Chapter Text
Today is the day. Today HAS to be the day. In fact I am pretty sure that if things go south I can kiss my scholarship goodbye. And… by kiss it goodbye, I don’t mean in the “yay I graduated” sort of way, but rather more of the “being laughed out the front doors of the college by nearly every faculty member and student” sort of way. Yeah. No pressure. I swallow down the remaining tea from my far too large mug that is decorated with pictures of cute fluffy owls and head up to shower and dress. It’s four in the morning. Yes I know, I am well aware that all sensible, normal people are either sound asleep or just getting to bed at such an hour but I can’t sleep and lying in bed like a useless lump isn’t helping me at all.
The shower feels nice, despite everything and feeling a little more alive, I slip into my robes. They are simple and gray, like every other student that has yet to be defined by class and less than flattering. I’d be lying if I said I like them. Shapeless, they drape down over my slight figure in a loose fall of heavy cloth that nearly brushes the ground even in my boots. I feel like I am wearing a tablecloth with sleeves. The high collar itches the back of my neck and even after almost four years of wearing it, it still bugs the crap out of me. I tried folding it down and ended up being written up for improper attire. Tch. It isn’t like the instructors don’t have anything more pressing to do or anything, oh no.
I don’t even bother trying to mess with my hair other than tossing a little bit of product in it while it is still wet. My hair is long and tends to curl so brushing it usually only ends in a fro to end all fros. I do not have enough swagger to rock a fro. Elements willing, it will eventually dry into happy, thick, ringlet, curls and not frizz out like a poodle with its tail caught in a light socket. I am not holding my breath. Honestly, I am just distracting myself, or trying to and it really isn’t working. I’m so nervous that I am trembling already and I feel like my stomach is about to reject everything I’ve shoved into it during my anxious, stress induced, food binge the previous night. Not one of my better moments, but hey, cooking makes me feel better! And I can’t NOT eat what I make; that would be wasteful.
So why am losing my cool and on the verge of projectile vomiting a half tray of brownies all over the communal dormitory bathroom? Well, I am a summoner. Or, I am supposed to be. No, I mean I will be. That’s right. Today, I am going to become a summoner and finally earn my place among the thousands of sorceresses that have gone before me. Determination shoves aside my worries and I cling to it for all I am worth. I am not going to fail this time.
Moving stiffly with my toiletries in hand, I head back down the long, empty hallway of closed doors to my little single corner dorm room. I hate this hallway. It is as gray and lifeless as the robes. My dimly lit room is a wash of color, light, airy fabrics of warm colors hide the cold stone walls and make me feel a bit like I am stepping into a little tent. Hurrah for the wonders of double sided tape and clotheslines. Small and rectangular, the room is very minimalistic. You have to earn it if you want anything particularly nice in this place as far as rooms went. There is a small closet with a few copies of my robe and one or two regular outfits that I rarely get to wear. Mostly I use the closet as a storage for my collection of food and tea. A rather large desk takes up most of the corner beneath the shelf that houses my bed. It is littered with notes and textbooks, empty teacups and knicknacks. I like a little chaos in my work environment.
A small workbench takes up the other corner. It holds a few shelves for ingredients, and a little sink and cutting board. I use it for mixing my tonics and ointments needed for the rituals and spells I am expected to perfect and it has ended up being used more as an impromptu cooking station than anything else if I am being completely honest. The small window at the back of the room is open to let in the cool night air, my hanging baskets of various herbs and flowers filling the room with an earthy, natural scent. A microwave sits on top of my mini-fridge near the closet, some of the only modern things that I managed to drag with me when I came to the campus four years ago. The floor to ceiling bookshelf that dominated nearly an entire wall is crammed full with so many books that I've had to resort to stacking them in organized piles on the floor near it. I sighed softly and forced myself to calm down, to breathe. This place is my haven. It was the only place on campus that I didn't feel overly awkward. It isn't like I don't blend in with the others or anything; I am rather small.
All children in Ebott are screened once a year from the time that they hit puberty for the magical gift. Most manifest around the age of fourteen. They are found and brought to learn about magic, lumped in with all of the undeveloped adolescents. Barely scraping five feet and flat as a board, I can easily be mistaken for one of them despite being twenty three years old. I wasn't discovered until I was nineteen. It isn't unheard of, just very, very rare. I had been living on my own in a shitty apartment above a little dinner that I worked at in the theater district because it was cheap and the only way to get by at the time. If I went a month without getting mugged or having to trade my wages for something to eat it was a miracle. It took getting attacked on my way back from the store for my magic to manifest and it did so violently. Two days after being released from the hospital, a dapper looking man in a set of white robes showed up at my door and informed me that I had been selected to attend the Sorcery Institute of Nether Studies to be trained as a Sorceress. The acronym had not been lost on me. I wonder if the college did it on purpose as a joke or not?
The college was wonderful. At first. I went through the same training as any new student. Despite my age, I knew absolutely nothing about magic and so I was placed with the other first years and treated no differently. Part of me appreciated it. The rest of me was moderately ashamed. But it was fun! I enjoyed the history, the reading and the work. My magic however, like all newly found gifted, left much to be desired. I couldn't call up nearly any of the power I had used to defend myself with, but I was aware of it being there. It drifted through my veins like a lazy fish, content to let the current take it wherever with no interest in doing anything overly stimulating. Blank. That is the title that the upperclassmen give all un classed gifted and it is fairly accurate if a bit mean. The college supports the title. We are seen as blank slates, clear of color or purpose with endless potential.
Usually by the end of their first year, a Blank completes a ritual trial to summon a familiar that defines their future and thus, is given a designation of the sort of mage they will be. Elementals, Healers, Diviners, Enchanters, the list goes on and each has it's own specialization. I hope to become a healer. I like helping people. But it isn't really up to me. I have been a Blank a total of four years, longer than any other student in the history of the college. I have completed the summoning ritual eighteen times since coming to the school and not once has a familiar responded. It has become a bit of a school sport for the other students. They show up to the ritual with betting pools for how long it takes for the ritual to fail and enjoy their free day from classes. The ritual traditionally calls for the attendance of the student’s peers and instructors. I often wish that it did not. Crowds and being in the spotlight makes me nervous and I can't stand the expressions of pity, amusement, and mockery on so many faces.
But I still try. Each and every time that the head of the institute calls for a trial, I show up and try my very best regardless. He has much more faith in me than anyone, which is very strange. When I fail, he finds me here in my room, curled up in my nest of pillows and drags me out of my sadness with a stupid smile and a cheerful demand of "You can't give up! You have already gotten this far! Stay determined!" or something to that degree. Just thinking about it brings a reluctant smile to my face. He is such a goof for a man that is supposed to be some sort of all powerful super sorcerer.
Today is another chance. No! Today I WILL find my partner! I build myself up with all of the determination that I can muster and sling my bag over my shoulder and force myself out into the waiting world.
SINS sits on a series of floating, magically infused isles that revolve in a counterclockwise orbit around the peak of Mt Ebott, high above the sleepy city far below. The mountain and surrounding forest is a special place, protected and off limits to everyone because of the node of power that it naturally produces. Many mages have theorized that the node itself is what causes the magical gene in the humans in the area to manifest in the first place. Only approved visits to the sacred lands of the mountain are permitted and usually, those are only for funerals. Gifted go there to die. I have never been to a gifted funeral, but I've heard that they are beautiful, powerful things. The mage is lowered into the earth and the attending gifted weave joint spells over the grave, allowing for the deceased's mana and soul to become one with the energy of the mountain and to help protect and guide those left behind. It sounded beautiful and terrifying all at once. The land there is so infused with magic that the plants and creatures there seem to emit their own ethereal glow. I've seen pictures and video, but none of it in person. It isn't a place for a Blank. What I do get to see, however, is the sky.
The sky above Mt Ebott is the most beautiful sight in the whole world. I let my head tilt back to watch the twisting, shimmering glow of magic sweeping across the sea of stars. The northern lights have nothing on the lightshow that Ebott puts on every night. The sun is just beginning to kiss the lip of the sky with feathers of pink and gold and the lights this morning flicker and writhe in brilliant shades of cyan, indigo, and blue. The smile on my face nearly hurts from the sight and I blow the sky a kiss. It's wearing my favorite color. Today is going to be a good day.
Feeling oddly cheerful, I head to the large structure situated on the northern end of the main isle. There aren't many ancient looking structures left from the original Institute, but the Calling Circle is definitely one of them. It looks like an ornate version of the Roman coliseum. It’s tall, with several swooping arches and statues of monsters and mages on every surface. Runes in the language of magic are carved into every inch of the old black stone and the whole thing reeks of energy. From the very beginning, it has been tradition for a magic user to find their familiar in its arena and to fight them into submission. I did not want to fight anyone, honestly. The idea of having to use my magic to overpower another being sounded horrific and terrible. I'd seen countless trials and each time, the gifted Blank would fight to survive in the arena against the monster they summoned. It didn't always turn out well.
Many monsters turned to dust from an overzealous attack. Sometimes a human would be injured or killed. No one could interfere once it began. Nothing about the ritual was easy. I am not a violent person. In fact, violence terrifies me. I have no idea what I am going to do when my partner appears. If they attack... No. One thing at a time. Finding them is the first step.
The interior of the arena is lit warmly with crackling torches that cast dark shadows on the large domed ceiling that was held up by golden monster statues. A massive stained glass skylight in the shape of the Delta Rune allowed the magically powered light above to bath the pristine white sand of the floor of the arena in a shifting aura that brings gooseflesh rolling down my arms. I want to paint this, I realize with no small amount of awe. The Circle is magnificent and terrible all in one. Rows upon rows of seats encircle the entirety of the sand filled stage with a raised dias for the heads of the college at the opposite of the main entrance. There were already many people moving about in the final stages of preparation.
" Hey, Blank, are you actually going to summon something for us or were we up all night doing this for nothing again?" One of the Ritual class snarked. Dressed in the royal purple hue, the Ritualists were occult specialists that relied on the powers of knowledge and intense preparation. Many of their spells were intricate and very powerful, some taking days to cast. As such, they were highly respected in the college and each time that a trial was called for, the Ritualists would prepare the arena to better hone their craft. I could understand their displeasure.
"Well at least you get to practice your craft more, right?" I replied with a smile that pulled a grumble from the tall young man. Internally I was cringing.
"Maybe if we are lucky, she'll summon something and the monster will eat her and put us out of our misery!" Another laughed from the group that had taken up lounging in the stands after a long night. I ignored the way that their laughter tore at something deep inside of me and my smile brightened further, giggling softly with the group's jeers.
" I dunno, I am pretty rotten, I wouldn't want to give the poor thing indigestion!" I joked and the laughed with me this time. The familiars that clustered not far from their partners however, did not laugh. They weren't fooled by my false cheer. None of them ever were. It's said that a monster can see your soul. They can see the color of your true self through all of the layers of flesh and bone and see what you really are. I wonder what they see inside of me that makes them so utterly sad.
Trembling and hoping that no one can see it, I shrug off my satchel and kneel over a large rune embedded in the stone at the edge of the circle of sand. The open area is easily the size of a football field but perfectly circular and not a single grain of sand is misplaced, save for the painstakingly drawn lines that encircle the entire circumference of it. Despite their cynicism, I am grateful for their hard work. With shaking hands, I slip out two jars from my bag and my spell tome, followed by an ornate dagger and place them carefully before myself. I roll up my sleeves to my elbows and then rest my hands on my knees. It is still early and I need to center myself.
My anxiety bubbles up in me and it takes me several long moments of forcing myself to breathe to hear past the hammering of my own heart and the chattering of the students that have begun to trickle into the arena seats. I look for the soft, faint hum that is my magic and find it hiding deep inside of the recesses of my mind, flickering like a fragile candle. The magic is gentle, soft, and so very small, but it is mine. Mentally, I craddle it close, crooning to it like one would a wild animal and it swims down my veins to settle beneath my fingertips in a tickling tingle. It is a welcome feeling, though a little uncomfortable but I hold onto it with all I have.
" Esther Astraea, you have been called to the Circle to summon a monster and bind it to your will. You have thirteen hours with which to complete this trial. Once the trial begins, you will be on your own, no matter what comes. Are you prepared to risk your life to find your partner?" The magically enhanced voice of the director of SINS makes me jump and I jerk from my meditations to look up at his familiar figure seated on the dias with the other leaders of the college. All of them look serious and stern. I swallow down my terror.
"Yes." I answer firmly and watch as his ageless face softens into a proud sort of expression that lifts my lips into a small smile. A pregnant pause fills the room. I must have been reaching for my magic for a long time because the sun is bright and the arena is packed to the brim.
"Very well. Begin!" And just like that, the trial starts. I breathe deeply and smooth my fingers over the simple spell tome that I had place before my knees. Most people have fairly ornate books, decorated with runes and precious metals or gems, fine cloth and symbols of the user's power. Spell tomes are often inherited and passed down from family members or mentors. Mine is anything but fancy. Solid black with no real decoration or anything noteworthy about it, my tome looks like a thick journal rather than a spell book. The leather cover is warm and smooth and habitually, I settle my palms over its cover.
My grandmother was a sorceress, the only one in my family. When I was eight years old, she died and was buried on the mountain. She left her tome to me. I think that she knew all along that I was gifted. This book is the only thing of real value that I own. It is simple yes, but to me, it is beautiful. I open to the marked page and roll my eyes over the intricate and painstakingly written spell. I had spent three days straight writing it over and over before putting it into the book. My calloused hands unscrew the lid to the first jar that was filled with a pale purple ointment. It smelt strongly of lavender and springtime and I lifted it to my face to breath in the comforting scent that chased away my remaining doubts. I had all of the time in the world.
" I paint myself with thee to focus my mind and to guard my soul from the trial to come," I whisper my intent across the opening before returning it to where I sat it in the first place, dipping three fingers of my left hand into the magically infused lotion. It was cool and thick but soothing and I rubbed it into my chest over my heart generously. My skin warmed under the substance, but not uncomfortably. Next, I opened the second jar. This jar was smaller and the sharp, bitter scent of it's contents had me involuntarily scrunching my nose. It was strong with an after thought of heady flowers. Belladonna, sage, tansy, and yarrow, among other ingredients folded into pig fat until it was thick and cloying, the greenish salve radiating faintly even in the morning light. It was poisonous to anyone that didn't know what they were doing and could be dangerous even to those who did. Like with the first jar, I raised it close to my face, not inhaling the scent of it and doing my best to remain calm as I invoked the next part of the ritual.
" I anoint my brow with thee to let my soul travel beyond myself to find my partner in the beyond and bring them back with me," I murmured, feeling my determination strengthening the feel of my magic coursing through my blood. With the tip of my dagger, I scooped out a pea sized dab of the mixture and smeared it across the center of my forehead. The glowing line of salve faded into my skin gradually and I now had to work quickly before the ointment took effect. Magic hummed in my fingertips brighter and stronger than I could ever remember. My skin felt hypersensitive to it and the energy swam over me in an electric current. The side of the dagger bit into the meat of my right arm shallowly and the magic flared, pulsing in time with my steady heartbeat. I felt calm, certain, as though everything was right with the world and that all I needed to do was let the magic lead the way. I didn't question it.
With slow, practiced movements, I bathed both sides of the dagger in my blood until the metal gleamed red. If the cut hurt, I couldn't feel it, so caught up in the spell I was. Words in a language older than anything human or mortal poured from my lips like a song, my voice flowing with purpose and a melody that only I could hear. The tome before me shuddered like something alive and the words lit up like stars on the dark pages, sucking the light from the room. On the final syllable, I slammed the dagger point down with feeling into the empty space between the runes drawn in the sand like jamming a key into a lock. The marks in the sand all the way around the circle shimmered as they filled with magic; my magic, and the air grew thick with it. Wind roared through the open room and I think that there was shouting from somewhere. I am unsure. It doesn't matter now. No, only the magic matters. I feel myself stand and the tome floats up with me, hovering in starlight at my side.
Usually, the ritual would have failed by now. The magic would have died and the call would never be heard. Now, the sand blazed with glowing light and I stepped through into the circle. My footsteps didn't so much as shift the pulsing sand that glowed beneath me and I walked until I stood at its epicenter. My hair and robes billowed out from me from the force of the energy whipping around the room and I smiled at the tugging on my chest. My soul. The ointment made me sensitive and a little bit dizzy, distracting my mind and drawing out my soul from deep inside. A perfect, little, heart that shimmered with a pearlescent luminescence escaped from my chest and I watched it with a mixture of awe and surprise. It was so delicate looking, but lovely. I've seen quite a few souls but never my own. It shifted with a kaleidoscope of pastel hues like the rainbow of colors you see in puddles on driveways after a rain from the oil and gasoline gathered there. That pretty silver-white color shone over all of that, a white opal, and I tentatively reached out to cup it in my hands with tears in my eyes.
It was so warm! But it was lonely and so very sad. With every part of me I reached out. Please, let me meet you, at last! For what seemed like a small eternity I called with my magic, reaching out for my partner. I lost myself as my soul vanished into the spell, slipping into that other world. Images passed through my mind and a feeling of flying. Snow and a happy little town nestled into a valley sped below me in a blur. And then I felt something familiar. Hopelessness, dread, isolation, and anger, a soul crying out for something, anything to change the endlessness. And yet as I drew closer, I could feel love and affection, a protective, brotherly warmth that tightened my throat. My soul shuddered and reached out to that soul that seemed both dim and so very bright all at once. There you are!
There was a scream of terror and rage that startled me back to my body. Wide eyed, I blinked up at the blinding blue light that filled the arena before me. His screams stopped the moment he manifested fully and the concussion of power knocked me flat on my ass ungracefully. Panting from the strain of the spell and shaking like a leaf, I let my eyes adjust to the now dark room that was lit with the torches that had turned cyan blue with his arrival. My gaze landed on a large, broad figure that stood casually in front of me, hands in the pockets of an oversized, blue, hooded sweater. Baggy, black track shorts fell to about knee length on him and of all things, pink fuzzy house slippers covered his feet. A skeleton. A really large, chubby skeleton with a too wide smile and white pinpricks for eyes glanced about the arena with a carefree sort of nonchalance that should have been impossible and that was the exact opposite of the enraged cry he’d let out when I'd touched him.
He looked down at me then, head and shoulders above me in height and his grin turned sinister. The lights in his eyes died and fear skittered down my spine like thousands of ants.
"knock, knock," He said without opening his mouth, voice a deep, oddly musical baritone. Really? Was he seriously telling a knock knock joke?
"W-who's there?" I ask tentatively.
"boo," He replies cheerfully despite the foreboding in the air. I am too flabbergasted to do anything but gape at him unintelligently.
"Boo, who?" I ask to continue the joke and he chuckles dangerously.
" aw, don't worry pal, I'll give you plenty to cry about in a sec," He finishes in a cheerful tone that is anything but reassuring. And then his left eye blazes with magic, shifting wildly with blues and yellows. His mouth parts to show off wicked looking fangs and a glowing blue tongue that runs along the points of his teeth in a sinful way that had odd feelings curling in my gut. His voice drops a few octaves and rumbles with a dark promise that should have terrified me utterly, " y o u ' r e a b o u t t o h a v e a b a d t i m e."