The First and Second Chapters

Chapter I: Aligning

The Weiss Academy of Lore and Magic, August 2011

Alastor Aldritch clutched his black leather bag with a look of anger on his face. The sun, which was high in the sky, illuminated the starlike frost patterns that painted the windows. Sitting three booths away from him was Elliot Carlisle—son of King Edward himself. Elliot sat there, looking innocent enough, as if he had never done anything wrong in his entire life. The very notion of Elliot being at the school irked Alastor, enough to make him rethink his ninth year in school. Normally, when one says ninth year, they mean the ninth grade, as in high school, but that was not how elven schooling worked. The elves entered their children, though few and far between, at age five.

The train they rode contained humans as well, who were unaware that they shared the train with elves. After the train, called the Evergreen Express, stopped at all the human stops, it would make its final stop at a myriad of small magical towns; and at the center of the group of them was a large, towering fortress made of pristine white stone, blending in with its snowy surroundings. The group of towns and the fortress were one of three elven communities: one next to Lake Vostok, Antarctica; one on Snake Island in Peru, and this one, in Canada.

Alastor gazed out the window. With a heavy sigh, he summoned a shower of magical sparks that silently flew from his fingers in a cascade of glittery blue.

“Isn’t casting in the presence of nonmagics prohibited?” a high, sweet voice emanated from beside him. He looked over to see a girl with semi-dark skin, the color of light coffee. She wore a heavy coat and a beanie, which covered her pointed ears. Adding to her childlike appearance, she looked to be twelve, matching her high-pitched voice.

“Only when they’re smart enough to notice.” He smirked. “who are you supposed to be?”

“Adelina Valentine.” she looked around. “do you mind if I sit here? I was kicked out of my booth.”

“I suppose.” He shrugged, leaning his head against the cold window. His hair fell down his shoulders as he shut his eyes. “I hope you weren’t kicked out for talking. Were you?”

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.” She sat down. “You’re Alastor Aldritch?”

He opened one eye, annoyed. “Yes, I am. And I am very tired so if you could kindly shut up, I would appreciate it. A prince needs his sleep you know.”

“Full of yourself much?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“It’s true!”

“See it however you like. You’re still wrong.” She said, shrugging. “You *aren’t* that important.”

“My father is the rightful king, you know.” He said after a few moments.  He was stunned, partially because of this girl’s rudeness, and partially because nobody had ever taken it upon themselves to talk to him.

“But is he?” she asked, sitting up. She pulled out a book. Adelina set herself to reading it. When the silence had waned for more than five minutes she spoke up. “I think he is one of the most brilliant modern authors in our world. Don’t you?”

“Who?” Alastor said, snapping out of a daze. Adelina’s chatter was beginning to grate on his nerves.

“Louis Francis-Knowles.” She said, staring at him incredulously. When he failed to respond with anything more than a confused gaze, she shoved the book in his hands. “He discovered any number of methods to use energy and convert it into magic! What do they teach you in your father’s pitiful palace?”

“It’s not a palace, it’s a mansion. Stupid *Carlisle* got the palace.” He grumbled, and then resumed talking. “How to take the throne mostly. And swordsmanship.”

“Here. Read this.” She passed him the book. He sat in silence. “Did I offend you?” she asked when he replied with nothing more than a blank sleepy gaze.

“No, you’re just obnoxiously loud, overbearing, and insanely annoying.” He rested his head in his hands.

“My apologies.” She muttered, sticking her hands into a backpack, pulling out another book. With a frustrated sigh, she set herself to reading, and did not speak another word for the remainder of the train ride.

\*\*\*

“You’ll be finding your way to the club signups that’a’way!” Shouted a boy in a green turtleneck. He had bright blue dyed hair and an American accent. He pointed to a group of tables that were various colors, each corresponding to a club. Alastor watched as the students made their way to the tables, gazing at some with interest. He walked over to them, and noticed little banners hanging on the sides, some advertising an art club, and some for a wrestling club. One was gold and green, advertising a derby that Alastor had wanted to join since his first year, but was never old enough to sign up for. He made his way over, to see a woman with frighteningly pale skin who looked like she had waltzed out of a fairytale novel.

“Hello! Are you interested in joining the zerby?” she asked. Her voice was shrill and annoying, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Zer…by?”

“Why, the Cryptozoo derby!” she pulled out a brochure. “We train for derbies that happen every semester!” handing it to him, she continued her speech, “The fees are all covered in the down payment, your animal, tack, and feed; unless you don’t choose an animal. Then you get a refund. Anyway, this is the coolest club, and you’ll love it!”

*I will, huh?* He thought. The idea of sharing a club with this bouncy, overly exuberant girl made him reconsider his childhood ambitions.

“And why did you say Zerby? Is that an Official name or…?”

“Cryptozoo derby is a mouthful, right? We dubbed it Zerby.”

“I’ll consider it.” He said, grabbing the pamphlet. He walked along to see another table that interested him: Spectrology. The study of ghosts and spirits and how to protect yourself from them. Briefly considering it, he moved on, finally settling on the last club: swordsmanship. His father would have wanted it. Though he was mental, and obsessively vengeful, nobody could claim that Augustus Aldritch was a bad swordsman.

\*\*\*

Meanwhile, Elliot Carlisle made his way to the registration building, thinking he could sign up for clubs later. The sun streamed down his face, which was a slightly pale brown; his curly black hair highlighted by the suns glow.

               At the registration, the man who greeted Elliot could not seem to get over Elliot’s lack of schooling.

“What do you mean, first year?”

“I mean, I’ve had private schooling.” He sighed.

“I’ll suggest you get in as many high-ranking clubs as possible. This,” he said, pointing to Elliot’s sign-up paper, “kind of report doesn’t look good in print, kid.” The man nodded. He sighed, “Why haven’t you been in schooling like the other kids?”

“What’s the highest ranking then?” Elliot asked, ignoring the question once again, as he had numerous times before.

“Kid, you’re 14 and have no social skills. I would suggest you focus on that, too. Here.” The man wrote a few things on a notebook paper and handed it to Elliot. On it were a few hardly-legible club names:

*Fencing*

*Manners and Formalities*

*Cryptozoo Derby*

*Military*

“And these clubs look good on paper you think?” Elliot asked. The man nodded.

“Yup. Any two of these might increase your chances of getting a somewhat decent profession.”

“Won’t be needing one of those.” He mumbled.

“Pardon?” the man asked.

“Nothing. What’s my dorm number again?”

“3-B. you’re boarding with six other elves, all boys of course.”

“Thank you.” Elliot said politely.

And he was thankful, for even though he did not *need* a job, he did not want to be idle. In fact, the Cryptozoo Derby sounded very interesting.

\*\*\*

The students were gathered in the main hall, where the headmaster was giving his welcoming speech. Among the students, quite a few were sneaking away to go into their dorms and move in. Some would set up pranks for the new year, which was a tradition at the school. Alastor was thinking of leaving to move in himself, but dismissed the fact, hoping to learn some useful information from the headmaster’s speech. He was new, as were most of the professors and teachers that year.

“Welcome to the Weiss Academy of Magic and Cryptozoology,” Began a fat, jolly bubble of a man, “My name is Bernard Bundt—"

“Tough break.” Alastor chuckled to himself as Bundt continued speaking.

“-We hope you have the very best time here. As some regular students here may note, it is my first year being Headmaster here, but I will do my very best to ensure you safety and comfort here at the Academy.” He waved his arms exuberantly.

Adelina sidled up next to Alastor. She had changed he clothes, and now stars were visible on her arms, so dark a color they seemed to a void in themselves.

“I take it you aren’t going to tell me what those are for?” He asked. She shook her head, giving him a grin. “Figures.” He muttered.

“Come on,” she began, “let us go to the stables. I need to show you my pairing.”

“Pardon?”

“For the Cryptozerby! My steed! My ride! You know, the animal I compete with?”

“Geez. Who doesn’t do the Zerby?”

“Those who are too chicken to sign up.” She laughed as the Headmaster continued.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes.

“Her name is Umbra.” She said, walking away from the crowd, Alastor’s arm in hand. He sighed, wondering how this girl thought of him as a friend.

               They walked past the mess hall, an impressive room more than large enough to seat every one of the students, with golden-orange circular lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting eerie and beautiful light. In the diamond-shaped courtyard, a group of strange birds gathered, eyeing the two teenagers with suspicion.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Adelina yanked his arm towards a wooden door with iron hinges. It towered over them like a giant, or an ogre. She veered to the left, and held her hand out, whispering something Alastor could not decipher, and a huge dark green vine sprouted from the earth, forming a ladder that went to the top of the wall that framed the door. “I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

“Are you kidding? The heights are afraid of me.” He muttered, staring up at the 40-foot-high wall.

“You really are full of yourself. That was a terrible joke.” She shook her head and began climbing the vine, as did he.

“How old are you?” Alastor yelled up to her.

“Are you asking me out?” she hollered down with a laugh.

Alastor kicked himself. He had not thought of that at all, especially not with *this* girl.

“I only wanted to know, since you can only sign up if you’re 14 or older, but you look to be 12.”

“I’m 17,” she said with a low voice, “It’s impolite to ask a woman her age. Don’t presume to put it to anyone ever again.” She said, reaching the top of the wall. He soon followed suit. “Besides, why do you care?”

“I’m planning on riding in the Zerby this year.” He said, watching as she slid down the vine in one smooth motion.

“*Zerby.”* She corrected, then laughed, “Well, that’s good. Riders are usually cockier than a cockatrice.”

“Not you?” he said after sliding down the vine, though much less gracefully.

“Nope.” She led him down a long winding path to a huge wooden building. Guarding it were two marble statues: one of a griffin and one of a deer with a set of antlers made from vines, adorned with flowers. “Hello Hamelot. Hello Omicron.”

               The deer raised its head and shook it, as if to acknowledge their presence, and the griffin did a similar gesture.

“They’ll allow us passage then?” Alastor asked. He was not dazed by the living statues; he had often admired them from afar.

Adelina nodded. “Yes, but we must hurry.”

They walked in, light flooding into their eyes. Alastor blinked, and gasped as the image before him came into view.

Every wall was the color of the sky on a bright summer’s day, and written in what looked to be gold or silver paint were quotes made by famous elves, some from Houdini, and a scientist names David Frost, and some even from Osilon; the first king and Lord of Elves. Beneath the crown molding on the ceiling were animals that took his breath away. Closer to the ceiling, on the top, were dragons. They were slender with wings that seemed to be transparent. On the ground were pegasi and griffins, whom both had beautiful feathery wings. The pegasi were usually white or goldish colored, and the griffins were a dark bronze color. At the far end, there were five or so beasts that he did not recognize, strange, tall, slender, deerlike animals that were white or black in color, each with two long, sharp, ivory horns protruding from the side of their head. The most beautiful part of them was the colorful bunches of feathers that came out from their necks and tails like a peacock’s train. He wanted to ask what they were, but Adelina gave him no time, leading him to a staircase that had been hidden from his view.

“The felines have to be kept with their own kind, or they’ll hurt the others.” Adelina explained as she walked to a section of the level that was sectioned of with an arrangement of posts. Contained within was a large catlike creature covered entirely with black fur, except for his tail and chest, which were an icy white. Tufts of black fur spiked up from its ears.

“Umbra. My steed and friend. She was rescued from the mountains and, in my opinion, crafted by Osilon himself.” She paused, “They *are* as intelligent as us, you know.”

“Yes.”

“So, what do you think?”

“She’s...” he was speechless. “Magnificent. As you said, crafted by Osilon himself.”

Adelina laughed jokingly. “I’m glad you think so. She’d probably kill you if you said anything less.”

\*\*\*

Elliot watched as students snuck out of the room. Bernard Bunt continued rambling on and on about the numerous academic opportunities that came with applying to the school, and fortunately for the students, it seemed like he was almost done with his speech.

“-And now, for the marvelous Miss Leurona, your history professor!”

A few of the students in the front groaned, as did Elliot. He had assumed, wrongly, that history was a subject that only the nonmagicals studied.

“Now, now, don’t be so grim.” A cheery woman with a purple jacket that went down to her knees walked to the podium. “my name is Leurona Rossenburhg, and I am the head of History, Latin, and any other languages you wish to learn.” She smiled and looked at her students. They stared back, analyzing this new authority in their life, debating whether they would like her or not. She seemed trustworthy and simultaneously suspicious. “As my good friend, Headmaster Bernard said, we are so glad to have you here, and I hope this can be a learning experience for all of us, as, like him, I am new to this school here. Any questions?”

A teenage student standing among the younger kids raised her hand. “My little brother wants to know why all the professors have been replaced, and if all the administration has been changed.”

“Did he ask exactly that?” Leurona asked. The girl bashfully shook her head. “I’m kidding, as you well know. No, only the upper levels are under new management, though most of the early-year teachers have gone to Vostok.”

Lake Vostok was where most of the elven and magical communities resided. It was a prosperous and independent colony, located in antarctica and kept warm with magic. It was the largest of the three Elven colonies, home to millions of elves and magicfolk.

“Now, I presume all questions have been asked?” Leurona asked. When met with no reply, she dismissed all the students. They flooded into their dormitories, where their luggage was waiting for them to settle in.

\*\*\*

When a bugle resounded across the campus, signaling the long-awaited arrival of dinner, Alastor headed to the mess hall where Headmaster Bundt explained how to get food by simply saying a few words in Eliviar, the magic language created by Osilon and his brother. It was much more efficient, and a far cry from the crowded and hectic way the school did it before

Alastor tried his very best to master it, misspeaking and making his attempts fruitless, literally. “Visalia hautis je porgand!” he said expectantly. Nothing happened. A student beside him with blonde hair and freckles, and a Scottish accent chuckled. He had a cheddar and ham sandwich in his hand.

“Here, allow me.” He said. “Veiseliha hautis je porgand!”

The food appeared, and Alastor stared at him open mouthed. A steaming hot bowl of beef stew, and cross bun on the side.

“Clyde Hedgeworth. Nice to meet ’cha.” He said with a nod and a triumphant grin. “You said it wrong, that’s all.” He explained.

“Alastor Aldritch.” Alastor replied, still trying to think of how he made such a mistake.

“Nice one.” Clyde said with a chuckle. Alastor just gazed at him in confusion. “You’re Alastor?”

“I said that.” He nodded, slightly annoyed.

“Well pardon me, your highness.” Clyde said rolling his eyes as Alastor smiled. “I thought you were joking.”

“Call me Al. Alastor is nothing but two and a half mouthfuls.” Alastor replied.

“Alrighty, Al.” Clyde said, biting into his sandwich.

“So, where are you from?”

“Scotland, if it ain’t obvious. My bloody parents said I should get a good education if I wanted to amount to anything but an old hermit. What about you? Father done much since the war?”

“No, he just sits around figuring out how *I’m* going to carry out *his* revenge on King Edward’s son.”

“And will you?”

“Well, he seems like a nasty brat, but I’d rather not spend my time in my father’s business. If he is too nervous to carry his sweet revenge out himself, is it even worth considering?”

“I s’pose not.” Clyde said, pondering it for a moment.

Alastor allowed himself to think as well. School and education had been his focus growing up, whether he liked it or not, and he had never talked about his family. Sure, he had seen Clyde in the halls, or in his dorm one year, but had never gotten to know him.

“What year are you?” Clyde asked.

“Oh, um, it’s my ninth year.”

“Hmm. It is my eighth. I think I’ll sign up for fencing, since I’m finally old enough for it.”

“It’s a bit dated; I’d say swordsmanship would be a better bet. Besides, few sign up since the teacher is so…detailed.” Alastor began chewing on his pen.

“’Course. I should have thought of that. Blast it.”

“Hey, next year why don’t you sign up for the Zerby? I hear it’s fun, and I’m in it.”

“Golly, if that’s not a reason in itself to join I don’t know what is.” Clyde said, joking.

“Lay off.” Alastor said with a chuckle.

“Hey you and my friend Bennet would get along real swell. He is from the UK and his father is real good friends with a couple big-names. He might know your father, too.”

“Bennet…Shaw?”

“That’ll be the one.”

“He’s in my dorm.” Alastor replied with a sigh.

“How lucky.” Clyde said with a smile.

\*\*\*

Elliot sighed, looking down at his math paper. Nothing made any sense. The calculations and equations swum around in his head like a school of fish, so fast so he could not muster the mental strength to grasp even one.

“-And if we add it all up and divide the sum by 27…we find out X is actually 7.” said the teacher. How long had he been rambling about that problem? Elliot could not remember. The only thing he had ever been taught in his father’s castle was magic, elven history, and swordsmanship, among how to keep anyone from taking the throne. His father saw things like math and the sciences as trivial and useful only to common elves and nonmagicals. Elliot looked to his partners paper, which had answers filled out in messy, small writing that he could hardly decipher. She looked at him with a look of shock, almost, and apprehension.

“Get your own answers! Mine are probably wrong anyway!” she whispered.

“Sorry.” He muttered sheepishly.

She clicked her tongue. “Listen, if you wanted help, you could ask. Don’t go looking like a whooped dragon. Golly—let me help.” She grabbed his paper, looking over it carefully, scrutinizing every penciled mark. She tapped two problems with her blue pen. “Those are most definitely off. Way off. Those ones—” she tapped three others, “might be, but the answer seems to be off. I’d check them if I were you.”

“Thanks.” Elliot smiled.

“Though, when I say ‘I would check them if I were you’, I should tell you most the things I do get me in trouble. So maybe that’s bad advice.” She rambled.

“Shush!” the teacher hissed.

“Sorry!” they whispered back in unison, then she spoke up. “I’m helping Elliot with his work.”

“Well, Miss Montgommery, I’d permit that, but with your grades, I’d suggest someone else do that. Perhaps Miss Lavigne?”

“No, I’ve got it.” She turned back to Elliot, her face red with hidden anger.

“Montgommery?” he asked with a grin.

“Either someone in my fam made a spelling error or they were just dumb. I’d believe the latter if I were you though.”

“huh. First name?” he asked.

“Wren. My name is Wren Montgommery.”

“Elliot Carlisle.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, now won’t you tell me how to convert fractions into percentages already?” Elliot asked with a bright grin.

“Of course, your royal highness.” Wren replied, rolling her eyes. She set to writing on a notebook paper with her blue pen, in slightly neater writing. “there. Try your luck at those problems, using the instructions I wrote.”

“Alrighty.” Elliot said, “also, I wouldn’t worry too much about your name. I’d say it’s better than mine.” He said with a grin, and she looked up at him with a smile.

For once the fish swimming in his head seemed to stop moving, though her instructions were not the reason, for he had a friend.

Chapter II: Dreaming

The next day

Elliot sat at the table next to Wren, who was going over a list of goals for the year. They varied: paint a portrait of a centaur, create a sculpture, spend a 100 hours of the year stargazing, and join the Zerby. He listened with as much interest as he could, but his mind kept drifting. On his left was a boy named Tyrone Carter, a friend Wren had introduced him to, along with her boyfriend, Bennet.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Distracted, that’s all.”

“Why?” she asked. Tyrone nodded with curiosity. His dark skin contrasted the light brown table, and his curly hair was pulled back in a short ponytail.

My—ugh, it’s just my dad…” he rubbed his temples in a frail attempt to relieve his stress. “I’ve been thinking about his stupid politics again and can’t stop.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Wren lowered her voice, “Do you know of a woman named Alicia Del Rio?”

“I know her personally. She is a pain in my backbone. Don’t tell me you’re a fan, I beg you.” He rolled his eyes.

Wren smiled. “She’s my mother.”

The blood drained from Elliot’s face. “Do *not* tell my father I said that.”

Wren laughed. “I hate her. She uh—well, she left me and my dad to join your dad’s army.” She shook her head. “my point is, I get it.”

“When psycho runs in the family?” he half-glared at her.”

“Yeah, basically.” Tyrone interrupted “all of us--” he pointed to everyone in the circular table, “--plan to overthrow the government when we get older. Yes, we are young, but what does that matter? Someone has to do it, so why not us?”

“That’s smart.” Elliot admitted. “never thought of that.”

“So how do you feel?” Wren asked. “I mean, he is your dad. You never…rooted for him?”

“No. no, never. He neglected me and my baby sister.”

“How’d that work out?” Tyrone as. His face darkened, as if a shadow came from nowhere.

Elliot shrugged. “she’s gone completely mad; I think from her being hit. I’m planning on rescuing her eventually.”

“And what does she want for the Hidden Kingdoms?” Wren asked.

“She wants him to be king, and her after him, but not me. She feels that I am a disappointment, a traitor to the family name.” he sighed. “Osilon knows if that’s it though.” He looked at Wren. “you? How are you and your father?”

“Oh,” Wren smiled sadly and folded her hands. “my father is…he’s dead. My mother does not want me so…I am a year-rounder here. I never leave and…this fortress is where I’ve lived since I was five.”

“I’m sorry.” Tyrone and Elliot said in unison.

“It’s all right. You can’t have everything.”

“What about you Ty’?” Elliot asked, “what’s your story?”

“I’m normal, mostly.” He said, setting his drink on the table. “my sister, Romina…she’s special, though.”

“How? I’ve heard that name before.”

“She was kidnapped,” Tyrone said, suddenly sitting up. He looked Elliot dead it the eyes, “by your father. Have you seen her by the way?”

“No. only heard the name spoken in his,” he shuddered, “cult, the Onyx Claw.”

Tyrone cussed under his breath. “At any rate, I’ll find her eventually and take her home.”

“What’s the deal with Aldritch?” Wren asked. “why won’t you talk to the guy? He might get along with you. Royal families, you know, you guys could…well, hang out.”

“I’m afraid he’ll try to kill me.” Elliot admitted. Nobody had any response to that.

\*\*\*

“Blasted oaf!” the professor cried in pain. The dragon she was riding, Glendor, turned its neck around to give the woman a smug grin. “I tell you, Glendor, they call you dragons gentle giants but I think a more accurate description would be big blasted brawny brutes!”

A handful of the students snickered, covering their ears as the blue-green dragon roared in protest. The crowd the professor was trying to school was composed of students between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. They were about forty strong, each one there to join the Zerby club. In the middle, Elliot was with Bennet; and in the front, Alastor watched the amusing scene with unblinking observance. He made no attempt to acknowledge bennet, if he was with Elliot he would not associate with his friend.

“Now—Ah, Glendor cut that out—” she wrestled with the dragon for a few moments, ignoring the laughter emanating from the group of teenagers. “He’s just showing off,” The woman explained with a chuckle, “It’s the first class, so he’s exited. Now, Call me Elizabeth, nothing fancy, just Elizabeth. This is Glendor, and he is a dragon I paired with forty years ago. Any questions?”

“Are they really as intelligent as people say? You’re being kind of mean to him.” Wren, who was coincidentally beside Alastor, asked.

“Aw, Glendor knows I mean no harm. Yes, they are intelligent as you and I, and the reason I say such things to him is because we have been paired so long, I’d say we are the best of friends.”

“So, he talks to you?” Wren asked.

“Not—not exactly. It’s hard to explain unless you experience it, but only a few of you will. We have maybe thirty different animals here, and what you need to understand is, this Zerby is a lifelong commitment. The games end, but your bond does not.”

“Where do the animals come from?” another student asked.

She smiled. “every semester, a ‘hunt’ is scheduled for those who want to be in the Zerby, but don’t have a steed. We send them out, supervised, into a field that has plenty of free animals, and if one chooses the student, they return with it and a lifelong bond is formed. These ones are the ones that have been bred.” She motioned to the elaborate stables to their left.

“May we try to pair today?”

“Not yet,” Elizabeth sighed, “This is, as I said, a lifelong commitment. The only way to part you from your steed is death, which usually ends in the survivor being so ill, they usually do not make it either. Your steed is not just dumb and gullible like a common mule, it is as intelligent as you are. Are you sure you want to commit to this?”

The gravity of the situation hit the students. Some began to walk away, back to the courtyard, Wren among them. One by one, the students trickled away, until only twenty or so remained. The whole migration only lasted five or so minutes, but it felt like an hour to those who were ready to begin.

“Good.” Elizabeth sighed. “I was worried we might have to have an early hunt this year. Now first I should probably explain a few things about these animals.” She waved her hand, and simultaneously whistled, and a whiteboard appeared next to her. A student raised her hand, somewhere in the middle of the small congregation, and Elizabeth called on her.

“What spell was that?” she asked.

Elizabeth burst out in laughter. “that spell, my dear, was *veondius,* the transportation spell. Any other unrelated questions?” after waiting a few seconds, she turned back to the board, and drew several columns on it in green. “the first and most common animal is the dragon.” She said. Behind her, Glendor straightened up and flapped his wings a bit, showing off his bright colorful scales. “cut that out, Glendor.” Elizabeth said, swatting at him. A ripple of laughter spread through the group of students. “As I was saying, the first is a dragon. They used to reside in warm tropical areas, and, surprisingly, the Netherlands. It’s also speculated that they inhabited the heart of volcanoes, but that’s just an old myth.” She sighed. “They are usually colorful, slender, and twice as large as a horse. Unlike most reptiles, they stop growing after a while, as their cardiovascular system is fragile, and can’t pump blood as efficiently as when they are young.

“Next, we have Griffins. Like dragons, they are gentle and misunderstood because of their appearance. Can Raleigh bishop please come forward with her griffin?”

A girl who had been in the back strutted up beside Elizabeth, followed by a dark brown griffin.

“The difference between real griffins and mythological griffins is the head and feet. In mythology—” she began drawing a surprisingly good griffin; however, it had the head and feet of an eagle, “—this is what they look like, in human mythology. The…*interesting* idea of what they look like is derived from the catholic church who thought that adding the eagle parts would make it look more…intimidating.” Elizabeth looked at her students. “they were wrong.” A wave of laughter spread through the crowd.

“Wait, how’d they know about gryphons at all?” a boy asked. His name was Tyler, and he seemed to know everything. Alastor was a little surprised that he did not know.

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ll get to that in a moment. Next up are the Mountain Cats, or Giant Felines as you seem to prefer to call them.” She looked at another student in the back. “Charles, you can bring yours up?” the kid, a redhead with messy hair and a blue jacket. His cat was a bright yellow color with a black saddle. It walked up to the front, a low guttural noise emanating from its throat.

“It’s purring, not growling, I assure you.” The kid said.

Elizabeth nodded. “now these felines are often mistaken for mountain lions or tigers, but the distinct difference is fur. Tigers and mountain lions have shorter, coarser hair. Mountain Cats, however, have very soft fur that is hardly ever shed, even in summer. Now as you can see, they have—” she pointed to the bright yellow cat, “—sharp, clean, saber-toothlike fangs. Those are used to kill prey, at least in the wild.”

Beside Alastor, Adelina straightened her back with pride.

*You take pride in that?*  He thought.

“Why are their names so similar to mountain lions?”

“Good question. We really do not know. There *are* species that the humans have named mountain cats, but we did it first, only in elven: *Mattukass.*” She nodded to Charles, and he went back to the back of the crowd. “Next are the Pegasi, which are also quite common among riders. Mei, can you come up with your Pegasus?”

A girl with black braided hair came up to the front, a Pegasus following close behind her. “This is Jada.” She said shyly.

“She’s magnificent. As you can see, she has those distinctive wings, and her legs are slightly thicker than your average horse. That is for the purpose of landing, as a normal horses’ legs would completely fracture if put under the force of landing. They usually are found in hills with plenty of greenery and caves.” She nodded to Mei. “You can go back.” Then she looked to someone on the side of the group. “Averie?” she waved a girl with long blonde hair over, and she walked over, a beautiful white creature at her side. It was unlike anything most of the students had ever seen, with bright feathers branching up over its back like a canopy. They began at the base of its neck, blooming up from there.

“The most exotic and interesting of the group, the Isiltar.” Elizabeth said, pausing for effect. The students blinked their eyes in disbelief. “Nobody knows where they come from. Only that they exist, and they only appear to those who have a ‘showing’ magic trait, elven or not. The biggest misconception about these animals is that they can fly. That is not true. The feathers are only there for show, and during running, they flatten against the Isiltars body, making them more streamlined. These creatures love to run, and are designed to do just that. They are also very, very rare and, as a result, often raise themselves, so they develop very complicated personalities. This also partially caused by their range of emotion, which is just as broad as a human’s, but ten times more extreme.” She looked at her students intently, “they are hard to understand and very, very dramatic. You best not cross with one on its bad day.”

\*\*\*

Every single class after that, day after day, was agonizing for every one of the students as they awaited the fabled ‘pairing’. Finally, the period of waiting finally came to a close after a week of tests, anatomy, and history.

“Good.” Elizabeth said as they turned in their papers. She looked at each and every one of them with a proud smile on her face, tears brimming in her eyes. “Long have I awaited this day. Every year it makes me sad, I have known most of you since the first grade, and I…well, I consider it a graduation, almost.” She cleared her throat. “Now, what you will do is walk inside the stables, one at a time, and spend a good time looking at each animal. You can touch them, if you feel like they might be the one you could pair with. After a while, you might see one follow you. That means the animal has chosen you to—well, you get it. Who is first?” she sniffed.

“Wait!” Bennet said, his hand in the air, “What if you aren’t chosen?”

“You find another club or try again next semester during the Hunt. Now who’s first?”

“I will.” a girl with short, dark hair said, walking up to the front. She looked to be fourteen of fifteen. Elizabeth nodded, and the girl made her way into the stables. Alastor watched with anticipation as she disappeared behind the stables elaborate mahogany doors.

               When it was Alastor’s turn, Elizabeth called his name. He looked at her with uncertainty, picking at the skin around his fingernails. Alastor stared at the doors with anticipation. His mind raced as the realization fell upon him: *bonded for life to an animal.* It was humbling. A creature wise as yourself, bonded to your consciousness for all of eternity. His train of thought was disturbed when the deer with the antlers of vines snorted. He nodded opening the door, holding it by a bronze ring. As the students watched in silence, Alastor hesitated, then stepped into the room as he had weeks ago with Adelina. The same blinding light greeted him, and the same gold-and-silver quotes on the wall shone down on his blonde hair. He knew exactly which animals he wanted to visit: the ones at the end with the feathers of color. He slowly stepped towards the end, watching each creature carefully. A dragon cocked its head at him, a Pegasus whinnied, and one of those strange beautiful deerlike animals nuzzled his hand. But none of them paired with him. Finally, after walking upstairs and greeting Umbra, he began to walk out, when a strange sensation startled his conscious. It started as a small throbbing, like a headache, but painless. He whipped around to see one of those creatures staring back at him. It was black, with green, purple, and blue feathers; its horns a pearly white. Its blueish furry hooves stomped on the ground and it shook its head.

An Isiltar.

*Well, took you long enough to notice me here.*

“I’m sorry—what?” he asked, almost falling back. A voice clear and soft seemed to be emanating from everywhere and nowhere—all at once. It sounded like a young girl’s voice—full of both sadness and hope. A sudden flood of understanding filled his mind, and his eyes filled with tears of both joy and sorrow. Once again, he began to pick at the skin on his nails.

*I can leave if you like, though, we are paired now.*

“You’re—you’re beautiful—handsome—”

*Not so bad yourself. Thank you. My name is Mortua.*

“Moor-Too-a.” Alastor said to himself, committing it to memory. “I’m Alastor.” He said, clearing his throat. She nodded to him.

*We best go. They are waiting. You may ride on my back if you please. And yes, I know your name.*

“I…I think you’re right, Mortua.”

*Stop with that.*

“Stop with what?” He asked as he mounted her back. He was surprised at how she talked. Her words were so, in a way, mature, yet her voice was that of an eight-year-old. He shuddered.

*That talking. So useless. Just think, and I will understand.*

He focused for a moment, then asked, *Like this?*

*Yes. Shall we be off?*

*Yes.*

\*\*\*

“This is just annoying. I swear—" Clyde began to himself. He was interrupted when Elizabeth made her way towards him, a frown on her face.

“Shaw, I’d suppose your parents are distinguished individuals.” She said in such a matter-of-fact tone, he withered under her gaze.

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered.

“Then it’d be good for you to act like they actually taught you something! In fact, why don’t you go next? It seems you among the final few who have not been paired.” She nodded to the crowd of students who stood beside an array of animals: dragons, griffins, pegasi, and one Clyde did not recognize.

“Ma’am—”

“None of that! You’re next.” She said as Alastor trotted out to the field on an animal unlike anything Clyde had ever seen. Elizabeth’s hand flew up to her mouth.

“An isiltar! Wonderful my boy, wonderful. Those are a rare pairing, you see. They always have such complicated personalities, hardly anyone has the ability to pair with them!”

Alastor just nodded. *You told us that,* He thought. He looked downcast, and Clyde was worried for him.

“Your turn, my boy.” Elizabeth said, ushering him to the doors. Glendor watched him with a grin as if to say ‘be happy, something great is about to happen”.

“Yeah right.” Clyde muttered to himself. He was terrified. He walked inside the doors, imagining the worst-case scenario. He could be attacked by one of the animals and injured. Or worse. He opened his eyes, and was astounded by the beautiful creatures, but the moment he looked, one of them seemed to grab his attention like a magnet. The brown Pegasus, the one with the dark-tipped wings. Her hair was a beautiful light blonde. He walked towards her and she looked at him with interest.

“Hello.” He said with a choke.

\*\*\*

“Son of a basilisk!” Clyde cried, throwing his hands in the air. “what in the devils name are you playing at? How do you—”

They were playing a card betting game in the student hangout area, and in a table not too far from them, a group of older students were practicing small spells.

“I’m better than you.” Alastor replied, grabbing Clyde’s card, which was seven hearts. “you can throw ‘em if you like.” He tossed the two black and red dice to his friend, who grabbed them in frustration.

“Ten for ten!” he growled at Alastor.

“Fifteen for eight.” Alastor replied, readying his cards. He watched as Clyde tossed the die, which added up to seven.

“Son of a basilisk!” Clyde repeated.

“Shut up, Clyde, someone might think you’re dying.” Adelina shouted from ten feet away. Her voice echoed around the room. She was reading a book on runes.

“See, Clyde? Someone’s rooting for you. If you die, you can’t keep losing to me.”

“Shut up, Ace, someone might think you care.”

“Why’d you call me- oh, Osilon.” He cursed, looking at his watch. “I have to go to sword classes.” He waved his hand. “keep practicing Clyde, you might actually stand a chance.”

“Ace!” Adelina shouted. “get back here!”

“I have a name, you know.” Alastor replied, marching back in the room quickly.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

“Apologize or ill hex you.”

“I’m sorry, Clyde.” Alastor said, walking away.

“I called you ace ‘cuz you keep betting fifteens. So predictable.” Adelina said looking up. “it suits you.”

“No, it doesn’t, Addie.”

“Now if you call me that, I call you ace.” She said with a grin.

He grimaced. “Please no. to both.”

“Goodbye, princie!” Clyde called as Alastor left. Adelina burst out laughing.

“Princie. I’m going to have to use that.” She said.

\*\*\*

*The air smelled like an old, musty attic. He looked up, not sure of his surroundings. The ceiling was white, with elaborate crown molding. The tile floors were black and white.*

*“Behind you.” A voice said. It was neither gruff nor smooth. He whipped around to see none other than the king, in all his horrible, evil majesty.*

*“Get away from me.” Alastor said. He backed up, noticing three peculiar objects on the ground in a triangle.*

*“You see this?” King Edward said, motioning to the objects. “these are for you. All you have to do is choose.”*

*“Choose what?” Alastor said. He took a moment to look at each object. Each was surrounded by a whitish aura. The first was two swords: one a midnight black, decorated with green jewels, and the second, silver and indented with runes. the second item was a rusted birdcage with a red candle inside it, and suspended by nothing above the flame was a single rose. The final object was a white blowhorn, like that of cattle. It had gold lines on it in swirling flowered patterns. He looked back up at the king. “choose what?” he repeated.*

*“Choose me.” The king said, and he disappeared. Alastor turned around. He knew it was a dream. It had to be. Nothing made sense. He looked down, and saw murky water coming up from between the tiles. Alastor jumped onto a table. The glass lantern shattered, sending the shards on his skin. The snakes were unleashed from their cages, and the slithered onto his limbs. The fire killed the flower as it spread across the rising water, encompassing him, but it did not hurt.*

*Standing up, Alastor opened his eyes. A blue glowing figure was before him, looking into his eyes. He quickly backed away from it, startled by its presence. He closed his eyes.*

*“Osilon.” He cursed. He opened his eyes. The figure was gone. In its place, a girl with white hair and green eyes watched him in silence. Her skin looked like a Frankenstein’s monsters’ patchwork, old scars, and new covering all that he could see. She was dressed in a silk blue garment, fastened with a diamond ring where a scarf was tied.*

*“Save me.” She whispered.*

*“H-how?” Alastor stuttered.*

*Her screams and screeches filled his mind until he felt no emotions but fear, pure, unwavering fear.*

*“No!” Alastor yelled, covering his ears.*

*“Then it’s true.” She said, and her body went limp, and she collapsed onto the ground. He could see an arrow in her back, her blood spreading across the floor.*

Alastor woke up covered in cold sweat.

It was the first of many, many dreams.