Chapter Text
Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten- G. K. Chesterton
The room was a vast cavern, a dense forest of spires glass and masonry lay splayed before them, none of which muffled the echoes of their footsteps. Even the scores of armoured men surrounding them appeared dwarfed in the space, where the wind howled and sapped the heat from the stone. None of the children had said a word since they entered the room, the sudden shock of so cold and cavernous a room with the presence of several dozen armed fully-grown men had sapped their talent for conversation.
After a full minute of frightened silence, the armoured men stood aside to admit an old man. His hair and beard were long, if a little unkempt, and he stood almost as tall as the men surrounding him. Despite this, his smile was kind, even if his eyes were weary. He looked at the audience of children, a motely group of five and six year olds, and cleared his throat.
“Welcome,” he said in a gentle voice, “To the Circle of Magi. I will not speak for long, save to say that I am very glad to meet you all. I am First Enchanter Irving, and if any of you have any problems in your first weeks, you must tell me, so that I may fix it immediately. These men are Templars, and their job is to protect you and look after you, so I must ask that you respect their wishes and endeavour to follow their commands. I can see that many of you are close to falling asleep standing up, so let’s get you to bed. Follow the signs to the apprentice dormitories, and you will find a bunk bed with your names on it in short order. Come along.”
The small crowd needed little encouragement to leave the room, or the Templars, and they followed Irving closely out of the room. As they entered one of the many corridors that circled the tower, many began conversing, growing louder and more confidant as they progressed through the tower. By the time they had reached the apprentice chambers, nearly all of the group were chattering, to the point where an irate voice yelled at them through one of the adjacent rooms to be quiet. The irate voice was quickly silenced when Irving calmly walked into the room, and the children took the opportunity to find their beds. By the time Irving returned, everyone had claimed their own space, and some had even fallen asleep. Irving was about to leave them in peace, when something caught at the edge of his vision. Turning around to see what it was, he saw a little girl had curled into a ball besides the doorway, staring ahead at the beds. A closer examination revealed that she was Elven, her short hair only accentuated her long ears. As quietly as he could, Irving sank to the floor to sit beside her. When she turned to look at him he nodded once, as if crouching to the floor next to young Elves was a casual occurrence for him. After a few moments of silence, Irving said quietly:
“You appear somewhat lost child.”
The girl nodded once, face carefully kept still.
“Natural. Perfectly natural,” Irving said in the same quiet tone. “I assume you come from an Alienage, judging by the lack of Vallaslin.”
The girl nodded again, her rigid face not giving an inch.
“And so,” Irving said slowly, “and pardon for the question, but are you able to read child?
The little girl didn’t answer, but she was obviously holding back a well of tears. She eventually managed to shake her head slightly.
“I see,” Irving said, “Well that’s alright. Few here are able to read comprehensively, they only know what their name looks like. I shall help you find your bed for now. What was your name?”
The little girl breathed deeply a few times, trying to force down the tears that threatened to burst out, then croaked:
“Holly.”
“Holly,” Irving repeated, standing up as he did so, “Well Holly, I think we shall find your bed in very short order. Come with me.”
He held out his hand, but holly did not take it. She did rise however, and followed him across the room. Irving noted that she had no bags with her, and that her clothes looked, for want of a better word, worn in.
“Here we are,” Irving said quietly, trying to avoid waking the other apprentices, “This is yours. You may sleep for as long as you like, newly arrived mages are given three days rest before they begin lessons.”
“Thank you m’lord,” Holly said, eyes fixed on the bed.
Irving chuckled, and knelt down to her eye level,
“No Mage is addressed as a lord Holly. You may call me Irving, or First Enchanter, whichever is most suitable at the time.”
“Okay,” Holly said with a nod. “Thank you First Enchanter.”
Irving nodded, and began to walk away.
“First Enchanter,” Holly called.
Irving turned to face her, only to see a bowed head. He waited for a few moments, and she continued;
“Is there any way to take out my magic? I don’t want…” she trailed off, and bowed her head again, tears streaming down her face.
Irving did not say anything straightaway, he merely looked at her with an expression that could not be named. Then he slowly walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Child, there is nothing that could remove your magic.” He said simply.
He was lying, but the truth was hardly something that could comfort a little girl who was desperately afraid. Not this time at least.
“I know some of what you feel, that your family is lost to you forever, that you have been consigned to a life you were never able to choose, and that it is your magic that has condemned you.”
Holly looked up at him, unconcerned with the tears running down her face.
“Try not to look so shocked,” Irving said with a very faint smile, “I did not arrive at the circle fully grown and bearded. Your abilities do mark you as different, but in time you can develop them and train yourself until you become extraordinary. Fear is your enemy, not your magic.”
Holly wiped her nose, and nodded shakily. Irving guided her to her bed.
“In time you will make friends, and perhaps they shall become a new family of sorts. The Circle of Magic will always be your home, and I for one, welcome you here.”
Holly stared at him for a moment, then gave the tiniest of smiles.
“Goodnight child,” Irving stood up to leave, “I see great things in your future.”
It was only when he had left, and the silence of twenty three children sleeping settled over the room that Holly felt safe enough to bury her face in her pillow, and begin sobbing.