Thread:Biana&Tam/@comment-34064772-20180501022522

'''Ch. I: Can’t A Guy Study For Exams Without Being Told He “Has To Go Save The World?”'''

'''I was brought back into consciousness by a sharp kick in my left leg. I winced at the sudden brightness and attempted to blink the sleep out of my eyes. I looked over to my right and saw my best friend, Annaliese. “‘Sup, Lisa?”, I say groggily.'''

'''“Idiot”, she hissed. Adorable, isn't she? So sweet. So kind. “Salsugon has something to say.”'''

'''I look to the front of the room where Professor Salsugon is. She stands at a mere 150 centimetres but was stern enough to keep a classroom of angsty teenagers in line. She made a habit of barking lectures in the ears of semiconscious students to ensure their attention was on her teachings. Not that anyone actually cared though. '''

'''I mean, yeah, 'ooh you’ll fail', but there are worse things that could happen. Also, it's English literature; there’s not much to be taught and most of us won't even take this to A-levels or Sixth form.'''

'''I had just started to pay attention—mostly—when I heard the alarm. Every few months we had emergency drills to, you know, prepare us for emergencies. Professor Salsugon cuts off her lecture (about the importance of the GCSEs, the study-guide that can be found online, etc., ) and looks right at me. There’s something not human about the way her eyes take in my expression and the way her mouth curves, leaving her vicious yellow teeth on display. '''

'''“Class, settle down. Out to the courtyard like we practised,” she said abnormally sweetly. No one listened. Obviously. The most dramatic girl in our class, Rachel, shrieked. Hunter’s goons stared stupidly while Hunter himself reached into his backpack for his phone to complain to his father. Everyone else started running around screaming in the general vicinity of the courtyard. '''

'''I, however, looked to Annaliese, who appeared rather distraught and murmured incoherently to herself. She finally spoke clearly to me. “Let's go,” she ordered softly. The steel in her ultramarine eyes told me not to question her. '''

'''We bolted out of the classroom, Annaliese in front and me at her heels. We sprinted down the tower where classes were held and across the school grounds. We kept running. I wanted to ask where she was leading me until she stopped at the park where we’d first met. I remembered that day fondly: the day when a dark-haired girl in a navy dress approached the boy who had just lost his tooth in a tree. The tree still stood, and I could see where we had carved our names into the bark; her neat and looped script above my messy scrawl.'''

'''“Blaise,” Annaliese began, slightly breathless, “We have to go. It’s not safe for you here. I don’t know how to explain it to you, but you’re not human. Nor am I.”'''

'''I grinned and chuckled. “You’re joking.”'''

'''“No, I’m not, Blaise. I’m serious,” her eyes welled with tears and her voice strained. “Could a human do this?” She waved her hand and the autumn leaves that had fallen rose and swirled around for a moment. I looked at her, scrutinising her face until she herself floated a few centimetres above the grass. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. '''

'''“Okay fine, you’re some crazy airbending witch, but what about me? I can’t fly or move stuff with a thought,” I argued, daring her to contradict me. '''

'''Lisa winced at the mention of witches. “I’m not a witch, those are different, but yes. You can do this. And more. Your family name is Alemaund, right? That’s not your adoptive parents’ name. You already knew this, but it’s your real parents’ name. It means ‘master of elements’ in our language. It was the trait your family held; they could master all four elements and manipulate them at will. For this, they were the most dangerous of all of us, the Sagani.”'''

'''I burst out laughing, I couldn’t help it. My best friend since forever, the most down to earth person I know, tells me with a straight face that I’m not human, that I’m a Carl Sagan or something.'''

'''“Try focusing on your hands. Feel the bitter cold of wind biting your skin. Still focusing on it, try and grasp the wind. Feel it become tangible in your hands. Can you do that?” The wind was whipping her hair across her face and the dryness let the tears that had threatened to fall, fall. '''

'''I do as she asks. For a moment, I consider calling the police and tell them she’s insane, but, strangely, I trust her. I close my eyes, feel the wind, and whirl it into a staff. I stare blankly at the barely-there outline of the staff. It was a rather plain pole, but it was enveloped in swirling vine-like coils.'''  