Theodore Chrono

by Shanon Chong

  “You can’t fight him in that condition, Bloodwind. Even if you were at your peak, you couldn’t beat him.” Maxi’s maniacal giggle echoed in our ears as we lost sight of the dying mage’s face.

  “Ignore him,” Harrold muttered, pushing us up the next step. “We’ve still got to complete the mission.” He sheathed his spike as he stumbled up every step, limping with great effort. The bandages remained stainless as he maneuvered his way to the top of the tower. Harrold was suppressing his injuries, using his own magic to maintain his health until he returned to the Capital.

  “He’s up there, isn’t he?” Rachel asked. The light from the dawn shone through a crack in the trapdoor that kept us contained within the tower. She twisted her body, kicking open lock that kept the door closed. As the trapdoor swung open, an aggressive gust of wind attempted to keep us within the tower.

  With short dark hair and a snake tattooed onto his right arm, Hans Ghil stood before us. A bound student lay at his feet. The several black marks across his neck, branded on by the penal system, identified Hans as a dangerous criminal. His muscular physique could be seen through the rags he wore to cover his skin, and as the dawn rose behind him, it gave him a transcendent air. A thin layer of visible magic released flames that licked the air around him. His yellow eyes stared us down, as his grin gave off an air of unease.

  “Ah, the fatally wounded Harrold and his little student friends…” he said eloquently, grabbing the bound student off the ground and tossing him towards me. The blood that stained the student’s clothing gave me ideas as to the torture that had occurred to leave him in this mangled state. The faint yet steady breaths that came out of his mouth relieved me of the horrifying thought of death. Rachel seethed with rage as she looked at the student. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her close to me.

  “Calm down,” I muttered into her ear. “He isn’t dead yet. We don’t have to add any extra casualties to the list,” I continued, reminding her of the villain Harrold had already placed at the gates of hell. The single tear that rolled down her right cheek signalled that she would work to suppress her rage. Happy with the results, I looked to Harrold, who hadn’t moved an inch from his original position.

  “Y-you’re a step closer to the peak…” Harrold said, his tone no longer so happy with the situation. The idea of strength had been a core concept within the groups that practised magic… The peak was an unattainable dream of undeniable strength, enough to topple the strongest in the world.

  “Closer than you are,” Hans replied cheerfully. “The child is probably crippled for life. Even if he can still use magic, it won’t be anywhere near what it was.”

  Harrold stood silently. Rachel, now kneeling next to the student, had wiped her tears away. Harrold’s fists clenched as he stood there, unable to respond to the facts that had been spoken.

  “I won’t let you escape…” he murmured furiously. The pearly white bandages were now stained crimson. Blood rose, moving around Harrold, and then bullets of blood flew at the strengthened Hans, who laughed at the attempt to slay him. Drops of blood hit the floor as a hurricane of fire surrounded Hans’s body, evaporating the very essence that Harrold used as his weapon. A blade of flame floated before Hans. When he grabbed the handle, the blade burned brighter. The sword’s edge pointed at us in a challenge of Harrold’s ability. Even after losing excess amounts of blood, Harrold stood on his feet, and his olive skin turned a colour closer to white as he prepared to launch his final flurry.

  “Hans Ghil, you are surrounded. Please surrender!” a projected voice resonated across the plains.

  I looked over the edge of the building and saw hundreds of mages scaling the building’s walls. Several of them reached the roof and surrounded Hans. Harrold, now on his knees, smiled and then collapsed to the ground. Hans, however, remained standing. Not making any movements, he maintained his casual stance, staring down the twenty or so mages that surrounded him.

  “Surrender?” Hans muttered in confusion as if the word didn’t have a place within his world. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then we will take you by force,” the voice echoed from below, not taking no for an answer. Hans smiled as the mages started adopting offensive stances, ready to rush in and capture the captor.

  “I’ve already said I’m afraid not,” Hans repeated, the space around him distorting and warping the world around it. His figure suddenly disappeared from the scenery, leaving the various chains and ropes of magic hanging in the air. The several coordinators of the attack had their faces in their palms. Looking around the group, I began searching for help for Harrold, who had lost a fair bit of blood.

  “We need to get Harrold medical attention!” I shouted desperately.

  The several mages who heard me grabbed Harrold by the shoulders and hoisted him upwards. The same distortion of space occurred as Harrold disappeared.

  “Don’t worry about him,” one of the coordinators declared, walking up the stairwell to stare at us. “Harrold will be fine.” The shock from the loss seemed to have left the coordinator disheartened.

  “How did he escape?” I asked, hoping to gain some information before he would eventually bring up the subject of returning us to the academy.

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you to the academy.” He smiled as he pointed to the newly erected portal. “Go on through.” He took a step to the side and gestured for the two of us to enter the portal to safety.

  Chapter 4: A New World

  The world spun, and an unfamiliar high ceiling greeted me. The pillars at the eight corners of the hexagonal building made the sharp edges feel softer to the eye. Moments passed before I knelt on the ground, gaining my bearings with limited success. Not looking upward, I heard the portal open again. I crawled to the floor below the elevated platform for those entering via spatial magic. The remnants of the nausea I had felt upon entering remained to a lesser extent. However, at that moment, the only feeling I could ascertain was the fact that my stomach couldn’t hold yesterday’s meal.

  “You okay, Theo?” Rachel offered me a hand. Gladly accepting, I stood, feeling the lightheadedness wearing off. “The kidnapped student is coming through,” Rachel warned as she took a step to the side, letting the first of three figures enter the room. The first and last to enter held the stretcher that contained the unconscious Richard Yaru.

  “Is he okay?” I asked, no longer worried about my own state. Richard remained in critical condition like Harrold. However, Rachel had other intentions for us.

  “We should worry about ourselves,” she replied, distancing herself from the situations of Harrold and Richard. “Normally, we would have to talk to a bunch of teachers…” She raised her index finger to the sky as if achieving enlightenment.

  “What?”

  “Our luggage would already be in our rooms,” she muttered, entering her logistical state of planning and tactical reasoning. “Normally, after preliminary orientation, students are given the day off.”

  “So, what are we to do?” I asked in falsetto, the fake desperation clear as I made wide gestures with my arms.

  “Well, we should skip all of the teacher-related stuff…” Rachel reasoned. “Let me guide the way.”

  She grabbed my hand and dragged me down the single flight of stairs to the ground floor. The building our bodies had appeared within remained separated from the main establishment. The cylinder, made of brick and with a dome on top, wasn’t the prettiest choice for mages hoping to use the room as transit. The main building before us was comprised of four floors. The domed roof and the relative height seemed to be the style of the building. Rachel guided me through the school without meeting a soul, essential to that was the enigmatic halls we followed that had both curved and flat walls.

  Reaching the second and third floors, Rachel mentioned the fact that the senior students were busy with their work. However, a plentitude of students stood reading by the sides of the hall. “Let’s continue,” she muttered, ignoring the groups of procr
astinating students who weren’t working toward the perfect score of one hundred. Despite this, I still noticed the few within the classrooms practising and meddling with their magics.

  “Where are we going?”

  “An office,” Rachel replied, directing me towards the fourth and final floor.

  The stairs changed from cobbled stone to an obsidian black marble. The lights dimmed, and windows were nowhere to be seen except for the small tinted ones for the offices against the wall. A large communal office with rows of tables and chairs was in the centre, its windows tinted for maximum productivity. Several teachers walked past us, not giving us any attention. Directly before us was a golden door; the attention-seeking colour contrasted with the other plain black and brown doors on the floor. Engraved in the door, written in neat cursive Arcanan, was the word “Headmaster.”

  The door slid open, and a familiar face with auburn hair met my eyes.

  “Theodore!” Rachel’s mother, Stephanie Indallias, greeted me from the Headmaster’s chair. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” she continued, following the script a distant relative would use to greet a nephew or niece. However, in this case, I was given the greeting for the forgotten son-in-law.

  “It’s been four years,” Rachel interjected, not giving me the chance to give an absentminded reply.

  Looking around the room, the painted white walls had been randomly splattered with dots of other colours, giving a strange feeling of disorder and chaos. Looking at the wooden cupboards, I noticed pictures placed unevenly in their frames. Several of the photos had pictures of my father and Stephanie with several other friends in what I assumed were uniforms from the school. Continuing to look down the wall of photos, I saw a picture with the youthful faces of the student versions of my father, Stephanie, and their friends, now wearing dusty brown military camouflage for the barren desert south.

  Pinned to the walls of the oak cupboard were several medals and ribbons. The small leftover pins lay unused in a glass jar. Several knives had been jabbed into the back of the cupboard to hold the medals, which now had holes cleaved into the centre of the metal. The knives varied: the hiltless throwing knives had wooden handles that had been carved inwards on the sides for ease of use. The short blades left little metal to be seen from outside of the cupboard. Despite this, the knives remained prominent, the pommels acting as a counterweight with flourished edges. The medals, however, weren’t moving anytime soon. The centre of the medals displayed a coat of arms, split in two by a large hunting knife. The single-sided blade, used primarily for gutting animals, had a small serrated edge near the bottom. The hilt was attention-seeking and bore the Arcanan coat of arms in the centre. The pommel, however, was easily forgettable due to its uneven shaping.

  “What are the papers for?” I asked, moving away from the knives as I sat on the wide leather chaise. The piles of paper covered both the table and the desk where Mrs Indallias was working through them.

  “These?” she replied swiftly as she saw me pointing at the papers. “These are practice essays for the next MERCs.”

  “MERCs?”

  “Rachel, you haven’t told him?” She turned to look at Rachel, who was fiddling with one of the several knives that wasn’t bound to a medal.

  “Didn’t think that he’d need to know in the first year,” Rachel commented, pulling her arm back and flicking the knife at the board on the wall.

  With two fingers, Mrs Indallias caught the blade; she carefully returned it to the cupboard.

  “Well, I’ll just explain everything, then,” she declared, grabbing two large leather-bound books and giving one to each of us. “That is yours. Take care of it.”

  Looking at the leather, I already noticed my name printed in solid black ink. Looking at Rachel’s, there was a similar situation; however, the ink was a deep red.

  “Does the colour of the ink matter?” I inquired, opening the thick manual to the first page. “Blood binding?” I quickly read the rune below the name.

  “That’s if you don’t mind shedding some blood now for later ease,” Mrs Indallias replied. “You can use it for quick verification of your identity within all school facilities… er,” she paused for a second thinking of an explanation, “If you have your book the people at the school won’t need anything else as proof identity.”

  Hoping not to embarrass myself, I leaned over to Rachel, who leaned toward me to listen to my request. “Rachel, what’s a MERC?”

  “Oh, it’s an abbreviation for a certain test. It’s ‘magical’ something… I forgot,” Rachel replied. Maybe the council had created it; however, I didn’t have any real knowledge regarding council decisions. After realising Mrs Indallias had paused for us to have our short conversation, I decided that it would be rude not to apologise.

  “Sorry,” I said clearly, not giving any room for misunderstanding or misinterpretation.

  “Don’t worry about it; this book is impossible to lose within the school,” Mrs Indallias explained. “It will return to your desk if it is misplaced on school grounds.” She took a quick breath before continuing. “The second page has all your room details and a brief description of your teachers for each subject.”

  Opening the book to the second page, I found a neatly drawn timetable and boxes with the teachers’ surnames and first names. Rows of tightly knit, tiny runes created the constantly updating book. “Your teacher can look at the work you’ve done in the book.” Mrs Indallias waited for a moment before continuing. “The floors aren’t gender-separated; however, you can’t enter another person’s lodgings after curfew. Most of the lodgings are gender-separated, and your luggage is in your room.” She flourished her arms for added dramatic effect.

  “Is that all?” Rachel and I asked simultaneously, already bored with her short explanation.

  Mrs Indallias stared at us before bursting out into laughter. “Yes, yes, that is all.” Two small keys flew into our laps. “Those are for your rooms,” she clarified, and then she returned to marking the MERCs.

  “Thank you,” I replied, bowing slightly, and then we left for our rooms.

  “Where’s your room?” Rachel inquired, closing the door behind us. She had already memorised the entire building and knew where the dormitories were. “Let’s look for our rooms together, okay?”

  “Sure. I think I’m in room 115,” I remembered off the top of my head. Having skimmed through the first and second pages of my book, I had already seen my room number; however, I couldn’t be certain.

  “That’s strange… Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later,” Rachel muttered.

  “What’s strange?” I replied.

  Rachel settled on going to the dormitory to show me the anomaly in the room numbers. I followed her, and the floor changed as we walked through a narrow elevated corridor that connected the fourth floor of the main school and the dormitories. The dormitory came into view; it had small windows at the end of the singular interconnected hall. Checking the numbers on the doors, I fumbled around the fourth floor, searching for the room marked “115.” Coming to a sudden conclusion, Rachel and I proceeded to go to the third floor. Adjacent to the stairs, rooms 114 and 113 were located relatively easily. Finally, we saw a golden plate indented into a door with the number 115 showing prominently.

  “I’m in the room next door,” Rachel informed me. “If you need me, feel free to knock.” She unlocked the bronze door handle, and I heard the gears moving within the hard-oak door. Shifting the door slightly, Rachel entered her room, and then she closed the door behind her.

  Following suit, I carefully placed the key into the brass handle of the painted oak door. Unlocking the door, I noticed a lack of sleeping quarters. Ignoring this, I decided to explore the room I would be living in for the next three years.

  “This bathroom is really nice…” I muttered as I entered. It was placed to the right of the entrance. Towels and bathrobes were already present, and the pearly white tiles and frosted glass for the shower scre
en fit the entire theme of the bathroom. Exploring further, I noticed the stylised sink and tap, both made of expertly hammered bronze. The sink was equipped with the necessary toiletries I had obtained from my home, placed within a metal cup. As I examined the unfamiliar painted pink toothbrush and matching towel, I had the suspicion that I had seen them before.

  Not giving any heed to the abnormalities in the bathroom, I decided to search through more of the room. To the right of the entrance, I noticed a door, and with an insatiable curiosity, I decided to explore further. Opening the door, I was greeted with a familiar looking study. The simplistic design made me remember the study on the second floor of our family home. I placed my large leather-bound student book in the centre of the main desk. Within the room, there were two desks, with a lounge between them. The orientation of the chaise differed from the desks; however, it remained satisfyingly symmetrical in design.

  Eventually losing interest in the study, I left and moved on into the open space, which included a cooking area and lounge. Leaving those for the next morning, I decided to enter the last room within my vision, the closet. A spacious walk-in closet allowed for easy access to the clothing we needed for life within the Capital. At the very back of the closet were six full sets of uniforms, three tailored for a male and three for a female. Despite noticing the female uniforms, I didn’t question them, as examining the male uniforms was my priority.

  The formal style of dress suited the pure white cloth that worked as the primary material used to create the slightly reflective uniform. The slight golden trims on the hems of the shirt, blazer, and pants gave a feeling of prestige to the entire student body. The interior of the blazer had carefully stitched runes and seals so as to not ruin the aesthetic of the uniform. The school insignia was embroidered into the fabric by the heart of the blazer and shirt.

  Reaching the final door, I felt a sensation of trepidation and hesitation as I used my key to open it. The lock was engraved into the stone of the door itself. The click of the key signalled that it was now unlocked, and leaning against it, I pushed with my body weight. Having not taken off my shoes, I felt the beaten soles lose grip on the ground as I slipped forward. Landing rather safely on the carpeted floor, my eyes trailed upwards and I saw the second half of the room. A queen-sized bed with thick blankets on it allowed me to marvel at the school’s wealth. The wallpaper relieved me of all the anxiety I had felt previously: squares in squares connected to squares gave me the feeling of an enigma that had been left unsolved for thousands of years.