Music is An Unexpected Party from The Hobbit An Unexpected Journey. Play it!

       Verana rapped her fingers against the table, her nerves surging. The head of the academy leisurely walked into the room, taking his seat in the middle of the other people—two history professors and the coordinator of the academy's schedule. Apparently, she had an opinion on whether she made it in or not.

       Malconly, the head of the academy, was of supreme earth rank. One of the history professors was an elite wind gem and the other, an intermediate rock gem, one of the rarest gems. The coordinator was an elite light gem, like Verana.

       Malconly nodded at her, giving his approval to start.

       She felt too nervous. It was literally four people she knew. Why couldn't her heart just. . . slow down. Verana sighed through her nose and turned around. Taking a handful of one of her sands, she turned to her small audience.

       Slowly dimming the lights, she conjured a small man made of light. Verana dropped the white dust of it. "Thousands of years ago, Conan, the first volucris appeared in the human world." Her light-man stepped forward, his face showing determination. "He had giant wings on his back, and his hair and eyes were white even in his young years. As legend goes, when Conan first received his power, he was told that he would have to give up something about himself that contained color. He chose his eyes, and that is why all volucris are born with colorless eyes." 

      Verana put her hands out. Conan dissolved into nothing but a ball of light and as it drifted back to the table to drop off the white dust, Verana made another speck of dust. Picking up her green, brown, and blue dusts, she caused the speck to grow until it looked light blades of grass. Pouring all three of the dusts into the light, she looked back at her audience.

       "Conan saw wonders beyond what his mind could comprehend there. Creatures of legend, fields of green, and castles filled his vision." Her light showed a scene of grass blowing in the wind, and a castle sitting on top of a mountain. Little did they know that she had seen that very castle at an age almost long forgotten. "Humans were the most intriguing things that Conan saw." Her light morphed into a wingless volucris. "Their eyes were the colors of a rainbow and they bore no power within them."

       "Be careful when using detail that isn't in the history books," someone said, causing Verana's light scene to fall—and all of the sand inside. Her eyes widened as she looked up at the person who had spoken.

       "What?" she asked, feeling stupid instantly.

       The intermediate rock gem, Henya, sighed. "Creatures of legend and fields of green aren't necessarily what Conan saw. Neither did he think that humans were intriguing. Just remember to tone down on the made-up details."

       Verana's cheeks burned in embarrassment. She had never expected to be interrupted, and by losing her concentration, made a huge mess. On top of that, she had basically revealed that she knew things about the real human world that the people around her didn't.

       "O-of course. I was trying to be creative." Verana didn't even know if that would be enough to brush everything off.

       Malconly gave her an encouraging nod, smiling. "You can continue, Verana."

       She inclined her head, looked back at her sands. What was I going to do next? Verana racked every part of her brain. Conjuring yet another light image she blew sand into it, hoping that she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

       "Throughout his time among the people, Conan fell in love with a woman, and they soon wed. Little did Conan know that trouble would follow him for the rest of his immortal life." The image shifted into a crying baby. "His son was born a volucris."

       Verana beckoned her light to change—a family of three appeared. "Conan and his family lived happily for a long time. That was until he decided that it was time for his son to wield the same power as him." Her light took on an image of Conan, his arms extending to his son's head. "After giving his son the power over fire, the child became elated, running about testing his newfound ability."

       She replaced her light with a new batch, throwing red sand in an effect to make it look light fire. "Conan's wife watched on in awe and soon pleaded that her husband give her the same power. He complied, granting his dear wife what she wished." Verana dropped blue sand into the scene, even her face showing sadness at the picture. "His wife suddenly screamed in agony and a blast of fire flew from within her body. Conan cried out as the wave crashed into his chest and he fell to the ground. Half conscious, he reached out for his wife's hand. Forcing his eyes to stay open, he watched as his wife writhed and died in his own hands—by his own hands. The first volucris realized too late that the humans were not capable of withstanding power flowing through their bodies."

       "Do you have any ideas of why the humans couldn't hold power within them?"

       Verana's heart jolted, but this time she didn't allow her image to drop. Instead, she stilled it and looked at her tiny, yet annoying audience. Henya gave her an expectant look. "I'm not really sure. It's never explained in depth why Conan's wife really died, or how it actually happened. I assume that humans are weak, body and soul."

       "Good," the woman replied, signaling her to begin again.

       Verana turned back to the colored scene, bidding it to change. It showed Conan sitting in a corner alone, his son watching from a doorway. "Conan retreated into himself, torturing his mind for what he had done. He suffered alone, but left his son to grieve on his own." Verana swirling her finger around in her light, creating a spiral effect. "Years later, when Conan finally regained his senses, he went out to find his son. He found him among adult humans who were drinking and smoking. After bidding his twelve-year-old son to leave, he refused, telling him that he no longer wanted to see his dead father."

       Tossing more red sand into the scene, it shattered. "His son attacked, and that was when Conan realized that the fire his wife had blasted into his chest weakened him—fire weakened him." She began taking bits of each color of dust. "This is what you have made me, his son said as he stood above his father's weak body. A monster."

       Grabbing the last color of sand, Verana collected them in a ball of light. "Why do you think fire weakened him?"

       Verana sighed. "What is the purpose of all these interruptions?"

       Henya raised an eyebrow. "In a classroom, students always have questions and they like to interrupt you. Shouldn't you be prepared?"

       Her lungs tightened, shock claiming her breath. She had allowed her annoyance to make its own decisions. Verana swallowed, her throat now parched. "Yes. I'm sorry. I hadn't thought of that."

       The woman grunted. "Clearly." She sat back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other.

       Finding the determination to finish despite Henya's attitude, Verana pushed her light forward. At the appropriate moment, she allowed it to burst. "Conan caused his power to explode into the air and it incapacitated all of the people in the room. Taking his son, Conan removed all memories of his mother's death, the years he had lived without his father, and the idea that he was a monster. His son woke, and life moved on."

       Verana moved her hand from one side of the light to the other and it shifted. "The volucris multiplied, and Conan's immortality allowed him to live long enough to see his grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow. He bestowed upon each of his descendants elemental power, which was contained in a gem on different parts of their body. But because of the mistakes of his son, he created a method that allowed certain volucris to wield more power than others. To meet the expectations of everyone, Conan taught that each were given a gift and that none should be jealous of the other. Power is the food of evil."

       "As the volucris flourished, the human world began to die and finally, jealousy grew strong in the hearts of humans. They persecuted the volucris, demanding powers and wings of their own to help their dying world." Verana depicted a riot inside her light.

       "The volucris attempted to restore the world to its former health, but it wasn't enough for the humans. Conan couldn't stand the bloodshed and in an attempt to end it, he gathered his people and they flew away. Knowing that wherever the volucris went, humans would always find them, Conan created an island in the sky. To keep it floating, he decided that he would give up his life and become the lifeforce of the island." Verana morphed the light. "He told his people that the blue water that flowed through the island would create more gems to pass onto their children. He bestowed the power to create gems on three individuals and turning to his people, said one last thing, Power is the food of evil."

       She created a new section of light that showed Conan. Taking a handful of blue dust, she poured it on top of his head as he began to melt into blue water. "It is said that out of generosity, and regret for the lost time with his wife, Conan allowed his lifeforce to fall to the earth, creating life once more."

       Verana stared at the image for a second longer, admiring the beauty. Even though what she had created wasn't the real thing, it still impacted her heart. Conan had been so selfless, even after how much heartache he had experienced. After losing his family, he had still strived to help the people who hated them. She wondered if her life would ever take her to a point where she'd have to give up something.

     "Very well done, Verana. I enjoyed that," Malconly said, his hands clapping together.

     Henya snorted. "It was pretty. That's all I can say."

     Verana looked at the woman, trying to keep her expression neutral. "Did I not represent our history in a way that would captivate the young one's attention?"

     "No. Clearly you never actually watched what happened in your own sessions. Do you not remember how painful your own class was? They were always causing trouble?"

     Her brows furrowed in thought. What in the world was this woman talking about? She never even taught Verana a history class.

     The head of the academy gave Henya a disdainful look. "That is quite enough Mrs. Lairna." He looked to Verana. "You are dismissed."

—

     Verana walked over to a stand by her bed, opening up the small door at the bottom. She grimaced when she found the compartment empty. Unconvinced, she glanced under her bed, her eyes tracing every space. She didn't remember eating the last of her coffee bean candies. . . but they weren't there.

     Pursing her lips, she stood back up, moving across the room, past her still littered desk, and stopped in front of the overlook. Her parents had specially built her room so that during the day a section of it was completely open. During the night, however, a seamless leaf sheet would unfurl and close off her room to the world. Even though the way her room was a secret to the rest of the world, her parents had insisted upon as much privacy as possible.

     Verana would sometimes have one of the servants close up the sheet so that she could watch the sunrise.

     She pressed her hands against her elbows, looking solemnly at the empty expanse of clouds. Her presentation had been perfect, save for the interruptions. Malconly had seen impressed by her creativeness, but Henya hadn't given off the same enthusiasm. She didn't think after everything the woman had said that she would be getting a spot as a professor. She had insisted that she be treated like anyone else, and that's exactly what she was getting. Even if it seemed like Henya was purposely targeting her out of frustration towards her own students.

     Verana still didn't know why she had mentioned her being in a history class that she had never attended. Perhaps the woman had been mistaking her for someone that looked just like Verana. But then, had she not been informed on what kind of meeting she was attending? And who was holding it?

     She thought through her presentation once more, wondering if there had been details that she unintentionally left out. She couldn't think of any, and that did nothing to help the burst of agitation that was growing in her chest.

     Something popped into her periphery and Verana's eyes shot upward. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw the Master Guard's head peeking out above her. His black hair stood on end and he allowed his large wings to fall around him now that she noticed him.

     "Zan!" she exclaimed, smirking at him fondly. "How long have you been sitting there?"

     He shrugged. "Long enough to know that you probably want your treats back." Holding onto the side of her ceiling, he slid off, hanging in the air for a second before his feet hit the floor. Zan handed over her missing bag of coffee bean candies and she gasped, snatching them.

     "I was looking for those!" Verana dove her hand in, taking a couple and throwing them into her mouth. Her mouth watered at the scrumptious taste, but she glared at Zan. "Why did you take them?"

     He gave her guilty smile. "I may have been hungry when I passed by. . ."

     "And you magically knew that I would have these in here?"

     "I may have already known that they were there. But I didn't eat any. I was just teasing." Zan smiled as he messed with her hair, causing it to become jumbled. Verana half-heartedly flattened it out, her attention completely stolen by the treats in her hand. He walked a couple steps, his eyes sweeping the room before he looked back at her. "How did the presentation go?" Verana paused, then dropped a couple more coffee beans into her mouth. She looked over at Zan and he tilted his head. "What?"

     Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I don't think I'm going to make it in."

     "Why?"

     "It was. . . rough. One of the history professors, I don't think she liked me or something. It seemed like she was targeting me." He inquired why she thought that and continued, "She criticized every other thing I said. And I answered her, I just don't really understand why." Verana thought back to the question Henya had asked about the humans not being able to stand their power. "Some of her questions had been valid. But others—" Like saying her presentation was boring. "—not so much."

     "Well," he said, thrusting his hand into her bag of treats. "You can't please everyone."

     Verana sighed, giving in. She was tired of mulling over the details. "You're right. If I get in, I do and if I don't. . . then I'll have to find something else to do."

     "Sounds good to me! Speaking of which, since you don't have any deadlines hanging over your head anymore, do you want to come to someone's house with me? I've been sent to investigate a missing person's home and talk to his family."

     Verana's memory sparked. "Missing person? How do you know about that?"

     He shrugged, reaching for her bag once more, but she moved it out of the way. He smirked. "Your father assigned me to the job. He said that he didn't want the ambassadors to know about it. Secret business, eh?" He bumped his shoulder against hers, taking advantage of the distraction to swipe more coffee beans.

     Verana yelped, moving back. "Would you stop that?"

     He laughed through the food in his mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I can't help it that the princess has such good candies."

     She raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Yes, and I'd like to savor them alone!"

     "You can't always hide." He pressed his lips against the skin beneath her earlobe.

     "I suppose so."

Thanks for reading everyone!

What did you think of Verana's history lesson? And the history itself? Do you think Verana will be able to become a professor?

Shoutout to @AmiraAshraf- for the cover in the media section!

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