Act 1, Heat 1: Trust the Process >Your eyes creaked open, the airboat’s lurching and rocking having awoken you. Darkness surrounded you, and you flick on the only light, a small lamp above the bed-frame, casting a warm golden glow across the room. >You were in your cabin, a setup that amounted to little more than a broom closet, the bed taking up most of the space in the room. >Your eyes trace the wooden panelling, and you feel a twinge of relief that your father gave you enough money to get the good housing during your travels. >You might have had to sleep in the cargo room with the barrels of oil and stacks of cut timber. >You hear a bell chine above, loud and clear against the creaking of the ship and the howling of wind outside. It’s the alarm; you must have woken up early. >Old habits die hard, you supposed. >With a groan you rise, your joints popping in that oddly satisfying way that came once a morning. >With some effort, you toss back the blanket and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. >Standing, you stretch again, getting another round of pops and aches from you joints, and you let out a sign of contentment. >Turing back, you begin to make up the bed, and you let your mind wander as you do your chore. >You were the first human to be accepted from The Taiga to the King’s Academy. >The mainland was a school unlike no other, being one of the only (and the best!) school to learn and hone one’s skills in the art of magic. >All applicants were given to the headmaster, and he picked or rejected them based on his own ever changing and ever subjective standards. >You oft wondered what about your fairly standard summoning technique had gotten you entrance to the prestigious school. >Other than the passing grade you received on the written theory exam. >Transmutations had killed you, no way to study those out here. >But that was neither here nor there, you had gotten in and that was all that mattered. >You check your belongings, nothing much, a modest duffel bag, given to you by the academy with clothes and a few pens. >Looking in the mirror, you check yourself out. >A thick black vest over tan slacks, with a white shirt and a fresh pair of boots (a gift from your mother!), they were the lightest clothes you owned. > ‘My brave little sorcerer’, she had called you, on the day you left. >Your stomach twisted at the thought of you leaving your family, but you had promised to write letters. >Hopefully you wouldn’t forget. >The Taiga wasn’t exactly a summer vacation location, with its constant chilly weather. >You left your most precious belonging on the nightstand. >Your book; a small tome grey like a knight’s armor, filled cover to cover with your summoning circles, your entire livelihood, encased by a leather binding and locked shut with a small strap. >That, you hook onto your belt via a karabiner. >Before you leave, you open your wallet, and toss you air fare onto the bed. >Grasping and twisting the handle, you swing open your door, looking out in the dawning hallway. >No one else was there, they must be getting ready. >You always atributted your early rising to the fact that you used to live in a farm; you rose and fell with the sun. >The Taiga was a friendly place, west of the mainland, and mainly inhabited by humans. >Anthric peoples preferred to leave humans to their own devices, treating the Taiga like a protected wildlife habitat, but humans loved to travel, and thus spread throughout the mainland of Atlas. >Compared to the anthic populations, humans were…weak. >No natural adaptations like fur or extra long tongues or blubber, so you were stuck with the worst traits of them all. >It kind of sucked, really. >And don’t even mention magic to anthros as a human, you’d get laughed out of town. >Most humans carried a faint disposition to magic, and almost all had almost microbial reserves of mana to burn, leaving them only able to do small things: blowing air on clothes to dry them, or making matches of their fingers to light fires for food, or your favorite little trick, making temporary chairs from the earth. >You however, eschewed the traditional methods of human magic, and elected to dive headfirst into summoning, the main pillar of cervinic magic, another species of Atlas inhabitant with a lesser affinity for magic. >Summoning, in the terms of the highest and most powerful wizards, witches, and warlocks, was ‘quite shit’. >It was also ‘quite shit’ for combat as well, unlike wizardry, sorcery, and thaumaturgy. >Summoning happened to be under the the mantle of sorcery, as sorcery governed over base magic like the elements and summoning. >It required little actual magic from the user, yes, but was the methodology required to summon an object as simple as a wooden pencil was pedantic enough to make even hardy wizards roll their eyes. >You, however, rolled your eyes back at them, and the rolled up your sleeves. >Many a morning you found yourself asleep at your desk, the pen you used to write your circles glued to your face via sweat. >And don’t mention the ink stains. >On your shirt, your hands, your face, somehow on the mattress across the room, it was a mess- >Was that ink on your hand? >Again? >No…just a scar. >Gazing at the back of your hand, you admire the lattice of scar tissue your forearms had become, a macabre trophy gained from your experiments with summoning. >The more blood, the more powerful the spell. >Funny, how human blood made such a good catalyst for magic, yet humans can’t use any themselves. >But that was neither here nor there. >You smiled, breathing in the sawdusty aroma of the ship’s interior, glad you had come this far. >It had been your goal to get off the Taiga, and just…be somewhere else. >Life on the farm was too cozy, too comfy. >Wake up with the sun, feed the animals, then bale hay, then clean out their shit, then re-hay the barn then, feed them lunch, then go out to the fields and do whatever menial shit job your father had assigned you, then go get dinner then study till you passed out or morning came and you did it all again. >It was troddening, annoying work, and even though you liked your family, your father, mother and sister, but you didn’t care for farm life, which was…most of the Taiga, outside of Sutton City, but that’s less of a city and more of a hamlet- >Ah, well, bigger than a hamlet, but smaller than an actual city, which would be a horselet. >So…a donklet? >Yes, you nodded to no one in particular, Sutton City was a donklet, owning this to the fact that it was the only place where you could get booking to Atlas, the mainland. >It was also, the only place where you could encounter anthric peoples. >You had only been there once, once with you father when you were 5 and yesterday, and it was astonishing how many anthros were bumbling about. >Deep in the Taiga, anthric people were an absolute rarity, something like only one per a hundred miles of land. >You close the door behind you, and head down the hallway, admiring the woodwork of the titanic vessel. >You were aboard the /Getslinger/, a marvel of magitech design. >You had never seen anything like this in your entire life on the Taiga. >Your father had mentioned that the mainland kept their tech to themselves, but this was something else. >It was a massive airship, and not the blimpy, bloated, kind. >Powered by massive combustion engines, the wooden ship was held aloft via expansive wind sails. >The entire thing sailed like a traditional boat upon the infinite sea of air that was the atmosphere. >You were honestly impressed, and as you ran a hand alone the fine wood of the interior, you couldn’t help but feel excited if the rest of Atlas engineering was like this. >Just imagine, an entire city built as robustly as this ship! >You grin, your mind filled with the wondrous magitch and architecture that Atlas was hiding. >Down the hall and up the stairs, you flow through the ship, letting your senses drink in the prestige that was the Getslinger’s interior. >From the polished hardwood floor, to amber lamps above (powered by magic!), your eyes grab everything, because you probably won’t see anything like this for a while. >The smell of sea air ozone greets you as you approach the top of the stairs, and a heavy gust of wind bites you. >You pull out your tome, and brace yourself; the next part was never enjoyable. >Biting your thumb hard enough to make it bleed, you leaf through the book before you find the page labeled ‘cloak’, before swiping your now bloody thumb over the page, letting the blood cover the summoning circle on the paper. >The circle glows, and the scrawled image of a jacket springs to life from the page, like confetti from a confetti cannon. >You grab it from the air, and wrap it tightly around yourself. >Just in time too, as another gust of wind whipped across the deck, almost strong enough to rip your book out of your hands. >Securing your tome back onto your belt, you walk up to the railing to gaze out at the quickly approaching city. >It expanded before you, almost impossibly large, a cobblestone and steel patchwork. >There were air boats, which could be spotted on the horizon from your farmhouse window, and an entire city built like a massive magic hive. >It was the capital city of Atlas, and the main port of sky-ships like the one you sailed on right now. >You could see the glow of magi-crystals and you could feel the thrum of of the mana that flowed through the streets. >Magic being this abundant, was just something you never saw back on the farm. >You breathe it in, the feeling of magic, uncontained, even in a place as contained as the walled city of Atlas. > “Oi!” Came a voice, gruff and gravely. “Tis a bit early for you to be up here, boy, we’ve still got a lot of air to cover.” >You turn to see the captain, a stocky husky anthro with a long grey beard, ambling up to you. >His name was Dantoni, and he was the only anthro captain that let you fly to the mainland. >He happened to be a family friend, and let you tag along on this voyage, under the guise that you weren’t going to get off the ship before you got back to the Taiga. >Stupid human ‘protection’ laws saying Taigan’s couldn’t make residence on the mainland before they were 30. >You look over the edge of the boat again. >Hilla was rapidly approaching, the city growing larger and more expansive by the second. > “I have to say, Captain Dantoni, I respect and appreciate your warning, and your willingness to host a Taigan, but this is my stop.” > “This ain’t an air tram lad, you don’t have a ‘stop’.” >You pull out your tome, and a pen. >You begin hastily scrawling a summoning circle on a page. > “Oi Lad, what are you doing?” >You ignore his question. > “What are these sails made out of?” >He blinks, confused. “I…I’m not sure. I believe canvas infused with quartz threads? But what for?” >You keep writing. “Don’t worry, I won’t be bothering you any longer.” >You smile, and bite your thumb again. >It didn’t hurt as much now as when you first started learning summoning. >A circle and a dot, you paint in your own blood on the page. >The page glows. >It had worked, and you grin like the maddest madman on the planet. >Brighter. >You hold the book above your head, pages to the sky. >Brighter. >The captain flinches. >The page explodes, a massive tarp unfolding from the paper. >You leap into the air grabbing two corners and yanking back, corralling the billowing sail. >With another smile, you clip your book to your belt, then step confidently onto the railing. > “I’d hate to stiff such a great man like you, I put my fare on the bed, don’t worry.” You call over your shoulder. >Then you’re in open air. >The wind whips around you, howling in your ears. >There’s nothing but pure blue around you, the ship falling away as you fall closer to earth. >You wrap your hands tightly into the sail, holding on for dear life. >You’re floating down gently, you can hear the captain yelling from the deck of the ship. >You ignore him. >Bringing your hands closer together, you cut the amount of exposed sail to the air, and you feel yourself increase in speed. >Your heart pounds in your chest, and you inhale the ice cold air of the open sky. >There was something about falling through the sky the felt…natural. >The city gets bigger as you draw closer, and off to your left, the ship draws further into the distance. >The view is breathtakingly gorgeous, with the rising sun casting long shadows across the city below. >You would have stared at it longer, but you have come to realize something. >One, the ground was approaching much faster than you had anticipated. In fact, it was approaching about twice as fast as you had expected. >Two, you didn’t have a breaking function, outside of expanding the sail again, which upon tested, helped very little. >This was going to end very well. >...You hoped. >You spot your target in the distance. >The train station, a wide building with a clock on it, just like the description on the on the directions. >Bingo. >Just pull it in and…what’s that sound? >It was an ominous hissing sound, as if a thousand rattle snakes had just started shaking their tails. >You look up. >Holes, as large as oranges, were tearing themselves into the fabric of the parachute. >Had the captain gotten the material with which the sails were made wrong? >That the only explanation. >So this is how you die. >Like a fucking idiot. >You were a good distance above the roof of the station, the fall wouldn’t be pretty. >You’d probably be a human sized splat on the ground from here. >The holes were bigger, and the roof of the station was approaching faster. >Maybe if you trie- >POP! >Oh dear. >You were grasping at nothing, the summoned sail having reached its damage threshold. >It dissipated in an instant, and you plummet like a rock. >You life is flashing before your eyes. >Your fifth birthday party. >Hey, that’s what happened to your stuffed animal! >You crash onto the roof on your stomach, the steeply angled marble tile doing little to break your fall. >You feel your body sliding downward, your palms not finding any purchase on the smooth roof. >Your legs lose the feeling of sliding against the roof, and you’re in the open air again. >You know, you really should have just thought this through. >The ground meets you emphatically, and you lay where you fell, head spinning. >The world fades, and swims out of focus. -- > “Be at the train station at 8:30 sharp.” You mutter under your breath, reading the instructions on your introductory letter to King’s Academy for the fifteenth time that minute. >They didn’t say anything unusual, outside of the last bit. > “’Watch for rain’. What does that even mean?” You ask, confused. >There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, only a few merchant ships passing high above the city. >You were Cleo Bledsoe, short for Cleopatra - but only your mom called you that, and you were an incoming freshman at King’s Academy. >Just thinking that made your heart flutter with joy. >You hadn’t thought that you would make it, due to your…unusual affinity for magic, but you guess you made it due to having a sparkling written exam grade. >Just like mother had expected of you. >It was simply just another step on your path to freedom. >From her… >Nah, you loved your mom, and she loved you. >You hoped. >You gulp, and shake your head, trying to shoo away the unwanted thoughts. >Your Academy issued duffel bounces against your back as you hop through the city of Hilla. >It had been your home since you were born, but it still didn’t cease to amaze you. >Lively and intense. >Those were the words you used to describe it to people who came from out of town, like your cousins. >There was always something going on, always something happening in the city. >Sometimes you felt it was all moving too fast, you could barely keep up if you weren’t moving at full speed all the time. >You sigh, of all times to be worrying about the frivolous gossip of Hilla, why now? >You shake your head again but the anxiety doesn’t leave. > ‘Why now?’ You think. >You look at the clock on the side of the train station’s main building. >8:17 >You had plenty of time. >Stopping, you let yourself rest under the overhang of the building, and you inhale deeply, trying to rid yourself of the heartchilling feeling in your chest. >There’s a thud above you, followed by some screaming, and gasps from the surrounding crowd around you. >You throat clenches. >They’re all looking at you. >...Wait, no they’re not. >They’re looking at something…above you? >What’s going on? >Your question is answered when something crashes from above onto the pavement. >The crowd gathers quickly, looking at the falling object. >You bound over, and look at him, gasping along with several others. >It was a human, slim and and wearing a…very peculiar outfit. >He looked dressed for a brisk fall day, rather than Hilla’s warm summers. >You peer up into the sky, seeing nothing above you. >Where had he come from? >Was he a wind elemental? >Then you noticed the bag, the duffel. >Just like yours it was black, with gold lettering, KING’S ACADEMY emblazoned on the side. >You first thought was confusion. >Was he a student too? >He lay there, dazed for a while, before getting up. >A look of panic flashed over his face, and the crowd swarmed him, asking if he was fine. >He seemed fine, given his embarrassed expression and placating answers. >You watched, transfixed by the strange human, before the 8:30 bell rang above you. >You both perk up. >SHIT! >You were late! >Everything was going wrong! >You crouch down, feeling the power building in your thighs. >Inhale. >Exhale >Inhale >Exhale! >With the last breath, you let your coiled spring legs fire, and you clear the gathered in a single leap. >It was your nature, as a kangaroo antrho. >The world left you, and you sail above the ants below. >You land with a soft thud, and your bag follows suit, nearly knocking you off balance when you hit the ground. >Your face burns when you realize that you had just brought the crowds attention to you. >About thirty people, looking straight at you. >Some in awe, some with a look of annoyance, that you had been so rude as you leap over them >Those you gave your best glare, and they seemed to get the hint. >The rest of the passerby seemed to give you a wider berth after looking at the near snarl you had scrawled across your face. >You stumble, but regain your balance, and continue hopping into the station. >If you missed the train! >You mother! >Would kill you! >Fortunatly, King’s Academy made it easy for you; hung above one of the train terminals was a flag bearing a their logo, a golden four pointed star. >Each point represented a pillar of magic, or so you had read from the brochure. >Sorcery, the base. >Wizardry, the obscure. >Alchemy, the changer. >Thaumaturgy, miracles. >You recalled them in your head, in order to calm the storm of nerves that played hell with your heart. >As you neared the train, you spotted more and more inductees, all holding the standard duffel bag. >You let out a sigh of relief, but your nightmare wasn’t over yet. >The students were filing in 2 at a time, each chatting to each other. >You had been dreading this. >Your face shifts into a scowl of anger, you natural defense, and you look down at your brochure again. >Seat 47A. >Where was your partner? >Perhaps you didn’t have one? >At that thought, your heart soared, but you didn’t drop your scowl. >You wait in line with the rest of them, and you eventually slip inside the train. >Inside were the new students, all smiling and chatting happily. >When the caught glimpse of your scowl, they stopped, and and cast their eyes downwards. >Sometimes you felt bad about exuding your aura of anger, but it was better than letting them know how you really were. >The real you. >So lost in your own thoughts you barely remembered that you were standing in the middle of the isle. >Embarrassed, you throw a glower over your shoulder at the people waiting behind you. >A human and his wolfess friend, both of whom do their best to not look you in the eye. >Satisfied that you wouldn’t be messed with by those those two, you make your way to the back to find your seat. >It was empty. >Good. >The way you liked it. >Your heart falls back into place as you settle down into your seat, tossing your bag into the overhead compartment. >You were alone, and you let out a sigh of relief, glad you didn’t have to use the conversational skills you had practiced with you older brother. >Yes! You practiced having small talk and conversations with you brother. >That was normal. >You and your brother were best friends… he was the only person who really knew you. >You had asked him for help, and he just chuckled and sat down with you. >You managed to get through three whole sentences without stuttering! >Pretty nice, if you do say so yourself. >Without any sound you look out the window, scanning the crowd in the station outside. >In here, alone, you were safe. >Behind the glass, you were safe. >You can feel your heart rate choke down, bit by bit, as you relax in the silence of the cabin. >All too soon, your ears picked up the sound of someone walking down the aisle. >Who? >What? >Wait, this was normal, everyone had a partner, you scolded yourself mentally. >You couldn’t see them, however. > “Who’s there?” You call out, a quavering voice in the silence. >The door to the cabin slid shut, and the footsteps approached, louder and more distinct. >They were arduously tired, as if the person making them had walked five hundred miles. >And then he appeared over the top of the seat. >It was the human, the one from before, that had fallen from the sky. >He was your partner? >For a moment you felt miffed, the Annabelle Bledsoe in you getting offended that someone of your skill would be partnered with a mere human. >Before you shushed her, of course. >Did he even know magic? >Or was he a theorycrafter like Hoodoval? >You knew humans had one of the weakest affinities for magic in the known world, so if he had gotten in he must have some kind of talent. > ’Hmph, affirmitive action already working its tendrils into King’s Academy, how the mighty have fallen.’ You imagined mother snorts. > “Fuck off!” You snap bitterly. >The human blinks, alarmed surprise splashing itself to life on his face. > “…Wha?” > -Is all he has time to say before you’re profusely apologizing, head bowed deep in groveling. > “Oh Gods I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it I was talking to my mother andshewasquiterudeandohgodsim-” >At this point, the human was less surprised and more amused, letting out a hearty laugh. > “You’re gonna have to do better than that to scare me off, us Taigans are quite the cussers!” >Now it was your turn to blink. >He…he wasn’t scared? >Well, he either has to be crazy or brave. >And after the stunt he pulled you don’t think you could pin him for either. >Sitting down in the seat, the human made a weird face, as if he didn’t know where to put his bag. >Raising an eyebrow, you pointed towards the overhead bin. >He looked up, and gave you a confused look, but stood and found the latch for the compartment, where he stowed his bag. > “Sorry, never been on one of these before, fancy things.” >Did they not have trains out on the Taiga? >Absurd! > “So!” He says, extending his hand in greeting. “The names Anson Lee, how ‘bout you?” >You shakily grab his hand. “Bledsoe, Cleo Bledsoe.” >You waited for his reaction. >Usually people freaked out when you told them your surname, if they hadn’t recognized you already. >Your family was famed for having powerful affinities for magic, and you were no exception. >But he didn’t even flinch. > “Cool! That’s a neat-o name, if I do say so myself.” >Huh? He thought your name was cool? >That’s it? >For a moment, you two sit there staring at each other before your imaginary mother swats the back of your head, making you flinch. >A concerned expression flashes over his face. “Are you okay?” >Your face and ears burn, if he could see it you’d probably look like a tomato. > “S-sorry, just got a chill.” You say, grinning sheepishly. > “Oh yea, I get those sometimes.” He says absentmindedly. >Almost cartoonishly, he perks up, grinning widely. > “So! Are you just as excited to get to go to King’s Academy as me? >At that your heart skipped, fluttering in its cage. > > “Of course, its something I’ve been dreaming about! What are you theorycrafting? Sorcery, Wizardy, Thaumaturgy? Alchemy?” You ask excitedly. >He grins again, flashing a row of teeth. > “Actually, I’m a summoner.” >You tilt your head, confused. >How does a human learn summoning? > “What exactly do you mean? Humans have an incredibly poor magical affinity.” > “I…well, Humans…” Anson stopped, thinking deeply “I…I think it would be a bit easier if I showed you.” >Without a word he reached into his bag and withdrew a small medical kit. >Opening it, he laid out a small wad of bandages on the table. >Out of his bag came a knife, as well, sheathed in plain brown leather. > “Let me show you how a human does magic.” >You were Anson. >Out slid the knife, a devilishly sharp little tool. >Human Mage >It was your bloodletter, something you carried constantly, a necessity for casting your spells. >A sangrophile, if you will. >Cleo looked on, confused. >You leveled the blade over the back of your hand, something you had done hundreds of times before. >Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what was about to happen, but she remained silent. >Effortlessly, you glided the tip of the blade against the flesh, not even flinching as it sliced through the scars and skin. >Warm blood immediately pooled to the surface, which you swiped up with an index finger. >You flipped through your summoning book, careful not to get any blood on any unwanted spells. >Finally, you found the one you were looking for; a throwing knife. >Something simple, but small to demonstrate your spell. >Marking the page with an X in blood, you turn the book over. >Watching as the page started glowing, you got that feeling in your chest. >That tightness you always got when you cast a spell. >Excitement, the anticipation. >By the Gods it was something you loved. >With a POP! It fell from the book, landing blade down in the wooden table. >A flat blade, no hilt or anything, it was a single piece of metal. >Yanking it out of the table, you smiled at the shocked kangaroo girl. > “Impressed? Humans can do magic just as well as anthros, we just have to sacrifice for it.” You said proudly. >She opened her mouth to speak, but the door to the cabin slid open and the chatter of the outside world blasted through. >From where you were sitting, you couldn’t see them, but by the pair of footsteps, you could tell it was two people. >They stopped right beside your table, and you sized them up. >Two lynx anthros stood before you. >One was obviously male, with close cropped hair and a distainful expression. >The other was female, long hair tied in a single braid that extended down to the middle of her back. >While the male regarded your expression with disgust, the other was busy tapping on a crystal to pay attention to you. >Suddenly remembering the blood that oozed from your wound, you wrapped your hand in the bandage. >To your annoyance, the male lynx sneered, before turning back to his companion. > “Nothing of importance here, Ibacca. Let’s continue on to our seats before this human leaks blood on us.” >The female, now known to you as Ibacca perked up. “Human? Where?” >The male sighed and shook his head, before disappearing down the row of seats. >When Ibacca finally locked eyes with you, she let off a big smile. > “I’ve always been incredibly fascinated with humans.” She said, to no one in particular. >With a jerk of her head she realized she’d been staring at you. > “Hey Ivan! Wait for me!” She called out, jogging off. >With the two of you alone again, you turned back to Cleo, who looked like she had seen a ghost. > “That was…weird.” You say. Taking note of her expression you add. “You okay there? I know my spell was a bit gross but you were fine a minute ago.” > “I…those two were…” She trailed off, eyes still wide. > “Pretty rude I know. What was with that girl? I know anthros have different cultures but cmon, that was speciest as hell.” > “I…” She trailed off, speechless. > “What? You okay?” You ask, tilting your head forward. >Cleo nodded slowly, as if any sudden movement would knock her head off. “Yeah.” >You were about to say something, but with a loud whistle and a lurch the train slowly began to remove itself from the station. > “Time to go, huh?” You ask Cleo, who nods in agreement. >The beginning of the trip was quiet, with neither of you saying much. >You spent your time thinking up new things to add to you summoning book, and she leafed through a tome of some kind. >After the city had long disappeared, the plains of Atlas shifted to rocky soil, suggesting that you were starting to near the northern hemisphere. >You were putting the finishing touches on a new spell, a compound bow -something you saw at the market in Sutton. >You hadn’t the time to purchase it at the time, however. >Therefore you elected to make your own. >As long as you remembered what it was made of- you had asked the salesperson- you would be able to craft your own. >Almost dejectedly, Cleo let out a sigh, closing her book. >Looking across the table at her, you quirked an eyebrow. > “I’m just finding it interesting that no one has thought to try to rely on summoning to get into King’s Academy.” she said, tone neutral. > “Well, I’ve been enamored with magic since I saw a lioness women doing it when I was 5, so I just decided to study up on it. I don’t believe for a moment I’m the first. I probably won’t be the last either, but I’m gonna be the best.” You answer with a cheesy grin. >Cleo rolled her eyes, visibly stifling a smile. >With a pop, the bow expanded from the book, folding itself to life on the table. > “Cool” You muttered under your breath as you examined the new object. >While you weren’t exactly a bow master; you only learned to hunt the small pests that lurked the farmlands. > “So, you know all about me and my magic, but what about you?” >Cleo looked thoughtful for a moment, but nodded seemingly to herself. > “Well, its kinda hard to explain- and before you ask, its even harder to demonstrate in a train car. I’m honestly not certain what to think it is, my affinity for magic doesn’t seem to fall under wizardry, sorcery or alchemy. I’m starting to suspect its thaumaturgy. That being said-” > “Thaumaturgy? No one’s practiced that in like… 300 years.” A new voice. >Both of you looked up as the upper body of Ibacca popped up over the seat. > “I’m not calling you a liar, but thaumaturgy is a dead magic base. No one’s been able to get those spells to work for a long time.” She said as she tinkered with a crystal, now inset in a strange glove-like contraption. “Crystal tech is where its at now! So many undiscovered uses! It’s quite the exciting field to work in.” >She paused, deep in thought. “Yea, no. There’s no other field that’s quite as exciting.” > “Dear sister, why are you engaging with this simpleton human?” > “Because, Ivan, I’m not so antisocial as to avoid a conversation that I am earnestly interested in. Unlike you.” >She flashed you a smile, wicked teeth on display. > “Besides, this human is rather fascinating.” She added. >You hear a sigh from the other seat. > “How can something like a human be fascinating?” Came the voice, and Ivan’s disdainful head rose up over the headrest of the seat. >The lynx regarded you coolly, eyes half lidded. > “A human magician hmm?” He said, smiling. “How absolutely precious.” >You gave him your best glare, refraining from making a fool of yourself. >Smart. >You didn’t get off the farm much, but something about this lynx was majorly pissing you off. >Maybe it was his dumb fucking smile. >Made you wanna forcefully wipe it off his face. >You didn’t know why but you already had the indication that this was going to be the longest train ride you had ever experienced. >And not because this was the first time you had ever ridden a train. >The ride after that was thankfully quiet again, with the lynx twins going back to whatever they were doing. >Cleo was keen to make conversation with you, which was good, it gave you time to brush up on your conversational skills. >Now that you were actually talking to her rather than leafing through a book, you noticed that Cleo was actually quite pretty. >Steel grey eyes that were sharp enough to rend metal complimented her falu-red hair. >The aforementioned hair had been done in relaxed waves that flowed like magma down her shoulders. >Many a time she brushed a stray strand back into place; she was kinda nervous. >Her fur was a deep gold, like a field of wheat; it looked softer than down feathers. >No wonder she had reacted so badly; she must get hit on constantly. >As the train continued north, the window got foggier and foggier, as if the temperature outside was dropping rapidly. >Once the snow started falling you began to worry. >Normally you liked snow. >It was pretty, and it made the landscape nice and clean. >But there was a problem: it was late summer. > “Uh…” You start, staring out the window. “You see that?” >Outside, the snow had picked up, and was covering the ground very quickly. >The whiteness had blotted out the sun, leaving the train in a twilight zone of darkness. >Within minutes, the train was chugging along through an all out blizzard. >You couldn’t confirm with Cleo and the twins were less than helpful, but you were certain you had seen something moving through the snow. >Something humanoid. >You could barely make it out, but flashes of buildings appeared in the window; you were inside a small town. >Someplace to take shelter from the blizzard! >Z-zap! >The lights flickered, before shutting off entirely, leaving you in the darkness. >The cold quickly set in without the heater on, forcing a shiver out of you. >Something was wrong. >Dead wrong. >The train was quiet, slowly winding down to a stop. >Quiet. >You gulped, pulling out your summoning tome. >With a whimper, the train came to a stop. >More quiet. >There was a thud from the window. >You didn’t want to look but Cleo’s squeal of panic forced you to turn. >In the snow, barely visible in the dark was a man; emaciated and gaunt. >He looked human but twisted and wrong. >Where his eyes should have been were empty holes, as if someone had plucked them out. >His skin was a pale white, not a healthy tone, but white, as if he was made of snow. >The oddest part was his chest, which held a large circular gem that leaked a grim blue energy. >You had read about this kind of being before: this was a golem. >Made from the elements, they are creatures created to serve their masters. >But why was it here? >You question was quickly answered when he reached back and let loose a heavy punch, one that nearly cracked the window of the carriage. >You look to Cleo. >She had a strange expression on her face. >Almost…annoyed. >Like this was a complete annoyance to her. >Perhaps she knew more about this than you did. >You didn’t feel like asking either way. >More importantly, this was a time to prove yourself. >To her and Ivan, of course. >But to yourself as well. >You weren’t useless. >Summoning wasn’t a lost cause. >This was your time. >Unwrapping your bandage, you wiped some blood across one of the pages. >With a bang, it unfolded itself; a quiver filled to the brim with arrows. >Strapping it on, you grab the compound bow from the table and open up the door to the outside. >The inside was nothing compared to the outside, a cold blast of air hit you as soon as you opened the door. >Without delaying you rounded the corner, hopping off the platform and notching an arrow. >Target: gem. >Inhale. >Exhale. >Fire. >The arrow sailed true, piercing the runic gem. >With a groan, the golem fell forward, splattering into the snow. >Suddenly there was a groan from behind you. >Another one?! >You didn’t have time to react before you were tossed against the train. >Fuck that hurt. >You hadn’t broken anything, but you could barely register the second golem bearing down on you. >Your stomach churned, you felt like you were going to throw up. >There was a flash of white, and another splat of snow against snow. >Then you were in the air again, on top of the train. >It was Cleo. >She stood over you, as you settled your stomach. >You sat down and looked up at the face of your savior. >It was calm, actually calmer than you had seen all day from her. > “You okay?” She asked, concerned. >You nod. “Perfectly fine, thanks to you.” > “You’re gonna wanna see this, Anson.” Her voice was hollow, colder than the ice and snow around you. >Shakily you stood, gazing out into the snow. >Orbs. >Deadly lights dancing in the snow. Chapter 3: Resistant to and Diametrically Opposed to anything related to God. >It was an attack. >Golems of snow marching in ragged, inorganic cadence towards the stopped train. >They were slow, but dogged, their icy feet leaving naught an imprint in the snow. >You notched an arrow, taking aim at another gem. >You hear Cleo shift behind you, and she puts a hand on your shoulder. When she speaks her voice is quiet but commanding. > “Do everything you can to support me, I don’t know what you can do, but don’t worry about hitting me with arrows.” > “Why?” Was the only thing you could say before the weight of her hand disappeared. >You loosed the arrow, felling the golem that was attempting to climb to the roof of the train, before turning around to see where Cleo had gone. >The only clue you had was a pile of clothes left on the roof next to you. >With a splat, a golem on the far side of the chilling brigade burst into snow. >That was where Cleo was, fist clutching the shattered remains of the gem that made its heart. >She was too far to make out any significant detail, but you honed in on her. >Golem on her left, taken out with an arrow before she could react to it. >She ducked the opposite way, her hand smashing through another gem. >You fired again, your arrow finding its way into a third golem. >Another arrow nocked, another loosed, the sliver streaking through the air towards a target to Cleo’s far right. >There was a splash of snow, and she was there, hand closing around the Golems artificial throat. >You heart leapt into your throat, as the arrow closed the gap instantly, its new target seemingly Cleo’s right shoulder. >You expected a spray of blood, but the arrow seemed to slide through Cleo’s torso without leaving a mark, piercing a golem that was lined up behind the intended target. >You blinked. >What had just occurred? >A trick of the eyes? >You shook your head, it didn’t matter. Questioning things in times like this leads to death. >You fire again, the arrow missing when the golem slumped out of the way. >Its victory was short-lived, however, when Cleo’s foot found the gem on its chest. >You check over your shoulder, a caution against the quiet army. >A small platoon of them remained on the other side, but they were being wiped out quickly. >The lynx male stood in the center of a group of them, a grey shaft of light held in his hand. >You watched, transfixed as he swatted the golem’s attacks away with little effort, his blade seemingly melting their limbs as he blocked their blows. >He wasn’t attacking their gems, not often at least. >He weaved away from their sluggish punches, letting them get close before cutting off limbs. >He was toying with them, given the sour look on his face, he wasn’t having much fun, however. >He seemed to have things under control, so you didn’t bother him, turning back to Cleo. >The kangaroo girl was surrounded as well, and as far as you could tell, not struggling. >The golems couldn’t seem to lay a hand on her. >They slipped through her, their limbs mashing together when they tried to grab her. >It was fascinating to watch, how she managed to avoid their blows. >Her hand slid into a gem, before snapping back into reality, shattering it. >Without breaking her flow, she slid through four or five more golems, dispatching them with ease. >So that’s what she meant by that… >Your eyes narrowed. >How had you, someone who could barely summon get paired up with a unique? >You shrugged, that’s not a thought worth dwelling on. >You nocked another arrow, glaring down at the shrinking horde of golems. >Whatever this was, it was ending soon. >The golems didn’t appear to be respawning. >This was likely a test then, you reasoned. If that was the case then it was necessary that you procure some more kills. >You took it upon yourself to fell any stragglers, picking off anyone that wasn’t in Cleo’s arm length. >You two shred through the group in minutes, and not a second too soon, because you were out of arrows. >Your bow and quiver faded into magic, white mist flowing off your hands. >It was getting dangerously cold out, so getting back inside was a high priority. >You tried to turn around but when you moved, a quick shout startled you. > “H-hey! Don’t turn around yet!” It was Cleo’s voice. >You blinked in confusion. > “Why?” You called back, obediently staying still. > “Don’t worry about it…okay there!” Her voice was triumphant but huffed. >You turned around. >There the roo girl was, completely normal, dressed in her brown turtle neck and green pants. >She gave you a nervous smile but brushed her crimson hair in a faux-confident flourish. >You approached with what you hoped was a neutral look on your face, stopping right in front of her. >With the subtly of a drunk man, you slap your hand down on her shoulder. >Pap. >You could touch her. >So how did her magic work? >Was it some kind of slip space? You had read about those, but we’re familiar with the details. > “Are uh…you…?” Her voice was trembling now, all the cold confidence gone, replaced with meekness. >You flinched back, hand cringing from her shoulder. >Cleo hid her face behind her hair, only one eye poking out of the crimson cascade, her whole body stock still. >Your face burned. >How long exactly had you been staring at her? >Not for long, right? > “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to-” > “Watch out!” > You were cut off as something smashed into the back of your head, sending you pitching forward. >Your head connected with the metal roof of the train car with a dull thud. …. >You jolted awake, sitting up in your seat. >You weren’t in the train car. >You were back in Atlas, sitting in an outdoor café. >There was the train station you landed on, just across the plaza. >The air was still, and quiet. >The sky was blue and naught a cloud was there, but it was somehow dead, devoid of life. >Not a soul was in the plaza with you, you were alone. >You stood shakily, surveying the area. >You look to your left, inside the café. >The windows obscured their details, but you could make out a figure, working behind the bar. >With some effort, you push the door open and head inside. >The smell of coffee hit you as soon as the stepped in. >Thick, pungent, and alluring, it drew you in. >The person behind the bar looked up from their work, vibrant violet eyes piercing your soul. >She worked the coffee press, preparing a mug. >There was something off about her; she didn’t belong. >She was wearing a strange outfit, black tights that covered her legs but left her fetlocks and hooves free, and a white tie shirt that left her stomach exposed. >Her hair was a light purple which faded to white as it got longer. Her tail was the same way. >Despite the dead air, her mane seemed to flow in an invisible wind, giving her an alienly angelic composure. > “This…this is a dream, right?” You asked, wanting to cut to the chase. >She shrugged, handing you the mug. >You took a sip, face twinging against the taste. >Earthy, warm. > “Pretty good, but needs creamer.” >You blinked. > “How do I know this? I haven’t had coffee before.” >She shrugged again. >You give her a flat look. > “Do you talk?” > “A human huh? Haven’t gotten one of your kind out here in a while.” She says, quietly. >You take another sip. The coffee now tasted slightly of creamer. > “What do you mean?” You ask. > “Why are you here? Your species isn’t supposed to be this far off the Taiga. I designed you as such.” > “You what?” You almost choke on your coffee. > “What do you seek to gain from going to King’s Academy?” She asked, hands on the counter. >You glare at her. > “It’s what I chose. Life on the Taiga isn’t for me.” > “I could make it.” > “I doubt that.” >She smirked. “I think you’ll find the path you’re on isn’t going to be pleasant.” > “I never thought it would be.” You shake your head. “Why am I having this conversation with you? This is all a dream anyway.” > She let out a laugh, a humorless bark. “You’re right. This is a dream.” >She leaned in, a dangerous edge in her voice. “And when you leave this, you’ll still be in one. Wake up.”