Finally, relishes Derald, dinnertime. I thought the day would never end.

It doesn't bade well for him, seeing how he's already exhausted. He still has years at this Academy to go. The professors either don't care or don't remember that they are first years, judging by the fast-paced lectures Derald has somehow managed not to snooze through. He's never been a very efficient person, so, like many others, he stays up nearly every night, taking notes and catching up on homework assignments. His roommate, Owain Snagsnout, seems to be his polar opposite.

"Man, that was grueling," groans Phade Holyward, as he shakes out his hair. The boys are all sheening with sweat, but it's the type that one would wear proudly. A badge, of sorts. The first year Wing teams aren't very impressive, considering the level of skill the upperclassmen had. The first years had gotten the chance to witness the third year team in action.

They made the first year team look like a bunch of pansies.

Derald rakes a hand through his moist hair, grimacing. As much as he would like to shower off, his hunger outweighs his need to bathe. Besides, he's not even the stinkiest one of the group. When Dillian Goldbane had swaggered out of the locker rooms, Derald had nearly passed out from the smell.

"You said it," sighs another first year that Derald can't identify.

"Did you see the Roffinnes brothers? They're clearly best on the team."

"You mean Xara Roffinnes's brothers?"

Derald perks up at the name. Xara's in his group for Beast Anthology and from what he's gathered from their stiff brainstorm sessions, she seems to be a reasonably nice girl. If not a bit cold.

"That's the one."

"Is she really in the leagues with the Warlord?" asks a short boy in a hushed voice. Derald is surprised at the spark of anger that flares in him.

"The rumors are fake," he snaps at the team. They're silent for a moment; either they're analyzing his odd reaction, or they aren't sure whether to continue. Derald doesn't care about which it is.

"If she wasn't a Storm, I would definitely go for her." Dillian smirks. Phade snorts derisively.

"Right. As if any girl would agree to go out with you."

Dillian slows, before aggressively resuming his pace.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You aren't exactly a ladies man, Dillian."

Dillian rears back. "I'll have you know that I had a haggle of girls begging for a dance with me at our region dance."

Phade gives him a sidelong glance. "Was it your sisters?"

Dillian goes beet-red in response as the rest of the team cackles.

"Real score, Dill," drawls Phade. Derald refrains from saying anything. All in all, Phade's a pretty cool guy, but he can be sort of a prick sometimes.

The dining room, as always, is buzzing with energy. Laughter, utensils clinking. But the sound of Derald's rumbling stomach muffles all of it.

"Hungry now, are we?" teases Dillian.

"Very much so." Derald salutes his team. "See you guys on Thursday." The team parts ways and Derald wanders to the buffet, where students line up. The trays and platters magically refill themselves, spelled. Derald heaps a generous serving of the mashed potatoes and the bread pudding. No one cooks as well as his mother, of course, but the Academy meals come pretty close.

Derald ambles over to the first year tables, where the majority of the first years sit and talk. But his gaze catches on a girl at the near end of the table, sitting alone.

Xara Roffinnes.

On a whim, he walks over to her and plops his tray down. She looks up at him under her lashes. Very thick, dark lashes, Derald notices.

"Xara, right?"

A dry nod.

"I'm Derald. You know, from Beledras's class? We're in the project together."

"I know who you are," she responds, faintly amused. Her voice is deep, not like the chirp of the other girls.

"Oh." He wipes his palms on his shorts. "I saw you sitting here, so I thought I'd come over and sit with you."

Why are you even explaining yourself to her?

Xara sets down her fork. "I don't need you to sit with me because you feel bad."

Derald lifts a shoulder. "I'm not here because I pity you. I'm here because I want to sit with you."

She looks taken aback from his answer, but seems to accept it.

"Doesn't that blondie sit with you? What's her name again?"

"Lysabel. She's in our group too."

Oh. The girl Owain moons over.

"She's your roommate, I assume?"

"If you don't mind me asking," she starts crisply. "Why so interested in me now?"

"What do you mean?"

A bitter laugh slips from her lips. "This whole school goes out of their way to avoid me. You did, too, in the beginning. What changed your mind?"

Derald shovels a spoonful of potato in his mouth, lifting a finger as a signal. That cracks a faint smile from her.

He swallows hard. "I'll admit, I was a bit wary of you in the beginning. But now, I think you're too nice to be working with the Warlord."

"Thanks," she tells him softly. Her storming eyes have softened as well.

"Anytime." He grins toothily at her before shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

They have a surprisingly civil conversation. Xara opens up more as they continue to talk, even telling little anecdotes about her brothers.

"I saw your brothers practicing today. They're so good."

"Don't let them hear you say that. It'll go straight to their heads." She angles her head. "Well, I know for sure Cass's ego will explode. Bren, maybe not. He's a softie."

"I mean, the way they were just in touch with their familiars was incredible. The level of connection is what I want with mine."

Something forlorn passes over her face. "You're lucky. My familiar never came."

Derald wipes his mouth with his napkin. "That might not be a terrible thing."

She narrows her eyes and he holds up his hands.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it's best you never summon your familiar. But I read in a book once-"

She snorts. Derald glares at the interruption - and the insinuation.

"What, you don't think I'm the reading type?"

Xara giggles. "I just wouldn't picture you as someone who reads." She clears her throat and gathers her composure. "Continue."

Derald harrumphs before continuing. "As I was saying, the same thing happened to the Founders. Their familiars only arrived two months after their Summoning."

Xara's dark eyes widen. "Really?"

"Really. It's a symbol of how strong your magic is, I think."

"That's... actually kind of neat."

"I could be wrong, though."

"Still, I appreciate you telling me. Speaking of familiars, where's yours? You have a kelpie, right?"

Derald nods. "His name is Slyff. He's down by the pond. I let him go down there three times a week."

Xara goes silent, so the two of them eat in silence. It's not a bad silence, almost companionable in a way. Derald finds he likes it.

"Hey, do you know-"

A screech impedes Xara's words. It pierces the jovial mood, and the dining room falls silent. Tenseness fills the spaces where joy previously resided. The teachers stand, facing the windows where the sound originated. Derald holds himself rigidly, eyes trained on the window. Beast Anthology is the class he actually listens to, but that call is nothing like what he's studied. Professor Beledras's expression is guarded, cautious. Something indescribable lights her dark eyes.

Suddenly, a dark shape appears through the evening gloom. The student body gasps, and one girl screams. Derald makes out the first flashes of fear. The thing-whatever it is-doesn't seem to be stopping.

It's going to crash through the windows.

Students scramble to the back of the room, and panic ensues.

Casktalon stands in a sweep of thick velvet. "Everyone, remain calm. Stand at the back wall and wait. We will handle this."

With that, she takes her position in the ranks of the professors, who await the beast. All goes silent for a few moments, and Derald feels as though he can wring the fear from the air. He follows the stream of students to the back.

Xara remains at the table, now standing up.

"Xara!" He yells. "What are you doing?"

She doesn't answer. From the way she's standing, it's as if her limbs have been infused with iron.

"Ms. Roffinnes," barks Professor Emmeric Evenfall, the Training teacher. "Move!"

She doesn't answer him either. It's as if she's completely zoned out.

"Xara Roffinnes," growls the professor again, "I command you to-"

He doesn't finish his sentence. The creature plows through the window, shattering the french pane windows. Glass rains in shards, deadly crystals. It looks almost beautiful.

Until the glass begins to fall.

Students tumble to the ground, arms over their heads. The room is filled with screams of panic, yelps of pain.

"Xara!" roars an upperclassmen, panic and fear twisting his voice. Presumably one of her brothers. Derald hisses as a shard nicks his arm, as blood bursts forth from the thin cut. The professors have erected a barrier, and some of the upperclassmen lend a hand. Xara still does not move, even as the glass cuts into her pale skin.

"Xara!" cries her brother again, his voice breaking off. She merely stares at the beast circling the dining room. Derald only can hope it's not deciding which ones of them to eat. It's too high up for Derald to see without glass piercing his eyes, so he keeps his vision downwards. He can feel the wind from the beat of it's gigantic wings.

"It's a griffon," whispers one of the professors reverently. Derald's curiosity piques. The griffons had thought to be extinct, around the same time Fynn Runemore died. He'd only seen them in drawings, but even then they looked fearsome. They're the familiars of the Storms.

Realization clicks in his mind. Xara's a storm, and her familiar hasn't arrived yet.

But now it's here, for her to claim.

The beast hovers, beating air in both directions. It blows dust straight in his face. Derald squints against it. When he opens his eyes, he finds the griffon on the floor, shaking out its feathers. It's majestic, resplendent against the evening darkness. The face of a hawk, with those keen eyes and knife-sharp beak. It's feathers are large and silky smooth, and it's lion tail wraps and curls in what Derald assumes to be happiness. The creature shakes out her maw, cooing as it does.

No one dares to speak, or make any sound. Xara laughs, a wonder-filled sound. The griffon is drawn to the sound, and lowers her large head to Xara's, making a clicking sound deep in her throat. Xara reaches up, and the room is strung in bated silence. Derald finds himself staring eagerly along with the rest of the occupants.

Xara slides a hand into the ruffle of feathers, stroking her familiar's face. Xara's lips move, but she's talking too quietly for anyone to hear.

The professors don't put down the barriers, even though the griffon seems to have calmed down. They glance at each other, an unspoken conversation passing through their gazes.

Until Headmistress Casktalon stands. The griffon lowers her head as Xara looks to the headmistress.

"My office, if you will, Ms. Roffinnes."

She doesn't wait for Xara to follow her out. 

>>AUTHOR'S NOTES:

this was definitely a fun chapter to write. i was glad Xara found another friend at Ruxnorth Academy. and finally, my girl found her familiar. comment down below what you thought of this chapter, and vote on it too! both are highly appreciated!

I'm honestly really happy, more than I can say, with how The Elixir is turning out. i don't like to pick favorites, but this one is definitely high up there;) and let me just say:

thank the good gods it's Friday. it's been a killer week for me, and it's just dragged. it's just been one of those weeks that are just... bleh. get my drift?

anyways, I'll hopefully get to publish the next chapter of The Last Mage. It's a longer one, but I think I'll get to finishing it. and look forward to a very special chapter of Rebel's Will coming out as well.  IM SO EXCITED!!!

peace&love,

raniaditi