The first day of classes dawned, mirroring the turmoil in my stomach.
My nerves were absolutely shot.
Before we were placed in our individual classes, we were to perform a series of spells, a sort of magical aptitude test, to ascertain our innate abilities and proficiency.
The better you did, the more advanced your classes were, allowing access to the best teachers and smaller class sizes, ensuring more individualized attention.
While Gran had assured us we were ready, meticulously teaching us the key things we’d need to know and ensuring we could perform them with our eyes closed, I still wasn’t fully confident.
Farrah and I had stayed up the rest of the night after unpacking, practicing all we’d learned until our hands ached and our minds buzzed with residual magic.
She, ever the optimist, was certain she’d do well.
They had all the freshmen gathered into the huge gymnasium, a cavernous space filled with nervous chatter, everyone clad in our training gear.
While we only had to wear the uniforms provided on Mondays, free to wear regular clothing the rest of the week (within the school’s proper dress code guidelines, of course), once you hit the gym doors, you were supposed to be dressed in the training sweats that proudly boasted the school’s logo.
Funny thing about this logo.
It was an exact replica of my ring, the wyvern, its intricate form coiled and majestic, except it was surrounded by all the elements: earth, wind, fire, and air.
At the very center, where the wyvern’s tail met its chest, was the symbol for spirit, a long-forgotten element that could no longer be wielded, its power lost to time.
It basically looked like a star exploded, its fiery shards flying everywhere in a burst of cosmic energy.
The symbol felt ancient, powerful, and deeply significant.
My attention was drawn back to the stage area where four teachers, each representing one of the four major magical disciplines, as well as the Headmaster, were situated.
Headmaster Cree, a commanding presence even from a distance, informed us that they’d be starting in alphabetical order, a methodical approach.
When we heard our name, we were to proceed onto the stage and await instruction.
The task we were given would be tailored to the individual student, as not everyone would be able to perform the same things; purebloods, for instance, couldn’t necessarily do elemental magic without siphoning power from someone or something, and even achieving that was a skill in itself.
First up was Elemental, which neither Farrah nor I had an issue with, given our intense training.
My biggest internal debate with this particular test was which element I should use, which one would showcase my abilities best without completely revealing the full extent of my power.
After watching the few students before me perform, some with tentative displays, others with more confidence, I decided to amp up the magic to medium when my turn came around.
I settled on air, a familiar comfort, summoning a miniature tornado that swirled violently around the stage, a controlled vortex of wind.
It even tilted one of the professor’s toupees off his head slightly, eliciting muffled snickers from the audience.
Farrah, not needing any prompting, her fiery spirit evident, created a floating wall of fire at least ten feet high, making sure it didn’t touch the surface of the stage, her control impressive.
You could feel the intense heat of the flames licking against your skin, even from a distance.
One by one, the students showed their elemental abilities, some impressive and some not.
The only students who didn’t participate were Echo and Asher.
While they can perform magic with the assistance of a magical relic or by tapping into someone else’s magic, with their permission of course, and even achieving that is a skill in itself, it won’t give them the ability to wield elemental magic since that comes from nature itself, a raw, primal connection.
Their magic was different, more innate to their pureblood lineage, yet lacking the elemental versatility.
With the first round over, a brief pause settled over the gymnasium before the second phase began: Spells and Potions.
This, I was not too sure about.
I hadn’t really practiced any one spell with enough dedication to master it, focusing more on a few minor ones.
So, even though I came out the gate strong with my tornado, I knew I had to pull back on the spells.
The best I could do was a small animation, taking off my worn training shoes and bringing them to life so they walked on their own across the stage, a clumsy, comical display.
Farrah, however, was in her element with this one, choosing to delve into alchemy.
She took a regular rock from a bowl provided on stage and, incorporating her fire magic, burned the rock until it was a scorching, molten red, radiating intense heat.
She ran into a bit of a pickle when she had no immediate way to cool down the rock, and seeing that, I instinctively used my own water ability to assist her, summoning a stream of cool water from my palm to douse the incandescent stone.
I heard the collective gasps from around the room when students, teachers, and Headmaster alike, realized I was wielding an entirely different element than I had before, showcasing a versatility that was clearly unexpected.
Ignoring their astonished reactions, I watched in awe as Farrah picked up the now cooled rock and dusted it off, revealing a giant, glistening ruby, its facets catching the light.
Both purebloods were able to perform spells with the aid of a tiny statue that was brought out onto the stage for their use, a conduit for their specific type of magic.
Asher, with a mischievous grin, used a conjuring spell to produce the Headmaster’s monogrammed pen from his desk, earning him a harsh glare from Cree, while the rest of the room erupted in loud laughter.
If I thought he was huge before, he was of behemoth proportions now, his already impressive physique swelling even further, causing an undeniable flutter in my stomach.
Beside me, Farrah spun in my direction, sending me a glare, no doubt hearing my thoughts which were not innocent at all.
After the second round, we were given a half-hour intermission to have lunch, which was provided buffet style in the small room adjoined to the gymnasium, since the final three phases would require a lot of focus and energy.
Standing in line, the smell of various foods filling the air, Farrah and I discussed how we thought we’d done so far when Melody and Lyric sidled up beside us, their eyes wide with excitement.
“Oh my goodness, you two were amazing!” Melody exclaimed, her voice buzzing with enthusiasm.
“Where did you learn that alchemy spell, Farrah?”
“Yeah, and is it a real ruby?” Lyric asked eagerly, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Also, can you make anything else, like gold or diamonds!
Oh my gosh, can you make diamonds?”
“No, I can’t, and they’re not really real,” Farrah replied, a slight frown creasing her brow.
“It’ll turn back to stone in about twelve hours.” Both sisters visibly deflated, their excitement instantly replaced by disappointment.
Both sisters were able to wield air, although from what I could tell, it was at different levels of proficiency, Lyric’s being the stronger of the two, her control more refined.
“And you,” Melody was the one who spoke, her tone suddenly accusatory, but curiosity laced her voice.
“Why didn’t you tell us you could wield two different elements?” Both of them turned to me, arms crossed, their expressions a mixture of surprise and genuine annoyance.
Before I could think of a plausible reply, Farrah blurted out, “Try all four.” I immediately smacked her on the arm, a sharp, quick gesture.
“Ow, that hurt!” she complained, rubbing her arm.
The twins looked at me, eyes wide, clearly at a loss for words, their mouths agape.
Thank goodness for authority, because the Headmaster walked up just then, his footsteps purposeful, and asked to speak with me.
I quickly asked Farrah to get me something good to eat from the buffet line and stepped aside, my heart thumping, to find out what he wanted.
“Ms.
Adams, neither you nor your grandmother disclosed with us that you could command two of the four elements,” he stated, his voice calm, but with an underlying current of surprise.
Busted.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I replied meekly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to, and Gran probably forgot.
Am I in trouble?” I asked, my voice rising slightly with apprehension.
“What?
No, of course not,” he said, a faint chuckle escaping him.
“It’s just something I would have liked to know in advance.
Are you by any chance like your grandmother?
Able to command three of them?” His eyes were searching, probing, trying to gauge my reaction.
What do I say here?
Do I tell the truth or hide it?
I decided on the truthful approach since one big secret – being a werewolf – was enough for me to keep hidden for now.
“Well, Sir,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “I wouldn’t say I’m exactly like Gran.”
“Well, maybe you can wield earth and not fire, where she’s able to wield fire and not earth.
I don’t know, I’m just trying to get all the facts here,” he said, his expression earnest, still trying to understand the extent of my abilities.
“No,” I clarified, taking a deep breath.
“I mean I’m not exactly like her in the sense that I can wield all four?” I phrased it in the form of a question, a subtle deferral to his authority, and his eyebrows flew up, almost touching his hairline, his surprise evident.
A beat of stunned silence followed.
“I see,” he finally said, a slow, wide smile spreading across his face, a mixture of awe and immense satisfaction.
“Well, it will be interesting to see what you can achieve in your time here.
I’m honored to be the Headmaster of the first all-round elemental in history.” He said, his voice filled with genuine excitement, which caused my cheeks to flame, a deep blush spreading across my face.
Excusing himself, he went back out the room, no doubt to inform the rest of the staff they had an anomaly at the Academy, a student unlike any they had seen before. You are reading on NovelPing, the official source.
This ought to be fun.
After lunch, round three of testing commenced: psionic.
Psionic abilities are basically anything to do with the mind, a realm of mental power.
This includes telepathy, which is Farrah’s specialty, allowing her to read and send thoughts; abuse, which is causing someone pain mentally; empathy, the ability to feel and understand others’ emotions; and even memory manipulation.
My favorite, which I was actually going to attempt for the first time since all I’d done before now was read up on how it’s done, was psychometry.
It’s basically obtaining information about someone by either touching them or something that belongs to them, a direct link to their past.
After watching multiple attempts at mind reading and mind control, most of which were an epic fail, resulting in students looking bewildered or experiencing sudden headaches, I was resolved to attempting psychometry.
Even if I wasn’t successful, I wasn’t any worse off than the people before me, right?
It was worth the risk.
Taking my place on stage, a nervous flutter in my stomach, I turned to the mass of students, a sea of expectant faces, and then to the teachers, their expressions analytical.
My eyes landed on the Headmaster, and I was drawn to him for this particular round for some reason, an instinctive pull.
“Umm, Headmaster Cree, can you assist me with this one?” He seemed surprised and pointed a finger at himself, a silent question.
I nodded my head, confirming my request, and he rose from his seat, walking over to me with a curious expression.
I extended my hand, palm up, and he looked at it questioningly.
“Your hand, please,” I said, my voice gaining a surprising steadiness.
He reluctantly placed his hand in mine, his warm, strong fingers closing around mine.
I caught Farrah’s eyes, which also held a dozen questions, wide with curiosity.
No doubt she was expecting me to do telepathy since that’s what Gran taught us, the most basic mental discipline.
Taking his hand firmly in my own, I closed my eyes and focused.
I envisioned a tunnel of sorts, a shimmering, translucent pathway leading from my mind to his, a direct connection.
Once I’d gotten the visual, I dove in, carefully, respectfully.
My consciousness filtered into his own, and I instinctively placed any private thoughts of my own behind closed doors, a mental safeguard, ensuring I maintained my own privacy.
My mission here was to find a memory that was special to him, something deeply personal, but at the same time, something no one else could possibly know.
At the very back of his mind, almost hidden, there was a door with a soft, ethereal blue glow emitting from it, and I knew I’d found it.
Opening the door, I started speaking, narrating what I saw.
“You’re a younger version of yourself,” I began, my voice a soft murmur, descriptive and detached, “your shoulders aren’t as broad, and your face is much more youthful.
A teenager, perhaps?
You’re walking through the woods with someone.” The image in my mind was clear, vivid.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?
We can find another way,” I heard a voice, a concerned, loving tone, echoing from the memory.
His hand tensed in my own, his fingers twitching, but I continued, delving deeper.
“You’re happy, the happiest you’ve ever been, especially when they look at you the way they do.” The memory was becoming fuzzy, a kaleidoscope of emotions, and I could feel him trying to block me out, a subtle mental push, even going as far as attempting to pull his hand from my own.
I couldn’t see who was in the memory with him just yet; their face was obscured, maybe his wife?
There was a glow around the person’s face, a soft, ethereal light, kinda like if they’re standing directly in front of the sun and I’m looking through a camera lens, their features indistinct in the brilliance.
He tried once more to pull his hand away, this time with a bit more force, a clearer intention to break the connection, and I let go, but not before the image cleared up a bit, just enough.
I opened my eyes, and everyone was looking on, teachers included, their expressions a mixture of awe and anticipation, waiting to find out if the memory was true or not.
I didn’t see them, though; I only saw him, Headmaster Cree.
Questions burned at the back of my mind, clouding my head, confusing me beyond imagination.
He gave an almost imperceptible nod, a slight dip of his chin, confirming the truth of the memory, and I numbly walked off the stage, stumbling a bit at the bottom of the stairs, my legs feeling like lead.
It was definitely a memory, no doubt about that.
The question was, why did the Headmaster hold a precious and loving memory of my mother?