far. No matter where they banished him, he would ultimately return, so the twelve brothers agreed as one to cast Zeren out of their family. He would live an immortal life with mortal power on the world they were creating. His blood would run straight and true through the ages, and he would not be able to return to his brothers until one of his descendants, of their own free will, forgave his transgressions and returned him to prominence.”
“Hearing their judgement, he created one final thing before they condemned him and blocked his power, so the people of the world would never forget him. He created what was called Zeren’s Downfall, but is now referred to simply as the Downfall. Deep, dark, billowing clouds would regularly cover the skies without warning or pattern, blocking the sun and the stars. Bright balls of light grew in intensity amid the clouds, like diamonds in the dirt, until they were too bright to look directly at and exploded into a flower of light, leaving behind the stench of sulfur. Bright flashes of sheet lightning would light the area like a noon day sun, followed by booming thunder which shook the ground. Animals have been known to act strangely during the Downfall, and people consider it an ill omen.”
***
A fter an hour and a half of History, they gladly left their chairs to hurry to their first Arcana class. Excited chatter surrounded them as they travelled down the hallway, everybody bragging about what they would be able to do by the end of the year; call down lightning from cloudless skies; rip trees from the ground using only their mind; conjure winds to block a rain of arrows. They’d all heard stories about famous wizards since they were kids, and each and every one of them were going to be even greater than the heroes.
Everything changed when they walked into Professor Moncha’s classroom. She stood in front of a blackboard full of rules, stern and strict, her mouth puckered and hair pulled back in a tight bun, she looked like she was sucking on a sour candy and surprised to find it in her mouth.
Her room was neat and organized, with everything carefully locked behind glass doors in a series of cabinets along the wall.
“Forget everything you heard in stories because we won’t be doing any of it in my class,” said Professor Moncha as an introduction to her class.
She explained that they would not be doing anything complicated in her class. Instead the focus would be on learning to control their Gifts so they wouldn’t lose control in a state of emotional distress and hurt those around them.
She spent the entire class telling them what they weren’t going to be doing in her class. The one thing that Donovan did learn from her introduction was that magic was considered a gift from the Brothers. Similar to the Brothers’ approach to creating the world, it could be used to create or alter the world around you, but could never unmake something, nor be used to enhance the user.
After lunch, Donovan headed off to find the library while the rest of the group headed to Arithmetic. Crossing over to the other building, he saw that it was a clear, bright day, before heading back inside and descending into the gloomy basement.
He found the library right where Professor Cleary had told him it would be. He hesitated outside the closed door, nervous despite being told that students had access to it. Opening the door, he saw row upon row of books, separated by narrow aisles. A few small tables sat in private nooks around the perimeter.
Donovan wasn’t looking for anything in particular at this time, he was merely familiarizing himself with the library until Martial training started in an hour and a half. Walking down the aisles, he ran his fingers along the dusty spines as he read them, and discovered that it was laid out by subject. History books filled a row of shelves along one wall, while the various arcane books occupied four entire rows of shelves. He couldn’t figure out the
“Hearing their judgement, he created one final thing before they condemned him and blocked his power, so the people of the world would never forget him. He created what was called Zeren’s Downfall, but is now referred to simply as the Downfall. Deep, dark, billowing clouds would regularly cover the skies without warning or pattern, blocking the sun and the stars. Bright balls of light grew in intensity amid the clouds, like diamonds in the dirt, until they were too bright to look directly at and exploded into a flower of light, leaving behind the stench of sulfur. Bright flashes of sheet lightning would light the area like a noon day sun, followed by booming thunder which shook the ground. Animals have been known to act strangely during the Downfall, and people consider it an ill omen.”
***
A fter an hour and a half of History, they gladly left their chairs to hurry to their first Arcana class. Excited chatter surrounded them as they travelled down the hallway, everybody bragging about what they would be able to do by the end of the year; call down lightning from cloudless skies; rip trees from the ground using only their mind; conjure winds to block a rain of arrows. They’d all heard stories about famous wizards since they were kids, and each and every one of them were going to be even greater than the heroes.
Everything changed when they walked into Professor Moncha’s classroom. She stood in front of a blackboard full of rules, stern and strict, her mouth puckered and hair pulled back in a tight bun, she looked like she was sucking on a sour candy and surprised to find it in her mouth.
Her room was neat and organized, with everything carefully locked behind glass doors in a series of cabinets along the wall.
“Forget everything you heard in stories because we won’t be doing any of it in my class,” said Professor Moncha as an introduction to her class.
She explained that they would not be doing anything complicated in her class. Instead the focus would be on learning to control their Gifts so they wouldn’t lose control in a state of emotional distress and hurt those around them.
She spent the entire class telling them what they weren’t going to be doing in her class. The one thing that Donovan did learn from her introduction was that magic was considered a gift from the Brothers. Similar to the Brothers’ approach to creating the world, it could be used to create or alter the world around you, but could never unmake something, nor be used to enhance the user.
After lunch, Donovan headed off to find the library while the rest of the group headed to Arithmetic. Crossing over to the other building, he saw that it was a clear, bright day, before heading back inside and descending into the gloomy basement.
He found the library right where Professor Cleary had told him it would be. He hesitated outside the closed door, nervous despite being told that students had access to it. Opening the door, he saw row upon row of books, separated by narrow aisles. A few small tables sat in private nooks around the perimeter.
Donovan wasn’t looking for anything in particular at this time, he was merely familiarizing himself with the library until Martial training started in an hour and a half. Walking down the aisles, he ran his fingers along the dusty spines as he read them, and discovered that it was laid out by subject. History books filled a row of shelves along one wall, while the various arcane books occupied four entire rows of shelves. He couldn’t figure out the
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