Page 8 of The Scars Within
“Come on, you lot. It’s time to receive your schedules and work assignments,” Shayde called out from the hall.
Chapter 3
Shayde and Rhodes led our team down the turret steps and through the college’s main hall. We turned towards an exit to the courtyard but instead arrived at a set of arched oak doors. We entered the auditorium, where I assume Mageia holds its battle briefings. Massive stone columns line the walls, each intricately carved with ancient depictions of legendary battles from our history. The high, vaulted ceiling is adorned with banners representing the four elements of magic. The windows are high enough to prevent anyone from peeking in, likely to keep outsiders from spying on battle plans.
This is the most school-like room I have ever entered, and I marvel at every detail. The decor is simple, yet the room’s aura is steeped in history. College faculty occupies the front seats, followed by the third-years, the second-years, and finally, us first-years seated at the very top of the domed room.
I haven’t seen Aunt Cora yet, but I’m sure she is busy. This has to be an extremely overwhelming time of year for professors. I’ll catch her later. Although it has been years since I’ve seen her, she might not recognize me. The only contact we’ve had was through letters; I could only afford to mail one back to her occasionally.
Since all incoming and outgoing mail is reviewed by staff, I kept the truth of what I’d experienced to myself. There was no need to worry her and risk raising suspicions about my enrollment here.
Professor Scruffy steps onto the center stage at the bottom of the auditorium and clears his throat. “Ah, welcome back. I hope you memorized the way to your living quarters because there won’t always be a team leader to guide you, and this college has no campus maps due to safety concerns,” he said.
That’s... ominous.
“I am Professor Hogboom, and I will be teaching the History of Warfare course for your first year.”
Considering that history books were the only tomes Jaelyn and I could get our hands on, that class should be a piece of cake for me. The memory brings me back to what I was thinking before I ran face-first into Rhodes’s chest.
How the Mareki fought back during the battle has always intrigued me. Disrupting the Gem’s peace broke all strings of power to the elements. All in unison, the elements began to roar back. The earth shuddered with a deafening roar, splitting the stone ceiling of the catacombs until it gave away.
This collapse sealed every entrance of the catacombs, leaving only one narrow tunnel bare. The rivers encircling the battlefield, from the eastern shores to the western coasts, began to boil instantly. The water evaporated rapidly, leaving only the lifeless bodies of animals in its wake. The strongest gust of wind ever recorded swept across the battlefield, knocking people off their feet, and moments later, the essence of fire sealed their fates. A wall of flames engulfed the field like a hurricane, burning every warrior in its path alive.
The fire was the angriest of all the essences of magic. Scorching a straight line from east to west in its vengeance. Leaving behind the land that we now refer to as the Barrens.
Not only did all essences of magic retaliate, but every mage on the continent burned into ash in the blink of an eye, leaving only elementals as mercy. Elementals are humans who can wield one essence of magic: air, earth, fire, or water. Mages, now extinct, were humans who could wield two or three essences of magic at a time. The only entity more powerful than a mage was the archmage. Archmages were said to wield all four essences, but their bloodline is an ancient myth that made its way into campfire stories to share on All Hallows Eve.
You could say that the humans royally fucked up that day. Disturbing the natural peace of magic that fuels our world. But, the war did leave behind one more consolation prize – dragons.
He continued by discussing how classes would work, what to expect, and the typical first-day speech.
“The remainder of initiation day will be dedicated to receiving your class schedules and signing up for work assignments,” Professor Hogboom announced. “Every first-year student must volunteer for a campus job, and assignments will be on a first-come, first-served basis. You will exit through the same doors you entered, in reverse alphabetical order. As you leave, you will be given your schedule and see the sign-up forms for assignments. Dismissed.”
The top row of first-years stood up, and we started filing out of the room. Being within the last group of surnames will hopefully give us the first pick of assignments.
When we entered the Great Hall again, tables were set up around the space with sign-up parchments and quills. I briefly checked the work categories, searching for one that wouldn’t make me dread it day after day.
A burst of energy surged through my chest when I sawthe title:
I tried to contain my excitement as I weaved through the crowd towards the sign-up form. I managed to snag the last open position. If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s brewing coffee. It was the best skill I learned while working at the Happy Roast.
Everything changed after the tavern was bought out and converted to the Happy Roast. It went from serving mediocre lunches and dinners like burgers and potato sticks to being open only for the first half of the day, offering coffee, lattes, and other breakfast options.
Our small village had never seen an entire shop dedicated to such delights. The concept of a latte was brand new to us. Fortunately, the men who installed our espresso machines were kind enough to teach us how to use them. I’m convinced that Jaelyn and I were the sole reason the Happy Roast stayed in business, as the owners left everything to us—except the profits. We managed to smuggle our tips as long as no one was watching.
Jaelyn and I continued my school lessons every morning since the Happy Roast opened early anyway. A freshly brewed coffee became the kickstart of my daily routine. There was an indescribable joy in holding and sipping on a warm cup of coffee, giving me the energy to power through my day.
The Happy Roast always kept milk cartons in stock for our brews, and the owners occasionally found sweet cream merchants. Sweet cream is the perfect finishing touch to a cup of coffee. You can’t convince me otherwise. I envy the wealthy families who can afford to keep sweet cream in their cooler boxes.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, reassuring myself that this was a good sign. Things at Mageia are going to work out for me. Just as a smile formed on my lips, someone bumped into my back, knocking me off balance and crashing into the table before me.
“Hmph, sorry. My bad.”
I steadied myself and turned around to find a tall redhead with pale skin standing with two other girls with arms crossed. The girl didn’t seem off balance, as if she hadn’t tripped in the first place.
“So, you’re going to be brewing my latte every morning, huh?” she said mockingly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
