The Wright

One…two…three…four…I counted with each tap of my forehead into the open book before me. Studying had gotten me nowhere though I could list every herb, its scientific name, effects, combinations, and parts with ease. Perhaps if I beat the book against myself, I could absorb magic physically. Either that, or I would become so concussed that my Testing would be postponed.

I was never any better than before. Never excelling like my classmates. In fact, I could manage only the most basic of tasks, struggling slightly less with those concerning plants or healing.

Thump…thump…thump…eight.

“What in the Bells are you doing?”

Of course he had to appear at that very moment. Raphael, my dearest friend since childhood and the only man I ever had eyes for, leaned in the arched doorway with his arms crossed and one foot over the other. He was the most handsome man at Markhor Academy, the school of magic, with his tall frame and blonde hair that fell around his ears. Eyes like a summer sky were always crinkled with a bright smile that he shared with anyone he met and a straight nose and long eyelashes made it all the better.

Rafi was perfect. His mind, temperament, and skill were as great as anyone could ask for, though I was fairly biased. I was lucky to be his closest friend, earning me glares and resentment from the other women.

There were only two negatives to our friendship. The first was that, while I harbored a very secret infatuation for him, it was one-sided. He trusted me with the details of each relationship and I would offer my sage and honest advice even if it pained me to do so. The second was that his great achievements in the field of magic at the age of twenty made me appear even weaker than I was, outlining why he would never see me as a potential match.

We both had parents of strong lineage and it was thought that we may even have a coveted soul bond prior to our birth as arranged marriages were common among upper class families. However, the soul marks upon our bodies did not match, indicating that we were not meant to be together despite my pining.

There were five main classes of witches and warlocks in the magical kingdom of Gandborin. These included Portalers, Healers, Maganers, Breyers, and Wrights. Each main class had smaller categories or subclasses if the user was less powerful. My father was a true Maganer which meant he had the basic magical ability set and could do minor spells, but his strength was in the powerful manifestation of magic that could be wielded as a weapon or shield. My mother was a true Healer, able to mend and restore anything from broken bones to a shattered mind. More than once I had assisted her while she regrew someone’s limb.

With such parents, they had expected me to be something great. Except, I was not.

I turned from the stacks of volumes and piles of parchment to take in the disaster of my living space. The timber frame ceiling was crowded with drying herbs and plants, while living ones cluttered the shelves and windows where there were not sweet-scented candles, books, extra blankets, mortar and pestles, bowls, and wooden practice figures. Messy as usual, but nothing he had not seen before. At least I had done my laundry that morning.

I sighed, staring at Rafi’s beautiful face, smiling down at my frame hunched over my desk like I was a gift instead of a disaster. “Despairing,” I deadpanned.

“Oh, my dear Clia,” he sighed, strolling forward to tower over me. “You worry too much. Let us go have a drink at the tavern, yes?”

With a loud groan, I turned my chair to face him. “You just want to flirt with Dalia again! How much of that must I watch before you leave me behind?”

Rafi grasped my arm and pulled me out of my seat where I preferred to wallow behind stacks of books. His chuckle was my favorite sound in the world aside from the Gate Bells. “If I go alone, she will suspect me,” he shrugged.

“Do you not want to spend any time at all with your greatest friend before her Testing Day and she is shipped off to a stinking human village?”

This time he laughed, deep and loud, toting me out of the small boarding rooms I shared with three others. Leading me down the hall and into the body of the witch’s wing, he shook me until I stopped hunching over like a troll. He despised when I did not stand up straight, a pet peeve I enjoyed using dramatically. “You will not Test as an Uncertain, Clia. Bells!”

I snorted. “Your faith in me is astounding.”

Whether he believed it or not, my marks were similar to the low-borns and half-humans, embarrassing for both my family and me. It was not for a lack of trying, studying day in and out, pushing myself to exhaustion to complete minor spells, hoping I would get stronger. I was sure he worried about it, too, but refused to say what he really thought.

He was an obvious Breyer or Wright, famous for saving his classmates from an attack by a wayward wraith. Where Breyers could move objects physically, Wrights could manipulate the very matter things were composed of. Rafi had caged the wraith within a thorny wooden fortress and crushed it without anyone getting injured.

Subclasses of Wrights could be elemental like Earth or Fire Wrights, but the most powerful of any class was a Soul Wright. Soul Wrights could change living things which meant that they could change their form to mimic you, make you move against your will, or snuff out your life just by looking at you.

It was the greatest curse to be named a Soul Wright as there was only one living. The High King, ruler of the three kingdoms. King Kinnut rarely left his home unless necessary, though he made it a point to attend the Testing Day every three years as well as the Placing Ceremony for the Shifters at Instinct Academy.

A prophecy had declared that another Soul Wright would be the one to bring Kinnut to his knees one day and he had decreed sole authority over any and all Soul Wrights. Even though I was nearly as weak as a human, I would never need to worry about Testing as a Soul Wright, because they were only male.

There had only been one in my lifetime that I could recall, a Testing Day that I watched as a child. King Kinnut was there, never aging. The young man had been called up, placed his hand beneath the Testing Bell and the Headmistress’ face had paled to a sallow yellow color. She announced him as a Soul Wright and he did not seem a bit surprised as he looked to King Kinnut. I could not hear what was said over my mother and father’s whispering and the murmuring of the crowd around us. I did not understand what was happening, but as I looked from one concerned face to another, a scream pierced the air.

That drew my attention back to the stage immediately and Kinnut’s hand lifting from his side, the graduate exploding into a spray of red mist before him.

I shuddered, hoping I never witnessed another Soul Wright declaration again.

Rafi led the way out of the main hall into the courtyard with all of its beautifully tended flowerbeds, whistling happily. Herbs were grown plentifully alongside the colorful blossoms, worked into the artwork of the likely Earth Wrights and Healers that kept everything blooming and vibrant. Great bushes of lavender lined the walkway past the fountain where a markhor made of light stone and green glass leapt gracefully from one arc of water to another, magically enchanted to dance over the streams forever.

Breathing in the sweet-scented air, laced with mint and sage, and the perfume of a thousand blossoms, I wondered what life would be like once I left the Academy. Indeed, it would be strange to leave the gates and not return to a place that had been my home for the past seven years.

The gray, unpleasant sensation of perturbation returned, coiling me in its snare of negativity. How could I possibly look forward to my future career when it would be undeniably bleak? At best, I would be sent to a human village as their Healer or an apprentice to a true Healer. This would be preferable as I would have some value tending to minor aches and pains, or assist my better in wounds of a higher gravity. At worst, I would struggle to find work and wind up doing menial magical labor like cleaning.

I did not notice that Rafi stopped whistling and retraced his steps to where I had fallen behind.

His large hand curled around my upper arm and shook me once more. “You are slouching again. Enough with your thoughts of doom! Let us celebrate our graduation at least!”

Taking a deep breath, I met his cornflower blue eyes, unable to resist his contagious cheerfulness. I certainly did not want to ruin his good mood or dampen his long and prosperous time at the Academy. After all, he had plenty to celebrate and he deserved it more than anyone else. “Yes, alright,” I relented, standing straight. “Off to see Dalia then.” I elbowed him.

Rafi lifted his shoulder with another grin, unashamed.

Ignoring the familiar twist within my chest, I followed at his side like the loyal, yappy, little dog I was through the yawning wooden gates. They would remain open until sundown, but as residents, we would be able to pass through the surface as though it were water.

I noticed that nobody had bothered to repair the deep gouges on the outer sides where a wolf shifter had scratched and howled trying to get through a week ago. She was in her final year of mandatory schooling and had feared the soul bond and the possibility of being carried far away from her home. Where we carried a mark upon our skin from birth that matched our fated’s, shifters knew in a different way. Needless to say, his loss of control when she ran had scared her senseless and the Headmistress had to organize a safe meeting for them. It was an affront to the Bells to refuse your pairing.

Shivering, I hoped my mark meant that I had a warlock out there to call my own. Humans and shifters did not have physical marks, but that did not mean that a shifter’s mate would not if they were a witch or warlock. My own mark was right over my heart and easy to hide, especially because it was a small and somewhat ugly fern leaf. Rafi’s was sun-shaped, just as he was, glowing from the inside out, and planted on his forearm where I had to see it every day.

I wanted to remind him that Dalia’s did not match either, but held my tongue.

Passing my favorite statue of the famous witch Adsila, vines wrapped tenderly about her body to sprout a large flower in her open palm, I touched my fingers to the cat at her feet, rubbing between his ears where the stone was polished smooth from the same action of thousands of hands. May her strength give me good luck both for tomorrow’s official Test and for tonight’s test of my self-control. If I saw them kissing, I would lose the thin sliver of sanity I had left and likely throttle the stupid girl.

The tavern door of the Merry Mule was open and already the space was crowded. Though the music had not yet become lively enough to warrant clapping and the shouting of lyrics, it had already stirred a rise in volume. Bodies were bumping into each other as waiters weaved expertly through the throngs, carrying platters and trays high above with others floating along behind them.

My mouth watered as the scents of roast meat, butter-slathered bread, fried cheeses, earthy beers and sweet ciders flooded my senses.

The establishment was L-shaped with the official bar and its wall of colorful bottles and glasses at the front and the arm of the building, was for the majority of the seating. Rows of sturdy tables that could each seat six to eight lined either side of a narrow aisle. Over time I had grown to learn where certain groups sat and which areas to avoid, lest I take the seat of someone who could crush me without a second thought. For example in the very back right was the shifter’s table and a handful of burly males sat together after work each day. Shifters were much larger than us and quick to anger, but if one minded their own business, the shifters would mind theirs.

Rafi and I either sat at the bar itself or at one of the smaller tables in the by it near the stairs. It was extra busy this week because of the upcoming Testing Day and all the families had traveled from the three kingdoms to see it. The Inn was already overflowing and even the tavern had opened its space on the second floor for compartmental magic. After all, thousands would attend.

Taking a deep breath, I tried not to think about it.

All the tables and seats were already filled when we entered so I took a spot on one of the large window sills. A waitress recognized me and while she spoke to a family, one of the trays floated over my way. I gratefully took a mug of honey mead from it and muttered thank you, which she would hear even over the din.