If anyone had told me a few months ago that someday on, I’ll be sitting in my biological father’s office, drinking lemon-scented tea whilst basking in another bout of awkward silence, I’d have the person committed into a mental institution. After I laughed in their faces of course.
I gently settle my steaming cup of tea on the mahogany desk separating the both of us, there’s a glass nameplate with the words Dean Steven Carter written in bold letters.
Sighing, I study the old black and white picture of the school on the wall across from us. The painkillers I’d taken with the tea thankfully seems to be kicking in so my head isn’t aching as much anymore. Looking around another picture catches my attention, it's of a smiling older man who stands in front of the academy’s clock tower with a cane in one hand and a scowling boy in the other, the boy looks to be 15-16 years old and when upon closer look I caught a hint of a tattoo on his wrist. Sitting forward, I squint my eyes and try to get a better look at what it was when he finally decided to talk.
“How-” I glance his way and he cleared his throat, raising his eyes to stare into mine with a piercing intensity. “How are you feeling, with your parent’s death and all?”
Leaning back in my seat I offer a small shrug. It’s been a month since someone last asked how I was dealing with the death of my parents, and I thought by now I’d be over it. Looking around the room again I notice a lit fireplace and welcome the warmth it provided. “I don’t mean to be rude but, the last thing I want to talk about is my feelings or my dead parents.”
He ran a hand through his low-cut hair and nodded slowly, looking both lost and sad. “Fair enough, I respect that. I just…” He trails off, leaving his statement hanging in the air for a few seconds. Shaking his head, he straightens his suit with a determined sigh and changes the subject. “Am sure you must have a lot of questions so, let me hear it.”
“What the hell happened before I passed out, no matter how much I try to remember I can’t?”
“Hmm, I’m not exactly sure how I can explain what happened without sounding crazy.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I know it’ll be hard to believe but, I want you to try and keep an open mind with what I’m about to say.” I cautiously nod in reply and he lets out a long sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, this school isn’t like any regular school.”
I snort, thinking about their bizarre security system. “Oh, I noticed, but what does that have to do with my memory loss?”
He stood abruptly, coming around his desk to hold a hand out to me. “Come, I believe it's better to show you than to just tell you.”
For a couple of minutes, I let myself hesitate, feeling a little weird about holding hands with him, but my curiosity won out in the end and I couldn’t help but slowly slip my hand into his.
As weird as this might sound, one of my greatest wishes, when I was a kid, was to know what the hands of my father felt like. I guess seeing a lot of my friends with their dads made me develop my strange curiosity, which is kind of why I loved it when my step-father had always carried me around as a kid. A soft squeeze jolted me back to the present and I looked up just as he pulls me to my feet so we can make our way out of his office, past his secretary, and down the hall.
“Before I explain what happened, I believe I need to tell you about where it all began.” He leads through many turns and corners before stepping into a room. The room is large enough to be a ballroom, or maybe even larger, and it’s lit by fluorescent lights hanging from the ceilings through chains. There’s an open threshold to the left of the room and when we walked past it, I could see what appears to be a large library connected to this room.
Drawn on all parts of the walls are hyper-realistic and detailed oil paintings, and aligned in the middle of the room upon acrylic podiums are head statues and solid sculptures. It seems they created a private gallery in the school. Some of the paintings drawn on the walls are of various people who seem to somehow wield powers over fire or water, earth or air. But the wax sculptures and marble statues set up on podiums bare distinct resemblance to Steven and I, almost like they were created for a specific line of people.
The sculptures are well preserved, and even though they’re carved, they made each element look like the real thing has it is harnessed between their palms. Each sculpture having similar tattoos I’ve seen on everyone whom I’ve met, upon and before getting to the academy. Looking around in amazement I look up to see even the centre of the ceiling has a large mural painting of all four elements drawn in a spiral circle with the Triquetra symbol right in the middle. The paintings are drawn as if the elements were coming from their hands just like they carved the sculptures, their eyes intensely coloured along with the tattoos on their hands as they bend the elements in different forms.
“For centuries, a large group of people who call themselves Elemental Conjurers have lived their lives hidden from humans. Practising and harnessing their powers for the sole purpose of protecting themselves and all of humanity however they can and whenever they can. But before they grouped, these set of people were scattered all over the earth, scared and living in hiding due to fear of what they are and what they can control.” I turn to stare at him sceptically, but also with a little bit of intrigue.
It sounds like he’s reading out of a storybook to me. I mean, if he’s being sincere, which is frightening to think about and pretty much… impossible. “Our history began during the 14th century when one brave woman who could conjure and manipulate all the elements around her, scoured through Europe for people just like her, who had magical abilities unknown to humankind.”
He stops before a large painting taking up almost half of the wall, this one is drawn in the middle of all the others as if it held a more meaningful role. The woman in the painting has honey blonde hair quite similar to the doctors in the infirmary. She’s sitting in a cross-leg position with her eyes glaring gold, her palms placed together before her, and all four elements seem to have circled her body in a similar pattern as the interlaced knot painted on the ceiling. And what’s even weirder, is that just like me the triquetra symbol is imprinted on both biceps of her arms. Exactly where mine is placed.
Frowning, I unconsciously place a hand over mine. “This right here is Coral Aileen Knight, she was an ancestor of ours, and she was also the one who built our society to what it is today. Through sheer determination, she abandoned her former life and created one that not only ensured peace and safety for her but for every conjurer that lives today.”
“Why are you telling me this,” I sharply turn to regard him in confusion, feeling a little anxious with where I think this story is headed. “And why do you keep saying we, or our ancestor. I mean, is this academy founded on a cult or something?”
“No,” He chuckles, amused as he tilts his head to face me. “I’m telling you this to answer all the unasked questions you probably have, I’m sure you're wondering why the entire school is cloaked by concrete walls and state of the art security system?” I don’t respond to his question and he continues. “I’m sure you're also wondering why everyone you’ve met has similar tattoo’s on their hands?”
“What, are you are a mind reader too?” I ask sarcastically, and he does nothing but shakes his head.
He leads me out of the room and I silently follow as we walk along the empty hallway on the lower floor, I take notice of the classrooms to our right and stare through the windows in curiosity. Some seem to be occupied by students in plain clothes and a couple of them appear to be studying, while others just plainly conversed in groups. Few, glanced out the window when we walk past, and I felt a little intimidated by the curious stares, their eyes following us until we disappear.
“Look, I’m not trying to be mean or rude,” I sigh, turning to stare at his broad back. I suddenly feel guilty due to the awkward silence between us, I didn’t mean to offend him or his bizarre… beliefs. “But what your saying isn’t making any sense scientifically or theoretically-”
He stops suddenly and I had to take a step back just so I don’t bump into his back, looking over his shoulder he regards me with a patronizing stare by raising one brow. “Is it not making sense or, is it that you don’t want any of it to make sense?”
I don’t respond, mostly because I didn’t know how to. This isn’t some scripted fictional movie, but yet I’m starting to feel like that clueless main character. A couple of months ago I had a life, family, friends. And now I’m left with nothing but a possibly deluded father who runs a strange school and has a penchant for fantasy. “Come along, I think it would be better if I show you exactly what I’m talking about.”
I hesitate, thinking, maybe it would be better to just turn around and hurry back home on the fastest flight I can find. But then I remember I’m underage, under his guardianship, and I have not a cent on me. My parents had their lawyer transfer their entire wealth into a trust I’ll only have access to when I turn 18, the companies they’d owned are being run by professionals and the only thing tying me to them are the shares that I now own which have also been placed in my trust. Taking in a deep breath, I stare at his retreating back for a while before hurrying after him.
He leads me down many turns on the first floor before we walked in through a wooden door, inside I’m met with some kind of practice room that seems to be built on a lower platform three steps down. We’re standing on an arc gallery with white bleachers that has a perfect view of the mat covered platform below were a couple of students are sparing with one another.
And I have to say if I was sceptical before about everything he’s said… I’m not now!
Stupefied, I let him settle me down on the bleachers since I’m currently unable to think or function properly. I don’t know if I’m afraid or more in intrigue as I witness a petite brunette create a small ball of air in the middle of her palm. The tattoo on her wrists and her eyes glowing white just like those paintings. She grins proudly as the ball whirls around wildly on one palm when she re-positions it and an older man, standing a few feet away with a clipboard nods approvingly as he stares at what she created with a critical eye.
On the opposite side of the platform, a guy is sparing seriously with a female. The female sends a large gust of wind in his direction and the element hits him at such a force that he’s sent flying across the room. His back hits the padded walls surrounding the platform and he falls with a loud grunt. I was worried he might have passed out but my worry immediately turned to shock when he gets to his feet not less than a second later, rushing back towards the girl as his hand becomes enveloped by blazing flames.
Groaning, I roll in bed and stretch my arms and legs with a sigh of satisfaction. I haven’t slept this peacefully in weeks. I don’t remember the last time I slept without waking up from nightmares I can never recall. Opening my eyes slowly, I frown when once again I realize I’m in unfamiliar surroundings, and in unfamiliar clothes, only this time panic is starting to build in my chest because I honestly and have no idea where the hell I am. Sitting upright I scan the blue room and wonder who brought me here, the last thing I remember is Steven and a ball of fire. Getting out of bed, I hurry out of the room and pause as the sight of a railing comes into view. Slowly stepping closer, I rest my hand on the wooden handrail to stare at what appears to be a living room and an open kitchen. There’s a dining table set with steaming plates situated between the kitchen and the living room and the arom
A bell jingles when I walk into a book store called “Jinx’s Magic Shop” and my nose is immediately assaulted by the smell of stale books mixed in with a lemon-scented air freshener. Moving away when someone tries to exit the store, I look around and admire the place. It looks pretty causal, with lines of shelves surrounding every corner of the left side of the room and comfortable sofas on the other. The crowd in the store is pretty small, with only a few settled down as they quietly read, and situated in the middle is a large desk occupied by a young brunette with glasses. There’s a computer on the desk and its surrounded by a lot of books heaped upon one another, she raises her head and smiles in greeting when I drew closer and shuts the novel she was reading. “Can I help you?” “Hmm, I just wanted to look around. Hope that’s okay.” “Yeah, of course, you can.” She n
My smile drops in surprise and she nods emphatically. “Yup, cousin. Grandfather had loose scruples and he fathered a lot of children he likes to refer to has his “personal bastards”.” I was astounded by the blunt statement, looking around to see quite a few eyes were upon the both of us as she chatted away loudly. “Dad and Dana were the only two he acknowledged and that was because there was a lot of push and shove between him and your father, though he never saw them as his children... just parasites he’s keeping around because they’re “useful”.” Wait, what, I’m also related to the doctor? “Fortunately for you, your dad was the only one he had legitimately and the only child he loved, which is why you guys get all the fortune.” Oh wow, I blink. She has no filter what so ever. “My father was bitter about it at first but he got over it with time, soon he
It’s my third day in the academy and after the whole weird episode with Rae’s family yesterday, she drove me back to Steven’s place and I stayed locked in my room for the entire day. Didn’t even come down for dinner because I wanted to avoid any awkwardness between me and Dana. Waking up this morning, I was relieved when it came to my attention Dana wouldn’t be having breakfast with us, unfortunately, Steven announced he’d suddenly come into contact with a trusted psychiatrist who a friend of the family and he went as far as to schedule me an appointment. Today. Without even asking first. She’s the last-minute result and he didn’t want to lose her, apparently finding a trustworthy therapist in our society is that hard. This now leads us to this moment, Steven and I standing before an old grey door waiting for the occupant on the other side to answer after he just knocked twice. As if
Seated on the padded mat in nothing but yoga pants and a crop top, I wonder why Steven dragged me here after we drove back from Amelia’s. Staring around the room I wonder if taking yoga classes is part of students curriculum, the lights in the room are all turned off except for the multi-coloured led lights hanging in the middle of the ceiling. It changes colours every couple of seconds, and I lean back on my hands as I close my eyes to the soft, hypnotizing sound of the ocean coming from the speakers. The doors of the practice room open and Steven steps in a loose grey tank and black shorts, pulling off his shoes he walks across the room and draws closer and I rise to my feet. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.” “Why are we here?” I ask, wanting to get straight to the point. Smiling, he stands before me and lets out a long sigh, while settlin
The black gloves worn over my hands do not sit well with me, but while the tattoo on my biceps can be covered by clothes, the ones in the centre of my palms cannot be covered. So whether I’m within the academy or out of it, I have no choice but to wear gloves. Steven wants to hide the fact that I’m an Elementalist that’s what people like me and my ancestor are called. A one of a kind conjurer with powers that is beyond one’s imaginations. It’s my fourth day, and I’m back in Amelia’s study. She’s once again seated in front of me with a clipboard and a pen, legs crossed over one another as we stare at each other in silence. I notice she isn’t in a cheery disposition unlike yesterday, and wonder who pissed in her teacup. “So, Steven told me of what you guys did yesterday.” “Did he?” I ask, snorting. “Look, I want to be here just as much as you do Coral.” She s
The rest of the week flies by with me shuffling both meditations with Steven and therapy with Amelia. I haven’t seen either hind or hair of anyone except Steven and Amelia and the occasional strangers I see whenever I go out on a stroll in the morning. I don’t know if Steven asked them to give me space but I’m grateful for the reprieve. Dana and Michael don’t seem like trouble, and I know for a fact that Dana constantly checks up on me at night when she thinks I’m sleeping, but Rae is a whole ball of energy I don’t have the strength to deal with. Therapy has been great, for lack of a better word. I never knew how much worry, fear, anger, and pain I’d been holding back until I started to unlock my Pandora box. We tackled issues in my life as a kid and how I’d always felt alone before my step-father arrived, we talked about how angry and upset I am with my mother for not ever telling me about everything before she passed. How stressed and
“Say, what do you think… about practising without your blindfold today?” I tense at the carefully laced question, eyes rising to stare at Steven in surprise. I wanted to be sure I heard right, and judging by the sheepish, inquiring look on his face I know he did just asked me to conjure fire without my sight hindered. We’re standing barefoot in his backyard and once again I’m in yoga pants, a thin long sleeve hoodie, and a black sports-bra while he’s dressed casually in shorts and a loose tank top. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” “Just hear me out okay,” He interrupts, raising his hands to stop me when I tried to say something else. “Amelia has you on those antidepressants and Propranolol, so it should be fine for you to face your fears now. Plus, I read up online that one of the