Two things were enough to make Alistair's life unbearable: rules and school. One trapped him, the other despised him.
Rules, because they hold you back. They stop you from moving forward by forcing you to adhere to ideas that aren't your own. They constrain you in the most humiliating way, binding you by your word of honor and keeping you from breaking it. To Alistair, rules weren't tools of protection but chains preventing any bold soul from approaching their creators.
His hatred for school, however, was much more primal. That place gathered all the flaws of this world. In the distance, the sky began to darken.
As he passed through the school gates, a wave of conflicting emotions struck him. His shoulders stiffened. This place, with its damp bleachers and condescending gazes, had always been a kind of purgatory. He had always hated having to prove his worth since childhood. The teachers saw no value in him; they thought him useless, always placing him at the very back of the classroom, in the darkest, coldest corner.
There, the wall had been scratched by countless students before him, leaving it cracked and full of fissures through which moisture seeped in. When it rained and the wind blew, the water leaked through and drenched him.
On those days, he always came home soaked to the bone—his favorite moment was when he stepped through the doors of the Chronwell manor, where Lisa would be waiting for him, towels in hand, to dry him off vigorously.
That place embodied everything he despised. When he turned his head, he caught sight of Lila laughing with another student. Her bright smile clashed with Alistair's lifeless stare. He looked up. Above him, the sky was now heavy with clouds; a raindrop fell on his nose.
He had never seen such a radiant sky.
And there, in the middle of the Academy courtyard, for the first time, Alistair smiled.
Alistair heard a chuckle just behind his ear. He turned around at once, but he was alone in the courtyard, the other students hurrying to get inside.
"Alistair!"
Lila was waving at him, about to enter through one of the doors. Alistair hurried forward, elbowing his way through the crowd trying to escape the rain that now poured in heavy drops. He finally slipped into the school's corridors, scanning for Lila, but he couldn't spot her anywhere. The light dimmed.
Tap. Tap.
A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hallway next to the main entrance. Lila pouted.
"You didn't even recognize me among all these people?" The lights returned to normal.
"Everyone's wearing the same uniform… I'm not used to seeing so many people…"
"..."
"Uh, hi…"
Alistair hadn't noticed, but the girl who had been talking with Lila earlier was right beside him. Her wavy white hair shone so brightly that the room's light bounced off it, casting a pale gleam on the walls. Her crescent-shaped turquoise eyes avoided his gaze. Around her neck hung a golden crucifix on a silver chain. Large round glasses seemed to balance precariously on her nose, as if the slightest breeze could send them flying.
"Hi."
The girl's eyes seemed to search for something in the void. She nervously intertwined her fingers.
"What's wrong, Elise?"
Lila jumped toward her playfully.
"Why are you so shyyyyy!?"
Alistair envied how easily Lila could be so familiar with someone she had just met.
Elise nearly fell over.
"Stop it, Lila!"
She pushed Lila away with the back of her hand and adjusted her glasses. Alistair offered her a hand with a faint smile.
"I'm Alistair Chronwell. Nice to meet you."
The girl studied him for a moment, then her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand. For a split second, Alistair thought he saw a hint of hatred in her eyes, but the feeling vanished as she shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you too."
"Silence, everyone stand up!"
The classroom was larger than any Alistair had seen before, a wide chalkboard standing before a wooden platform surrounded by tiered rows of about ten students each. The room must have held at least sixty pupils.
All the students rose at once, the sound of dozens of feet slamming against the wooden floor echoing through the amphitheater. The attached desks were worn, their edges rounded smooth by generations of hands. In front of Alistair, two boys almost spilled their inkpots as they stood, snickering. Behind him, a girl complained that the wooden benches were too hard for her delicate back.
Most of the students came from wealthy aristocratic families, some even from noble houses serving at court. For Lila, things were different—if the others discovered she was a Noiraude, she would be cast aside and face the same discrimination her kind always did. As for Alistair, the Chronwell family was far from its former splendor. Since the events of the Seventh Era, they had been banished from the capital and forced to live on the city's outskirts. He never truly knew why his family was so despised by some yet admired by others. The subject was taboo.
He doubted he would ever learn the truth.
The professor stepped up onto the platform and cleared his throat.
"Hum, hum…"
Silence gradually fell.
"Good morning, everyone! You may sit."
"Good morning, sir!" the students answered in unison before sitting back down.
"I'll be your homeroom teacher this year. You may call me Mr. Sinclair."
Sinclair? That's the first time I've heard that name. And yet, he wears a golden angel's wing on his shoulder.
The golden wing symbol was granted to anyone who had served the nation—and especially the king—with honor and bravery. Those who bore it often had streets named after them, even statues in their likeness. But Alistair had never heard of any Sinclair, and judging by the class's reaction, no one else had either. He seemed to be the only one who noticed the insignia.
"From today onward, I'll be teaching your core subjects, but I'm also responsible for each one of you. If you ever have a question—class-related or not—don't hesitate to come see me in my office."
Sunlight filled the room, warming the atmosphere as lively chatter began to spread.
"Silence, please. Let's begin the lesson."
Mr. Sinclair was busy pinning a diagram showing the magical circuits present in the human body.
"All of you here were born with magical circuits through which ether flows. The more developed a mage's circuits are, the more ether they can store. The most eminent mages, therefore, are those whose circuits are most advanced. Can anyone tell me who had the most developed circuits ever recorded?"
Alistair saw a hand rise to his right.
"Miss Pennington, go ahead."
Elise stood slowly as all eyes turned toward her.
"Uh… It's believed that Archibald the Mage had the most developed magical circuits.
However, since no one was ever able to study him closely, experts…"
"Yes, yes, thank you, Miss Pennington."
Elise sat back down quietly, eyes lowered.
"As I was saying, those whose circuits aren't developed enough can't store sufficient ether to even cast basic spells. It would be ridiculous for them to hope to graduate from this academy, much less become Arcanists. That's why, at the end of this term, you'll all take an exam to determine who among you has the potential to remain here."
Alistair's body tensed as murmurs spread through the room. Though he had never truly practiced magic, he knew his abilities were limited. Simply opening the Chronwell manor's gate drained his ether reserves for hours. He often had to ask someone else to open it for him after long days when he was too exhausted to gather enough ether himself.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the morning classes, and students rushed toward the cafeteria. Alistair, Lila, and Elise followed, pushing through the crowd. Elise forced a smile.
"The atmosphere is… different from what I imagined."
Alistair and Lila listened quietly as they walked.
"All my life, my parents told me I couldn't afford to fail the Academy entrance exam. They said that once I got in, everything would be easier. They praised the professors, said I'd make lots of friends I could rely on for the rest of my life…"
Elise sighed.
"But now that I'm here… I realize how wrong I was."
As Alistair listened to her, a sudden, sharp pain pierced his head.
[Alistair.]
He clutched it with both hands. It was burning, pulsing. He opened one eye; his vision turned red.
[Alistair. Are you alright?]
He felt Lila's hand on his shoulder.
"Alistair, are you okay?"
He looked up—but it wasn't Lila's face he saw.
A grotesque, decaying human form loomed before him. Rotten flesh hung from its body, merging with tattered clothing. A dagger with a golden hilt was buried deep in its chest, oozing a trickle of black blood. Worms crawled from its empty sockets, where two faint blue lights flickered deep within the darkness. The creature's bony hand clutched Alistair's shoulder.
He stumbled back, falling to the floor, scrambling until his back hit the wall. Around him stretched only an opaque void that swallowed all light.
The creature crawled toward him, losing pieces of itself with every movement. A guttural sound escaped its throat.
"Ssssss…"
Alistair pressed himself harder against the wall.
"Alissss…"
The thing choked on its own blood.
"Alistair…"
Its skeletal hand gripped his right leg; he shuddered at the icy touch of bone. All the joy he'd ever known seemed to vanish.
"Help me!"
Suddenly, someone yanked him backward.
"Alistair, are you okay?"
He looked around. He was standing in the middle of the hallway. The students nearby had stopped to stare at him strangely. Lila was holding his shoulder, her face filled with worry.
"Are you alright?"
Alistair swallowed hard, rubbing the spot on his leg where the creature's hand had touched him.