nobles, and magisters send their kids too?
"I'm sorry, but how does it make sense to apply to the most illustrious academy in all of Quel'Thalas when, by your own words, she can't even afford tuition at your middle of the road academy?
If Firebrook caught her snub, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he looked giddy with himself, "there is an entertaining quirk of Dath'Remar that you will find in no other school. For all the wealth concentrated in its halls, the academy itself charges no fees for admittance. Admission is purely based on a letter of recommendation by an active magister."
"You're setting her up to fail," it was a statement.
"Only by technicality."
Syllia was bright. Brighter than most. Certainly brighter than she was at her age. But children from noble houses, especially magisterial families, are on a completely different level. Crushed under the extreme standards set by their parents. Cruel punishments for disobedience, or failure. Strict scheduled and private tutoring. She never met one, true, but hearing her clients praise their children's successes, or bemoan their failings, did not paint the picture of a normal childhood.
They were not expected to act like children, but rather mini adults.
She even heard a story from one of the older girls at the brothel. Long time ago there was this one mage that was humiliated at court. He could tell everyone was mocking him behind his back. Saying he was a failure as a father. Of course, he pinned it all on his daughter's lackluster performance at some elite school. She didn't remember the family name, but it was unimportant. His daughter's failing, the reasons for all the mocking and ridicule he was, or perceived he was, under: she could only sustain a water elemental for one minute rather than the three he swore she could. For this travesty, he had her stripped of her family name and thrown onto the streets.
That girl was eleven at the time. Just one year older than Syllia, and she was creating a water elemental. By any normal standards, that mage's daughter was a prodigy. For them, it wasn't enough. It seemingly never was.
She had her hunch on what happened to that girl. Not that she'd ever ask right to the woman's face. But that particular working girl seemed to have quite the gift for enchantments.
She took a deep breath, "so, you want Syllia in your academy. In order to do this, you want to send her to another academy where she will inevitably fail. Perhaps you can fill in the leaps of logic?"
Firebrook gave her a patronizing smile, "It's a little convoluted, true, but it's quite easy to connect the dots. Dath'Remar has a reputation of only accepting those with the greatest potential. Children of nobles, magisters, even the royal family, all of them go to Dath'Remar. And from its halls walk out the best and brightest in our society. High Magisters. Seekers of Knowledge. Grand Magisters. Royal Advisors. Simply saying you were recommended to Dath'Remar is an achievement worthy of praise by most academies. Why, it is so praiseworthy in fact that simply saying you were recommended would be enough for most academies to waive any and all requirements to simply have the privilege of associating itself with such an individual."
"So you'd bring Syllia to Silversun's attention as an apprentice that was recommended to Dath'Remar. You'd be able to get her a scholarship?" Amiria walked through the logic.
"I'd try for a full scholarship, but at minimum I can guarantee a substantial reduction in tuition fees for her. If the amount is low enough, I would even contribute to paying it. That all depends on her performance in the entrance examinations."
"But you're the one who recommended her to Dath'Remar. Wouldn't that invalidate your word on grounds of nepotism"
He smiled, "funny how things work like that."
So, get Syllia into a lower school by seemingly being recommended to a higher one. Fail, but use the recognition of simply being given the chance to enter as the leverage to waive tuition fees. But something didn't add up.
"How do you even know this will work?"
"I've done it before," he said simply.
"And it worked? Every time?" she grilled him.
He smiled, "Every time. And I've seen other magisters do similar for their pupils. There is absolutely nothing to worry about."
If he was right. If he could do this. Syllia could succeed, but she'd be in his debt. That's all it amounted to.
Firebrook stood up and waved his hand. The floating books, quills, and crystals began to glide into his open bag, "I'm afraid I must cut our conversation short. I never anticipated our talk to last so long, and I do have exams to grade."
He closed the zipper on his bag as the last of the bobbles flew in. He gestured to a book he left on the table. "A gift for Syllia. It contains basic practices and techniques meant to hone her arcane abilities . Basic, but safe to do at home." He then pulled out a small card, "and this is my address. Please do not hesitate to contact me with any questions you may have. And don't worry about the tea set or tablecloth, they are yours. A small parting gift to thank you for your time."
She took the card from his outstretched hand, "thank you Lesser Magister, I will-"
"But before I forget, dear, one last thing."
She felt him grab her wrist and twisted it. Looking in his eyes, she saw something dark. Twisted. Animistic. Like the depths of a roaring fire. His thin veneer of civility cast away. The eyes of a monster, ready to rip and tear.
He gave her a soft smile, "A word of advice, Miss Amiria," his grip tightened. She felt a flash of cold run through her veins emanating from his hand. He was using some kind of frost magic! "I respect that you wish to protect your daughter. I truly do. However..." She felt weak, falling to one knee as the cold turned to pain. A thin layer of frost gathered where he gripped her.
She tried to wrench herself from his grip. Her eyes began to water. For the first time in years, she felt genuine fear.
She tried to claw his hand with her nails through his robe, but to no avail. Damn thing was enchanted! Obviously! By the end, all she could do was feebly pound against his grip. Biting her lip to keep any whimpers in her throat.
"Don't speak to me in such a disrespectful tone of voice ever again."
Then, as quick as it stated, it was over.
He let go. Moments later the pain stopped. She was left on the floor, wheezing, sweating from the pressure she endured. Her body still shook from the chills.
He seemed pleased at her pained expression.
"A pleasant evening to you."
Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.
She was alone, with only her hatred for that man as company.
Syllia came home a while later, spring water in hand. Amrira cleaned herself up and didn't tell her what the magister did. No need to frighten the girl.
–
After the encounter with the magister, Amiria was on edge for the rest of the day. She didn't show it, her mask fell back in place, but it didn't stop her from feeling both the emotional and physical effects of the meeting.
Hours later, as night settled on the city, her wrist still hurt like a bitch. The skin was blistering where the magister had gripped her. It was sore to the touch. Wandering back to her room the from the bathroom, having applied a new set of bandages to her wrist and some more soothing ointment, she saw a blue light emanate from Syllia's bedroom
Softly, Amrira cracked the door open to see her daughter was the source.
She was standing on her bed in a nightshirt. The tome the magister left laid open on the floor. It's scribbling illegible from her viewpoint. The room was illuminated by a soft blue light. A small orb of energy hovered gracefully above Syllia. Her arms outstretched, hands almost clasping the light. On her face was the biggest smile she'd ever seen on her girl. Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the orb.
Even she marveled at her daughter's spellwork. Syllia had only had that book since this evening. Yet she was able to perform magic just hours later? True, it was just a light. But for someone who never even learned magic before today, it was incredible.
Was this the 'gift' that Magister was talking about? She could see why the magister was so adamant in getting her under his thumb.
"I can do it," Amrira just barely caught what her daughter whispered. "I can actually be someone."
It hurt her to hear her daughter talk about herself like that. She was someone to her. She was everything to her.
Before Syllia came into her life, she didn't have much of a reason to live.
After everything that happened that night. Her parents. Friends. After all the slaughter. She wasn't even living after all of that, just existing from day to day with no real reason to go on. So she prayed to anything that would listen. The Light, the elven ancestors, demons, even the damn troll gods. She asked for something to live for.
And the day before she was set to go beyond the point of no return, to commit herself to see her family and friends again, she heard a baby's wail in the woods.
Her little miracle. Her Syllia.
After that, all she wanted was a normal life with her little girl. To give her that, Amiria had to change her lifestyle. Significantly change her lifestyle. No more killing. No more scheming. No more blackmail. No more slaving. She was going to be a normal Mother despite her own young age and lack of a normal upbringing.
But, deep down, maybe she had always known that Syllia was meant for something more than a normal life. The circumstances she found her in made that abundantly apparent. The corpse, the magical presence that permeated the area, the blackened earth beneath the snow that still hasn't grown back a decade later. It all screamed something. What that something was, she didn't know, even all these years. Not from a lack of trying, of course. But she and her crew had exhausted all potential points of investigation.
The only one who might have known anything was that human, but sadly dead men don't talk without a necromancer. Even then, she doubted he'd be able to even vocalize, let alone speak, anything that wasn't rasping or groans of pain. His body was simply too mangled. Too torn up. At best his limbs were connected by thin strips of meat.
She'd always favored the theory that he was a human who escaped some Amani attack and took Syllia with him. But that didn't explain how he died but Syllia lived. Trolls were not known for sparing children, babes included.
Why brutally torture a human but leave an elf baby completely untouched? She didn't even have a bruise from hitting the ground too hard. Did the trolls softly put her down before brutalizing the man, or did they wait for the man to put her down before killing him?
Too many questions.
Amiria admired the light for a moment, then softly closed the door and made her way to bed.
It looked like that in order to give her daughter the best chance possible, she'll have to dig into her old tool box. She would need a good night's sleep before she got to work.
First thing in the morning, she was going to send Firebrook a letter. Get him to set his scheme in motion. Yes, he was using her little girl for his own ends. Probably for some court intrigue nonsense. But that didn't mean it can't work both ways. As much as she hated to admit it, being able to say you almost got into Dath'Remar was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even failing to enter sets one up for their choice in magical education. She has no doubt that, like the magister said, any magic academy would bend over backwards for someone recommended to go to that particular school.
Such as Dalaran. Or any place that didn't have backstabbing and scheming as part of its curriculum.
But to do that, she needed to put that magister in his place. She was going to call in every favor, every promise, she was owed to get all the dirt she could on that magister. No magister with that kind of ambition, who is that old, was clean. Whether it's an illegitimate child here, or an actual murder there. They all slip up eventually. And she was going to find every secret he had, even if she had to break into his residence in person to find them.
"It'll be all thwap! Bang! Oh no its Ranger Noly! We're doomed! That's right it is I, the Hero Ranger Noly here to stop your evil ways!"
Three weeks since mentor's day, and Noly has not shut the hell up about being a ranger. Apparently, that whole pitch to her was legitimate. She went there with her parents, and walked out the newest trainee of the Farstriders.
Not a full Ranger mind you. Noly was a trainee, a rank just below recruit. Noly is basically going to go through a fantasy ROTC for the next several years to get her in shape to become a proper ranger recruit.
Most days after class she would rush off to the local lodge to begin her lesions. Some of them seem a bit brutal if I'm being honest with myself. She's already come to class twice with black and blues on her arms and a sore wrist. Whenever I asked her about it, she'd just say it was 'ranger' stuff.
Child abuse aside, she seemed to like it. After class, as we waited to be picked up by our parents, she'd get into this playfight mode. Swinging her arms and legs with abandon. Knocking over a fair few things, and kids, along the way. All the while narrating thrilling adventures she was 'on'.
As for me, I've been immersed into my own little world as of late.
I spent the majority of my time at home, and in class, glued to the book Firebrook left. And with the Arcane Light spell, I could read and practice well into the wee hours of the night. It honestly amazes me how easy it was to pick up this stuff.
Without warning I felt Noly's hand club my elbow. I jolted in momentary pain, the book slipping off my lap onto the ground.
"Hey!"
"Sorry!" She quickly apologized.
She kept play fighting; of course
I managed to tune her out around the point she started to babble about 'saving the fair haired maiden' and 'winning her hand in a duel with the evil count', or something along those lines.
Back to my own little world.
By this point, I had run out of techniques I could practice safely at home.
Especially actual arcane magic that wasn't just a type of meditation or breathing exercise.
Maybe it was just an elf thing, or a me thing, but I get the impression that I should not be having this easy of a time. The whole 'do not strain yourself with more than one orb at a time for the drain of mana can be taxing on a young mage's mana pool' tells me as much. That probably means that my 'seven orbs up at the same time for an hour' isn't quite normal.
I was already on a second book the magister sent my way.
This one had far more energy intensive exercises to work with. They were also far more dangerous to do in an enclosed area. Such as emitting arcane energy from your body to push something away, or directing the orbs of arcane energy into pseudo arcane missiles.
The book even said 'Perform in an open area' with a deep line of red ink under the words.
So of course I tried them in my room. The other exercises were said to be taxing but I felt fine doing them.
The book is just over exaggerating, I mused.
How hard could it be, I told myself.
One broken window and two mild scorch marks on the ceiling later, I was willing to admit that maybe I should try these exercises outside.
But the question was where. I lived in a city, along a main road in and out of said city. Where could I train where my miss casts or miss fires would not accidentally hit anything or anyone?
My answer came from Mom. Ignoring her following comment about how my cheeks puff up when I'm thinking, she told me of a place that would be perfect for me to train in: a small clearing in the Eversong Forest. It was off the beaten path and only a short distance from the city. It had nice trees I could rest under, a little pond to cool off in, and very isolated.
I asked her how she knew about it. With a straight face, she told me that if no one heard the screams and wailing of the men she brought there from time to time, then no one would hear or bother me.
So I was off, to the spot where Mom apparently performed her 'services' with men. How predictable.
–
After a twenty minute walk, I found the spot Mom mentioned. True to her word, it was off the beaten path. Isolated but not that far from the main road. More importantly, it was free from any prying eyes.
The clearing was actually quite serene. Big, white barked trees with thick roots weaving in and out of the ground. Smooth stones that made for impromptu seats. A small clear pond nestled under the red leaves of the trees. It was beautiful.
Finding a nice, shady patch of grass, I sat down and opened the book. I flipped to the page I left off on: Arcane Orbs. Less powerful versions of an arcane missile and a step up from the Arcane Lights I had been making until now. A softball to the arcane missile's rock. Weak as it was, it still impacted with a bit of force. Not enough to break the skin, according to the text.
Yet enough to break a window, I winced at the memory.
Sighing, I started to channel my mana. Like always it started as a flickering blue light. Then, it condensed slowly into a more solid light; though I could still tell it was transparent to a degree. Finally, the new part of the orb creation for this particular exercise, solidify it. I had my blue-white orb morph from a soft glowing orb into a semi solid one. No bigger than my fist, it remained stationary in front of my face.
The whole process took three seconds.
So far so good.
Next part of the exercise, manipulate the orb in close proximity to the mage.
I felt my mana grasp the orb and move it in an orbit around my head. The closest comparison I could make to the sensation was trying to hold something drenched in oil. It was slippery and felt like it was straining in my grasp. Too little force on it, the orb would lose cohesion and shatter. Nothing serious, more like setting off a flare in your eyes then a small bomb. Too much force and it would slip from my grasp like a wet bar of soap and fly uncontrollable until it either hit something or ran out of mana.
It felt like any break in concentration would make it slip away. So I have to move it slowly. Steadily. No sudden motions. I watched in awe as the orb obeyed by command, gliding silently around me. It felt therapeutic actually, just watching it laze about.
I wonder if magic ever gets easier. Is it like a muscle? Train it enough and you'll improve? Or is it like riding a bicycle, where the-
My momentary line of thinking broke my concentration.
My grip on the orb weakened and I felt it begin to fade. I tightened by grip reflexively to compensate, only to over do it.
The orb jerked to a stop. It strained under my hold, both weakened and strengthened simultaneously over the course of a millisecond. Shaking violently in place as the opposing forces clashed. Then it slipped from my grasp and flew! Shooting straight into the branches above. Twigs, branches, and leaves rustled along its path. Birds scattered to avoid it. A glassy pop signaled its impact and destruction.
Damn it! I swore, rushing to the tree in question. Looking up I saw a branch that seemed to have had its trunk chipped off. The last resting place of my orb. I placed my hand on the tree trunk to feel the area, careful to avoid getting splinters.
While a failure, this had been the longest time I held onto the orb before it flew off or just fizzled out. Granted, I had only done this four other times; one shattering in my grasp, and three flying off in my room. But progress was progress.
I groaned, nothing better to do than start again.
Walking back to my spot, I looked at the page to start again.
Starting again, from the top.
–
Over the next few days followed a similar pattern. Class in the morning. Training in the afternoon. Reading in the evening. A simple routine, but I felt my progress skyrocket.
Four days on, and I could now properly control the arcane orb. Whereas a week ago I was strained just having one thing float around me, now I could comfortably control three at a time. Four if I focused. The tiniest break of on my hold no longer sent the orb careening off into the distance or shattering before my eyes. I'd learned how to subtly correct myself without overdoing it. After many failures naturally.
And boy did I fail!
The very scenery has been transformed by my failures. Bushes had holes in them from where orbs would fly through them. Trees had patches of missing bark as orb impacts blew off the top layer of wood. And I'm pretty sure that one rock wasn't supposed to have a fist sized scorch mark on its surface.
Additionally, it turns out I can get fatigued from doing the exercises too many times in a row. Not mana fatigue though. I looked it up in the book and apparently that comes with a lot more symptoms than just feeling exhausted or having a headache. Headaches and the like are actually a symptom of over exerting my mind in spell casting, rather than my mana. Mana exhaustion is quite a bit worse.
They include, but are not limited too: chills, cold sweats, uncontrollable twitching, and muscle spasms to name a few.
Naturally, this meant I couldn't just blitz through the text anymore. Future exercises would be more mentally taxing, so I had to stop and take breaks.
Work for two hours? Take thirty minutes off. Done!
Regardless, I set about the newest exercise that has me stumped: having the arcane orbs orbit myself while I moved.
You'd think that it would be about the same difficulty as the previous activity. And it was, if the orbs were stationary. Meaning, I moved, but they stayed anchored at the same point away from me. That was easy. This was another beast entirely.
If moving the orbs when I'm stationary was akin to holding something drenched in oil, then moving while the orbs were also moving was like juggling an oily ball between your hands.
It's easier for me to lose control.
That bird nest I accidentally obliterated the other day was evidence of that.
With a deep breath, I formed the orbs first. Where as before I had to concentrate to give them form, it felt second nature to me now. Hell, I can even create them without actually paying attention now!
Okay, I prepared myself, let's do this.
As I took my first step, I began to pull the orb to float around me.
Left foot, right foot.
Each step was careful and methodical.
Left foot, right foot.
Even if it was just walking forward, I could feel the strain trying to keep the orb under control. Sweat dripped from my brow.
Left foot, right foot.
It made me wonder how mages can wiz across the battlefield; teleporting, shooting off arcane missiles, and throwing fireballs abound. How much stress were they under?
Left foot, right foot.
Or did it just become easier as they grew into their powers? I mean, some of the stuff I do easily now was a pain to do just a week ago. Maybe a similar thing but on a grander scale?
Left foot, right foot.
Maybe it does get-
Snap.
Wait what was that?
In an instant, my concentration was broken. I lost control of the orb. It flew into the air. I tried to reach out to it, to reel it back in, but all I did was make it jackknife right into the ground. A satisfying thud, the sound of a glass ball shattering, and a small shower of soil flew up from the impact site.
"Damn it, not again!" I swore aloud.
Before I could focus on what went wrong, I heard, something. From the same direction as that sound that broke my concentration. A thud and a girlish squeak.
I whipped my head to its source.
It was a young girl flat on her butt. She was older than me, maybe a year or two at most. Long black hair contrasted the simple white robe she was wearing. Little smudges of dirt clung to her robe. A small brown satchel laid next to her on her lap. Her eyes were glued to me.
"Hey, are you okay?" I walked over to her.
The girl didn't reply, just staring in my general direction. Even as I reached her, she kept her gaze to where I had been, rather than where I am now.
She muttered something under her breath.
"Is something wrong?" I put my hand on her shoulder. Her whole body twitched at the contact. She finally noticed me. Maybe she was just really shy? Embarrassed that she caught me off guard and saw me swear aloud?
"Are you okay?"
She didn't say anything, only pointing behind me.
Curious, I swiveled my head around to see what she was pointing at.
A small fire had started along the top most branches of trees. Not a yellow red fire, mind you, but one that took an ethereal shade of blue. Strange, only now did I hear the crackling of burning leaves...
It took me a moment to process the scene.
Then, I rushed in a flurry of movement.
HOW DID I NOT NOTICE I MADE A FIRE!
I rushed over, one palm extended to cancel out the flames!
All the while I heard the girl behind me yell "I'm sorry" over and over.
–
Good news was that the flames came under control, relatively quickly. My attempts to cancel magic worked, but that didn't stop what was already burning from spreading. So I got the genius idea of breaking off the branches that were in flames, have them crash onto the ground, and use ample handfuls of dirt to put the fire out.
Admittedly, not the brightest plan. I think I actually started a second fire doing that, thought this one was thankfully at ground level.
With the fire now dealt with, I turned my attention back to the girl from earlier; who was still rooted in the exact same spot.
After a period of time of us awkwardly staring at one another in silence, I finally broke the ice.
Then after her apologizing for the umpteenth time, we started talking.
Her name is Cerrea Whitecloud, twelve years old, and priestess in training at a nearby chapel of the Light. Following in the footsteps of her mother and father, she was training to become a priest. The training, from her own words, is stressful. Not just the spiritual aspect, calling on the Light I mean, but also the practical education: basic knowledge of herbs and alchemy, how to provide first aid without calling on the healing powers of the Light, memorizing holy texts and rites. It sounded intense.
So, for the last few months, she said she's been using this little clearing as a place to meditate when she has free time. To clear her head and get away from it all.
And I just happen to be here at the moment she came over.
So, awkward as we were an hour ago, we got a pretty good conversation going. She told me a bit about her life, I told her about mine. Cerrea would talk about her friends at the chapel. I told her about my friend at classes. She told me about her hobbies. I told her about my enjoyment of reading.
She might start off a little quiet, but once she gets talking, she is quite the lively person. Not a motor mouth like Noly, but a nice conversation partner regardless.
"So what is it like?" I asked, my initial hesitation on talking to her now overridden by sheer curiosity.
"What's 'what' like?" Cerrea tilted her head, confused at where I was going.
"The Light," I clarified. I slid a little closer to her. "I mean, does it feel different from arcane magic?"
She was quiet for a moment. Then shook her head, "I don't think I can answer that. I've never used arcane magic."
"Really?"
"Really," she nodded. Cerrea thought for a moment before continuing. "How about I can tell you what it feels like to channel the Light, and you can tell me what it feels like to use arcane magic?"
"Okay," I agreed. "Do you want to go first?"
"Sure." She took a moment to think of how to describe the Light. "I haven't really been channeling the Light for a long time. Just a year. But, whenever I call on the Light, it feels like a warm blanket is on me."
"A warm blanket?"
She nodded. "Yes, a warm blanket. It makes me feel like all my worries and fears aren't as bad as I think they are. Like I can relax and not worry about the bad things in the world and focus more on the good things. So, like, when I practice healing someone at the Chapel, I'm able to focus not on how bad the injury is, but how I can make it better. Does that make any sense?"
No. "Kind of."
She giggled, "yeah, it's hard to put into words. It's really something you have to feel to understand. But now it's your turn. What does it feel like using arcane magic?"
I hummed, thinking about it. "It's like trying to hold onto something oily."
"Oily?"
"Yeah, oily. Like, everything I do is trying to hold onto whatever it is I'm casting. If I don't pay attention, then at any moment it could slip out of my fingers."
"But it seemed like you had everything under control before- " She caught herself before saying the word 'fire'. "It looked like you were okay earlier. You made it all look so easy."
I snorted, "it only looks easy because this is really basic stuff. Just basic exercises to hone my concentration. For example." I held my hand up and created an arcane light between us. I was confident enough in my ability to control this particular spell to not have it go off like a flare in our eyes. Cerrea seemed entranced by its blue glow. "Something like this is easy. But it's just a light."
"Maybe for you. But it's more than I could do when I was ten." She huffed in annoyance. Holding her own hand out, a soft gold light began to emanate from it. "This took me a whole year of work. And even then, it's not that powerful. I can only heal little scrapes and bruises."
"My light can only make light."
"But you're just starting, and you're doing it under your own power. Priests need to channel the Light through prayer and belief to use our powers."
"Want to hang up your white robes and become a mage then?" I joked.
She gave me a smile, "tempting, but I'm fine with being a priest."
We laughed at my lame attempt at a joke.
"I mean it though," she said suddenly, "you're way better than I was at the start of my classes. My mother had to drag me in by my ankles because I was so bored with them. But here you are learning on your own. That's really impressive."
I blushed a bit at the praise. It seemed natural for me to work my butt off to learn this stuff, but then again I was a college graduate living my second life. I'm pretty sure I was a monster at ten in my first life.
Cerrea looked up at the sun's angle, "it's getting late, I need to head back now. Otherwise I'll be late for afternoon prayer." She got up, dusting the dirt off her robe. Looking down, she offered me her hand and gave me a bright smile, "so, see you next time?"
I smiled and took it, she helped hoist me up, "sure, see you next time."
–
The next week followed the same pattern as before. The only deviation was that now every once and awhile Cerrea would show up. Not as dramatically as the first time, no more fires thankfully. We divided the whole clearing in half. I would do my exercises on my side, and she could meditate on her side. No sneaking up on each other; in particular me. After we finished our respective things, we would talk for a while.
I think the arrangement was working out.
One day when I came home, I found Mom in the kitchen with an open letter.
It was from Firebrook.
He pulled through and got me a place at a mage academy!
But reading it more in depth, it wasn't quite so straight forward. So it was a little convoluted, but it went something like this: he didn't get me into the entrance exam itself, rather he got me a slot into a preliminary exam at a mage academy to see if I qualified to take the actual entrance exam. The letter stated these tests were given out quite regularly, every month if possible. I missed this month's test, but I was now slotted in for next month's.
It was a simple formality he claimed in the letter. I had more than enough mana to qualify and my basic problem solving skills were, in his own words, 'acceptable' to clear the test. I now had three weeks to wait until the next test was given.
The academy's name was Dath'Remar.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the words of a well known musician: "Another one."
"Look at it dear, Dath'Remar! The single greatest academy of magic in all of Quel'Thalas!"
True to his word, Dath'Remar was very impressive. Rather than a single large building, the academy itself was a collection of medium sized buildings all connected by smooth stone paths that led to a single large tower. There were even few patches of flowers, and general greenery along with a pond or two. Students, instructors, mages, and guards went about their daily routines as we entered the academy grounds.
All enclosed behind large red stoned walls. As far as I could see, only a single massive golden gate allowed general access into this place.
The academy itself was located right in the middle of the divide between the Sun and Royal Quarters; just along the coastline. While I couldn't see over the walls while we walked, I bet if I got to the highest point of that central tower, I might be able to just make out the Isle of Quel'danas across the water; the island home of the Sunwell itself.
"I will grant you that the Violet Citadel may be more renown across the kingdoms in that regard, but-"
To be honest, I've been tuning in and out of Firebrook's ramblings on the way to the academy. I catch, maybe, every tenth sentence. He kind of goes into some kind of lecture mode. Explaining the history of every damned little thing he could think of. I don't even know how he can talk so much and not need to slow down to breath. I'm genuinely tempted to say magic.
Making matters worse was this damn headache I woke up with this morning. It wasn't a migraine, but it was sure as hell not helping my mood.
I mean, I was grateful for all the help he's been the past few weeks. Getting me into the preliminary exam, the books, even the new fancy robes. I certainly couldn't have done this, and I am genuinely grateful for all of his aid. That being said, he could learn when to read the room. As in, realize that not everyone is as interested in the little things he seems so enamored by.
"-and in the earlier years, the kings themselves were in attendance to-"
Getting all the way here, show me just how big Silvermoon actually is.
The game understated just how massive the city was. In the game, cities had to be large enough to show that this was a city, but small enough to not overwhelm players walking around. In real life, there were no such restrictions.
Silvermoon had a population close to one and a half million people and was divided into a dozen districts called quarters. For example, I lived in the Dawn Quarter: basically the central entrance to Silvermoon. It was one of the poorer areas of the city. I think the only area worse off was the Ember Quarter, which was directly adjacent to the Dawn quarter, and seemed to be overflowing with crime. Such as drugs, prostitution, and all manners of other illegal activities. Guards launched semi-periodic raids into the quarter to stop the worst excesses, but think that most people have just given up and are only working to contain the crime rather than stop it outright.
By contrast, the Sun and Royal Quarters are among the wealthiest places in the city. The Sun Quarter was where all the wealthiest residents in the city lived. Filled with all manners of shops, cafes, high class brothels, and other necessities the upper class may require. Which included, of course, the best mage academies. The Royal Quarter was smaller than the Sun quarter, but was arguably more important. It was the central nerve center for the whole kingdom. Playing host to the royal palace itself and the Convocation's primary building; a mix between government building, military headquarters, and high society club.
So yeah, I've crossed a threshold to a place where people like me, the poor, are not usually welcomed.
While I caught a glimpse of the Royal Quarter on the way here, Firebrook and I had to walk through the Sun Quarter to get to Dath'Remar. And that was an experience.
The Sun Quarter was a very ritzy area. Ritzy in that obscene disposable income sense. I saw the price for some pastries in a window on the way here, the cheapest was fifty silver! For reference, my best clothes were twenty-five silver. A single pastry, no bigger than a muffin, was twice as much as my best clothes! So yes, this was a very expensive area. And every building, without exception, was covered in the most overblown shades of red and yellow I've ever seen. Just to hammer home the whole 'sun' thing.
You know, if a blind person was walking by.
Actually, I'm pretty sure I'll be the one going blind if the sun keeps reflecting off that gaudy gold plating every time I walk through the quarter.
That is if this damn headache doesn't kill me first.
One thing that did stand out to me was the theme of it all. Or rather, the miss matching themes. A weird blend of Arabian styled architecture with stereotypical European fantasy elements. For example, the clothing worn by all the people around me was distinctly European; wizard robes, tomes, wands, staffs, etcetera. But the buildings look like they were taken straight out of "A thousand nights" with the whole dome top thing going on, the curves on the buildings, and see through red silk hanging from almost every conceivable position; doorways, windows, balconies, and so on. And on the little I saw of the insides of a few buildings we passed, I looked pretty Arabian on the inside too.
"-but that is just my opinion. Magister Ilandros may not be the best speaker, but his unedited drafts were truly something to behold."
This, the Sun Quarter, the academies, all of this was the Silvermoon that people imagine of when they think of the capital of Quel'Thalas. Bright colors. Massive wealth. Clean streets. An objectively beautiful population. And magic everywhere.
In all of this, I felt really out of place here. The streets seemed too clean. Everyone's clothing looked too well kept. Every building looked to be in peak condition, no sign of poverty or wear and tear anywhere. Everyone we passed wore expensive looking clothes. Children happily waved to passing guards, who waved in turn; rather than having stones thrown at them and being sworn at like I normally saw.
This was Silvermoon. But not the Silvermoon I grew up in.
"Syllia!"
Firerbook broke me out of my musings.
I looked up at the man, "yes?"
"We have arrived at the testing center," he gestured to the building in front of us. A three story building adorned with gold and floating red crystals. Seemingly like every other building we passed on the way.
"Oh," was all I could say.
"I can not go with you past this point. Just give the receptionist the card and they'll lead you to the testing room." He put his hand on my shoulder, "Remember, you're admittance is based entirely on your score-."
'and only the top testers will be admitted into the general exam,' had to stop myself from finishing his sentence. He's been drilling that into my head for the past week.
He looked at me for a moment, "Just do your best. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities."
I smiled, "Thanks, I'll certainly do my best."
Smiling, he patted me on the shoulder one last time before taking a step away from me. "Remember, I'll take you home after the examinations are over."
Then in a burst of light, he was gone.
'Can't wait until I can do that' I mused.
But I had more important things to worry about.
Test now, teleportation later.
Walking through the front door, the lobby area looked about what I expected. Impressive and gaudy. Lots of gold and red. Other than the obscene wealth on display, it didn't look much different from the front office of a school from my first life.
I walked up to the front desk and waited for the clerk to address me.
"How can I help you?" She didn't look up from her papers. She looked young. But for elves that meant anywhere from twenty to one thousand. Her red robes seemed we maintained, at least from my non-existent knowledge on robes.
"I'm here to take the preliminary test," I held up the card that Firebrook gave me this morning. About the size of a postcard, it basically said that I was allowed to take the exam. Even had a little magical inscription on it to show it was legitimate.
The clerk finally looked up, gave me a quick look over, and took the card. She examined it thoroughly; front and back, top to bottom. Once she was satisfied with it, she handed it back to me, "go down the hallway to room fifteen." Then just as quickly as she took note of me, she returned to her papers.
Well that was brusque.
"Thank you!" I replied as I made my way.
Half a minute later I saw room fifteen. The door was open.
I took in the room.
There were dozens of kids, maybe seventy or so, along with a few adults on opposite sides of the room. All the kids were sitting at small desks. Quietly whispering to one another. Books out for last minute studying. Some just sat quietly. Of course many of them gave me a once over the moment I walked in, but quickly returned to whatever it was they were doing.
Looked like a stereotypical classroom. By elven standards at least. Lots of desks. Big, stained glass windows to let light in. Some crystals hovered lazily near the ceiling generating light. A clean chalkboard was at the far end of the room from where I was. A desk sat empty at the front as well, a large stack of papers were on it. Probably the test.
I looked to one of the adults, "where do I-"
"Anywhere that's open."
I thanked the man, and made my way to an open seat in the middle of the whole mass of children.
I was sitting between two other kids, a boy and a girl. Both seemed dressed, like every kid in this room, in overly expensive clothes. They were looking over some notes, last minute studying seemed endemic of test takers, regardless of race or world it seemed.
So I sat there for a time. Just getting my thoughts together. Occasionally another hopeful would enter the room, so at least I wasn't the last one in.
After twenty minutes or so, hard to tell when the room has no clock, a man walked in.
"Your attention." His voice was slightly raspy.
Everyone looked back to the door to see the, I assume, exam proctor. He looked old. Not nearly as old as Firebrook at least. But the ware and tare of time has certainly left its mark.
Wearing a plain red hued robe, and holding a tome in one hand, he scanned the room. Waiting for the last remnants of chatting to end.
"Now that I have your attention, the exam is about to begin." With a single gesture, the packets of tests from the desk flew across the room. One packet landing face down on every desk. "Should you wish to leave the room, before completing the exam, it must be handed in, and shall be graded with the assumption that all incomplete questions are incorrect."
He sounded monotone. Like he lost a bet or is just doing this because he is being forced to.
"Once the exam has begun, you shall have up to two hours to complete it," the proctor walked down the rows of seats, not even bothering to look at any test taker on his way. "Read the instructions in full and answer them to the best of your abilities. Once you have completed the exam, you are to place it upon my desk and exit the room. There, you will wait until called upon by one of the adjuncts outside." He gestured to the few adults who were here before him. "There is to be no talking of any kind while you wait. Remember that you are caught in any act of foul play, the result will be your immediate disqualification from the exam process and a permanent mark upon your record."
I heard some kid next to me gulp.
"Are there any questions?" He scanned the room. No reply."You may begin now."
In that instant, dozens of hands flip up their exams. The head proctor reached his desk at the front, muttering something to his assistants as he opened his book. I could hear the light scratching of quills meeting paper.
I was actually pretty nervous. How hard would it be? Taking a deep breath, I flipped my test up.
Quickly writing down my name, I gave the packet a once over. Eyeballing the questions. I flipped the page. Something seemed off. For all the difficulty that was touted. The stress in taking the test. The fear of failure.
This exam seemed easy.
Question 1: Name any three school's of arcane magic. (Enchanting, Transmutation, Conjuration)
Question 2: What is another term for Arcane magic? (Arcana)
Question 3: Name the first King of Quel'Thalas. (Dath'Remar Sunstrider)
Question 4: Which dragons are associated with magic? (Blue, or Azure)
Really easy.
Question 15: Briefly describe the function of the Sunwell. (Font of Arcane energy.)
Too easy.
Question 24: Write a grammatically correct sentence in any language other than Thalassian. (I know how to write in Common.)
Once I reached the final question, I had to double check the instructions.
Question 34: what is the essence used to fuel spells called? (Mana)
It felt like I finished this test in ten minutes.
I once got screwed over in my first life in a high school test because I didn't finish reading the instructions. On that test, it wasn't the questions themselves I was being graded on, but to see if I actually read the instructions. Because at the bottom of the large block of instructions my high school teacher put something along the lines of 'and if you have read this far, then simply turn your exam in blank to receive full credit.'
Boy was I pissed after that. Both for the teacher for putting that in, and at myself for not reading the instructions fully.
Point is, I would not put it past some super school to put something like that in their instructions to weed out kids who just read ahead and those who listened to the proctor's instructions.
Because there is no way the questions are this easy.
I double, then triple checked the instructions.
No. I had been right the first time.
Was I missing something?
Putting my quill down, I checked the rate my fellow test takers were working at. The initial flurry of quills had quieted down. Substantially. To my left and right, faces contorted with frustration and confusion. Taking a risk, I subtly looked down at the test of my neighbor's test.
And wow was he getting a lot wrong.
Apparently according to my neighbor, three schools of Arcane magic are teleportation, alchemy, and fire magic.
Right off the bat, a lot of things are wrong there. First, it's not teleportation but telemancy. Second, telemancy is not a school of Arcane magic, but of Transmutation, which is a school of Arcane magic. Third, alchemy has nothing to do with arcane magic. And fourth, he put 'fire magic' as a school of Arcane Magic.
Looking to my other neighbor, I realized she wasn't much better off. On the question about dragons, she put her answer as 'mana dragons'. Thankfully, she crossed out her initial answer of 'magic dragons'.
The other kid wasn't even that far into his exam.
What the hell are they teaching these kids. This school is suppose to teach the best of the best? This stuff is literally in the first few chapters of the books Firebrook gave me! These kids don't seem to know anything-
These kids, I frowned. That's right. I glanced around the room again.
This test….. is for kids.
All of a sudden, any bluster I had fizzled out. My ego was brought back down to Earth, Azeroth, whatever. I was reminded that I wasn't actually an intelligent kid, I was an adult of average intelligence stuck in the body of a ten year old.
And my headache continued to drum in my skull.
So I sat there quietly for some time. Staring at my exam.
----
I did eventually turn in my exam, after four other kids had turned their own exams in. Didn't want to seem like I had finished too quickly.
As I made my way out, I heard the proctor call to me, "wait."
He motioned for me to come back.
What is it? I mused, as I walked to his desk.
When I reached him, he slid my test in front of me. A spar quill on the side, and tapped the top.
Name: Syllia
"Full name please." He tapped the page again.
Full name? But that is my- . Right. Rich people have family names. And because I am here, I obviously just didn't put my family name in. Right.
Okay, time for the awkward part, "Sir I-"
"If you do not write your full name on the test it will be thrown out."
Well that escalated rather fast.
Do I go through the effort of telling him I have no family name? Or do I just make something up and sort this out later. After a brief moment of inner conflict, the second option won.
Taking the quill, I wrote the first vaguely elf-like, fantasy sounding, last name I could think of.
The test was scooped up from me the moment my quill left the paper.
The instructor looked down, and nodded at my handy work. "Thank you Miss. Dawnguard."
As I exited the room, I saw that the door for the room directly across was now open. I saw the kids who 'finished' before me waiting. The room was identical to the previous one, just more empty.
From the clock outside the room, I found I had 'finished' with two hours to spare.
So I just sat there.
None of us talked to one another. Or, none of them talked to me. I heard a few whispers between them. But no real communication occurred between the group as a whole. Just a bunch of quiet, stressed out kids in an empty classroom with a single adult in the back for supervision.
One more kid walked in, but that was about all that happened.
Then, thirty minutes later, the receptionist from earlier walked in. Clipboard in hand, she rifled through some papers. Not even bothering to look up, she addressed us.
"Congratulations for successfully completing the first half of the examination." She droned off, the 'congratulations' with no real cheer in it. She didn't even bother to look up from her papers. "Each of you will now be given a room number. Proceed to the designated room for the second half of the examination."
"Wait," one of the kids raised his hand, "shouldn't we wait for others to finish?"
"Yeah," another quipped, "there's only six of us here"
This question got the lady to look up, though the glare she sent their way made clear her view of it. "That is not your concern. You are to follow the instructions you have been given."
Any further protest died right there.
She returned to her papers, "Zarenis Grandcloud, room two. Derath Peacebloom, room three. Matines Goldenburn, room five. Kyleen Silversand, room six. Syllia Dawnguard, room seven. And Sedyen Brightbranch, room nine."
Finishing her list, there was no further comment. She opened the door and ushered us out.
Looking at each other for a moment, we made our way out to our respective rooms.
Thankfully my assigned room was close by, and the door was ajar. I knocked in it softly.
"Yes, come in," a soft voice replied.
The room was small. Books, scrolls, papers, and other things I couldn't name littered the office. All lit by the soft glow of mana crystals. At the end sat a man. Blonde haired, sharp features, clean shaven, wearing a clean pressed shirt. His spectacles shined in the soft mana glow.
He looked up from his work and gestured for me to come over. "Well come on girl, let's get this over with."
I closed the door behind me and took a seat.
He rifled through the packet of papers before looking back up. "So, Miss Dawnguard do you want to tell me how did you do it?"
"Sir?" was all I could think of to say. Do what?
"Cheat on the exam."
What!
He saw the confused look on my face, and sighed. "You managed to avoid tripping every single anti-cheating inscription written into every desk in that room."
There were inscriptions on the desks? "Sir, I- I didn't cheat."
"We know you finished the exam long before Mr. Goldenburn did." He ignored any further protest. "We also know you waited approximately forty-two minutes after completing it to turn it in. To appear as if you completed your exam the mundane way."
"But sir I-"
"Miss Dawnguard, you are not in trouble." He cut me off
What? Okay now I'm confused. "But sir, you're claiming I cheated."
"Not claiming, we know you did," he 'corrected' me. "That being said, you did not break any rule of the exam. You would be penalized for being caught, but you successfully completed your exam without any proctors seeing it or tripping the inscriptions. All the while under the watchful eye of said Inscriber who wrote them. "
Huh? My mind worked through the words. They're saying I cheated, but that I still passed?
"Dath'Remar is an institute that is dedicated to training mages, not priests," he explained seeing my confusion. "You completed your exam while following the instructions to the letter. Even if your accomplice managed to get all the answers to you, and taught you to avoid the inscriptions, it still takes a great degree of skill to execute a plan like that. Especially for a girl as young as yourself. I would call that impressive."
Wait a second, are they saying that my answers were too smart? That the only way I could have possibly done my work was cheating?
"But I didn't cheat sir." I muttered.
He brushed it off. "Yes, yes. You didn't cheat because you weren't caught. And a society without laws has no crime. You don't need to be so humble Miss Dawnguard."
But. But. My mind was short circuiting.
"Rest assured, you passed the exam with full marks, and will be admitted into the general entrance exam in half a year's time."
I was quiet for a moment. "What about the others? Did they pass?" I questioned.
The man gave me a good natured smile. "I can't speak on the other examiners behalf. All I know is that you are the only one who, without reservation, demonstrated the intelligence expected of a Dath'Remar applicant. They actually let me be your examiner because we all knew how quick this interview would be and I have papers to grade before the day's end. But to answer your question, the others have potential, all they need to do is demonstrate it in their examination and they will earn a spot in the entrance exam."
I ran through his words in my head. Somewhat conflicted on being congratulated for 'cheating' so good that it amazed them.
Seeing my face, he sighed. "Miss. Dawnguard, out in the wider world everyone works to their own strengths. Some have money. Others influence. Fewer still have intelligence." He took out a cloth to clean his spectacles before continuing. "If a situation is not to your strength, then work around it. Take my advice, never limit yourself to your own detriment. This is simply how our world works. Those who cannot realize this are either left behind or crushed beneath it."
"I understand sir." What else could I say to that.
"Good. Now I don't wish to rush you out the door, but I do need to get back to my assignments. Just be on the lookout for a letter in the mail a few days from now, it will provide all the information you will need for the entrance exam."
I nodded, but as I made my way to the door, I heard him say one last thing.
"Oh and Miss Dawnguard!" I looked back. "One small critique, do take some time to clean up your handwriting. Some of the words seemed to blend into one another."
–
I waited outside the building for an hour before Firebrook showed up to take me home. Rather than walk through the Sun Quarter again, he just teleported me to my front door and just as quickly left.
Wonder why he didn't do that in the first place.
Maybe he wanted to show me the sights. Impress on me the wealth outside of the Dawn Quarter?
I told Mom the good news of course. She was happy. I think. Took her a moment to respond, her face went from happy, to stoic, then back to happy. I think she's just a little nervous about me trying to get into such an elite school.
The rest of the day seemed to breeze by. Bath. Dinner. Studying. Small amount of practicing magical exercises. Reading. Sleep.
Sleep didn't come easy tonight. I tossed and turned in my bed.
Eventually, by sheer virtue of exhaustion, dreams claimed me.
And yet this damn headache persisted.
–
I felt cold.
It was the middle of summer. Sure, some nights were a bit breezy, but this felt like I was dropped into a tub of ice water. I knew the sensation well because of that one time Mom dropped the cooling crystal in my bath.
An accident she claimed.
I opened my eyes, but all I saw was blackness. Not complete darkness without light, but dark enough that I might as well be in pitch darkness. But something felt different.
Off.
It felt as if I had been brought to the deepest recesses of the ocean. So deep that no light has ever penetrated it's dark embrace.
I then realized I was upright, floating, not lying in my bed.
And my damn headache was back in full force. Like nails being driven through my skull!
Reaching to nurse my head, I felt a weight on my arm. I saw nothing, yet it felt like a force was keeping my limbs locked in place.
All the while, a drumming pressure built up against my head, only aggravating my discomfort.
And the drumming intensified.
I tried to cry out, but only gurgling and bubbles came forth.
And the drumming grew louder.
At the point where I felt my eardrums were about to burst, it stopped.
All I was left with was silence.
Then laughter.
First distant, but growing closer and more pronounced.
Without warning, the darkness around me was illuminated. And before me stood a monstrosity.
A large thing of black tendrils. And eldritch glowing eyes.
Thousands of eyes.
And all thousands of them looked at me with unabashed amusement.
My blood ran cold as the implications of what this thing was creeped into my mind. This thing is an Old God. A Warcraft Cthulhu. An eldritch monster capable of untold levels of destruction and mayhem. A being that corrupted and mind broke people just by its mere presence.
And I had been dragged before it.
No, it was worse.
It had dragged me to itself.
The laughter bellowed on.
Until it went quiet.
"Do not worry, little Outsider. I do not wish your death."
I held my breath as the silky velvet voice wormed itself into my skull. It was inhumanly hypnotic.
"W-who are you!" I tried to sound unfazed. My stuttering and uncontrollable shaking had the opposite effect. I only realized a moment later that now I could speak at all, rather than air bubbles coming out.
"Who am I?" It repeated, amused. "I am the ruler of the lands you live on, Outsider."
"Your lands?"
"Yes."
"But, I live in Quel'Thalas-"
"Which is in my lands." It didn't let me finish. "Eons before the first trolls raised their first cities, before the first dragon took flight, before even the Titans themselves descended from The Great Beyond, I ruled. My claim is perpetual and my rule eternal."
"How old are you?" The words left my lips before I realized it.
It chuckled at my question. "I came to be when the Universe was young." Cryptic. "and from my city, the Dreaming City, my N'ylotha, did the first true civilization on this world rise from."
Wait, an Old God's city named N'ylotha!
Oh Fuck!
Oh fuck!
This wasn't just any Old God.
This was the master of Deathwing. The being who turned the Highborne into the Naga. The most dangerous of the Old Gods.
This was N'zoth. The Deep One. The Corruptor.
While all Old Gods twist people's minds, N'zoth is on a whole other level to the likes of his compatriots. You don't get a nickname like 'The Corruptor' for no reason.
People lose their minds very quickly around this thing.
Suddenly, the laughter boomed around me again.
"Ah, it fills me with pride to be recognized. That my deeds are sung so far from home that even an Outsider like you has heard them. It swells my heart with joy."
The tendril around my throat pulled me towards a cluster of glowing amber eyes.
"But, the purpose of this audience is not to recount my glories. We are here to discuss you."
"M-Me." I squeaked out.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Why of course." As if it was obvious. "You are an Outsider. An unknown. And I must know the purpose for which you have come to my domain."
"I-d...Don't know what you're talking about!" In actuality, I had an inkling on what N'zoth was referring to. But that would be scary on a whole different level if he-it knew or at least, could realize that I was not from Azeroth. But a world where Azeroth was just a video game.
Could it realize that….?
"Yes you do."
"No I don't, I was born in Silvermoon, I-"
Before I could even finish the tendril around my throat and began to squeeze.
I flailed against my restraint. My eyes bulged from their sockets. Eventually rolling into the back into my skull. Arms feebly trying to wrestle out of its coiled grasp to provide relief; to wrench the offending limp from my throat. While I knew objectively that I had no need for air right now, the pain and my own survival instincts overrode any coherent thought I had. I gasped and wheezed. It felt like my neck was going to snap.
Then, as soon as it began, the hold relented. The thing remained snug around my throat, but the pressure was released. I wheezed and coughed for my nonexistent need for air. My reddening eyes looked into the angered Old God's gaze.
"Do not presume to lie to me, Outsider! Lie to me again, and even death shall not save you from my rage!"
"Yes! Okay! Okay!" I wheezed. What else could I say. Not to self, do not Fucking lie to the Old God!
"Then, for the last time, why are you here?"
"I-I don't know." Please don't kill me!
It was quiet. Possibly processing the information and looking for any tells that I might be lying.
"Explain."
"I remember dying." It didn't hurt me this time. Best not try anything. Also best to not tell the angry God that he is just a character in a game where I'm from.
And that he dies in a pretty lackluster way with little fanfare.
"Then there was a light. Darkness. Something laughing. Pain. Then I woke up in this body. I didn't have any control over where I came to or what I am! That's the truth!"
"Where is your previous form?" It questioned.
"I don't know. Maybe where I died? Maybe it's in that place between here and there? I just don't know."
The monster hummed to itself. "A question for another time then."
"Why do you even care?" Once again, my damn mouth ran before my brain caught up. "And why do you keep calling me an Outsider! You're not from Azeroth either!"
"You are not from this plane." He- it, answered.
"Neither are you!"
"No. We are nothing alike, Outsider." N'zoth dismissed my comparison. "I am born of the Void. Created to corrupt and twist the very fabric of all reality and mortal life to suit my needs. You are an Outsider."
"But what does that mean?"
"I do not know."
"Wait, so you call me an Outsider, but don't know what I am?"
"I call you an Outsider from lacking any other term to describe you," N'zoth explained. "You are utterly alien to me."
What? I'm considered the alien to this Cthulhu rip off!
N'zoth saw my confusion and explained further. "I am an entity of the Void. Born of the darkest recesses of reality. Yet I am still of this universe and plane of existence. You come from beyond such places. Your soul, your very essence," I shuddered at the implication of that statement, "tastes of a place far beyond the realms of existence. A thing born of neither Death, Light, the Titans, the Nether, the Void, nor anything else I can comprehend. You are beyond comprehension. The skin you wear might be of this world, but your soul, the true you, is not of this existence. I cannot comprehend you."
"What do you mean," I tried to ignore the horrifying implications of 'what' it was implying.
"I am the seer of all knowledge," he-it began. "With my eyes, I can peer into countless futures and endless pasts. Nothing that exists can hide from my eyes."
"But I'm invisible to your farseeing?"
"No."
"But you just-"
"You are beyond my comprehension, not my vision."
"There's a difference?"
"I can see you here," the coiled tendril around my throat squeezed a bit to emphasize the point. "I can hold you. Taste your fear. I can intrude and interact with your mind, but I cannot perceive you anywhere but the present. The here and now. When I peer into the countless futures of this meeting, I can only see myself speaking to nothing. Talking to empty space. Looking at nothing. Yet conversing as if I were speaking to something."
"So-?"
"And I cannot perceive you in the past, " he continued. "Were I to gaze at events that have transpired, where I know you were, I again see nothing. Mortals interacting with thin air. Actions occurring for no reason. Reactions that had no start."
"So you think I'm a threat to you? That's why you dragged me here?" It made sense, in a way. All knowing Old God pissed off it can't see this one person. That would hurt my ego; if I were a gigantic Cthulhu monster.
"You are no threat," N'ztoth retorted, clearly amused by my train of thought. "I have existed for millions of years. And I will endure for millions more. You, as strange as you are, cannot challenge my might."
Oh.
"Then why go to all this trouble over someone like me?"
"You are a curiosity that nags me to solve," the creature replied. "A puzzle that cries out to be solved. You intrigue me. This is not the first time we have conversed, nor shall it be the last. It is, however, the first time you have been lucid in our discussions. It is an interesting change."
Oh fuck. I caught the eye of an Old God.
Wait, not the first time? When was that-
"However, I am patient.Even the most indomitable citadel can only withstand a siege for so long. I will learn your deepest secrets. Your darkest desires. All that you are, all that you wish to be. All that you fear to become. Most importantly, I will know what you are. It will all become clear to me in time. And you will be made to bow to my will. Therefore, let us resume where we left off previously...."
Everything after was a blur. Drumming pain in my skull. Eldritch laughter. An icy cold. The depths of the ocean.
Everything else blurred together.
After an unknown length of time, I heard its voice bellow around me once more.
"It appears our time has run its course. You intrigue me, Outsider. I shall summon you again at a later date, to learn your secrets and make them my own. To turn you to my designs. To show that not even something as beyond comprehension as yourself can resist my power. I refuse anything less. Go forth, to the waking world, with the knowledge that the God of this world has its gaze upon you."
I woke...
...eventually.
----
My eyes shot open.
It was early morning. The first rays of sunlight dawned into my room.
Breathing heavily, looked at the state of my bed. My sheets were drenched in sweat. As was my night shirt . My body shivered from a nonexistent cold.
One thought ran through my head.
What the fuck was that?
I shuddered, in fear, recalling the events of my dream- no nightmare.
Going to the bathroom, throwing off my sweat drenched nightshirt for a fresh one, and went over to the sink. Splashing water on my face, I tried to recall the night's events.
What happened was not by any means normal. It's not normal to remember dreams so vividly, with such clarity. Nightmares, sure you wake up feeling scared, but people tend to not recall why they are scared.
As far as I could feasibly tell, nothing had actually happened to me.
But in my mind, I can recall a good amount of what happened.
I had a horrible headache before going to sleep. In my dream- nightmare, I was pulled into an ocean and saw an Old God. N'zoth. He-it-whatever, that thing, dragged me down into the ocean and talked- interrogated me.
I ran a hand along my throat, remembering the unpleasant experience.
It was just a dream- Nightmare. A lucid nightmare.
But it felt so real.....
Ironically, the pain wasn't the worst part of the nightmare. It's the implication of it all. It knows I'm not from this world. How and why don't matter. An Old God has set its sights squarely on me. It wants to know what I am. And I doubt this will be the last time it graces me with its attention.
I shuddered at the thought of seeing that thing again.
But it did bring up an important question, one I had delayed for some time. Why was I here?
I looked down at the pooling sink water, staring deep into my own reflection.
Why was I here?
"Good morning Syllia!" I heard Mom greet me, breaking me from my thoughts. Yawning, she made her way to her sink. "You're up early. Sleep well?"
"No, not really," I was about to say more, but froze. In the corner of my eye I saw, something.
Something moving in the shadow of the door. Staring at me with sickly amber eyes. But when my eyes looked towards it, to get a better look, I saw nothing.
"Aw, why's that?" She looked over to me, her concern clear.
"It's nothing." I replied, not bothering to look up from my reflection in the water.
"Oh good, you're up already," Mom was rushing back and forth across the kitchen. "I was about to wake you."
I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes and plopped myself at the table. "Morning."
Moments later, she placed a plate of food before me. A simple breakfast. Scrambled eggs, a slice of bacon, and a tiny muffin.
"Eat up sweetie," Mom called out from her room. "I don't want you leaving the house on an empty stomach!"
Truthfully, dawn had yet to break when I 'woke' up. I had been tossing and turning the whole night. Sleeping for maybe a couple hours at a time before being roused awake by a mixture of excitement and anxiousness. I'm pretty sure I got at least five hours in total.
More time than most of my previous adult life.
But more than excitement for today, my sleeping schedule as a whole has been drastically affected by my encounter with N'zoth half a year ago.
True, I've never seen him since. Aside from a new healthy case of paranoia (is it actually paranoia if someone is actually out to get you?) nothing has changed. The worst thing that happens is that I see a shadow flicker out of the corner of my eyes. Always disappearing when I direct my gaze to it.
Anyway, despite the whole Old God thing that occurred, I haven't felt any real changes. My mind is still my own. My hatred for that overblow squid, cultulu rip off, is still intact.
Of course that's only for my waking mind. I'm pretty sure I'm getting visits from an eldritch monstrosity a couple times a week. Even if I can't remember a thing I just know.
Does that concern me, that a dark god beyond mortal comprehension has trained his sights on me. A being who has brought great heroes to their knees by being in sheer proximity to them?
Am I afraid?
Hell yes I am!
But can I, at this moment, reasonably do anything?
No. I can't. But that doesn't mean I am doing nothing. I've been trying to look up ways to fortify my mind, but it's slow going. Most of the library books I've looked into are more about ghosts and hauntings than eldritch elder gods. And it's not like I can just go into the library and ask for "Old Gods for Dummies".
The best I've done so far is this dinky little wooden charm I have on the corner of my bed. Supposedly, if the Cerrea is right about it, this charm should ward my mind from 'most' mental intrusions in my sleep. Though I'm pretty sure her little charm won't really stop an Old God, but you never know. Time will tell I suppose.
During my mental woes, I hadn't noticed Mom take a seat and start digging into her breakfast a well.
We sat like that for a time. Me picking at my food, eating little bits of it as I mulled over my life, her looking at me with concern clear on her face.
"So how about a story?" Mom abruptly broke the silence that had settled over our meal.
"Wait, a what-"
"When I was your age, I got really into this board game" she began, ignoring my comment. "I forget the name, but it was kind of like chess. Just with more pieces and some light gambling."
This is kind of random, I mused.
"So when my parents were at work, I'd play with their friends who watched me while they were out. I beat them. Everytime single time." She picked at her food. "They went easy on me at first. Being a kid and all that. Then when I kept beating them, they took me seriously. They kept losing naturally. Most took it with grace, telling me how bright I was. Others got into a huff about being out played by a child."
Wait, is this one of those 'pride comes before fall' type stories, I questioned. The ones where the hero is too proud, picks a fight with someone way better than them, and losses because pride blinded them?
"But then one day, my Father came home early. He saw the board still out, Uncle Kredon at the table with me, and all his pieces taken by me. Also by my side was a half filled purse of coppers and silvers. Father asked what I was doing. Winning, I told him. Uncle called me a she-devil." She smiled at the memory. "He asked me how good I was, I told him the best. He looked at the purse, then at me. Giving me this smile, he told me to set the board for a new game. That he was going to play me now. I asked him what he had to offer. So he fished out a coin purse, opened it up and showed me it was filled with silvers and a few gold coins. If he won, he got everything I ever won that I hadn't spent yet. But if I won, he'd give me the purse. I was a kid, of course I accepted!"
Okay, so he offers you the purse. You play him, lose, and get a valuable life lesson about pride.
"So, money out, and the game started," she continued. "After just ten minutes, it was a draw. No winner. But I wanted that gold so badly. I was so confident I could beat him now that I knew how he played. So we set the board back up, and it was another draw. So I challenged him again. And again. And again. By the time Mother got home, we were on our twelfth game. I was beyond frustrated by that point. I demanded one last game. He accepted. Big mistake on my part, because I lost five minutes later. I was so mad that I threw all the pieces onto the floor and stormed off to my room." She looks like she wanted to cover her face.
Well that's one way to take a loss.
"I was so embarrassed with how I acted. Father came up later to check on me. He took my fat winnings purse from me. But after that, he sat me down and asked me why this happened. I told him it was because he won."
Because you were too proud, I added.
"He told me it was because he didn't lose. That's why he won in the end."
Wait what?
"That look," she addressed me now, a knowing finger pointed at me. "Is the same one I had. Yeah threw me for a loop too. So I asked him what he meant. He told me that when you do anything involving something you hold dear, never base your goals around winning or losing. Always play to not lose. I didn't get it either. Basically, if you win, you gain something. If you lose, you lose something. If you don't lose, how can you lose something?"
"But you don't win anything either," I spoke up.
"I told him something just like that," she answered me. "To the mind, not winning something is considered worse than not losing anything. Just how people work."
"So what's the point?"
"Well, it's all a mental thing. If you play, or do anything really, against a person who thinks only in terms of winning and losing, you can really mess with them. Make it so they don't lose, they'll see it as them not winning, they get frustrated and try again. Do this a few times to get them off balance, then go for the throat. Metaphorically of course!" She quickly added the last part.
"So you're saying, just try not to lose?"
"You should always try to win, of course. But if you can't do that, not losing is the second best option! You don't lose anything, and no one considers it a loss either!" She seemed proud of her logic.
Before I could question her any further, like where my newly discovered uncle and grandfather were now, there was a knock at the door.
Mom got up and walked over, "who is it?"
"It's me!".
Noly, you're supposed to say who you are, not 'it's me'!.
Low and behold, the door opened to reveal Noly. The red head was wearing her recruit uniform. Essentially, a tanned leather outfit with a pair of short-shorts and boots. She had a small knife sheathed along her waist, but no bow. They keep those at the lodge according to Noly.
"Hi Miss Amiria!" Noly beamed.
"Oh Noly, it's so good to see you," Mom scoped the girl up for a tight hug.
"You too Miss Amiria," she answered. Mom put the poor girl down after a moment of embrace. "Oh!" A lightbulb went off in Noly's head. "Mom wanted me to give you this!"
She fished out a letter from a pocket. As the envelope exchanged hands, I could hear a subtle clinking of coins scraping against one another from within the parcel.
"Why thank you dear."
"And one other thing!" Noly continued. "She told me, to tell you, that 'he was talking'."
"Did he now..." I heard Mom mutter to herself.
Mom had opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Her eyes narrowed, skimming it at a frightening speed. She tsked at whatever was written on it.
Then she looked back at Noly, her expression returning to normal at a frightening speed. "Thank you for telling me sweetie! Now I need to get ready for Syllia's big day." She folded the note into her pocket. "Why don't you two chat for a few minutes while I get ready."
As she walked out, Noly rushed over to the seat next to me.
"So, how do you feel?"
"Nervous actually," I told her. I mused about it.
The exam as I understood it, from Firebrook, is a four day affair divided into two parts: the written and practical parts. The written portion took up three whole days, the practical part was on the last day.
Day one was some kind of meet and greet with fellow test takers followed by a quick quiz on magic theory.
Day two, was devoted solely to an essay. What was the prompt? Won't know until the actual exam was given to me!
Day three, some kind of meeting relating to the essay part of the exam.
Then, day four, practical magic. Complete wildcard as far as Firebrook told me. Anything could happen.
Simple as it sounded, it was not knowing that got me the most worked up. Sure, the preliminary test was easy, but would that follow suit for the actual test?
Noly wrapped her arm around my neck, "You have nothing to worry about Silly! You're the sixth smartest person I know, you'll do great!"
I shot her a look, "the sixth?"
She hummed an affirmation, "Yep. First is Dad. Then Mom. Then the old Bat. Then Instructor Sylvian. Then Instructor Elyssia. And then you, tied with me of course!"
"I'm tied with you?" I genuinely couldn't tell if she was serious or not.
"Yep!" Wow. "Need I remind you who, out of all the recruits, didn't accidentally poison themselves in survival training?"
Ughh, this story. Yes Noly, you were the only one who didn't get food poisoning from your survival test. But by your own words, that's not because you knew the plants were poisonous, you just stuffed yourself with berries that made you sick for a different reason! So you couldn't eat the stuff that made everyone else sick!
Kind of brutal, but a pretty effective way of teaching kids not to play around with survival skills. Kids learn not to play with fire after burning their fingers, and kids learn to actually read the pamphlets handed out to them by their instructors by getting sick from not reading said pamphlet.
Rolling my eyes, I got up to put my plate in the sink.
"Silly- Sillya," she spoke in a calmer voice than normal. And used my full name. Guess it's serious time. I turned back to her. The hyperactive smile she always has on was replaced by a somewhat more muted one.
"I have no doubt that you'll blow them all away. You've practiced for months."
"And some of the other kids have trained for years," I blurted out.
"And you'll beat them," she turned me around to face her, "just like that."
"Just like that?" I repeated.
"Yeah just like that," she reaffirmed with a grin. "Like you said, they took years to get where they are, it took you six months."
She's right in a sense. I've been training, maybe, half a year. I've made a lot of progress, mostly though fumbling and learning. But still, it's not all that impressive, for a mage at least. Whereas once I struggled to cast even a single arcane orb, now I can make dozens at one time; but my multi tasking skills can only really manage three at a time. I can cast a bit of fire magic; after burning my hand a number of times because the texts forget to mention that you need to shield your hand when you create the flames!
I can also teleport very short distances with blink. Resulting in me getting my feet caught in the ground, ankle deep, because I forget to account for minute height changes in the soil resulting in me falling face first.
And I can even use some frost magic; like making a single ice cube in a glass of water, so long as said water is already cold and I have an hour to kill.
Am I being hard on myself. Probably.
"Thanks." It's still nice to hear people praise my work ethic at least.
"For what? Just telling you the truth."
"Still nice to hear."
"Well you're welcome." her stupid happy go lucky smile back in full force.
If only I shared her optimism.
--
I quickly threw on the new set of expensive red-gold robes provided by Firebrook. 'No use looking like a plebeian in front of proper society' were his exact words. For her part, Mom had put something on that actually looked like clothing, and not her striperrific normal attire. A simple dress, also mainly red and gold colored.
Getting to the Academy was relatively simple after the first time. Just follow the street signs and you'll end up there eventually. Or just hug the coastal districts and keep west until you hit the Academy's walls.
Mom held me close as we passed through the Sun Quarter to Dath'Remar. Her demeanor seemed to do a complete flip from her usual personality. No joking or poking fun at me. She seemed perpetually on edge. Looking down every alleyway. Eyes zig-zagging to every person we passed or crossed paths with. Like she was expecting some kind of attack at any moment.
Kind of remind me of the way mother bears would protect their young.
Firebrook was set to meet us at the academy. His job was to finalize the last bits of my paperwork. Given that he was the magister that recommended me and all that.
True to his word, he was waiting for us at the entrance of Dath'Remar; manservant in tow.
"Excellent timing Syllia," His gaze shifted from me to Mom, his face twitching for the briefest of moments. "And a good morning to you as well Ms. Amiria."
"You as well, magister," Mom placed her hand on my shoulder. "I see you brought your assistant with you. Is the final bit of paperwork that tiring?"
"Not in the sense you're implying," he dismissed. "Just have to go before a tribunal, affirm before them that I did knowingly recommend Syllia to Dath'Remar and all that. That everything was filled out in accordance with the law. Under pain of imprisonment or death. Etcetera. Etcetera. Merril's just here to run back and forth from my office at Silversun to get any necessary files they may ask for. You know how it is."
"I don't actually," she replied. I felt her grip tighten.
His jaw clenched, "in any event, after I finalize everything, I'll be off. Back to grade student papers and the like. But do not worry, I shall be here for the final day of examination to see how you perform." He gestured to a path, "just follow that walking path to the large building with a dragon fountain out front. That's where all the applicants are gathering. Can't miss it." He looked back to me, " I expect great things from you Syllia!"
"Thank you sir," I beamed at his praise.
"Come now Syllia," Mom cut off any more discussion between us. She began to pull me past the gates. "Let's not keep the good magister from his work. Like he said, he's busy."
He shot my mother a look, then glanced back at me. "While it's not as urgent as that, your mother is right, I do have several things I must attend to today. Take care Syllia, and best of luck in your exam to come." He nodded to me, spared Mom a single look, and motioned for his assistant to follow him.
The two of us made the rest of the way without any issue. Thankfully, the academy had put out a bunch of signs to point us in the direction. That being said, it felt like the whole academy was actually closed. I had only seen a handful of people along our path. Only servants. No students or teachers in sight.
But we reached the fountain. Firebrook wasn't kidding. Thing was massive! And made of gold! Like everything here apparently.
"So Syllia," Mom began, we stood in front of the building, "do you want me to go in with you?"
"Not really," I replied.
"Good," she smiled. "Well then, I'll be here when you get out."
"So what are you going to do in the meantime?" I was curious. The test was going to be a few hours.
She grinned, "in the meantime, I plan on running a few errands in the Sun Quarter. I actually put them off for some time. Maybe meet up with a few old acquaintances."
"You know people in the Sun Quarter?"
"Actually, they live in the next Quarter over," she clarified. "It just feels like a good time to meet up and have a nice chat. I just found out they've been talking about me to some people. I just want to ask them about that." She hummed to herself. "Been overdue for a proper meet and greet for some time. I don't actually come here often...." She trailed off for a moment, then looked at me with a sly grin. "Except for that one time I spent a night with a pair of twins with big-"
I groaned, moving away from her towards the door.
"Oh don't be like that Syllia!" I heard Mom call out far too loudly for my liking. "Those nice ladies helped pay for your third birthday!"
I swear I could hear her muffled laughter and cackling as I slammed the door behind me.
--
The interior was much larger than the building I entered last time I was here. Like everything elven, the interior was dominated by red and yellow. Red cloth. Yellow banners. Red candles. Yellow fires. Reddish wooden furniture, chairs and the sort, with yellow cushions. And a good smattering of gold plated panels. The sheer size of the place, on the inside, was closer to a full on auditorium than a simple 'gathering' room. Had a big stage set up at the end of it.
The room was filled with people. Not so many that it was packed to the brim. But it was well on its way to reaching peak occupancy. Both children and, I assume, parents. Or at the very least caretakers. All of them wearing robes and other finery well beyond my financial means.
Some kids even had bits of jewelry on!
Of course, my eyes were more drawn to the long tables of tasty treats placed on the other side of the area attended to by numerous servants and with a few people meandering around it. Even though I just ate breakfast, my child-like sweet tooth would not be denied!
I made my way through the throngs of people. Carefully moving around some, and accidentally shoving others. Most gave me a brief glance, before returning to their own conversations.
By the time I made it there, I realized a sad truth. Most of the food had been picked clean. Most of the bins were already being moved off.
But they didn't get all the muffins!
Quickly, I grabbed a tiny plate, which was not gold surprisingly, and loaded as many muffins on it as possible. As I casted off from the table, balancing my tower of muffins, a speck of white caught my eye.
It was a girl with short, almost bleached, white hair. She was standing some distance from the main crowds. Her robes were a tasteful mix of black, red, and gold that seemed almost too big for her. She even had some jewelry on, golden ear chains with a little gems on the end. She held a small plate in hand, with a half eaten cake. She had quite the serious expression on her face. Her head turning back and forth as if scanning the room.
Lacking anything better to do, I approached her. Strangely, she didn't notice me. Even as I came to a stop right next to her. Or, if she did notice, she certainly didn't show any indication.
Time to break the ice.
Remember, these people are high society. First Impressions are everything!
Play it cool.
Poise and proper.
"Hi, I'm Syllia," Fuck! Why did that come out like that! That was neither poise nor proper!
As if broken from deep thought, the girl jolted a bit, then turned to me. She looked to me, then glazed over to the side where an empty chair was sitting to her side.
"Pardon me," she muttered softly. The girl began to move out of the way.
"No wait," I grabbed the edge of her robe. "I don't need to sit. I just wanted to see if you want to talk?"
That seemed to throw her through a loop if the confusion on her face was anything to go by.
"You want to talk?" she questioned.
"Yes."
"To me?" she stressed the question even more.
"Yes," I repeated.
She looked around briefly, then turned her attention back to me. "Lord Emberbirth is over on the other side of the chamber," she acted as if that was a natural response to my request. "He's in conversation right now with Lord Flamecrown. Please excuse-" She made a motion to move away.
"But I wanted to talk to you, not some 'lord'," I cut her off. "If i wanted to talk to some lord or another I'd say so. I thought you looked lonely all the way over here and just wanted to have a conversation with you to pass the time before the test begins."
She processed what I told her, "who are you?"
"Syllia Dawnguard," god it was still weird calling myself that. I held out my hand. "And you are?"
The girl tentatively took my hand, "Elsia Emberbirth."
"See not so hard, it's nice to meet you Elsia!" I shook her hand firmly.
The girl tilted her head, "pardon me for asking, but-" Her voice trailed off.
"Yeah?"
"But-" she continued. "And I mean no offense, but I am not familiar with a Dawngaurd family."
"Oh," it took me a second to process what she meant. "Oh yeah. Right. It's a new family."
Elsia was quiet for a moment herself. "Are your parents seeking ties to the Emberbirth's at court?"
"Excuse me?"
"It would be an expedient move to increase your family's standing in a short time. By approaching me, you could appeal to my brother in a less formal manner. Though I think that the method you have chosen to do so is somewhat," she searched for the right word, "blunt."
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." What was she going on about? Brother? We just met, how would I know anything about him or her family?
"You, did not seek me out to-"
Okay, putting an end to this. "I came over here because you looked lonely, that's all. I don't know anything about your family, or your brother for that matter, until you brought it up." I tried to get across to her. I could hear murmuring all around us. People stopped their conversations to look at us.
No, not us. At Elsia!
Looks like I was making a bit of a scene.
Oh dear.
"So you-"
"Like I said, you looked lonely, so I just came over to see if you wanted to talk. If you don't want to, that's fine, I can move." I didn't want to make a bigger scene than I already was. I turned to-
"No," this time, it was Elsia who grabbed my robes. In one word, she showed more emotion than I had seen up to this point. "I'm sorry, it's fine. Yes, I would enjoy a conversation with you."
"Okay then." I looked at her, waiting for her to kick off the next topic. I took a bite out of one of my muffins. All she did was fidget a little and look at me. So I took the first step, "So, why did you think I wanted to talk to your brother?"
"That's what all the previous people wanted," she said in a matter of fact tone.
"Wait, kids wanted to speak to your brother?"
She shook her head, "No. Adults. It started with Lord Brightstar, he was the most direct. Asked where brother was, and he left after I pointed him in the direction. Then Lady Emeraldgleam, with her son Bem'theas, came over. She wanted to approach him under the auspices of setting up a betrothal between myself and Bem'theas."
"Wait," I interrupted making sure that I didn't talk with a mouth full of food. "You're eleven like me, right?" Elsia nodded. "Isn't that a little young to begin thinking of marriage?"
"You are correct, it is far too soon for such arrangements to be made," she agreed nodding. "Brother has also been quite open about not even entertaining potential suitors for either Nicia or myself. No agreement shall be considered until we are in our thirties at the earliest."
Okay, not what I meant. What I had meant to imply was the whole arranged marriage thing.
"Wait, who's Nicia?"
"My niece."
"And, is she here too?"
"In two years she will be."
Oh. Younger Niece.
"Then came Lord Kyzile, while not interested in speaking to my brother, he made no attempt to hide his interest in my mother-" she went on and on about this lord and that lady.
Even if I was only hearing one side of the discussion, this seemed almost like harassment. One guy walks over to ask if she would introduce his daughter to her brother. Then another person, a boy our age, tries to, in Elsia's own words, court her right in front of her brother. Then, another just comes over to sneer at her because she was a Emberbrith and her family did something to his family some centuries ago.
And Firebrook said high society is above the tendency of the poor…..
"- and then after Lord Featherweight left. I was actually happy he left. His tone is very aggressive and dismissive. After that, I thought it would be best to just wait in this corner for the examination to begin." Despite starting off soft spoken and timid, she really starts running her mouth once she gets started. Still a bit monotone, but far more animated. "Then you came over and -well, you know the rest."
"Wow," was all I could say. During her whole story, I cleaned off my plate.
"Yes it has been an awkward morning," she concurred. "But I feel as if I have dominated the conversation. I'm sorry. Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"
"Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about the exam."
She seemed curious, "anything in particular?"
"I mean," I tried to phrase this in a way that didn't sound like I was rambling, "I know the test has two sections, the written and practical, but do you know anything more about the sections than just that?"
Elsia, hummed to herself, "I am also unsure about the particulars. From what my brother told me, the written exam is not so much about what you write about, but how you write and how you come to your conclusions."
"Really?"
She nodded, "Yes. I also know we will have partial access to a selection of texts from the library to complete our exam. Other than that, I am unsure about anything else."
"What about the practical part," I pressed.
"That is both easier to understand, yet harder to predict."
"Why"
"Because it changes every year," she explained. "Most years, it involves a duel between an instructor and an examinee; where you are graded on how you stand against said instructor in a mock dual. Other years, it's an obstacle course; where we have to use our magics to get through and grade us on how well our problem solving skills are."
That sounds like quite the wide gap.
"Basically, the exam is anything the instructors want it to be," she continued. "They even had exams when the test takers would dual each other in a large melee of sorts, or they would be pitted against some of the senior students."
"Wait, the older students would battle us?"
"It was all properly monitored of course," Elsia waved off my concern. "And there is no expectation that we will win. Your grade would come from how you perform, your spell work, rather than victory or defeat."
That makes some more sense, I guess.
"Well then how-"
"Your attention please!"
A voice echoed across the room. Ambient conversations quieted down, and all eyes turned towards the stage. An elaborately dressed man stood center stage. Just below him, a desk was set up with a large stack of papers.
"Your attention please," he repeated. "The written exam's first portion is about to begin. With all due respect, I would request that your excellences, lordships, and ladyships, please vacate the building. A new pavilion will be set up momentarily to see to your immediate needs. All applicants, please approach the desk at the base of the stage. There, you will be given your materials for the day's examinations. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask the proctors for help. Best wishes in your examinations."
People began to disperse. Parents wishing their children well. Children offering words of encouragement to one another. Two main groupings of movement formed, one towards the exit, the other the desk.
"It seems like the exam is about to begin, we should go before the line gets too long," Elsia proposed.
"Right," I agreed.
We rushed over to line up with the other students. One by one, they were given a number, a stack of papers, and proceeded to the other side of the room where a Procter was waiting for them.
My turn came quickly.
"Name?" I was asked by the instructor.
"Syllia Dawnguard." I hope my name is listed as that. Kind of awkward if they said they don't have me.
He looked down the list, looked back up at me, and made a note with his quill. He produced a small card and a packet of papers.
"For the duration of the examination process, your application and testing number is thirteen." The small card glowed with the number "13" on the face of it. I noticed my name had been inscribed onto the papers with some magic, glowing, ink. Probably an anti cheating measure. Can't exchange exams if every exam is magically anchored to each test taker I guess.
I accepted the paper and card, "thank you sir, where do I go to-"
"Please go to room thirteen to begin your exam."
"And where is that?"
He looked up from his papers again, gesturing towards the proctor to the side, "simply show him your card and he will direct you further."
"Oh, thank you."
I waited for Elsia to get her number. I showed her my card. She realized what I wanted and flashed her's in turn.
"17".
Satisfied, we hurried off to the side where another Procter was directing kids. With a quick look at my card, he pointed to a hallway. Above it, was a small gold plate that read "11-15".
So that's how it is.
As I made my way, I saw Elsia out of the corner of my eye. She was going down a route labeled "16-20". I gave her a wave. She responds in kind, if somewhat less enthusiastically and half heartedly. Probably out of shyness. From our brief talk, I gathered she was probably on the quiet end of the "energetic and somber temperament spectrum".
Ah no matter! Hope she does well.
Down the hallway, I reached room thirteen. It was a simple room. Desk. Chair. Ink pots. Quills. Glowing crystal hovering above to serve as a primary light source. Small window near ceiling as a secondary source. Seems pretty simple.
Closing the door behind me, I reached out with my mind to sense if there was ambient magic in the room. And oh boy did I find magic! It was like a cool breeze blowing all around me. Yep, this room was definitely covered in runes, glyphs, inscriptions, and all manner of magic nonsense. Probably an anti-cheating measure.
I really hope this exam is not so easy that they think I cheated. Again.
Plopping my little self in my chair, I opened my packet to the first question.
I'm sure I knew, maybe, a quarter of what was being asked the other day. The rest, not a clue. Like, what the hell is the "Law of Sympathy" supposed to be? Nothing I read before mentioned anything about that! Sure, there were some fundamentals that were described and hammered in quite vigorously, but all this theory stuff was left out completely.
But today I turned my ill fortune around. Today, I will rebound!
Got to the academy early. Mom didn't tease me too much on the way over. Also left me at the gate this time instead of walking all the way in. Said she needed to run some errands and see some more old friends. Pretty sure that these are 'friends with benefits'.
Met up with Elsia inside. Wasn't hard to find her in the crowds. Her bleached white hair stands out amongst the throngs of blondes and brunettes. She was also the only person that looked so small in their clothes. She seemed a little surprised that I sought her out.
While we waited, and chatted, I could feel the difference from yesterday. Gone was the energetic atmosphere. Gone were the throngs of kids happily talking to one another. Gone were the adults who filled the length of the auditorium. It was all replaced by something far more somber.
Nervousness.
Hushed whispers.
Even a sob or two.
Maybe they all felt like I did? That feeling of smug superiority that comes from being a big fish in a small pond. That they were on top of the world. That they were one of the smartest people in the room. Only for reality to ensue and get a gut punch right out of the gate.
"Some failed already," Elsia told me. "Mother said that academy's servants delivered notices of failure to various homes this morning."
"Wait really?"
She nodded, "they were informed before dawn not to come today. Mother said, while meditating outside this morning, she heard one of the neighbor's start yelling at an academy servant at their manse's gate. It's probably happened to more than one family."
Looking around, the room didn't seem that depopulated. Technically, the room was emptier, but I chalk that up to the lack of adults, parents and the like, rather than fewer kids. Then again, my counting might be off. Anything with less people than yesterday makes the room emptier.
Wait, what if I failed and I don't know they gave me the boot yet!
"Could someone, you know," I began. "Not get that notice before getting here? Like, they failed, but they don't know they failed."
"Does the academy have your postbox address?" Elsia questioned. She didn't even entertain the notion that I was thinking about anyone but myself.
"Yes."
"Then you would have been informed this morning," she stated. "And even if they didn't have it," she cut off my next question. "You would have been stopped at the gates if you had failed but tried to enter regardless."
"I-"
"Some people failed, you did not. Take strength in that," Elsia was more forceful this time. "At least, that's what Mother told me this morning when I questioned her about it."
I was going to ask her something else, but the proctor got on stage. The sound of his clearing throat sliced the quiet murmurings across the room.
"Good day, and congratulations for successfully passing the first portion of the written exam. Today, you shall demonstrate your writing and information gathering skills in the grand library." He told us.
"You will each be given two prompts. You shall complete both to the best of your abilities. They shall be no less than one and a half pages in length. To accomplish this, you will be ushered into one of the library's wings. There, you will find a selection of texts chosen by the staff that are relevant to your prompts. Quills, ink, and parchment, shall be provided. You shall have until dusk to complete and submit your paper. If you have any questions, the staff will do their utmost to assist you in whatever concerns you." He gestured to the table in front of the stage, "please proceed to the table, and best of luck on the exam to come."
As he finished, the masses of children made their way to the table in question. Slowly, and with far less enthusiasm than yesterday.
The line moved faster than yesterday.
"Name?" The man at the desk asked me when it was my turn.
"Syllia Dawnguard."
He looked at his list. For the briefest of moments, in the back of my mind I feared that I had failed but wasn't told.
Irrational? Yes.
Also, all for nothing. He handed me a sealed envelope a moment later.
"Hallway on the far end," he stated.
Wait, what did he- Oh right.
I thanked him and made my way to the hallway. Saw Elsia going down a different way. She gave me a small smile and a wave. More animated than yesterday I noted. I responded in kind as we went our respective ways.
--
For an auditorium, this place sure has a lot of hallways, I mused.
The halls of this place are covered in runes, glyphs, inscriptions, and enchantments of every kind. I can only begin to imagine what they actually do. Lights? Alarms? Just walking down the way I could feel the mana circulating around me. Like having a giant fan blowing on me.
As I walked down the hallway, near the library entrance, I caught a glimpse of a collection of large paintings. All of them depicted regal looking elves. Out of the corner of my eye I read the gold plate beneath the first portrait: Deth'Remar Sunstrider, First King of Quel'Thalas.
I stopped in my tracks to look more carefully.
The first king certainly cut a regal look. Sharpe features. Radiant blond hair. Bright blue eyes. A masterpiece of art. And yet it all looked off.
He looked far more muscular than a High Elf ought to be. Ears were longer too. The armor he was in was certainly colored like a High Elven King's armor should be, red and gold, yet the actual design looked quite foreign. And while his eyes were blue, they didn't shine the same way a High Elves ought to.
Now, to the average passer byer, none of this would look that strange. Most would probably chalk all these little physical quirks to artistic flair or a stylistic choice. Nothing to think too much on. Of course, all the little changes and differences make complete sense when you know this isn't a painting of a high elf.
It's a portrait of a pale, blonde, Night Elf.
While conceptually I know High Elves were descended from Night Elves thanks to my first life's knowledge, but seeing the differences, rather than merely reading or remembering them, was staggering. For obvious reasons, I have had no other Night Elves to contrast my appearance to.
I looked over the other portraits along the line.
Arelar Sunstrider, Second King of Quel'Thalas
Teladian Sunstrider, Third King of Quel'Thalas
Bemariel Sunstrider, Fourth King of Quel'Thalas
Annasterian Sunstrider, Fifth King of Quel'Thalas
And the last, I mused.
While all the kings shared many of the same general features, hair color, eyes, skin tone, I could see the changes that were occurring to the High Elven race as each king came and went. Or at least, the changes to the royal family itself. While side by side the changes seem small, almost insignificant. But when I compare Dath'Remar to Annestarian's portrait, I can see the deviations quite blatantly.
Annestarian's ears are shorter. His build is far more lithe, no visible sign of muscles to speak of. Facial features have smoothed out, losing than sharpness from ages past. The flowing crimson robes seemed more at home on a high elf than the Greco inspired armor Dath'Remar wore. I could even hear the names changing. To an English, or in this case Common, speaker you can't really tell the difference. They all sound equally 'elfy' in that flowing, wishy washy sort of way.
In Thalassian however, the names do not sound similar at all.
Only Kings three and onward sound Thalassian. Or in layman's terms, normal. The first two, Dath'Remar and, I assume, his son sound very foreign. Also hard to pronounce. For example, I have to catch myself from pronouncing 'Dath'Remar' as 'Deth'Remier'.
Come to think of it, how closely related is Thalassian to the Night Elf language? I know some words carry over, like Quel'dorei basically means the same thing in both languages. But the rest? Is it going to be something like Spanish to Portuguese, close but still distinct, or is it more like German to English, where you can understand every tenth word of each other's language?
Maybe-
Wait. Stop it!
I don't have time for this! First write my essays!
Then wonder about divergent evolution!
--
Thanks to my detour, I arrived several minutes later than I would have liked.
Say what you will about elves, but we sure do know how to build a fine looking library. It was large and open. The center area was given over entirely to desks, writing stations, and comfortable seating. All around this center are bookcases upon bookcases. Filled to the brim with all manners of texts, tomes, and literary sources. Large stained glass windows allow light to flood the chamber. Additionally, crystals floated above to provide additional artificial light.
That being said, for something of this size the library seemed empty. Just kids, and library staff. Lots of empty areas. Guess this was closed off for the day to regular students.
I reached an empty desk, papers, ink, and quill set aside on it. Time to see what I actually had to write today.
Opening my envelope, I skimmed the small slip of paper inside. Not flowery words. No instructions beyond 'write one and a half pages minimum'. Just two short sentences composing the prompts.
The first prompt was 'Interaction between Magic'. The next was 'Troll Conflict'.
Okay then, I mused. The first one was simple enough. The second one, however, was a little vague. Did it mean all troll conflicts or a single conflict? Guess that's the point through. Kids have to figure that out themselves and write from there. Makes the whole 'meeting thing' tomorrow make a bit more sense.
It's not what you write, but how you write.
Well, time to get to work!
First the books!
The books were preselected for us. Probably because the library staff didn't want a bunch of eleven year old's rolling through their library of precious books. There were over a dozen of them lined up in neat rows on some of the longer tables. Some even had little bookmarks in them. Probably reducing the amount of reading we had to do to find some of the more obscure stuff.
Amongst the rows of books, one tome immediately caught my eye.
Not because it was large, every book here seemed thick enough to stop a bullet. Not because it was nice looking, in fact it was one of the more ratty looking books around. All green, moldy and almost falling apart at the seems to be honest. Truthfully, it was not for any rational reason.
Quite the opposite, it caught my eye for irrational reasons.
Because I could see oily black smoke leaking out from between its closed pages. It was because the patterns along the cover looked like tendrils grasping a serrated sun like object. A single slit eye dominated the cover, at the center of the sun image. More importantly, and horrifying, I could hear it.
Whispers. Just above a hushed silence. Yet clear as someone speaking to me in a normal voice.
Look at me.
Come over.
Read me.
Learn from me.
These phrases kept repeating ad nauseum.
Okay then.
I backed up from the table, walking so far that my back softly bumped into the bookcase behind me.
Yep.
Yeah.
Not touching that thing.
This is some Old Gods bullshit. Bet my life on it. Ignoring the obvious N'zoth eye symbol and the tentacle designs, this thing was already giving off way too many red flags with the oily shadows and whispering.
You'd think that this would elicit a greater reaction than annoyance. The first time I saw something like this, as in something scary I cannot explain, I was scared shitless. The second time, I was terrified. Six months on, I am just sick and tired of all of it. Of course, this little display is the most obvious of the things I have seen. No small shadow moving in the corner of my eye. This is a very in your face type of Old God nonsense.
Looking around, it seemed like no one else was paying any mind to this eldritch bullshit going on. Some kids casually walk by the book in question without batting an eye.
So this is how it's going to be? I scowled. It wasn't enough to put me through hell in my dreams, it has to fuck with me while I'm awake now. Because this is definitely some waking nightmare/delusion stuff. That book probably either only exists in my head and what I'm seeing is being superimposed on a real book.
I open that thing up, and I probably get a jump scare tentacle thing popping out. Or some maddening vision due to eldritch writing in it. Or something equally bad that I just can't comprehend. Would make me look crazy if I just started screaming, seemingly, out of nowhere.
Yep. Just going to ignore it.
I grabbed two books at random and walked away. Putting as much distance between myself and the book as I could.
For the next ten minutes everything was normal. I had my parchment out, quill in hand, ready to write down notes. Thankfully I had actually picked up a book on types of magic, so that was good.
Then I heard the whispering again.
Glaring to my side, I found one of the books I had taken, which had bright red just a bit ago, has been replaced by a moldy old book leaking oily shadows.
I groaned. Getting up I walked back to the table to get another one. To my own horror, each time I reached for a book, it changed. As did the next one. And the next one. Eventually, every book on the table was altered. Moldy. Leaking oily mist. Dark, hushed, whispering.
Then the next table.
Soon all of the tables.
Then the books on the shelves around me began to turn. One after another. Row after row. Oily mist pooled on the floor. In the quiet of the library, the whispers joined together in a deafening chorus. The light seemed to dim as the shadows covered everything.
Worst of all, everyone around me wasa oblivious to it all, a couple of kids even casually strolling through the shadowy mist pooling on the floor without a care.
You know what, fine! I huffed. I grabbed a couple of the eldritch looking tomes at random from the shelves and marched back to my seat. Trying to look as natural as possible, as I waded through the mists that rose to my knees. The entire chamber seemed to have taken a mixed hue of sickly orange and purple.
In the time I was gone, the books that I left behind also turned.
On the way, I passed a servant. They asked me a question, but I heard nothing over the ravenous whispers. All I saw was their lips moving.
"Thank you, I'm fine," I told them hoping I guessed what they were asking me correctly. I was careful not to give into the urge to raise my voice above the eldritch noises, knowing full well I was the only person hearing them.
Didn't want to seem crazy or anything.
Rushing back to my desk, I dropped the texts down with a louder thud than I intended. Probably startling quite a few people if the turned heads was any indication. Without thinking, I pushed my papers and ink to the side. Taking one of the books I brought back with me before me. Time to see what that squid wants me to see so I can get back to my work.
That damn whispering is ruining my concentration! Can't think straight with all this noise! And I don't like the strange looks some of the people are sending me after they saw how I carelessly treated some of the tomes.
With a huff, I brought the book up for closer inspection. Oil shadows rolled off my fingers; it felt like a cold mist. The whispers became louder. I steadied myself, as if I were taking a hit to the gut; probably less dangerous than what I was about to do. If I know something is coming, then it won't be as bad.
I think.
Eyes shut, I wretched the book open.
I sat there, eyes sealed shut, waiting for something to happen. Just listening to the whispers around me. But nothing immediately happened. Though the cool feeling mist on my fingers stopped.
So I sat there. Eyes closed.
One minute passed.
Then another.
On the third minute, I worked up the courage to open my eyes. And upon the page of this obvious Old God affected book-vision I saw….
Nothing.
Not in the sense of nothing abnormal, but nothing at all. It was a blank page. Yellowed from age. But nothing eldritch or maddening about it. No pictures or writing of any kind. Scowling, I flipped to the next page. Also, nothing. As was the next one. And the next one. And the ten that followed.
Cradling the book, I flipped through every page. Each and every one of them was blank.
What the fuck?
Curious, I opened the next moldy text. Whispers, shadows, and all.
It too had blank pages comprising the entire book. The mists stopped flowing out as soon as I cracked it open.
As were the next three books I leafed through.
What was the point of all this?
"The point is to expand your mind," an authoritative voice jolted me. My body jerked, the book fell over. Looking at the source of the voice I saw a woman walk over to me.
Fuck did I say that outload!
Wait…
Looking around, I realized everything was normal again. Everything was gone. Mists. Shadows. Whispers. Even the books turned back to normal. As if someone had flipped a switch to turn off 'eldritch vision'.
She looked amused. "Don't be alarmed dear. It's clear you're part of the testing group."
"Y-Yes," I squeaked out. Fuck. Fuck. Not good. If he sees some kid talking to themselves and being scared of books, that could be very bad for me! Failure would be the least of my worries compared to being put in an asylum for insanity!
Getting a good look at her now, it was obvious she worked at the academy. Tall. Garbed in fine wine-red robes. She looked very young, of course that didn't mean much with the way elves aged. She had well kept, if dulled, blond hair.
However, the more I looked at her the more I could see something was...off.
Her skin seemed to shimmer under the light. Like little ripples in water after you throw a little pebble in. Not in the eldritch oily way either. More of an officiating type of rippling. Actually, now that I get a good look, her robes seemed completely normal, it was just her skin that had that shimmering appearance.
She looked at the mess in front of me. Small pile of books. Crumpled up parchment. Ink covered fingers. The woman chuckled at my nervousness. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything. If we failed students for being messy there would be no mages left in all the kingdom."
"Sorry," I hastily tried to clean my area regardless. Let her think I was just nervous over being caught in a mess.
"It's still far more organized than my office," she joked.
I laughed nervously. She seemed like a nice person. Less strict instructor, more a kind older sister.
"Now I hope it's not a bother," she looked over my paper. "But I wanted to ask you what you were working on just now. Heard a bit of noise over there," She gestured to the next row, "so I got curious what was going on."
Fuck! I blathered out the first thing that came to my mind.
"Reading."
Her face remained jovial, "reading?"
"Yes ma'am."
Giving me a quick smile, she snatched the top book of my pile and fingered through the pages. It was dusty brown now. Probably its original color. Come to think of it, I actually have no idea what the book actually says. Or what most of these books are about.
Wait! What if it's a book about something completely out of left field! I just grabbed a bunch of books from the shelves! Or something not normal! I'm supposed to be writing something about a 'Troll War'. I really don't want to explain why I'm reading something not related to the work. What if it's something like-
"Well this is a surprise," her musing broke my mental diatried.
"You think so," I sounded way calmer than I actually was. Was this surprise in a good way or a bad way?
"I do indeed," she looked back to me. "I admit there is a bit of a bias in the Academy towards the Amani Wars." What? "But to be frank, I think it's honestly refreshing to see someone writing about something other than those trolls."
Placing the opened book back on the desk, I could finally see what I was 'reading'.
"An account of the Gurubashi-Stormwind War"
At least I don't look crazy for having a book unrelated to what I'm writing.
"I'm actually curious why you'd choose this particular subject," she tapped the page. "Most children these days seem more enamored with the Troll conflicts closer to home."
Think! "I just wanted to do something a little different," I replied. Fuck why did I say that!
"Different?"
I nodded, giving no glimpse into my mental ramblings. "If everyone is doing the same thing over and over, then what's the point?"
"So you're writing on this topic because you wish to stand out," she questioned again.
"Not exactly," The words were coming easier now. This tale I was weaving seemingly taking shape with every sentence. I was going to make the best out of this lifeline I had, and hope it didn't become my noose. "I didn't choose this for the sake of being different, but because I felt that if I wrote something different it would help me stand out more amongst the dozens of seemingly identical essays."
"Fair enough, " she relented. "But if you don't mind me asking, what part of the war interests you the most?"
I'll let you know when I figure that out. "It's less about any one thing," I began to string my story together. "I was just curious about things involving other kingdoms. All I've read about until now was just about Quel'Thalas's wars and battles with the trolls. I just want something new is all."
Please leave me alone, I mumbled in my head.
She must have gotten the hint from my expressions, "well don't let me keep you from writing. Good luck dear." With that she walked away.
I sighed.
Fuck, now I need to write about the Gurabashi war….
---
"Congratulations on completing the written phase of the entrance exam. And congratulations for reaching the third day of examination," the proctor called out from the stage.
The room was far emptier than it was yesterday. His voice echoed much further and more clearly than days before. Whereas before it was difficult to really gauge if there were less people, today it became very apparent that many people had failed. My best guess was that, maybe, half of the original number of kids were still here.
Thankfully, Elsia was still here. It was nice to have someone to talk to.
"Within the next hour, you will be summoned for consultation by members of our staff," he began. "From there, you will be evaluated. Should you meet their expectations, you shall be seconded to the final portion of the exam. Should you be found wanting in your meeting, then we thank you for your time."
Lay it on thick why don't you.
As the hour went by, servants would periodically come in and call out a name. One by one, the children trickled out of the room. Most came back looking broken up. Red faces. Puffy eyes. Tear stricken clothes. Oh yes, this was very comforting.
"I wouldn't worry Syllia," Elsia comforted me as we waited. She was, awkwardly, patting me on the back. "It's more about how you answer your questions than what you answer."
I blew a strand of hair obstructing my vision, "You are seeing everyone walking out looking like their dreams were just shattered right?"
"They were shattered," she quipped back. "More likely, they are afraid of what their parents or guardians will react to their failings."
Fair enough. "That doesn't fill me with confidence."
"It's just-"
"Miss Elsia Emberbirth!"
We both looked to see a servant gesturing Elsia to come over.
"Well," she took a deep breath, straightening her clothes. "Looks like it's my turn."
"Good luck," I offered her my hand.
Smiling, she took it, "you as well, Syllia."
Seeing her walk off into the distance, following the servant down a hall. I wondered how much longer I would have to wait.
The answer, it turned out, was two minutes.
"Miss Syllia Dawnguard!"
---
A short walk later, we reached somewhere. An office? Conference room?
The servant knocked on the fine door twice. Waited three seconds, then cracked it open.
"Pardon the intrusion, your Lordships," the servant spoke softly. "The applicant you requested has arrived."
A moment of silence. A clearing throat. "Good, send her in," a man replied.
"Of course, your excellency," she opened the door fully. Head tilted downward, eyes to the floor, she gestured for me to enter.
Walking in, I quickly observed two things. First, the room was beyond opulent. Less an office suited for a teacher, and more of a private study you'd find secluded in a mansion. Fine furniture. Rich tapestry. A set of bookcases filled with all manners of tomes, scrolls, and texts. A gold plated fireplace, flames blazing on within. So many floating crystals, gems, and other do dads I had no name for. What's more, even a single step in, I could feel the density of mana that was currently circulating in this space. Like wading through a room of thick steam.
The second thing I noticed, as the door closed behind me, were the room's two occupants of the room.
The first man was the one I expected. He looked very old, wrinkles layered his face here and there. Spectacles gleamed in the light. Greyed out hair was well kept. Red hued robes with gold accents; though the red was closer to a wine red then the fiery red I've seen the other mages wear. He gave off an old, grandfather vibe with his soft smile.
His counterpart, however, did catch me a bit off guard. Unlike the first mage, this man looked young. Mid twenties by human estimates. Of course, they could put his age anywhere from twenty to two thousand in elf terms. He had long chestnut brown hair that ran down his back. Almost feminine, by human standards, in style. But a form favored by many elves I have seen. He had a neutral facial expression, betraying nothing. The most striking departure from the norm was his robes. Instead of the reds and golds I've seen until now, his were predominantly blue and purple.
And emblazoned on them, quite boldly, was the sigil of the Kirin Tor.
"Don't be shy dear, he doesn't bite," the older mage jokes, beckoning me to come over. The other mage rolled his eyes at the old man's humor.
I complied, of course, taking a seat in front of his desk.
"Ah, where are my manners. I am Keeper Lyandros," the elder mage introduced himself. He gestured to his companion, "and this gentleman is Archmage Aethas Sunreaver of Dalaran."
Sunreaver. The name rang a bell. Wasn't that a Blood Elf faction name? I'd think about that later.
"Greeting your excellences, I-"
"We know who you are, Miss Dawnguard," Lyandros interrupted, chuckling at my introduction. "By the way, which do you prefer to be addressed by, Syllia or Miss Dawnguard?"
"Either one your excellence."
"Splendid. And dear, a simple sir will suffice for me. Can't speak on Aethas's behalf, but in private I find the whole 'excellence' thing a bit overdone."
"If we were in my lecture hall," the Archmage finally spoke up, "or meeting in a more official capacity I would insist. But here? Sir will be enough."
"Yes sirs."
"Now that introductions have concluded, let us get to the point of this meeting," Lyandros fiddled about with a paper on his desk. "How have you been finding the exam so far Syllia?"
I tried to find the right words, "It's," Hard, "not what I expected."
"You are not the first to feel that way," he chuckled. "Nor do I believe you shall be the last."
"This is all just a little, overwhelming," I confessed. "Forgive me sir, but why is-"
"Aethas here?" Lyandors finished my question.
I nodded, looking to Sunreaver, "I don't mean any insult sir. I'm just surprised that a mage from Dalaran is here."
"Nothing to apologize about, child. Truth be told I only arrived an hour ago, " Sunerever explained.
"I used to be a part of the Kirn Tor myself in my distant youth," the Keeper elaborated. "Eventually I retired to teach at the academy. My days in Dalaran may be over, but I still have some friends amongst the Council of Six. I just wanted to have a second opinion on some of the things you wrote about in your essays. Aethas was the first to respond."
Oh fuck. What is this about?
"All that being said, let us begin. What can you tell us about this diagram you drew," Lyandros placed a paper before me.
It was my sketch from the exam. He didn't show the question, or my answer. Just the chart I attached to my answer. To visualize what I meant.
It was a rather simple design. An X with a single line down the middle. At each end point, a word was written: Light, Arcane, Death, Shadow, Fel, Life. Each word was paired against each other at opposite ends of the same line: Light-Shadow, Arcane-Fel, Death-Life.
I stared at it, "is it wrong?"
"No. No. Oh no," the Keeper replied quickly. "On the contrary, this is quite accurate."
"Though most mages tend to consider them as separate, isolated, spheres of conflicting energies. Rather than parts of a greater whole," the Archmage added.
"So," I tried to piece together what they were getting at. All I did was draw the chart the way I remember I saw it on the wiki. "Did I write it the wrong way?"
"We're just curious," Lyandros did not address my question. "Why did you draw it this way specifically."
Because that's what I remember from the wiki. Doubt that answer would mean anything to them.
So while writing my essay I may have used some of my knowledge from the WOW wiki to write out the stuff. I mean, the books the library provided seemed to take almost twenty pages to explain something as simple as 'Fel bad, Light good'. So I took it upon myself to use the wiki, sparingly, to get things done a little faster.
I'm pretty sure I didn't use anything too in depth.
"They all relate to one another," I replied. "Nothing is isolated, everything connects in some way."
"So you say, but most mages would assume Light would oppose both Shadow and Fel," Sunrever countered. "The nature of Shadow is self explanatory, but Fel is the domain of demons; of destruction and ruin. Light, as the priests will never let us forget," that remark got a chuckle from Lyandros, "is the domain of purification and healing."
"I wasn't saying that the light couldn'-"
"That may be," Aethas interrupted me. "But the question remains. It is the very antitis of the Fel. So how did you come to think that Arcane is the counter to Fel?"
"Shadow and Light oppose each other because they are opposites by nature, Light and Dark," I explained. "But Fel is Chaos. Not destruction. Not ruin. Just chaos. Arcane, by contrast, is order. Therefore, order and chaos naturally oppose one another."
They were both silent for a moment. A few glaces to one another. Knowing looks.
Lyandros scribbled something down, and cleared his throat. "Moving onto your second paper." He snatched the chart back, " truth be told this is the aforementioned reason why I called for my friend here, as this topic is far more within his purview than my own," he explained. "In your paper, you mention a human mage as being instrumental in the Kingdom's victory against the Guribashi. One 'May-dev'."
"Medivh," I corrected him. Once again, I had to rely on my wiki knowledge to properly answer this question. The books got some of the information right, but there wasn't a single mention of how Medivh single handedly saved the city of Stormwind from annihilation. Granted I wasn't expecting them to say 'Medivh, Guardian of Azeroth' because the whole Guardien thing was a secret, but they didn't even mention him at all. Seems like a pretty big oversight to me.
He gave a quick look to Aethas, who nodded. "Of course. My mistake. The mage Medivh," he flipped through some papers and scribbled something down. "You wrote that," he adjusted his spectacles, "quote, 'the human victory in the war would have been impossible without the aid of mage Medivh. His intervention during the siege of Stormwind proved the deciding factor of, not only the battle, but the war itself', unquote. Is that correct?"
"Yes sir," I nodded.
"Can you expand upon that," the keeper explained.
"What do you mean sir?" Does he mean why the trolls even made it the city in the first place?
"Forgive me if I seem brusque, but how can a single mage, no matter how powerful they might be, shift the tide of a war? Even the Battle of the Alterec Mountains required the combined effort of hundreds of mages to decimate the troll hordes."
Okay, how to phrase this without going into the whole 'He is the Defender of Azeroth from the Burning Legion' thing. "Well, he was the greatest human mage to ever live." Who also opened the dark portal to Azeroth. "And the Troll army was all bunched together when they assaulted Stormwind. It's not that hard to wipe out an army when they're all together like that. Especially from the battlements as the trolls are smashing themselves against the city walls."
Lyandros looked to Sunreaver, an arched eyebrow silently asking for his input.
"While it may seem strange, Miss Dawnguard is correct. It is important to remember the scale of the war in question. The Battle of the Altrec Mountains was for the survival of all civilization. The Siege of Stormwind, merely the survival of a single nation."
"Merely," Lyandros joked.
"Compared to the survival of the civilized world? Yes, merely."
"Well there go my questions," Lyandros said to himself. "Still I have to say that it was quite fortuitous for the King of Stormwind to call upon such a mighty mage in their hour of need."
"Indeed," Sunerver agreed, "It was fortuitous that King Wrynn brought him into the conflict when he did."
Wait a second. I remember the wiki! Sure, it's been over a decade since I looked at it, but to me it feels like just a few weeks memory wise. And I know what I read. And that's not what happened! The king had no idea about Medivh. It was his son who called for his help.
But, do I really want to risk them failing me on the spot for trying to one up them? Am I really so proud that I have to show off my knowledge to people who are centuries my senior?
...
Damnit.
I shook my head, "that is not correct."
The mages looked at me.
Lyandros raised an eyebrow, "It's not?"
"No," I took a deep breath. "It wasn't the king who called for Medivh's help but his son, the prince. At first, Prince Wrynn suggested bringing Medivh to Strangethorn to deal with the Gurabashi threat once and for all before they could attack Stormwind. Medivh wiped out the Guabashi in the area, but the trolls later regrouped and laid siege to the city itself. Most likely to sack it to exact revenge for their prior defeat. King Wrynn died in the battle. Prince Wrynn assumed the throne and asked Medivh to aid them one last time. Which he did, destroying the invading army and ending the Guabashi War."
Whatever they expected me to say, it certainly was not that. The two looked owlish at me, as if I had grown a second head. They exchanged some looks with one another. I heard the quick scribbling noise of a quill on parchment.
Maybe I relied on the wiki a little too much for that explanation.
"Correct," Sunreaver seems genuinely surprised. "You seem to be quite well read in history for someone of your age."
I almost blushed from the compliment, "I just like reading sir."
"If only youth today were as humble and educationally inclined as you," he complimented me. "In fact, I have half a mind to bring you to Dalaran this instant. Only half Lyandros," he quickly added when the Keeper shot him a look.
"Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for the Academy, she is set to compete in the practical examination tomorrow," the Keeper finished his feverish writing. Stamping whatever it was he wrote on. "You may be my friend, but I will not quietly let you poach our applicants. Only so many hopefuls make it this far."
"And I have every confidence that only a third of them, at most, will meet this Academy's exacting standards."
"And should she not be a part of them, you should rest assured that you will be among the first to know; outside of the admissions council themselves."
Wow. Mages are sure territorial over 'prodigies' like myself. This is some highbrow bickering.
Sunrever gave a light chuckle, "as much as I want to continue this, now that my task here has concluded, I must be off." He held his hand out expectantly to Lyandros. Sure enough, the old man handed him a sealed letter. Probably the thing Lyandros was just writing.
"Fair enough. Give my best wishes to his Lordship for me when you see him."
"I shall. Though knowing Antonidas, he will scoff and claim he is merely old; not decrepit."
"Yet," Lyandros solemnly noted.
"Yet," Sunreaver agreed. He turned to me, "Farewell Syllia Dawnguard, this meeting was more productive than I had thought it would be. Best wishes on your exam to come. And know that the doors of the Violet Citadel will be open to you should your venture here come to a premature end."
With those parting words, in a flash of light, he was gone.
Seems like a nice guy.
I turned to Lyandros, the old elf was once more writing at a furious pace. As seconds ticked by, it would appear that he had forgotten about me.
"Sir?"
He looked up, "ah yes. Forgive my absent mind. Arrive at the meeting hall before noon tomorrow. Everything else shall be explained there."
I meant if I'd passed or- Wait!
My heart fluttered. Did that mean….
"So I passed?"
"Pardon?" He looked at me.
"The exam, sir," please don't tell me he has elf dementia or something! Did he really forget the whole point of the meeting. Less than a minute later! "Did I pass? You said to come tomorrow, so does that-"
"The exam? Oh, yes, of course you passed," the keeper replied. His tone made it seem like it was an afterthought. "You are free to head home for the day."
I did my best not to squee in front of the man. That would probably ruin the, I hope, good impression I had cultivated during the meeting. Had to bite my lip to keep the cheer down. But my arms did jerk into a semi fist pump. I walked to the door, careful not to look like I was rushing. Or skipping.
"Word of advice, Miss Dawnguard," Lyandros spoke up before I left. "I would highly encourage you to get a full night's sleep, and have a good breakfast before arriving. You will need all your energy for tomorrow's exam."
I turned back, "Sir?"
"I can say no more on the matter," he smiled. "Just be well rested, well fed, and prepared for anything."
Well that's not ominous.
I nodded. Thanking him for the advice, I stepped out of the room, doing my best not to trip over my own legs as I rushed out.
Sadly, I failed to keep my balance on the way out. Scraped my knees on the stone floor. Thankfully no one was there to see me hit the ground.
But I didn't even care. My ego was restored! I was ready! I had my second wind! All my fears about washing out ignobility were gone!
I could do this!
Just one more step!
And god was I nervous about the hellish gut punch I knew was coming my way tomorrow!
Buckle up buckaroos! It's the "I can't believe its not a tournament arc" chapter!
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"Syllia, sweetie, be reasonable," Mom asked me. Her hand on my shoulder, eyes almost puppy like.
How was this even a question? "No!" I turned my attention to my eggs. Ignoring the whining, woman child, next to me. I had to focus on eating my breakfast right now.
"Oh come on Syllia. Don't be stingy! Your mother is offering to help you."
I groaned. "That," I pointed at her aid, "is not helping. That is a possible crime."
"It's just a tool," she tried to counter. "No different from a book or a wand."
"It's a gun!" I picked up the flintlock pistol she placed at the table earlier. "This can kill someone!"
She looked amused at my point, "first off dear, that is a single shot pistol. Can't fire more than once in a row. Second, and no offense sweet, you're not a good enough shot to really hurt anyone." I've never even held a gun before; this life or last! And I didn't even know we had a gun in the house!". Third, " she took it from my hand, "how is this any more dangerous than what mages already do?"
"It could kill someone," I repeated.
"Syllia, how is a little ball of lead more dangerous than a fireball capable of incinerating a house," she questioned.
"Because," I tried to come up with a counter argument. She was right, magic, on its own, is more dangerous than any amount of munitions.
"Because…" she looked quite smug at my lack of a response. Her damn smile grew more impish by the moment. "Yes sweetie, because," she leaned in. How the hell did her smile keep growing?
"Because-" I was at a loss for words. "Because....did you use a gun at my age?"
"Of course not," she waved off my question. "I learned when I was younger than you."
Are you kidding me! "I'm not taking a gun. End of discussion Mom!"
She threw up her hands. "Okay. Fine. No gun." Mom put the flintlock away; in a kitchen drawer of all places. Why would she store it there? She turned back to me, "you'll at least take the knife right?"
Oh my God. I pinched the ridge of my nose. Next to the spot where the pistol had been was a simple knife. I ran my free finger along the flat end of it. My finger nearly clipped the bladed edges.
"You probably poisoned it when I wasn't looking," I mumbled to myself.
"Your damn right I did!"
I didn't register her words for a moment. Tilting my head, I realized just how close my forefinger was to the blade's pointy tip.
….
I retched my hand away, cradling my forefinger. Examining it for a cut. "Why would you give me a poisoned knife!"
She looked beyond amused at my flustering. Arms crossed, she grinned, "a better question is why wouldn't I give you a poisoned knife?"
"Because people don't just give kids poisoned knives! What if I accidentally cut myself and got poisoned by it?"
"Nothing would have happened," she picked up the blade, twirling it between her fingers. "Because you've had the antidote in your system since last night."
"When did you-" My question died on my tongue. Mom cooked dinner last night. Probably slipped it in with the food.
"And you just finished a second dose of it a few minutes ago." To emphasize her point, she picked up my cleaned breakfast plate. "You'll probably be immune to this toxin until this evening."
So Mom slips me drugs in my food. What a foreboding thought.
Of course, the question remained.
"What would that stuff do anyway?" My curiosity demanded.
"A minor paralysis poison," she answered while washing off the dishes. "Nothing too exotic. And not in a concentrated form. Worse comes to worse, they'd be immobile for an hour. More likely, they'd be paralyzed for however long it takes for a healer to flush it out of the poor kid's system."
"Why would I even need a poisoned knife," I brought the conversation back. "The exam could be anything."
"You're right, I could be anything," she agreed. "If you're fighting someone you'd be able to use it. If not, just keep it sheathed."
"Having it assumes I'm going to fight someone, I could-"
I heard her give an exaggerated sigh, she turned to me, "Sweetie, when someone tells you to be prepared for anything, always assume the worst."
"It's just a test," I tried to tell her.
"With magic," she fired back. "Anything involving magic tends to become dangerous rather quickly."
This was getting frustrating, "Mom I am going to be fine. I don't need a knife. I certainly don't need a poisoned knife or a gun. That last one might just disqualify me if I actually brought it!"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Yes okay," she repeated. "Maybe I went a little overboard."
A little, I snorted.
She sighed, taking a seat next to me, "I love you. I'm just trying to make sure you have the best chance of doing whatever it is you'll do today. My parents taught me a certain way. Guess that way is just incompatible with a mage's way of doing things." She hugged me.
"I know. And I love you, but I need to do this on my own. No shadowy stuff." I hugged her back. But, one thing still nagged at me, "actually, what would your parents do in this situation?"
I felt her grin, "you mean getting into a fight or getting into a school?"
"Both," I was nervous about the answer now.
She hummed to herself, "well to get into a school, they'd probably make sure to either blackmail or bribe whoever was in charge of admissions," she seemed amused by the face I made. "But if it was a fight then I guess it comes down to what I was up against."
"What do you mean?" I was very nervous now.
"If it was a fist fight, Mom would tell me to bring a knife," she laughed at some unspoken joke. "You know what she'd say if they brought a knife to a fist fight?"
"Bring a gun?"
"Nope. Burn down their house at night as a warning to the others in the area."
She said that with such genuine charm and glee that it makes me wonder how she turned out so normal.
Relatively speaking….
--
The auditorium was quite empty today. Maybe two dozen, not just test takers, were here, myself included. The room was absolutely drowning in nervous energy. Whereas the first day kids met up in small cliques and groups, now everyone sat a good distance from each other. No one seemingly talked to one another. Or if they did, it was so quiet I couldn't hear. Some just sat their, eyes closed in the comfy lounge chairs provided. Others read books. Most sat quietly.
The room was almost as silent as the grave.
Looking at the stage, the set up was a little different today. The proctor from before was still there, in all his professional, if somewhat bored, glory. But this time he brought a friend with him; a mage. His face was covered by a cowl. But his robes were quite ornate and clean. Like every other mage I've seen in this place.
Thankfully for my own nervousness, I did meet up with Elsia again. She had none of the nervousness the others showed. Then again, her display of emotions seemed to be more on the stoic side of the spectrum. It's not that she did not show emotion, but rather she was quite reserved in who she showed them too. She did seem a bit more lively when I talked with her when compared to seeing her talk to someone else.
That being said, I've only known her for a few days. So maybe I'm completely wrong.
After waiting half an hour, the proctor began addressing us.
"Greetings and congratulations applicants," the speaker's voice boomed across the empty room. "You have passed through the gauntlet of tests and examinations that have ended many a hopeful's dream. When we began this examination, there were one-hundred and twenty six applicants. In the ensuing days, your numbers have been whittled to twenty-two."
Holy shit, that is one hell of a failure rate. I quickly glanced over to the remaining children. Some fidgeted. Others took quick breaths. One looked completely bored.
"Even still," he continued, "your numbers shall be reduced even further before the day is over." He gestured to the robed figures before him.
With a nod, they began channeling mana for a spell. A spark of mana, bloom of light, and there was a simmering portal at the foot of the stage.
"We shall now travel, as a group, through this portal. It shall take us to the location of the final part of this examination. All shall be explained on the other side. Do not tarry." With a curt nod to the telemancers, the Procter walked off the stage, motioned for us to follow, and stepped into the portal.
Teleporting via a portal is an...experience. Like the whole world spun around for a split second before righting itself.
The chamber we arrived in was vastly different from the room we were in before.
To start it was massive. At least three stories high. This whole chamber was predominantly made with a red colored stone. There were no windows or natural light sources of any kind. All light emanated from an assortment of crystals, braziers, and candle light. Large amounts of cushy seating surrounded an elevated stage that ran the length of the center of the room.
Or arena, I mused.
Looking around, one thing did nag at me. Along one wall at the far end of the chamber, there was something. A distortion. A wavy flux in an empty space some ways up. For a moment, I feared I was about to be visited by N'zoth and his nightmare bullshit, but this seemed different. It wasn't shadowy, or oily, or anything that burned my eyes to look upon. The distortion was simply there.
Curious, I reached out to feel the mana in the area. To my surprise, and relief, I felt mana pooling in that area. Swirling like a vortex. Throwing away anything that got too close. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Even in the worst of N'zoth's Old God fuckery I couldn't feel any mana out of place. As if everything that happened was natural. This, by contrast, my senses were telling me was something off. Meaning that it wasn't old god bullshit. But if not that, then what?
"Welcome! Welcome!"
A elderly voice broke me from my investigation. Seated in a balcony far above was a collection of elderly looking elves. Their skin wrinkled and withered with age. Hair greyed or whitened by time. A few looked positively atrophied; more skeleton than skin and muscle. In spite of that, the robes they wore were beyond immaculate. Gems, crystals, circlets, and other trinkets shined in the false light. The display of wealth and power was figuratively, and literally, blinding.
"Welcome children!" an elf seated at the center of the balcony called out. He waved his arm to get the other's attention. His robes and trinkets were markedly more gaudy then his companions. He walked to the edge of the balcony, a golden staff in hand as a makeshift walking stick.
"Welcome, I am High Magister Erhen, Headmaster of Dath'Remar," despite being so far away, he sounded as if he were standing before us. Magic, obviously. "I, and my colleges," he gestured to his compatriots above, "are proud to welcome you to the final phase of the entrance examination."
He now had everyone's attention.
"This portion of your exam is meant to test your practical skills in magic and spell work," he explained. "For the past week, you have been tested, tried, and pushed to your limits in theory. Now, you shall demonstrate your potential for all to see. Few applicants make it this far. Fewer still shall take their place amongst our number. Know that regardless of your success or failure in the coming test, the skills you have demonstrated, the resolve you have shown, are clear indications of a bright future ahead for each of you."
He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.
"Each year, our practical examination takes on a different focus. Ultimately, what form that exam takes the form of is my decision. For this year I have decided that you.." he pointed his staff to us.
"....shall duel one another."
Confusion rippled across us.
He's going to make us fight each other?
So is this battle royal or one on one. Because one is far easier than the other.
"Your opponents have already been chosen," the Headmaster clarified. "You shall compete against one another to the best of your abilities. And we," he again gestured to his associates, "shall judge each and every one of you on your merits in combat and come to a decision. Defeat does not mean failure."
So you can lose, but still pass. It's not about winning. It's about showing off. Okay. I can show off.
"You shall fight until either one party can no longer continue the battle, one party yields, or the proctor judges the participant unable to continue. Healers shall be on hand to deal with any extraneous injuries you may suffer."
They had healers on standby. That, almost sets off red flags for how dangerous this will be.
"Good luck, to each and everyone of you," he turned to sit down. Slowly, needing the staff to help hobble to his ornate throne. "You may begin proctor."
The proctor gave the Headmaster a deep bow, then turned his attention to us. "As his excellence stated, you shall duel one another. I shall call up your exam numbers in pairs. Proceed to the stage when called. The rest of you take a seat and do not distract the duelists."
Duel, nice way of saying battle.
I looked to Elsia, who nodded and motioned over to an empty area. To be fair, the place was empty to begin with. As I began to sink into my cushy seat, the proctor began to read off the first numbers.
"For the first bout: Applicant twenty-five, Elsia Emberbirth." I saw Elsia take a quick breath in next to me. She hadn't even taken her seat. Looking at me, she gave the briefest of smile's before marching forward.
I held my breath for the next number.
It would be so ironic if-
"And Applicant thirty-two, Ferris Oakshield" a boy flinched. Must be his number. He also walked to the stage. While he tried to hide his emotions, his constant wiggling of his fingers betrayed his nervousness.
For a moment, I thought we would be fighting each other. Seemed like the stereotypical thing to do. Force two people who built up a kind of friendship with one another to fight it out. Potentially causing a grudge to form between both parties that ruins said budding friendship.
Of course, statistically speaking, there really was only a one in twenty one chance that my name would be called.
They both walked on stage, standing a good distance away from each other. Elsia's face was stoic. The boy shook like a reed.
"Are you ready," the proctor questioned.
"Yes," Elsia stated.
The boy gulped, "I think- I mean yes. I'm ready."
The proctor was silent for a moment.
"You may begin."
Immediately, the stage erupted in white flames. They snaked and coiled around where the boy was standing. I heard him screaming. Couldn't tell if it was in shock or pain. Elsia looked bored; hand extended manipulating the flames. This display went on for a minute, during that time, the boy's voice went ragged, then stopped altogether.
The flames died of their own accord shortly after.
"The match is over, Elsia Emberbirth is the victor."
The boy was on the ground. He didn't seem in pain. His robes were a bit burnt a bit from the fire. His face red from the flames. But overall, he didn't look like he was burned alive. Even walked off the stage under his own power. So that's good. Looked like he was going to cry though....
That bout probably hurt his pride more than anything really serious.
The one sidedness of Elsia's match set the tone for the next matches. One applicant would simply overpower the other. Each match was finished in under a minute. The abilities of each victor showed were equally overwhelming.
One girl teleported behind her opponent and blasted them forward with arcane energy. Kid had a bloody nose from where he hit the ground.
In the next match a boy used a supreme display of fire magic, though not to the same extent as Elsia's spell work, to encircle the area his opponent was standing with fire. The flames never touched his opponent, but the fear it inspired, and the fresh memory pf what happened earlier, caused her to forfeit the match.
Then came a weird one; twins. In short order, the sisters knocked each other out with equally impressive displays of magic. They seemed to have had fun during the duel if their smiles and good natured quips, prior to being knocked out, were anything to go by.
Following that was-
"Applicant sixty-nine, Venara Coldwater" I feel like such a child being amused by that. Oh wait-
"and Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard."
Wait.
The announcement dragged me from my thoughts. Already, a girl was already walking up to the stage.
I jumped a bit when a hand touched my shoulder.
It was Elisa, "Coldwater's are known for their frost magic."
Of course a family with a name like 'Coldwater', they'd be experts of frost magic.
I nodded, "any other tips?"
She shook her head, "nothing that would help right now. Just be careful."
"Thanks Elsia you're a good-"
"Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard." the procter repeated.
I groaned to myself, "I'm coming!" I spared Elsia one last look before rushing onto the stage.
I finally got a good look at my opponent. She was pale. Not in a sickly sense, like what I saw in Elsia, but more from lack of sunlight. Face still had some baby fat; pudgy around the cheeks. Her brunette hair went down a little past her shoulders. She was dressed in fine black-red robes with hints of gold thread here and there. Also wore a pair of thin black gloves.
The most distinctive part of her outfit was her little shoulder cape.
It broke nearly every color convention I've seen in all High Elf society; it was blue. The embroidery of a tree's roots holding a circular disk was threaded in silver rather than gold. Silver and blue. Against her robes black and red. Quite distinctive.
"Are both applicants prepared?"
"Yes," I called out.
"As am I!" I heard Coldwater answer from my spot.
The proctor nodded. He paused for a few seconds; as if syncing the match to an imaginary clock.
"Begin!"
Even before he finished the word, Cloldwater was already in motion.
Cold blue energy built up in her hands. She looked amused.
Frostbolt! As the realization dawned on me, I hurriedly charged up my own counter spell. Arcane energy swirled between my fingers, then condensed into an orb.
With smooth precision, Coldwater raised her hand, palm open, and launched the bolt of icy magic. Its target is obvious. The orb of frost magic wasn't as fast as my arcane orbs. But that only left me with a couple of seconds to finish up charging my spell. It sped from my hand, on course to intercept the frostbolt mid flight.
I held my breath as they collided seconds later. The frostbolt smashed into my arcane orb, shattering it, and continuing on its path. It was not slowed by the impact of my spell.
Logically, I knew I probably had the necessary time to bring up a second orb, or even a third, to try and shatter the bolt mid flight. Barring that, I could simply gather arcane energy in front of me and tanked the bolt. It must have at least lost some of its energy from being struck by my orb; I knew for a fact those things can scorch rocks! Or, if I was in a pinch, I could just channel a stream of fire from my hand and hope that it was enough to melt, or deaden, the frostbolt.
Sadly for me, my flight instincts took over.
Shit!
I dove to the ground, scraping my elbow and knee as I skidded across the stone floor. Incidentally, it occurred to me, lying on the floor, that the bolt might be controlled by Coldwater. Meaning she could just direct it to follow me to the ground.
Thankfully, that was not the case. The frostbolt passed bye where I had stood. It struck against the far fall with a satisfying thunk. Traces of snow and frost plastered the wall where it impacted.
Unfortunately, I didn't see the next bolt she fired. It hit me square in the chest while I was getting up. I was thrown right onto my ass. Fuck. Felt like a large bag of ice slammed right into my chest. My robe was drenched around the impact site. The skin beneath felt raw as I patted the area.
I raised my free hand to conjure another arcane orb, only for a third frostbolt to crash into it.
Fuck! I keeled over, inspecting my wounded hand. It was beet red from the spell. Small sheen of ice on a few of the fingers. I wished I'd worn gloves now; clenching my fist experimentally. Fingers, while in pain, still worked.
"Is that it?" I heard Coldwater demand. Looking over I saw her walking over, arms crossed; little cape fluttering with each step. She looked quite annoyed. "You don't even have the power to block a frostbolt? Then you jump out of the way like some mundane? And then," She didn't finish, shaking her head. "I don't know where or who trained you, or why you're even here, but I refuse to play this charade any further. Proctor!" She turned to the mage, "It's obvious she can't compete against me. Call the match already so she doesn't hurt herself."
The man remained silent. His eyes flicked for a brief moment to the headmaster's booth, then back to the arena. He made no motion to move or speak.
"Hey did you hear me! I said I refuse to fight her!"
"Are you yielding the match?" The man questioned.
"What- No!" She pointed to me. "She can't beat me! What's the point in prolonging this match when the winner is obvious!"
"Matches shall continue until either a participant yields or the proctor calls the match," he repeated the earlier instructions. "If you wish to not continue the match, you may yield at any time."
"That's not what I - Ughh!" She gave up appealing to the proctor. She turned her full attention to me. "Hey you!"
I had gotten to my feet again, knees and elbow sore. Hand twitching back to life. Still felt numb.
"Listen to me," she started. "Just yield. For your own sake if nothing else. There's no point in being beaten to a bloody pulp for nothing."
Fuck you too, I glared at her.
She saw that and decided to change her approach, "look, you just had a run of bad luck going up against me of all people. There is no shame in yielding to your superior."
"Excuse me?" What is with this kid?
"This isn't personal," she stated. "But facts are facts. Someone, like you, can never hope to compete against someone of my pedigree. We Coldwater's trace our lineage back to the founding of the kingdom."
'Oh my god she's monologuing.'
"We are the masters of frost magic. We bend the rivers and waters of the land to our will. We are the moon's power incarnate upon the world, the tides ebbing and flowing to our designs. And I," She took a dramatic pose, "stand before you as the product of ten generations of careful breeding. The heir to the glorious power and responsibilities of the Coldwater dynasty. Do you really think someone such as yourself, from a family I have never even heard of, could honestly ever challenge someone like me?"
To be honest, I kind of tuned her out after that. I think she started going on about this ancestor or that famous relative to make a point. All of it wrapped up in a warped sense of honor and Noblesse Oblige. Honestly, this made me just want to shut her up.
As she began to go on about her 'dynasty's honor and prestige in courtly matters' I formulated my counter attack. Those frostbolts could tank my arcane spell. So the only thing I could do was attack.
Without warning, I fired off an arcane orb; beginning to form a second one as it flew forward.
"...his Father's name- HEY! Did you even listen to me!" She raised her hand, palm out. A frostbolt formed and was sent flying against my arcane orb. "You-"
Whatever she was going to say died on her tongue. She watched as I effortlessly controlled my orb to avoid her bolt. Swerving long before the bolt even crossed its path. As her bolt smashed against the back wall, my orb careened towards her.
Surprise was replaced by a clam expression. She crossed her arms, arcane energy pooling in front of her. Arms jerked as her barrier absorbed the full force of my spell. And the next one. And the one after that. By the tenth impact, I gathered that brute force was not going to break her shield.
'What about from behind?'
I charged up a handful of more orbs and quickly sent them straight at her. All except one, which I curved to go far above her and arch downwards at her back. As the last orb smashed her barrier, the one from above struck right between her shoulder blades.
She cried out as the impact threw her forward. Coldwater landed on her hands and knees, skidding forward across the hard floor.
She scowled at me as she straightened her clothes, "you want to keep fighting? Fine! But don't blame me when you get hurt."
She held her hand out to the side. Moments later, water began to appear from thin air. It streamed forth in a thin line, levitating above the ground. After a certain amount had been created, she clenched her fist. The water snap froze into a long, sharp, pseudo ice spear. Said ice spear now turned its point at me.
So frost and hydromancy. Coldwater. How appropriate.
At the flick of her wrist, the ice launched towards me.
Oh fuck.
I moved out of the way as quick as my feet would carry me, throwing an arcane orb as I moved. Thankfully, I stayed on my feet this time. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the orb did nothing when it connected with the ice. Maybe it broke off a chip or two. No real damage. It whistled past where I once stood, shattering against the back wall.
Looking back to Coldwater, I saw she was in the process of creating several more ice spears. Her eyes glaring at me.
Fuck!
She threw three of them at once.
No time to move. Orbs do nothing. Don't think my arcane barrier could stop them. Only one choice left, blink away. Though I still wasn't that good at it, better getting stuck in the ground by my ankle than ending up skewered by those things.
As the ice neared, I channeled my mana. At what seemed like the last second before the shards touched me, I teleported to the opposite side of the arena. A few feet above where I wanted.
Thankfully I stuck the landing.
And I was now behind her.
As she turned around, hearing my landing, I unleashed a barrage of arcane orbs. One after another. Coldwater had no time to react. The first orb threw her on her ass. The next two hit her arms as she shielded her face from further hits. Sadly, after that, she raised her little barrier; the rest broke against it.
Hey, that was pretty effective.
Coldwater lowered her shield to fire off another frostbolt. But she just as quickly had to stop to raise her barrier again, as I threw a pair of orbs at her. While Coldwater had her barrier up, I blinked again; once again behind her. Once more, she was struck in the back and thrown from her feet. And once again, she was hit by consecutive orbs before raising her magical shield.
After a couple bouts of this, a cold blast of wind hit my face. My assault relented as I covered myself from the icy wind.
"Enough!" I heard her cry out.
The icy wind stopped after half a minute. I turned to her as my vision was restored.
I saw her put both hands in front of herself. Coldwater started to conjure water again. Unlike the other times where she'd stop and snap freeze it into little spears, the water just kept flowing. Pooling at her feet. After a large amount was on the ground, it began to float. More and more water joined the mass, which began to take on a humanoid form.
All the while, Coldwater started coughing during the process.
Not waiting to see what the hell she was doing, I fired off several orbs at her.
Without warning, the mass of water moved. It swirled around her, placing itself between the orbs and her. The orbs impacted the mass, blowing off large chunks of water. Said water, from the smallest drop to the largest puddle, quickly reformed back into the main body.
No longer a gelatinous mass, the vaguely humanoid form sprouted a pair of arms and a head. A spindly, single leg, held the construct's form off the ground. Hands with meaty fingers twitched to life. Two ethereal looking lights shined where the thing's eyes would be.
A water elemental.
Coldwater, still coughing, now hunched over holding onto her own knees for support, gave the elemental a single arm gesture. On command, the creature lurched forward. It moved way faster than something of that size should move!
Before I even had time to react, the creature was almost upon me.
On instinct, I gathered all the arcane energy I could to blast the watery monster away from me. Or at the very least break up its form.
One pulse later and the elemental's charge was broken.
Sort of.
Half its mass was now scattered across the immediate area; myself included. A chunk of its chest, and the entirety of one of its arms, was gone.
With the amount of water it lost, it should have collapsed under its own weight by now. Just like it shouldn't be staring at me with its still functional head. And it most definitely shouldn't be rearing up its other arm to punch me.
Reflexively, I took a step back. Slipping on the wet floor. As I felt back, I blinked away. The elemental punched thin air as I landed on my ass; ten or so feet away. Not only had I miscalculated the height I blinked to, a foot off the ground again, but the angle I came in at was not the best. If standing upright was a ninety degree angle, then I just came in at a hundred and thirty degree angle.
As I nursed my sore ass, I watched as the elemental reformed. All the water that had scattered around the area was now flowing back into it. Just like the arcane orbs form earlier, the water elemental was reformed in a matter of seconds. As if nothing had happened.
Another arm gesture from a still wheezing Coldwater, and the elemental charged again.
I didn't even have a change to stand up as the construct barreled towards me once again. Both arms raised. Read to beat me into the ground.
Can't blast it apart with brute force. What about boiling the water away?
Fire magic was the one bit of magic I was most iffy about. Not for any rational reason. I burned myself the first time I tried to cast a fire spell. Kind of put me off to practicing such spells as much as my Arcane spells.
Cast a fire spell, it'll be fine, don't tell the student they need to shield their own hands from being burned. It'll be fun.
But, well, what better time to put my limited skills to the test than a water elemental controlled by a pissed off mage hurling itself at me?
Seconds seemed to drag on as I raised my hands, palms open, heat pooling between my fingers. Raised a small arcane buffer between my hand and said heat. The elemental, oblivious to the charging fire spell, continued onward.
Once it was close, I pushed the heat outward.
The result was instantaneous. Fire spewed out of my hands. No control. No elegance. Less a flamethrower and more a cone of fire spraying orange hot flames in every direction.
While I was not the pyromancer Elisa seemed to be, fire was fire.
I actually couldn't see around the light of the blaze. I waited for a water fist to smash through my flames..
Instead I heard a watery groan. I felt a blast of hot steam flow around me. I kept the flames going for another few seconds before cutting them; half expecting the elemental to be relatively unharmed.
Thankfully, that was not the case. It was simply gone. All that remained was the steam.
Looking over to Coldwater, she looked like she was dying. Heaving and coughing, as if she was gasping for air. Her body shaking. Skin took on another pale shade. As she was on her knees, still coughing, she brought her hand back up. Water began to pool again from it.
'Nope! Not dealing with that shit again!'
I fired several orbs at her. Before they even traveled half the distance to her, they shattered.
What the-
"The match is over," the Procter announced, his arm outstretched. The after effects of a spell still present on his fingertips, "Syllia Dawnguard is the victor."
Polite clapping followed from the spectators. I saw Elsia clapping with actual, genuine, enthusiasm.
I gave Coldwater one last look, watching as she finally got back on her feet. Still breathing heavily.
Making my way-
"No!"
Snapping back, I saw Coldwater begin conjuring more water.
"Miss. Coldwater, the match is over," I heard the proctor intervene. "Please take your-"
"I did not lose!" she snarled, almost baring her teeth. "Not to HER! Not to some Nobody!" As the water began to pool, her coughing returned. "I refuse-" Cough "I refuse to lose to-" Eyes growing wet. Her face grew red. "I won't accept! I will not-Cough". Her arms began shaking. Then, it stopped. The spell, her flow of water, fizzled out. She fell to her knees, in the puddle of her own making. Trying in vain to control her coughing. Tears ran down her face. One arm crossed her face, hiding her red blotchy features from crying; trying to preserve some dignity.
"Miss Coldwater."
It wasn't the proctor this time. It was the headmaster himself. He had gotten out of his seat, and had perched himself against the railing of the booth. She tried to stand up, to turn to the Headmaster, only to fall to her knee again.
"The match has ended," he said calmly. "Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such."
Realization dawned on her. Arguing now was meaningless.
The proctor offered his hand to her. She swatted it away, smashing her own fist into the ground several times before getting up under her own power. Fixing her outfit, flattening out the creases that formed, she proceeded back to her seat. Slowly. Breathing heavily. Looked like she would fall over at the slightest breeze.
In reality, it was her tripping on her own shaky feet that caused her to fall over.
Okay, she might be a bitch, but even I just can't sit by and watch this train wreck.
Before she hit the ground, I blinked to her side. Or more accurately, I blinked in front of her, when I meant to be beside her. Trying to catch her caused me to fall alongside her. My body cushioning her fall.
Took both of us a moment to realize what had just happened. With her on top of me, I could feel her shaking like a reed and how cold she actually was. Didn't need to be a master mage to put two and two together: Mana exhaustion. Probably from that water elemental she summoned.
Also explains why she was keeled over for the last bit of the match.
I somehow slithered my way out from under her; ignoring the soreness in my abdomen. Back on my feet, I offered her my hand. I honestly expected her to slap it away. But she just stared at it, then me, before taking it. Coldwater held my hand for support as we walked to the seats. She guided me to her seat, where I helped her down. Healers were at our side moments later. The golden glow of light magic filled the area.
Turning to leave, I felt a hand grab the edge of my robe. Looking back, I saw Coldwater gesture for me to come close. Shrugging, I leaned in. Her hand gapped the collar of my robe to bring me in closer.
"Why…" I heard her whisper, voice straining.
"What?" I asked.
"Why….did you...help me?" she wheezed out.
Because even if you were a complete bitch, I still pity you in the state you are in, probably would not go over well with someone who was as prideful as her.
"You needed help, so I decided to help" is what I decided on.
"You…" she was at a loss for words. Closing her eyes, I heard her sigh heavily. Shaking her head, she muttered something to herself. It sounded something like "...Idiot...".
She said nothing else. Letting me go, she leaned back in her seat, giving me a shoo gesture.
Rolling my eyes, I walked back to my seat.
Nobles. I wonder if I will even understand them.
As I sat down, I heard Elsia congratulate me. She stopped herself from patting me on the back. Probably a good thing; felt a little sore. Obviously. Took a frostbolt there.
I also felt a little sore from all running and moving around, but nothing too bad.
--
The following matches seemed to pass by like a blur. I didn't really pay that much attention to them, going over my own bout in my head during said duels.
"Hold still now."
I remember the last one ended in a similar matter to the others; one side overwhelming the other.
Then the headmaster got up and said how very good we all were. Honorable. Unique. Special. All the good stuff. Told us to go home, rest, and wait for them to mail us the 'results'. Whatever the hell that means.
One week at most he promised.
With all this testing and examination nonsense done, I could now focus on more immediate issues.
"Stop fidgeting, I'm almost done."
Which leads me to now...
I hissed in pain as Mom dabbed the soaked cloth against my blister covered chest.
Hours after everything was said and done, I was feeling the pain from my duel with Coldwater. Whatever adrenaline high I had been on was gone. I felt everything that was wrong with my body right now.
I only wish I felt this hours ago, where the fucking healers were!
I was sitting in Mom's bedroom. My upper body was covered in a mismatch of blisters and bruised skin. My muscles screamed from being used for the first time. And my scabbed knees and elbows were bandaged up in pseudo band-aids. Hell even the hand that took a frostbolt was twitching underneath bandages.
Feeling like this, I wonder how I was able to walk home under my own power.
"Don't worry Syllia, this solution will have those blisters gone by tomorrow," Mom told me as she dabbed another blister, this one just above my stomach.
"And the muscles?" I hissed. I was barely able to sit up because every little muscle was screaming out a dull, but constant, pain from being used today. Sit up, pain. Lay down, pain. Move arm, pain! Shift even a little bit, pain!
She hummed to herself, "I do have a minor health potion over there. You'll probably have to take a teaspoon or two every six hours for about a couple of days before you feel better."
I groaned, "I feel like my body is going to die…"
"Oh sweetie," she cooed. I twitched as she dabbed another spot, "you'll probably feel even worse tomorrow. 'The day after is always worse than the day of' Mother would always say."
