Mag-log inBeing the only child to the Queen of Castle Grey, lost within the confines of mount Trenon, Kilvic is made to learn a number of things best suited to the heir to the Elzcrid bloodline at the hands of tutors handpicked by his mother. However, his fifteenth birthday sends him beyond the reaches of his mother’s domain. She has tasked him with the duty of learning more. Understanding greater things than she can teach him, greater things with which to cope with the curse upon his bloodline as she had been taught by her father and mother. Finding himself in a new kingdom, in an academy designed for only the most elite of mages, Kilvic is tasked to survive the new things he will come to learn, while struggling with the chaos of human association, as he comes to understand that while he may know a great deal about the world from the castle archives, it is a different thing to experience them. The association between people isn’t as easily deciphered as the books made them seem. As he struggles with the task of becoming a mage and a student along with surviving new friendships, failure threatens him at every turn and people prove pettier than the books would have him believe. Yet, despite all these, somewhere hidden in the shadows of the kingdom, a creature stirs, taking from the academy the one thing it values most. Kilvic must survive the trials of the academy, keep his friends, best his first enemy, and ensure that what stirs must not cause more damage than the kingdom can bear, lest the supremacy of Castle Grey be called into question in realms beyond that which most know. And all in time to attend the Winter Hall Fest.
view more‘No Dad, I won't marry Dominic Rollins. I won't!’
Sheena yelled at her father, her voice a mixture of anger and anguish. A few moments ago, her dad had called her and her sister, Elena, to his study to tell them what he called “mixed news" that could save their family from the deep sea of debt they were in. After ushering them to sit on the lone reading sofa at a corner of the study, he wasted no time in revealing the all-important “mixed news" to them. He had brokered an arranged marriage with the Rollins family, owners of Rollins Shipping World, the largest shipping company in London. According to him, it was a huge proposal that would unite both families and companies with their families benefiting most from the deal. For one, their multi-million dollar debt would be paid off, their house would be saved and their own shipping company W-shipping LTD would be fully operational again and restored to its former glory. Sheena immediately felt sorry for her elder sister, Elena, because she thought obviously with Elena being the eldest, she was going to be the proverbial sacrificial lamb in the arrangement. Not that it made it any better, but Sheena also thought Elena would be getting married to the Rollins family's estranged bastard son and only male heir, Jake Rollins. Their father though hit them with two unexpected news that complicated the matter more than Sheena had initially suspected. First, he revealed that Sheena who was barely twenty years old (she'd be turning 20 in three months) was to be the “sacrificial lamb" - the one intended to marry into the Rollins family to save their dad from going to prison and save them from losing both their home and the company altogether. And second, the most absurd of them all was to marry Dominic Rollins, founder and CEO of Rollins Shipping World. A man who was 10 years older than her father and 50 years older than her. One who already had 4 daughters - 3 from his late first wife, and another from his divorced second wife - along with a 26-year-old son he had out of wedlock. From the little she knew about the family, his youngest daughter should be about the same age as her. It sounded so absurd. Sheena couldn't even tolerate just the thought of her marrying Mr Dominic Rollins let alone going through with getting married to such an old man. The image was disgusting and she wasn't about to shy away from letting her father know in no mild or simple terms for that matter as she screamed her disagreement. ‘Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!’ her father bellowed back at her, upset by her sudden, uncharacteristic outburst. 'Ever since your mom died, I have been both a father and a mother to you both, and you damn well know how much I tried. After everything I have done for you, the love, the care, the provisions, the sleepless nights, and everything. Now the one time I ask you to do something for me, you choose to refuse? You're refusing to do the one thing! The only thing I'll ever ask of you! Something that would benefit both our family and the company.’ her father roared. Mr Woods was seething. He knew what he was asking of his youngest daughter, the one he loved the most was not an easy task. But still, he didn't expect her to throw a fit without first listening to his explanation and perhaps trying to understand. Sheena was the calmest, most sensible, and most beautiful of both his daughters, and while he felt hurt and protested Mr. Dominic's decision, he wasn't surprised when the old man chose to marry her over Elena, his first daughter whom he’d initially offered to him to seal the deal and unite both families and companies. Having resignedly and reluctantly agreed to the deal, he thought after taking his time to explain his side to his doting favorite daughter, she’d readily agree to do as he says, if not for anything else, at least to please him as she has always done before. Sheena's resolve and defiance slightly faltered at her father's mention of her mom's death and the sacrifices he had made for them, but almost immediately, the walls of defiance were built back up as quickly as they fell when she remembered the man she was being forced to marry was three times older than her. ‘Dad please, don't do this to me. Please. I don't want to marry that man.’ Sheena resorted to pleading and trying to appeal to her father's conscience. She tried to make her father give in as she contoured her face into a cute pout - one that always made her father succumb to her demands. Mr Woods refused to let her charm and theatrics work on him this time around. 'I know it's hard, my love. I don't want you to marry him either, but you have to, for the sake of our family and the company.’ he tried to reason with her. Sheena's eyes glistened with tears as the reality dawned on her. 'Do I really have to marry him, Dad?' Sheena asked in a teary voice. She looked up to Elena, her eyes silently pleading with her sister to help her convince their father. But Elena only gave her a pitiful look because she too was helpless. Sheena returned her teary gaze to her father. This was all too much for her. ‘Is there no other way, dad?...... Why don't we sell what we have?’ Sheena looked at her dad with a glimmer of hope. There had to be another way right?….surely there must be. 'We can't sell anything, my love. Everything has been mortgaged. It will be a breach if we sell anything. Trust me dear, if there was another option, I'd have taken it a long time ago.’ Sheena slumped dejectedly on the sofa beside her sister crying bitterly. Elena shifted closer, pulling her into a hug to console her. Mr Woods felt his heart constrict painfully at the sight of his beloved daughter crying profusely. He turned away from them to hide the hurt in his eyes. He was an old-fashioned man who thought displaying emotions in front of women was a sign of weakness. With his back turned to them, he offered what he hoped would be a consolation to his daughter. 'You wouldn't have to stay married to him for long anyways. It will take an estimated two years to make the company stand and fully operational again. You'll only have to stay married to him till then after which you can file for a divorce and break the arrangement.’ He heard Sheena's tears and sniffing seize and he turned back expectantly to see what looked like hope and resolve in his daughter's eyes. ‘Just 2 years?’ Sheena asked earnestly. ‘Yes, my love. Only 2 years.’ he affirmed, smiling reassuringly. 'And when do I get married to him?’ Her father's smile slowly faded at Sheena's abrupt question. He paused for close to a minute before answering. 'The day after tomorrow.’Moss said nothing for a moment, and Kilvic continued to stare out at the arena, at their hall mates training. Lacra remained powerful, her attacks brutal. But Gyra remained standing, bracing against her charges, casting aside spells where he would, evading where he would. The boy was powerful for one his age.When Moss spoke he sounded more confused than irate. “It’s how you say these things with a straight face that’s creepy. I don’t know if you are angry, bored or worried. Which is it?”Kilvic thought about it briefly. It was a logical question. Why had he said it when he hadn’t needed to? Moss had given him a piece of advice, and he’d given one in return. Was it the reference to the magi that had spurred him to speak. Yes, the magi were what mages were called in the older times when they had engaged in combat from a distance. They were mages who had failed once their opponents engaged them in the melee, something very simila
“Did we win?” Stratin broke the silence that enveloped the arena, voice panting. “Did we?”Kilvic spared him a solitary glance. Did it matter? There had been four of them against one of her. Though victory should be taken in whatever form it came, this was a victory he cared nothing for. If your life was truly at stake you would. Kilvic almost frowned at his own thought. It was right. Still…He sighed. “Yes, we won.”As if released from a spell, Stratin slumped to the ground in relief.Ahead of them Fyodan approached. Behind them, Moss lumbered along damaged bones no doubt mending themselves. The amount of reia required to create, and operate such an arena needed to be greatly vast. Here, unlike the arena used for the winter hall fest, death was not circumvented. But a vast room that could heal wounds on the scale of even broken bones in mere minutes was powerful… too powerful.&ld
Wind magic has always been considered the easiest of them. Why? Because no place existed void of air. And air, unlike most other elements, is flexible, bendable to one’s will. Not much mental strength is required to manipulate it. It is, in theory, the best element to start a mage off with. But not the way Naesir made it seem.Kilvic jumped back with a speed that would have made a peregrine proud. A wind lance struck the sand covered ground where his feet had been a mere breath ago and dissipated almost immediately. He wondered at the verity of the training he was undergoing. His intention had been to learn the basics of wind magic from someone who was proving attuned to it by each growing day. He ducked and rolled almost immediately, his mind not given the time to contemplate the failure of his choice as another wind lance skewered the air where he should’ve been. Each wind lance was condensed enough to almost be mistaken for a true lance. Battle against a wind e
Ariadne was staring.“He talks in your minds?” she said, again, in disgust. “How do you allow that.”“He’s strong,” Stratin offered mildly. “I couldn’t shake him.”Moss shrugged. “Me neither.”To Moss, she replied, “Any oaf with half a brain could see that. You have the will power of a dead fish, Moss.” She turned her attention to Kilvic. “And you?”“He had something to say.” Kilvic thought about it, then changed his answer. “I thought he had something to say. But he was also helping me spar.”Ariadne raised a brow. “How?”“Pointing out my weaknesses. Showing me where I should’ve capitalized.”“Moss could help you with that. Heck, Lacra would be more than happy if Gyra refuses.”“Gyra has offered,” Stratin pointed out.Ariadne turned to him. &
“How’d you do it?”Kilvic turned to Ariadne and did his best not to frown. Most of the expressions he’d trained most of his life were slowly becoming habits. He could school them, but there were occasions such as this when they surfaced of their own accord. He’
“Same as last year.” Lacra made a grunting sound like gravels scraping. She coughed, turned her head to the side, and spat out a blob of blood stained spittle. “Same as last fucking year.”She was seated on the sand. Her tattered clothes did not leave much f
Kilvic staggered backwards, his body held incline into a fall. His feet were the only things that kept him up. Counting away in multiple minute steps, they kept him up, kept him from the fall as he pushed away, increasing the distance. The deadman’s walk came easier to him now. Of
Outside, the arena remained its cacophony of training, students panting with the exaggerated stress of those who’d worked themselves. But Vilan did not pant, and neither did Gyra. Vilan sat in the sand, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and face bowed in hiding. Around






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