Xara pants heavily once she drops the tiny tornado. Her arms droop and her legs buckle in exhaustion. It feels as though she has been forced to walk through thick, sludgy mud. Her muscles and head throb in perfect sync with her uneven heartbeat. Founders only know how she'll get to her room without collapsing. Maybe Leonah could fly her back to the dorms. Xara scans the sky, her hand acting as a visor on her brow. There's no sign of her griffin; like the rest of the campus, she must be inside somewhere cool.

The October sun beats down hard on Xara. This late in the year, the sun will only be making an appearance for a month or so before disappearing completely, giving the vast skies to the frigid frost. Normally, on an afternoon like this, students would be in abundance, studying and chattering with their friends. But no one wants to be outside in this heat, so it's just Professor Evenfall and Xara.

"That was better," amends Evenfall. Xara snorts in disagreement before chugging down half her bottle of water.

"That was nothing. I didn't even make the tree move."

The professor smiles wryly, removing his glasses so he can wipe them on this plaid vest.

"Everyone has to start somewhere, Xara. Considering that you've only been practicing for a few months, I'd consider that a triumph." The professor rolls up his sleeves. "You know what? Why don't we cut this short? We've made good progress, and the sun isn't going anywhere."

"No way!" Xara hops up from the bench. "I can make a bigger one, I know I can."

Evenfall stops in front of Xara, smiling kindly. He places a hand on her shoulder.

"I have no doubt. You're strong, Xara, and I know that with time, you'll get better. But not in this weather. Take the rest of the day off." He wiggles his fingers, and summons the water from inside his bottle. Positioning it above his head, it sprinkles down in a light mist, moving with him as he edges around her.

"You have a good afternoon, Ms. Roffinnes."

As he departs, Xara slumps to the bench, staring longingly at the Professor's raincloud. Evenfall is a Tsunami, like Derald, and one of the most skilled mages on campus. He has to be, she supposes, to be hired as the Training teacher for the majority of the students on campus. Though Evenfall only practices one magic, he is well-versed in what it takes to wield the others. Since no one in all of Ruxnorth has any knowledge about being a Storm, the headmistress had elected Evenfall to teach Xara to hone her skills.

So far, with minimal results. While Lysbel and Vieva are already learning how to make trees grow and how to throw fireballs, Xara's stuck making whirlwinds. So pathetic. While she adores being the only Storm in Ruxnorth, there are occasions where she wishes she could fit in.

Last weekend, students had been given the chance to visit their parents. When she updated her parents on the progress of her magic, they had bobbed their heads and smiled. But Xara could see the truth in their eyes: they wish that she's an Arcane, like Bren and Cassamire.

"Have you learned to conjure any thunder yet?" her grandmother had asked, stabbing a potato in a particularly vicious way.

Xara had shaken her head regretfully. "I've only been able to create some wind."

"Who's teaching you?"

"Professor Evenfall."

"Ha!" Alisud scoffs. "If he's the one coaching you, all you'll be able to create by the end of the year are some measly clouds. You're wasting your time with Emmeric."

Xara doesn't react, instead taking some bread from the center of the table. Mom had made rye bread, a favorite of her Bren and Cass.

"Headmistress Casktalon believes that Professor Evenfall is the only one who can truly teach me." Xara shrugs. "But whether that's true remains to be seen."

"I should've known Liira was behind that. It unnerves her, you being a Storm."

"Mother!" Dad had said, affronted. "I'm sure that isn't Liira's intention."

Alisud stares straight at Xara. "Chances are, child, you'll have to be the one to figure it out. No one will truly be able to get you the training you need."

Alisud had hinted many times over that weekend at finding a new teacher, but Xara had turned her down every time. Where would she go? People at school are only just starting to warm up to her, and Xara finally feels as though the incident at the Summoning is behind her. But what will everyone think when she starts asking around for people to help her with her magic?

Xara tilts her head to the sky. It's a brilliant strong blue, and the pulsing ball of light that is the sun's rays occupy the peripheral of her eyes. There's not a cloud in the sky.

Xara reaches to where her magic throbs, warm and alive. It's not exactly a being, but more like a part of her that has just been awakened. Xara doesn't hesitate to explore every corner, every niche. It welcomes her as she plunges into the mass, drawing power from her blood and bones.

There are many varying origin stories of how mages came to be. The Founders are the first ones recorded to ever have mage magic, but none of them explicitly state how they came about the magic, or what the world had been like before they acquired their magic. They teach a simplified, neutral version in school: that the Founders developed this magic and taught it to all in Ruxnorth. Xara can obviously spot the errors in the tale, but she had never really questioned how magic came into existence.

Xara strains, pulling her power to the surface. She has no idea what she's doing, but she won't know until she tries.

She thrusts her magic at the sky, willing dark gray clouds to form. She pushes, gritting her teeth, forcing her power to manifest in the skies.

Moments later, Xara drops it, exhausted.

The sky is still an endless, cheery blue. The sun smiles down on her, almost taunting her. Grumbling, Xara snatches the bag off the floor and flings it over her shoulder, wincing when her textbooks hit between her shoulder blades.

Not my day.

She trudges across the field to the dorms, dragging her feet. It's only now that the tiredness settles in her bones, a heavy weight.

When Xara finally makes it to her room, she forces the urge to just collapse, right there and then. But she feels salty and sticky with sweat; she can't imagine the pimply horror that will be waiting for her tomorrow morning if she skimps out. Xara pushes the door open lightly. If anyone's listening up there, please, please, please don't let Vieva be-

"You look disgusting."

"There," finishes Xara with a sigh.

Lysabel and Vieva are both in the room, looking blissfully cool in tank tops and shorts. Three fans buzz in the room, creating a steady drone. Lysabel has a plant at the corner of her bed holding up a small spritzer full of water. The little green fingers spray her every so often as she reads through a small book. She smiles a greeting, while Vieva looks her up and down contemptuously. While she and Vieva are on better terms, she's still Vieva Bestel.

"Founders, you look like melted ice cream," chortles Vieva. Xara glares.

"You're not funny, you know."

Vieva just flips her hair with a grin.

"Where've you been?" Lysabel puts her book down, escaped strands of flaxen hair falling forward. Just last week, she had it cut above her shoulders. It looks better in Xara's opinion.

"Training."

"Ahh. How was it?"

Xara plops her back near the bed, shoving it underneath. She doesn't feel like staring at any more textbooks for some time. Today has been trying.

"The same as it has been every single day."

Vieva kicks her legs over, sliding off the bed to get to her water cup. She has hardly broken a sweat; being an Arcane, she has a high tolerance to heat. She lounges in the sun for a moment before retreating back to her bed.

"Did you expect anything else? Evenfall probably has no idea what he's doing."

Xara shrugs. "Casktalon believes that it's worth trying. But we're moving snail-slow. My grandmother keeps telling me to teach myself, but I have no idea how."

"You'll get there, Xara. I know it," consoles Lysabel warmly.

Vieva pinches her nose, chin tilting up. "I would offer you platitudes, but I don't want to. And please, go shower. The stench is going to choke me."

"That wouldn't be so terrible," says Xara wryly, rummaging through her drawers for her clean towels, ignoring Vieva's glare.

"Don't come back until you're clean!"

✡✡✡

When Xara returns from the showers, cool and clean and refreshed, the sun has retreated, and sunset colors have streaked over the sky. Xara nods hello to one of her classmates as she passes by. Tossing her dirty clothes and towel in the hamper outside, she nudges the door open with her shoulder.

It's empty.

Xara breathes a sigh of relief. She loves rooming with Lysabel and Vieva(most of the time) but she's been waiting for the perfect chance to read some more of the Warlord's journal. Her stomach rumbles, but Xara ignores it. She has to seize her opportunity; she can just go get some food later on.

Xara finds the books and tosses it lightly on the bed. Excitement zings through her as she skims a finger over the cover. There's something about reading about the life of another Storm, especially one that's so powerful. She shouldn't get so excited reading about the Warlord, who may be looking to take his journal back, but Xara can't help it. It's exhilarating.

She opens the book and it groans with age. The pages, yellowed and curling, are filled with scribbles of the young Warlord. His observations of the then-world are astounding. The regions hadn't been defined, but there had been some areas where some chose to live and some didn't. He had lived with his brother, Fynn, and their family in present-day Closorths, Xara's own region. Then, it had been known as the Sunderlands, a name which the Warlord had questioned himself.

Xara lies on her stomach, using her hands as a chin-rest. She soaks in his words. This journal documents his life, until he discovered the dark side of mage magic. This journal holds memories of not the Warlord, but Cynem Runemore, the boy.

There are many things Xara can decipher from reading the text. First, it's obvious that Cynem loves his brother Fynn- but recently, he's started to notice how he's always being pushed into the shadows while Fynn receives the glory treatment. Cynem had been the weaker of the two, and while Fynn had been showing off his newfound powers, Cynem had struggled to make anything appear.

Xara relates to his frustrations. The feeling seeps out of the page, so powerful and strong. She's scanned through the book already, which had been how she had found the mysterious marked door, but she hadn't read the accounts of the Warlord himself. It's strange; Xara's never seen a person change through words, but it's incredibly obvious that Cynem's growing resentment of his brother had caused him to change.

If he hadn't turned to dark magic, would he and the others be standing among us?

The Founders most likely would've been able to live longer if they hadn't spent all their energy and lifeblood containing the Warlord in the region of exile, Resnarth. Maybe Xara could've even seen them.

Xara turns the large, tattered page, being as careful as she can. This is an artifact, and it needs to be treated carefully. It could hold valuable secrets to finding the Warlord's weakness. So far, all Xara has derived is that Cynem loathes his brother. And not a petty childhood grudge. A pure hate that has blackened his soul. It has consumed him, and judging from the way the cadence of writing changes has time progresses, it seems as through it had claimed him early on in his life.

Xara turns the page again, using the very tips of her fingers. Alisud had been the one to teach her the value of books and textiles.

The very world lives within these tombs, dear one. You must treat them with the care and respect necessary. They are our past, Alisud had always said to her.

But her gaze snags on something. Something wrong, something that shouldn't belong in such a place.

Carefully, Xara picks it up from the spine of the journal. It lies flat on her palm.

It's a black leaf. The dark shade stands out vividly against Xara's olive complexion. She holds it close to her face, peering at it through squinted eyes. As required by the Academy, Xara is taking Botany I this year. Not once has she stumbled upon a specimen like this, and Xara has studied enough leaves for a lifetime. What is it?

And why is it in the Warlord's journal?

Xara picks it up by the stem, twirling in between her fingers. There's nothing odd about it other than the color. It's a normal size, and shows signs of age from the lines of wither that are starting to appear. But that's what doesn't make sense. Xara is very confident that she is the first person to read this journal in at least 10-15 years; how could the leaf have survived this long without the necessities to live?

Something isn't adding up.

A cry makes Xara's line of thought tumble. Instinctively, Xara tucks the leaf back into the book, dog-earing the page so she doesn't lose it. With a great beat of her wings, Leonah perches on the windowsill, snuggling through the window to get to her section of the dorms. Normally, Familiars don't sleep in the same compartments as their owners but due to the unpredictability of Leonah, Headmistress Casktalon had ordained that until the beast is labeled safe, she is under Xara's watch. The roost takes up maybe a fourth of the room, but no one complains. Having a fearsome griffin guarding their room brings peace of mind.

Xara slips off the bed and approaches Leonah, rubbing the feathers beneath her break. It's her favorite spot. Leonah coos happily, head tilting up of its own accord. She rustles her feathers in pleasure.

Suddenly, Leonah's head snaps up, head swiveling in the direction of the window. The darkened sky, almost at the full black of night, is like a shadowy blanket.

"What do you see, Leonah?" whispers Xara, conjuring her magic to wait in the palms of her hands. Not that it would do any good.

The bird doesn't respond, eyes laser-focused on the window. Then, she emits a happy shriek, bouncing lightly in her roosting spot. Xara's eyebrows kiss; what does she sense?

She doesn't have to wait long for an answer.

Diadys, Vieva's dragoni, slips easily through the window, Vieva and Lysabel on her back. Leonah hops off her roost to greet her friend.

Vieva jumps down nimbly, while Lysabel more or less falls down off the dragoni's flame red back.

"Why were you guys flying? Familiars can't be out this late!" Xara exclaims.

Lysabel glares at their roommate. "That's exactly what I said."

Vieva dusts her hands, smirking. "That rule's only a problem if you get caught."

"Did you bring anything back?"

"Yeah." Lysabel rummages around her bag. "We brought you an apple."

"Oh, thanks. Toss it." Lysabel obeys, but before Xara can catch it, Leonah snaps it up, quick as a blast of lightning.

Xara can't help but laugh and soon, the two other girls join in.

"Should I go down and get you something else?" Lysabel offers, though she doesn't look very excited about the proposition. Lysabel is terrified of being outside in the dark, even though campus is fully protected. In some ways, that fear can be utilized. But mostly, it's just an impediment. Lysabel will refuse to do anything if she believes there will be any kind of danger. That's why Beast Anthology I and Training I are her least favorite classes- a fact she's stated to Vieva and Xara many, many times.

"No, I'm not that hungry. I'll just eat tomorrow."

The blatant relief blossoms on Lysabel's face. "Oh, good. Because the dining hall is all the way across campus."

Vieva gives an exaggerated groan. "Grow up, Lys! What are you so scared about?"

"Don't judge," says Lysabel defensively. "The Fenrirs can't possibly block out every threat. I'm just taking precautions."

"No," corrects Vieva. "You're paranoid."

An idea forms in Xara's mind. "Your favorite class is Botany, right, Lys?"

Lysabel breaks from her and Vieva's argument, nodding at Xara.

"I need you to look at something for me." Xara lopes lightly to where she had tossed the book. She opens the book at the dog ear, finding the leaf there. She holds it up and Lysabel's eyes widen. She gasps loudly.

"Where did you find that?" her voice holds something secret.

"In the journal."

"Xara Roffinnes, you are going to be the death of us all," grumbles Vieva, popping her head out the window to whistle for Diadys.

Xara ignores Vieva easily; it's become a habit she's developed in the past few months. For someone who can be so contemptuous, she talks a lot.

"You know what this is," says Xara, excitement creeping into her voice. Lysabel refuses to meet her eyes.

"I don't. But I've seen it."

Xara feels adrenaline come alive in her blood. She can't exactly pinpoint it but there's something about this leaf, and the feeling of uncovering ancient secrets, that gives Xara a rush.

"What do you know?"

"Nothing." Xara's spirits droop slightly.

Vieva, who had finally convinced Diadys to return to their dorm, finally turns to the girls, an intense, thoughtful look in her gaze.

"Can I try something?"

Lysabel quickly hands the leaf off to Vieva.

Vieva doesn't take time to study the dark leaf; instead, she holds it up to Diadys, who takes a deep whiff.

The dragoni's irises dilate and she squawks with fury and fear. Living with two dragoni, Xara has come to learn all their sounds.

Diadys flaps away, and Vieva sighs. "Great. She's not going to want to come back now."

"Dragoni are some of the most perceptive characters in the realms. If Diadys was scared of this leaf, it can't mean anything good." Lysabel says finally.

"But what does it mean?" Xara insists.

Lysabel shrugs, but her shoulder bunch tightly. "I have no idea. But something I did find was a saying. Qui tenet a quo facti sunt et folium servi ac tenebras. I'm not sure what it means but I was able to decipher one word. Servus. It means servant."

Xara sits on the very edge of her bed, eyebrows crinkling. "I can't even begin to think what that could mean."

Lysabel takes the leaf back from Vieva, holding it so it lies lightly on her palm.

"Qui tenet a quo facti sunt et folium servi ac tenebras." Lysabel shakes her head. "I don't know-"

Lysabel breaks into a gasp, dropping the leaf. It falls to the ground like a piece of ash, but Xara forgets about the strange leaf as she runs to catch Lysabel, who's knees buckle.

"What's wrong?" Xara asks urgently. "Shall I call the nurse?"

Vieva, who'd also jumped to attention, angles her head. "No. It's probably just fatigue. She was up late last night, remember?"

Xara nods lightly, but her doubt hasn't fully been eased. Xara has dealt with her fair share of stress and exhaustion, and maybe Lysabel's symptoms are different, but this seems out of character.

Lysabel pants hard, resting her hands on her knees.

"Lys? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"What I need," says Lysabel, between breaths. "Is for you to give me some space. I'm not some damsel in distress."

Xara backs away hastily. Lysabel, who stays bent over for a few more seconds, seems to breathe easier.

She comes up, flipping her short hair over her shoulder.

"Thank the Founders." She looks straight at Xara boldly. "You should really get better soap. Or at least wear some scented mist. I can still smell the grass on you." She stretches, rolling her neck. "I'm going to get some food."

Without a glance back, she saunters straight out of the room, not even looking at them.

Vieva and Xara look at each other, eyes wide.

What just happened?

>>AUTHOR'S NOTES

hey guys! 

wow. this might be the longest chapter in the Elixir so far! probably why it took me a week-and-a-half to write it;)

we're about halfway through the Elixir, maybe a little more. I'm so glad for all the support I've gotten; funnily enough, I can't express how much your feedback and love means to me.

peace&love,

raniaditi