Date: Yithi 6th, 1590 - Before The Long Stillness
I walked through the stone corridors, my footsteps echoing upon the stone. The academy walls were covered with pictures of students who had walked its corridors.
Every one of them wore a frown. Their uniforms were clean and sharp-shouldered.
The smell of old paper hung in the air, my favorite smell. I turned a sharp corner and headed to the library. They let us explore until it was time for the ceremony.
“Cyrus!” Rithie yelled, waving his long arms to get my attention down the corridor. His red hair flopped as he ran towards me.
I grinned as he skidded to a halt in front of me.
“Aren’t you excited for the ceremony?” He bounced.
I looked down at my feet. “No, not really.”
“Why?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.
“I'm just nervous; what if I get a discipline I don’t like?” Looking up, I started down the hall.
Rithie’s laugh rumbled through the corridor as he walked beside me. “You are clearly going to get Threads; you know all sorts of Lore! Besides that, all of the disciplines are truly great!”
“You’re probably right,” I nodded.
“Want to head to the ceremony room?” He seemed so excited to be getting a discipline.
“I was headed to the library,” I told him, pointing down the corridor.
He threw an arm around my shoulder and guided me toward the ceremony room. “You’re not anymore.”
We walked away, our footsteps mimicking the echoes of those that came before us.
About fifteen of us stood, wearing scratchy cloaks and waiting to see which discipline we would be assigned.
Mrs. Sanbery stood at the front and walked onto a large stone platform, carrying sealed envelopes with gold stamps.
I kept opening and closing my fists. I couldn’t focus because everything felt too loud and too close.
Threads had to be the discipline I got into. I didn’t want any other school.
Mrs. Sanbery cleared her throat, and the whole room fell silent.
“When magic was breathed into Celentra by Banthys after the Great War, it was divided into seven distinct disciplines.” Mrs. Sanbery said.
I studied my hands; I didn’t want to make magic. I just wanted to study Celentra's lore. I just wanted to know our world's history.
I rocked forward on my feet as Mrs. Sanbery continued to introduce the discipline’s.
“The Weavers came first, brewing potions and concocting powders that even those without magic can use.”
Mages from the Weavers discipline began walking into the room, throwing powders into the air, each one forming a sigil. I didn’t know what the sigils meant, but they were dazzling colors of blue and purple.
“Alchemists followed, manipulating the space that most people fear. Finding a piece of humanity inside the monstrous. Pulling at Fate to change outcomes.”
The Alchemists walked out next, their hands moving through the air; it shimmered faintly around the hands as they pulled on pieces of Fate.
“The Grounders were third, bringing understanding of a world you can only touch. Showing that every life on Celentra, including plants, can bring abundance.”
The Grounders' students followed; large plants overflowed the clay pots they carried. Each plant lunged toward the students in the crowd, and some screamed.
“Star Tracers brought clarity to the mysteries of the cosmos. Bringing us the ability to look further than any Seer.”
The lights dimmed slightly as the Star Tracers brought out telescopes that projected sparkling constellations onto the ceiling.
“Thread’s joined us, flowing with the words that shaped the world we know. Controlling the world with the words that drip from their tongues.”
I bounced slightly as I watched the Thread’s students come forward. They each held large books. Together they began chanting.
War ravaged the land for centuries,
Death became the only thing a human could count on,
Until,
A man refused to accept the death of a friend.
He begged the mud that was already soaked with blood,
To let his friend breathe again.
And though it may be frowned upon,
To ask the land instead of the Gods above,
To expect mud to answer where nobody else could.
It was the land that moved to meet him.
A promise to bring a new life to the lands of war.
A promise to make peace be the land's foundation, forevermore.
Above them, golden light danced, taking the shape of two dragons.
“When the Elementals joined with a connection to a single element woven into their veins.”
The Elementals walked into the room, looking slightly lost until one of the air elementals stepped forward. She waved her hand, and the air in the room shifted from comfortable to instantly chilling.
“Then the Wanders came, their minds gaining the ability to move things without touching, and control a mind without wincing.”
Finally, the Wanderers walked forward; four students stomped together. A ripple shook the school as they moved the ground with their thoughts.
I felt like my lunch might come up as worry about my assigned discipline took over.
“The students picked for The Alchemists are…” Mrs. Sanbery began calling out names.
Her voice faded as I focused on my breathing; I couldn't handle this.
“The students picked for The Threads are…” More names; my heart thudded in my ears.
I had to hear my name. Threads had to be my discipline.
“Cyrus Meinta.” Mrs. Sanbery's voice made me jump. All eyes turned to me.
I hunched my shoulders and walked up the stone steps to the platform.
“You, young man, need to get out of your own head.” Mrs. Sanbery said, leaning in and handing me an envelope.
“Cyrus Meinta, the Fates have decided your discipline is Threads.”
My shoulders relaxed; Threads was far better than the Wanderers. Relief washed over me as I stepped off the stone platform.
Threads was where I belonged; lore and books are everything to me.
I left the ceremony room and headed down the hall to the library.
I had studying to do.