“A bountiful reward for the winner,” said the satyr, Thaddius, with a grimace as he tossed a bag of coins to the man. The victor slid his fingers through the bow that held the bag together, carefully untying it and grinning as his reward shined under the setting sun. His smile was as wide as the horizon, and the mischief that flared throughout his caramel irises revealed all too well his ego. He, a lowly Lord, had beaten a satyr.

“Careful, sir, your horns will burn right off if you do not squash the smoke coming from your ears,” the Lord said.

“Varin, I sometimes wish you did not come to this academy.”

“Oh, but you do. You need somebody to swiftly kick you in the arse in order to bring that warrior back to the ground—when I met you, your ego was sky high!”

“Yes, and yours still is,” Thaddius mumbled ornerily before shuffling back to the academy doors.

Varin watched the satyr rub a sore spot on his leg from their fencing match, a hint of a snicker invading his features. They must have gotten a little carried away, they made such a ruckus that they had earned a snooping passerby whilst in the heat of the battle. Not that they chose the quietest of enchantments—lightning was, perhaps, a bit overzealous. The Lord picked up his sword with a gruff, the weight of the metal overwhelming even for the to-be warrior. He watched as the blue glow as it slowly began to fade, the enchantment vanishing before he could even appreciate it to its fullest extent. This academy had taught him much, but the most valuable moments came in the silence outside of those library walls. In the dead of the night, when he was able to utilize the limited power he could to manipulate, was when he truly understood the mystical miracles of the universe.

He sheathed the blade and walked back inside, setting the weapon back in the armory before tidying up for supper.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Varin sat amongst Elven brethren, sipping at the wine that was held in their glasses. They had just grabbed a bowl of stew from the cook, each guest paying them whatever little they could to show appreciation. Not many of the laborers that scrambled around these academy walls were paid—most were prisoners or sorts entrapped by the Mistress, Leolina. Varin decided to surprise the hard worker with half of his earnings from tonight’s battle, earning a grateful and ardent roar of thanks.

Feeling good about his good deed, he poured himself another glass of drink before toasting to his friends. There were varying creatures at this academy that came from all walks of life, but most shared one thing in common—Elven blood. Some were pureblood Elves, some were one-sixteenth, however, they all harnessed the power and wisdom of their shared ancestry. Elves, as a race, were seen as vile and manipulative creatures to most, specifically those of the human race, but as far as Varin was aware they were the shrewdest and most noble men and women he could ever wish to meet. The Elven blood that flowed through his veins was minor, putting him at a disadvantage to other warlocks in the competing area, but Varin had a goal in mind that went beyond using magic. He saw the enchantments and spells as a tool to further his abilities as a warrior—manipulating raw materials and his own energy within was merely a benefit that he’d hardly use.

His eyes scanned the relatively small group of people spread into their designated groups, taking note at the implemented segregation. The dwarves sat at a table to the right, the pureblood elves sat to the left, and what Varin called the ‘mutts’ sat together in the center. Although the Lord was unsure what he fit in as far as race went, he was more than confident his bloodline had little to do with his potential. It was juvenile to take part in such predispositions.

The door silently creaked open, a woman stepping in alongside the Elven Mistress, Leolina. Varin watched as they walked towards the stirring pot of stew, the Mistress silently explaining what was on the menu. Reactively, the girls face twisted into a knot, and yet despite this reaction, she pooled a bowl of stew and eyed the crowd. The pureblood Elves turned their noses up to her, while the dwarves eyed the fresh meat with a sickening smile.

“New girl,” a gruff, short man yelled, “you can come here, we will get you acclimated just right!”

“Aye,” Thaddius greeted as he took a seat next to Varin, “that lassie over there—isn’t that the peeper? Looks like her.”

With an instinctual shake of the head, she scurried off to an empty table and sat down. Varin finally stopped stalking, returning his eyes to his group who paid little mind to the mysterious newcomer. He simply nodded as a response to his friend, taking a final sip of wine before finishing up his bowl. One thing that distracted the Lord, though, was how the simplest of reactions spoke volumes to her character. Already, within the first few twitches of her face and each grimace that curved onto her lips, he could tell she was not used to such an environment. Naïve, perhaps, but more so pompous and a tad critical. He was unsure how well she would fit in here—maybe she had a seat with the purebloods from attitude alone.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Following dinner, Varin followed Thaddius and another companion, Aiora through the winding halls. It was late, most of the other residents fast asleep. Surely, if Mistress Leolina had caught them they would be punished. While exploration of Lighthelm academy and the surrounding kingdom was discouraged, it was not illegal.

Each were adults, and each had capabilities that would make any warlock and aspiring witch snicker in envy. Who was to tell them to stay in their rooms, only leaving to learn and feast? That was no way to live life, especially when magic was involved. Despite this mischievous feeling coursing beneath his skin, the amount of trouble they were actually up to was disputed by the group of workers that scurried past them, simply smiling and saying ‘hello’ without questioning what they were doing. Shame.

“Where are you taking us?” Aiora whispered, hugging the tips of her elbows with her hands. She was a small girl, with snowy white hair and a rosy tip to her nose. She was one of the residents in this kingdom who had been invited to attend after saving a child from a tree. It was not necessarily the good deed that got her invited, though, it was the accidental use of magic that set her village on fire. She had been a liability as opposed to an asset. Despite the destruction she was supposedly capable of, her voice was as tiny as her stature, and with each sentence her vocal cords vibrated in unease. Such an uncertain girl.

“Just follow me!” Thaddius snapped, his boots dragging up the spiral staircase. By the seventh flight, Varin and Aiora were out of breath and complaining further, questioning why they were going all the way to the top of this tower. He simply responded, “Stop your whining, and you’ll both be rewarded with some knowledge. It’s something the Mistress does not want us to find.”

Eventually climbing to the top, they stopped outside a wooden door with a lock on it. The satyr grabbed the lock in his gruff hands, the tips of his fingers growing as red as lava. The lock, too, grew crimson and he slid the lock out of place, the body of the latch conforming to the grips of his fingers from the heat. Varin rolled his eye, wondering how he would ever explain that once the Mistress saw what the satyr had done. Thaddius shrugged a shoulder at the sight, dropping the device with a thud before opening the door, waving them in quickly.

The room was green. Plants scattered over the entire floor, vines climbing up the stone wall and onto the ceiling. Each plant had its own flower, some average and surely used in spells and potions, but some were unspeakably remarkable. Varin took a step towards a plant that had massive green leaves, the blue flower frosted at the edges of the petals. Instead of a normal flower disc at the center, there was an icicle that grew before his very eyes. Instead of keeping its form, the shard of ice curved around his wrist, arising a gasp out of the Lord from the cool touch. Before the flower could wrap around him further, he slipped his hand away and jumped back. This earned a chuckle from Thaddius, clearly amused by Varin’s fear of a plant.

“How did it do that?”

Thaddius shrugged and stepped next to the ice plant, watching as the icy flower disc receded back into its place, “Mistress Leolina uses some herbs and plants to help teach spells. However, this is her room of rejects; something is unruly about each one of these. I suppose you found out why this icy creature was sent to die in here.”

“Why doesn’t she just kill them? They’re plants.”

“You know, it seems Mistress Leolina prefers to do things the complicated way, however I am not sure we should be so surprised about that.”

Varin turned his head, watching as Aiora stood in complete silence. Her legs were shaking, and her hands were clenched into fists. Carefully, he took steps towards the girl to see what frightened her so, surely there was nothing in this room that warranted fear? It was only mischievous plants.

When he stopped behind the small girl, though, he was astounded. It did not resemble a flower. Nothing about it originated in nature. The stem was red, thorns wrapping around the base all the way to the tip. At the tip was calla lily flower that decayed into black, the droopy petals dripping black acid into the pot beneath it. At the center was a floating orb that resembled the stars at its core; a 3D sphere that called to be touched. When he took a step closer, moving Aiora to the side, he peered into the portal and watched another caramel eye do the same. He gasped and stepped back, a glimpse of his alter staring back at him through the hole.

“Is that…”

“A doppelganger?” Aiora finished for him.

“That’s dark magic, though,” Varin whispered and grabbed the girl by her wrist, leading her away from the plant. He called after the satyr, opening the door, and running down the stairs.

“Slow down!” Aiora scolded, her brows furrowed. “How do we know the Mistress is responsible for that?”

“Why else would it be in the academy?”

Aiora shrugged and looked at Thaddius when he finally caught up to them, his brows furrowed towards the two, “What’s gotten into you two?”

“Lighthelm isn’t all about good magic, Thaddius,” Varin whispered as he glanced around frantically. If anybody heard him accuse Mistress Leolina of dark arts, he would be executed.

“You’re insane, she won’t even let us breathe the word magic beyond these walls.”

Varin bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head shortly, “Until we figure this out, we can’t go back up there. I don’t want to be the reason another evil version of myself is running around this city.”

He finally let go of the girl’s wrist and turned on his heel, scurrying down the hall with a frown. He was still learning magic and its capabilities, but he was already well aware how dangerous dark magic can be. Creating a doppelganger was not easy, and the fact that there was a plant up there with the sole purpose of creating them sent a shock down his spine. Something was not adding up about this, and he was beginning to wonder if that room was for reject plants or simply tools Leolina did not want the world to know she had.