"You'd do well to remember this, class," said Professor Gray as he paced in front of the titanic chalkboard strung up on the wall. A floating chalk stick had been enchanted to inscribe his every word on the massive, green-colored slate as he spoke. 

"Our Era of Magic is but the culmination of centuries and centuries of misunderstandings and needless war. Take the aforementioned Aetherium, for instance. Otherwise known as the Great Sorcerer Uprising. Back then, the world was a lot more, let's say, cut-throat than the civilized society that we openly indulge in today. Mages, victimized as freaks or used as biological weapons, came to the conclusion that the social order needed to change. "Why should we, creatures that are superior to that of a dullard, be forced to work as their packing mules, their obedient mutts?". One simple question and a war lasting for seven long years washed over the entire country."

Elaine frantically jotted down the professor's lecture notes in her textbook. She moved so quickly, however, that it got to the point where a pestering cramp stung her hand, pinched at her fingers. But she ignored it, and she kept writing. She discounted the pain, she continued to—

The pen flung uncontrollably out of her hand, landing somewhere underneath the desk beneath her. Elaine muttered an incomprehensible sentence or two and swiftly rummaged through her satchel for a replacement.

"Perhaps this can help?" said Custas. He was spiraling a blue-colored pen in his fingers, a smirk making his cheeks dimple.

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver," she whispered, accepting the pen from him.

"Not a problem," Custas grinned. "But you know, Elaine, don't you think you're overdoing it a bit?"

"Hmm? Overdoing what?"

"Need you ask? I mean, you did just fling away a perfectly good pen. Let's be hopeful you don't accidentally take someone's eye out next time. And this is not to sound hurtful, but your penmanship could use some finetuning."

For the first time since she started class, Elaine took a solid glance at her work. It was...err, she could do better. What at first started out as lines of eligible text had within a page devolved into a cluster of scrambled letters and scratches. She could hardly make out exactly what it was she herself had written.

"Okay, I might need to slow down a little..."

Custas raised a brow at her. "Might?"

"I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"Is this another of your quirks, perchance? Like when you nearly tore my tongue out of my mouth at the marketplace?"

"No, it isn't like that. And you promised you wouldn't bring that up again!" Elaine pouted, jabbing him in his side.

Custas shrugged. "Eh, just taking a shot in the dark. So what is bothering you?"

"I can't stop thinking about what Professor Marsh said," Elaine admitted, sighing. "You know, about the whole "survival" thing?"

"Oh, that's what's got you so bent out of shape? Elaine, I'm disappointed. Surely you're not letting that nutjob's words get to you."

Elaine frowned at her desk. "And what if I am?" 

She couldn't deny it, the Abyssal Sorcerer had shattered her confidence, rattled her core. What if she really did fail to live up to his expectations? How long would it be before the terrifying mage materialized in one of her classes and told her that she was being placed under academic probation or, even worse, expelled?

It was enough to make her stay hyper-focused on each and every lesson since she'd departed from homeroom. Fortunately, it helped that Magihistory was a subject she was already somewhat familiar with. 

When she wasn't helping with her family's shop or practicing magic in secret with Ellend, she'd be at the local library, storming through the content of any book she could get her little hands on.

Truthfully, magihistory had always interested her. It wasn't just the study of history nor the study of magic. It was a hybrid, a piece of both. She suspected her love for it had something to do with how it always spoke of lands far beyond the confines and memory of Page or about times forgotten by history. It was captivating.

This lesson didn't teach her anything she didn't already know. Instead, their professor meticulously analyzed events and topics that the outdated history books back in Page had only lightly addressed. Even so, she couldn't afford to leave out any details. 

She'd pass all her classes and prove to each professor on campus how capable of a student she was. She had to. This classroom lecture theater wasn't the largest, but it was designed to accommodate the attendance of over fifty students at a time. The room possessed sloped flooring, meaning that every row of semi-circle desks was lower than the previous, all of them positioned so that they faced the professor lecturing at the bottom-most floor.

"It took the combined efforts of the Military and the Arcanum to finally bring an end to the Magis Order's dominance," Professor Gray continued, pushing a pair of glasses further up his nose. "It was none other than our very own Founder who delivered the finishing blow herself, besting the Order's leader in a one-on-one duel. Though they've all but withered out by now, there have been reports of the dreaded Followers of Dreyfus prowling in the shadows as we speak. Be sure to write this down; it's essential for future material we will cover in this course."

"Yes, sir!" Elaine called, along with a few others. Motorizing fingers jotted the notes from one side of the page to the other.

In spite of being a Magihistory professor, Warren Gray—a relatively famous Professional Sorcerer handpicked by the Headmaster himself—looked to be rather young. He was a tan-skinned fellow with windblown brown hair, dark eyes, and a chiseled face.

His friendly attitude and evident passion for the subject he was teaching made it easy for Elaine to immerse herself in his lectures. Other students kept their eyes glued to him as well. Most of them were girls, though. Their eyes filled with hearts, which translated to Elaine that it wasn't necessarily Gray's lessons that they were transfixed by.

"What if you're just blowing this whole thing out of proportion?" Custas asked. "Adeline might be onto something, and our creepy homeroom teacher could be planning on getting rid of one or two of us. Yup, I won't deny that that's a plausible possibility."

"Then why aren't you more concerned?" Elaine grumbled, motioning to his textbook, void of discernible notes. All he'd done was draw a collection of messy doodles around the border of each page, and the date at the top was incorrect. Did he even know which class they were in?

"Because I don't plan on burning myself out at the starting line," he yawned, hands behind his head. "I work at my own pace, tackling each challenge with a fresh perspective and a renewed vigor. What can I say? That's simply how I operate."

"And it works for you?"

"Has so far. It's what kept me sane for this long anyway," Custas snickered. "But not everyone's the same, I get that. For you, working yourself to death might just be how you operate. No shame in that."

Elaine loured. "I'm not working myself to death?"

"It's our first lesson, and yet here you are, already stressing yourself out. You don't honestly think any of us are gonna get kicked out on the first day, do you?" Elaine looked at him in puzzled disbelief. Was he a mind-reader? "Worrying over something that hasn't happened yet isn't a healthy mindset to have. Seriously, Elaine, you need to relax."

"Ah, Mr. Cloude. Thank you for offering to participate," Professor Gray called up to them.

Custas nearly fell out of his chair. Cracking a nervous smirk, he said, "Come again?"

"I was just asking which Strix was responsible for leading the charge in the Borgan Conflict. I only assume you have the answer as why else would you be talking?"

"Oh...err...the Borgan Conflict?" Custas stammered. "I know that one...it was...uh..."

Elaine chuckled beside him, and shot up her hand. "It was Viktor Calligan, professor. His codename in the Military was the Brightstar Sorcerer because of how he specialized in Stellar Magic spells. He devastated the front lines of the rogue mage infantry, providing an opportunity for the Arcanum to seize control of the Borgan Palace."

Professor Gray seemed pleased with that answer. "Very well articulated, Ms. Harwood," he smiled. "And Mr. Cloude, I implore you not to speak lest you've something to contribute to the class."

"Yes, sir!" Custas whimpered. "Thanks for the save, my fair maiden."

"Don't mention it," Elaine said happily. "And thank you for the advice. You're right; dwelling on what might go wrong won't benefit me in any way. I want to be a Professional Sorcerer, yes, but I also want to enjoy my experience at this academy as a student and as a friend."

"Ha! That's more I like it," Custas grinned. "By the way, if you could share your notes with me after class I'd be greatly appreciative."

Elaine laughed. "I've got you covered, Custas. Just try and keep those loose lips of yours closed, all right?"

"Sure, sure," he said. "But no promises..."

*

* *

The small creature on her shoulder was covered in a layer of smooth, white feathers that illuminated with a flickering glow. A light that pounded like a heartbeat. 

Golden patterns that flowed like a river branched off into spirals over its chest, and its crown of silvery feathers arched atop its head. It gave a shuffle, then lifted a wing and poked its beak underneath, scratching an itch that made its tail feathers wag.

Living in the countryside, Elaine had seen her fair share of bizarre lifeforms, especially during the summer months. They'd get packs of ogrehounds trying to snag a meal in the hen houses. She'd spot the occasional two-headed cobra squirming in the underbrush like some kind of large, reptilian worm. Once she'd even seen a pride of griffins soaring in the skies, organized in arrow-shaped formations.

But spirits, there was something about them. Something different. They originated from a separate plane of reality, and more than likely existed long before humanity and civilizations were even concepts. 

To say she was excited to learn about them would be a blatant understatement. Elaine watched attentively as the small celestial being cooed like any other ordinary bird, proceeding to wobble from one shoulder to the next.

"Some say that a Summoner has the power to command spirits; that we are masters and they are our servants. Even as a child, I was never a fan of this analogy. The dynamic we Summoners share with spirits is far more complex than that," their professor said, stroking the bird spirit on its head. "It's a relationship, one built on mutual trust and respect. In this course, I will teach you what it means to be a respectable Summoner."

Her name was Sidney Altair. She was a dazzling young woman—more than likely in her late twenties—possessing long, silverish blonde hair pouring from her diamond-shaped head and over her shoulders. She had azure eyes that glowed like gemstones, and her fair skin was akin to porcelain—milky and smooth.

She adorned a blue and white chiffon dress that reached her calves, bracelets infused with multi-colored diamonds, and high heels that clicked with every step she made. Elaine discerned her wand holster strapped to her waist as she spun to address the students on the opposite side of the room. But wrapped around her left wrist was a rope bracelet that was completely at odds with the rest of her lavished attire; noble fashion sense was weird. 

The classroom was fairly spacious, but unique in how it was structured. Semi-circular desks had been fixed into three distinctive rings—each one larger than the last—segmented so that narrow pathways gapped between each one.

The professor herself stood behind a pulpit inside of the first and smallest ring, right at the dead center of the space. Elaine sat in the middle ring, a distance that allowed her to clearly see and hear her professor's lecture. Transfixed was she on the avian being that spread its wings, flapping them with excitement.

"A common misconception is that the Bond us Summoners form with spirits is the only way we can control them, the only way to beckon them into this reality. However, that isn't entirely accurate," Altair said. 

"Spirits are alien to us, nevertheless they are sentient. They're capable of speech, they can create art and songs, and have organized a functional, hierarchical society on their side of the Rift. They can also be bargained with. 

"Some are willing to form "temporary" Bonds with humans, so long as they believe it is beneficial to do so. I promised to pay the spirits waiting on the other side with trinkets from my office. Human items are valuable in the Celestial Realm, you see. They've agreed to be summoned by you, and have each bound themselves to the spirit circles I will now task you to create."

Altair snapped her fingers. Flickering into existence above her was a hovering, rectangular image that glitched with a sort of static electricity. It displayed an image of a circle composed of two, no, three rings. In between each was a series of separate sygils, forming some kind of pattern.

"Spirit circles act as gateways. We cannot bring a spirit into the Physical Realm without first having them pass through a spirit circle. Now recreate this circle accurately, charge it with your Essence, and then recite the chant I taught to you earlier," Altair said. 

"You'll be Summoning a lesser spirit so it won't require that much magical energy to activate the circle. Accuracy is key, however. Draw the circle exactly as it appears."

Elaine stared at the tray of fresh soil resting on the desk before her. She stuck a finger into it, and started to trace a line that eventually curved into a circle. She did this twice over until the two rimmed symbol was now staring back at her from the soil. Next was the complicated part: she'd have to replicate the sygils.

From what she could tell, sygils differentiated themselves from magic runes in that they were uniquely tailored for spirit Summoning and control. They were essentially useless when it came to casting spells or other artforms of magic. Elaine didn't think of herself as the neatest artist, but she tried her best in spite of that.

Carefully, she stuck the tip of her finger into the soil, and she drew the sygils that were flickering on the enchanted screen hovering in the air. The sygils in the first rune—a pattern consisting of triangular and zigzag shapes—were sorted in a radially symmetrical configuration whilst the other—this one having sygils that looked like discs or eyes—was bilateral.

Elaine exhaled. With that done, all she had left to do was, as the professor put it, charge the circle with her own magical energy, her Essence. Only then could she perform a proper Summoning. She held her hand at the dirt tray and closed her eyes. She had to concentrate on the flow of the Essence within her, no different from when she used a wand to cast spells.

An electric flash painted the side of her face, and Elaine unlocked her gaze into a peek. Around the classroom she saw that there were a number of students that were already under the process of completing their Summoning.

She saw Fearne sitting at the table across from her. Both the girl's hands were held out in front of her, and she recited loudly, "Dan Minmi Virtuemen Tam Et Ba Ether! Bufo!" 

In accordance with her cries, a slobbery mass manifested from out of the spirit circle. The spirit was no bigger than a dog or small goat. Its liquidy, blue skin was decorated in a plethora of purple spots, and its webbed feet had suctioned to the table. 

A small horn that curved towards its bulging, yellow-colored eyes poked out the tip of its round snout, and those well-defined and muscular hind legs told Elaine that the creature was built for mobility. But she didn't see a point in the pair of small, feathery wings extending out of its back.

They wouldn't be enough to get the spirit off the ground, not with how plump its belly was. Then again, what did she know about spirit physiology? They didn't abide by the conventions of modern biology. They played by their own rules, their own strange, hard-to-understand rules.

"I did it!" Fearne exclaimed. The spirit croaked at her, and it was trying to replicate her excitement with a slimy smile. 

"Argh, this is impossible," groaned the person sitting next to Elaine. She remembered his name to be Edgar Harez, a fair-skinned boy with dark hair that sat in the row behind her in homeroom. His different-colored eyes—one green, the other blue—as well as his partially pointed ears belonged to Rymevar, the smaller country westward of their own.

Edgar slumped in his seat. "Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a Summoner, huh? Say, Harwood, what kinda sygils are those? Did the professor change her instructions while I wasn't paying attention or something?"

"My sygils?" Elaine asked. She glanced at the spirit circle in the tray and, low and behold, the sygils were indeed different. 

She didn't even recognize it—streaking shapes that looked like blades, or were they meant to be fangs? Had she really drawn these? Elaine quickly rubbed them away, and began to recreate the circle in the correct way.

A few more of her classmates seemed to be having a far easier time at Summoning than she was. Bufo spirits were popping up all around the classroom. One flapped its pathetic wings in front of Adeline, a green-colored variant licked its eyes with a slobbering tongue next to Jack. 

But when an especially fat Bufo spirit appeared before Rayla, the astonished girl stumbled out of her seat and landed on the floor, garnering a few nearby chuckles.

"Mr. Cloude!" she heard Altair shout. The professor was standing, arms crossed, in front of Custas' desk. Her glare, on the other hand, challenged the blank stare she received from the giant reptile craning its long neck above her. There was a yellow-colored diamond lodged in its flattened head.

"That isn't a Bufo spirit," Altair said. "Care to explain yourself?"

Custas snickered, and held a hand at the white-scaled creature. "I forgot to mention, Professor Altair, I'm already Bonded with a spirit. As you can see. Since we were practicing Summoning, I thought it'd be a perfect chance to demonstrate what I can do. So, what do you think?"

Altair's frustration eventually subsided, and she tapped the tip of a pen against her ruby lips. "It's impressive, I'll give you that."

"Hey, Custas. What gives?" shouted Jack. "You never said anything about being a Summoner."

"Yeah, no fair!" pouted Rayla.

"Well," he replied, smugly, "you guys never asked. This here is Serpens the Elusive. We've been good pals for as long as I can remember. Go ahead, tell 'em buddy."

The serpentine spirit flicked its forked tongue at Custas, and then proceeded to wrap its slender yet flexible body around him, coiling him in a tight embrace. Despite his groans—his face turned purple and tears bubbled in his eyes—Serpens plopped its chin atop Custas' head, flicking its tongue again.

"As you can...see..." Custas churned, "...he's a bit of...a hugger..."

"Yes, you've made your point," Altair said. "As for the rest of you, do make certain to follow my instructions closely. Experienced Summoner or not, accidents can always happen."

Elaine kept her hand pointed at the dirt tray so long that it started to sting, an electric shock zapping at her muscles. And before she knew it, the thunderous chimes of the tower bells vibrated the room. Class for today was finished.

"So what other spirits can you summon, Custas?" she heard Fearne inquire as she and the spirit tamer walked past her desk.

"Eh, only a few," Custas shrugged. "You'd be surprised how hard it is to form a Spirit Bond with them. They can be incredibly stubborn at times."

Sighing, Elaine gathered her belongings into her satchel, and followed behind them. They say it required a certain level of aptitude to beckon spirits. Not just any sorcerer could be a Summoner, after all. Perhaps she'd have better luck next class.

"Wait! Ms. Harwood!" Elaine paused, whirling around at Professor Altair who was idling by her desk. "It isn't wise to leave a spirit circle active. A stray spirit could wander into the Physical Realm if you're not careful. Surges, these aren't even the right sygils!"

As Elaine walked over to the partially miffed professor, her eyes stretched open in surprise. The spirit circle, it was glowing.

Altair looked at her sternly. "Be more careful in the future, yes?"

"A...Absolutely, ma'am." Right then, Elaine didn't care much that she'd been reprimanded. For the strict chastisement failed to make even the slightest dent in her ecstatic grin.