Page 5 of Overwhelmed By Magic

Harlow might not be the only one assigned to Grimrose.

3

RUMI

97, 98, 99, 100.

I mouth the numbers as I draw a chalk line across a set of four, a heavy sigh falling from my lips. I step back and stare at the stone walls that have become my prison, drab gray and rusty browns that used to boast the shine of Mother Nature. Now, they reflect the sad expanse of four walls that hide us away from the world.

Today marks the hundredth year at Grimrose Academy, a place meant to reform and reshape essence that the world doesn’t understand. Essence is only allowed to exist within the seven elements. What the world doesn’t understand has been categorized as terrifying, unruly, and should be locked away—or so the Magila council decided.

But just a few centuries ago, we didn’t understand what essence was or where it came from. We could barely grasp Mother Nature’s gift and the opportunities it provided. A world where tales of old depicting magical beings were real? No one believed that. And now? Unless we fit perfectly into those seven little boxes, our essence is a hindrance to the growth of the Magila bond with human society.

I call bullshit.

Mostly because my uncle, Dmitri Graves, is on that fucking Magila council. As one of the oldest Magila still alive and therefore deemed one of the wisest, his word is law. It shouldn’t be—he’s a fucking idiot—but he’s the reason I’m currently locked in this building on a few acres of land, shrouded by a forest that steals any hope of ever returning to civilization.

The world has changed since the moment my future was torn from me over a hundred years ago but I have learned through television, magazines, and whatever else we’ve been able to get our hands on, not to mention the occasional rebellious slip into Astral Academy on graduation day to see the happy moment we were all robbed off.

A grunt tears from my throat as my gaze peruses my chalked-up wall, my essence preserving each hate-filled line so that I remember every last moment stuck in this place. Classes aren’t much different than when we attended Astral Academy—thank the goddess that technology has continued to evolve—but after the mandatory five years of trying to stuff us into one of those seven little elemental boxes, there’s nothing else to learn. Nothing else to try.

Professors here are only so equipped to deal with the nuances and chaotic essence we possess. They try to help us train our magic, contain it, hide it, but anything short of discovering our base element makes it impossible to return. We're assigned weekly counseling sessions to prepare for our return but even that has grown wearisome. Only one individual has ever made it out of here and she was locked up a year later for accidentally injuring a human with essence that shouldn’t be possible. According to the fucking Magila council.

Now, a hundred years after I was dropped off on Grimrose Academy's steps, no one seems to give a flying fuck about our existence. The professors and counselors do the bare minimum, placating our worries with false hope. The staff hardly walks down the halls holding our bedrooms, content to stay out of our way.

I have no hope of leaving this place, not when my entire existence breaks every essence law there is. My parents, fairies born of the water element, were sure that I would share similar abilities. The rules of essence can be sporadic and are not based on genetic disposition, children born to one element may display another one entirely. It’s how my father is a fairy and my uncle is a vampire. Mother Nature chooses our gifts.

However, it was determined early on when I sprouted fucking angelic wings that my element was spirit. That my essence bore a sense of purity, a wispy cloudy aura wrapping around me that everyone became envious of. I basked in the attention, yearning to live up to an image that didn’t exist.

By my first year of college, it was very obvious that I wasn’t the angelic being that everyone had made me out to be. In fact, my essence was strongest when I channeled my darker emotions. The white aura soon changed to gold, a color that hadn’t been seen before. I went from the perfect little angel to the dangerous unknown. Some part of me despised my new existence.

The rest of me? Loved it. I craved their disgust. I delighted in learning new ways to make people despise my existence. I used to be the young boy who could fly across the football fields, retain information like a god, and materialize small items out of thin air. When I fully embraced my essence—not the abilities I was told I had—I found that my abilities far surpassed anything Astral Academy had ever seen.

Abilities I’m still discovering and exploring to this day.

Despite my love for my essence, Dmitri didn’t feel the same way as I failed test after test to fit me in those pretty little elemental boxes. I still remember that godawful speech he gave to us that day, presenting it as our duty to leave everything we knew behind for the good of the humans.

It’s never been about humans, only control.

Silas, my uncle’s assistant, summons us into one of the conference rooms moments before graduation. I already know my fate, Silas warning me this morning and then apologizing profusely that he couldn’t save me. I feel for the human, a man that my uncle and the Magila council have so ruthlessly used for their own agenda. The fact that he comes from a long line of knowledge cements his worth at Astral Academy but as an individual? He’s nearly invisible.

Not to me, though.

He’s probably the closest authority figure I have in my life.

I step inside the room, taking a seat at the table beside two other individuals. They’re trembling, eyes darting from side to side as the realization of why we’ve been called here sets in. Dmitri faces the windows covering the back wall, his hands clasped behind his back, his regal attire heightening the anxiety and despair of this moment. Silas squeezes my shoulder and leans down to kiss my head before leaving us to our demise.

Dmitri doesn’t turn around but the glares from two other council members are enough to terrify us. Three days ago, I was celebrating my 26th birthday, excited to step out into the world and assume my place in it. After graduation, Magila are gifted their first real ID with their element and designation. My uncle’s element and designation read blood; vampire. He is one of the most prized Magila alive.

The Versipellis sitting to my right is Earth; coyote. The fairy to my left, similar to my parents, is water—nymph. It’s a stamp of approval to carry an official Magila ID, one that the other two students and I will never hold. Not unless we somehow magically graduate from Grimrose Academy and conform to the elements.

I snort at my stupid play on words. ‘Magically graduate’.

Dmitri clears his throat, the nymph shooting me a disgusted glance. I have a mind to whip out some of my essence and make every occupant in this room a little uncomfortable but I can’t control it. Nothing good will come from what would just be a joke.

“You have been brought here today because, over the four years you've been at Astral Academy, you have regrettably underperformed. Your essence has not fit within one of the seven elements nor have you found your designation.” My uncle is full of bullshit. We haven’t underperformed. We have tried our hardest to be who we were told to be. That just isn’t ever enough.

The Versipellis rises to his feet, pressing his hands against the desk. A light orange aura hangs around him, matching the fur of his coyote form. At this moment, though, it is hazy and sporadic as it tries to thicken and fails. One of many abilities I possess that don’t fit into a perfect bubble is deriving emotions from one’s aura. While Dmitri’s is full and fierce, this individual’s is full of uncertainty. He’s apologetic as if our fate isn’t one he would choose.

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