Daydreamkitten

The dark elf looked at the group, a smile on her face. “My, but we have an excellent group of young minds this year. I can’t wait to see what you do.” She gestured toward the blocky building behind her, and the group began its migration into the admissions building.

Michael stood for a moment, looking at the complex and the elven woman before he felt a small tap on his thigh. He looked down, seeing a face with large, violet eyes and shoulder-length pink hair looking back at him, her face framed by large, pointed ears with multiple hoops and crosses dangling from them. She was wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretched around her modest chest, emblazoned with “Super/Natural” in red letters on the front, and torn black jeans.

Whether those were a choice or she just couldn’t get new pants was anyone’s guess.

She pointed at the group. “You don’t want to be left behind.” Her face didn’t betray much emotion, and he couldn’t blame her.

He looked up, seeing the group heading in, the woman waiting patiently. “Right. Thanks.” He smiled, offering his hand, “Michael. Mike to friends.”

She looked at him, at his hand, then smirked. “Heather.” She answers, taking the hand. Her fingers ended in long, black claws, and on her wrists were an array of bracelets full of beads and charms.

He gestured towards the building. “Shall we, Heather?”

With a smile, they walked toward the building, much to the evident pleasure of the admissions advisor.

They entered the building through a glass door.

The  room they entered was long and rectangular, with large windows that let the morning sun in. To the left was a large lounge area, a coffee shop, and a library. To the right was a food court. In the center, a large, C shaped desk, behind which sat a few receptionists, staring at small standing mirrors with wooden frames, text and images flashing across the glass. The receptionists pointed the new students toward a wide-open double door behind them, a large sign reading “intake” next to it.

Behind the door was a multipurpose room. Curved seats lined the side closest to the door, each one slightly higher in a stair-step pattern, each with its own desk. The focus of the room was a raised platform carved with a permanent magic circle. At the edge of the circle, inside its own, was an altar, and on that altar is a crystal ball. 

On the stage stood a tall high-elf woman in long white robes with gold edging. Her eyes were of a deep blue, her hair long and platinum, her ears sharply pointed and lobeless. She had a staff in her left hand, capped with a large gem and slowly shifting colors. In her left, she held a scroll.

A softly murmuring crowd of students gathered in front of the stage, looking at the circle, the altar, and the woman. The woman stepped forward, her staff thunking on the ground, and smiled down at them.

“Welcome, believers and future believers. I am Lady Cecilia, a priestess of the Light. Here, on your first day of adulthood, your future will be decided according to the Light’s needs, and together, we will make the future a better place. I am here to oversee.” She held up the scroll. It unrolled, levitating gently in front of her “When I call your name, touch the Altar of Fate and be placed.”

The tension mounted as she spoke. This was not because they were wowed they would not be accepted; no, it was about where they were going. Each student would be trained based on their strengths and weaknesses.

He looked down at his goblin friend. She had hope in her large, violet eyes.

“What are you hoping for?”

She looked at him. “That’s personal.”

He shrugged.

One by one, their names were called. They stepped up to the stage and were guided to the altar, laying their hands on the crystal ball. It lit up, and something flashed in front of their eyes. Each walked away looking satisfied, disappointed, indifferent.

Finally, it was Heather’s turn. She approached the altar, slightly taller than she was. Her green hand reached up, tentatively closed, then touched it. It flared to life. Her eyes danced across an invisible screen, and she grinned, baring sharp teeth. She practically skipped down from the stage.

“I take it you got it?”

She nodded.

“Good job.” He smiles, reaching out and laying a hand on her head.

She leans into it for just a moment before slapping his hand away, looking at him. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He raises his hands in surrender, still smiling.

“Michael Hunter.”

He went up to the altar, placing his hand on the crystal. It flashes.

Intuition: S

Logic: D

Spirit: A

Magic: Null

Strength: C 

Endurance: B

Reading those scores, he knew. This was the end. He could feel the tears start to form in his eyes. He walked off the stage, trying not to look as heartbroken as he felt. He walked past the crowd, ignoring them.

Walking out of the building, he went to an out-of-the-way bench and quietly wept.  

***

The ride home was long and quiet. He got on the transport and rode that wooden ship through the sky, watching the forest pass through the porthole by his seat. It didn’t seem nearly as enchanting this time. Heather was absent; she was taking a different route back to her clan.

When they arrived, Michael disembarked from the ramp, trudged his way along the stone path to the front door, and entered through the front. He walked past the living room, where his father, David, and his stepsister, Angela, looked up from their conversation. The enchanted mirror behind them displayed a dwarf crouched over a murdered pixie about to make a very inappropriate pun.

Father looked up from beneath shaggy brown hair, peering at him through brown eyes. He was a large man; broad of shoulder, arm, and build. Everything about him spoke of a past muscularity that had long since softened, leaving him with a round belly and arms the size of tree trunks.  He was wearing slacks and a polo shirt.

His older sister was the opposite; taller than him, skinny, with long, curly, strawberry blond hair, she had green eyes and was covered head to toe in freckles. She was wearing a pale green dress that came down to her ankles. She smiled upon seeing him, her eyes sparkling, but that quickly faded after seeing the look of melancholy on his face.

“How’d it go?” His dad asked, the concern apparent in his voice. 

Michael didn’t answer, walking up the stairs and to his room, collapsin on the bed.

After a few minutes, there was a quiet knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

The voice was Angela’s. When he didn’t answer, she let herself in.

When she entered, she found him face down on the bed. He didn’t acknowledge her, though he surely knew she was there. She laid down next to him, putting an arm across his back. She didn’t say anything. Nor did Michael, feeling the warmth and comfort of his older sister. After a time, he put an arm across her, pulling her close and enjoying her company.

“What happened?” she asked, looking at him.

“Failed.”

She frowned, stroking his hair like she had been doing for years. He turned, looking at her, their faces almost touching. His eyes were red-rimmed and moist, but he wasn’t crying.

“What can I do?” She asked, finally.

He shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do. I can’t either. Only thing we can do is keep trying.”

She nodded. They lay there for some time, just enjoying the moment.

Author’s notes:

How about that stepsister, eh?

Around this point, I made a few changes. Like, yes, the ship being wood.

In the following chapters, things will change because I started outlining more. I have a better grasp of the story, and I hope you will stick around for it.

Next episode: We will be getting to know Angela and talking more to le dryad, and you will finally get to know her name and how she ties into the story, yay!

Michael Hunter woke up groggy as the newly-risen sun cut its way through his bedroom, slanting through the large window at the base of his bed. The house was quiet; his parents weren’t awake yet, and that was how he liked it. He laid down in the bed for a moment, enjoying the quiet before he tossed off the covers and sat up, emerging in his boxers and getting dressed in a pair of cargo pants and a black tee shirt.

Before leaving the room, he approached the shelf, examining it. The collection was mostly medical and magic related: charts and discussions of human and non-human anatomy, books of glyphs and runes, and tomes of healing magic and medicinal herbs. There were, however, a few small paperback novels, all stored in one small corner. He selected one, pulling it out and pushing it into his voluminous pocket.

Prepared, he went to the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he hummed a quiet song. His reflection hummed along with him, peering out through brown eyes at a sharp, scruffy face with messy black hair. He leaned down, spit, and rinsed before heading downstairs and making himself two breakfast sandwiches, wrapping them and putting them in a cooler before carrying it out the back door to the carport.

In the carport, a truck waited, a deep trailer with a large toolbox already hitched to the rear. He hopped in, driving it toward a squat building with a garage door. Stopping in front of it, he ran his finger along a rune carved into the dashboard. It glowed and the door opened.

On one side of the room were strange-looking saddles and bridles. On the other, a wall with a row of aluminum doors, all latched shut with levers. It is to one of these doors that he went, pulling the lever and opening the thick metal doors, allowing a thin layer of fog and cold air in. Inside, butchered cattle hung from hooks; purchases from the surrounding ranchers. One at a time, he took two of them to the trailer, throwing them in with practiced ease. Opening the back door, he drove out into a small pen, the garage door closing behind him before continuing through another gate into a large pasture.

The pasture seemed to stretch on forever, spotted with small man-made lakes and woodlands that grew wild on the north side, surrounded by 5 foot fences. In the pasture, across the rolling hills and the occasional small tree. Strange creatures seemed to flow toward him, coming to a stop a short distance away, surrounding the gate.

Land drakes were tall, lizard-like creatures that roamed in packs, following a pack leader who differed from the rest by having a tall, white feathered frill. They constantly fought for that coveted position; and when they got it, the feathers grew in by a mana-induced mutation. Around 7 feet tall, with long lackey forearms and webbed wings capable of gliding, they were raised as steeds. As a type of sub-dragon, they also produced mana; an essential trait in a world that used it as a primary energy source.

Michael drove into the larger pasture, the pack of drakes following him closely, easily keeping up with the bouncing vehicle. Occasionally, one would try to snag a piece from the bed of the truck, but the leader would snap at him. He stopped when they reached the rusty trough in the center of the pasture, before he pulled the carcasses out and put them in. They waited with seeming patience, but he knew the moment he left there would be a feeding frenzy as the magical beasts fought over the best cuts.

He didn’t head home; rather, he headed toward the woods, parking beneath the shade of an unusually large pear tree, unbuckling and stepping out of the oversized vehicle.

As he stepped out, a woman emerged from the trunk of the lone pear tree. Like all dryads, she was completely nude. Her body was full-figured, with long white hair, pale green eyes, and full yellow lips. Her large chest was topped with pale nipples. And she hid none of it.

When he was a child, he hadn’t noticed. When he became a teen, it was a distraction. Now he was use to it.

“Hey Mikey.”

He sighs to himself, but there is a smile on his face. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“That’s not true,” she smiles, “I call you that.” She leans in close, looking him in the eyes. “Did you bring it?”

“Of course,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling the book.

It’s thick, softcover novel. The cover displayed a red headed woman with an unrealistic bust in negligee with her long legs wrapped around a dark black tentacle in her moonlit bedroom. The title, “Eldritch Love” by Rose Doomcleaver, was emblazoned in oversized gold lettering.

She reaches out, taking the book. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” He shuddered, laughing.

“Aw, why not?” She pouts, then her face splits into a grin.

“It’s weird.” He answered. “I would never live it down.”

“Is this a weird human thing? They say it all the time in the books.” She smiled, turning and walking toward the base of her tree.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” He mutters quietly, following her.

He followed her, pulling out a small cooler from the passenger seat and joining her, leaning against the tree with food in hand, quietly eating for a moment before she spoke.

“So, how are you?”

“It’s the Turning Day. Today, I am officially an adult.”

She grinned. “Is that so? Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He replied, taking a bite out of the cockatrice egg sandwich, the red-tinged yolk slightly runny. “It means I have to take my aptitude test.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Not really. I have been studying.”

“You’ll make it. I don’t know anyone as good with magical beasts as you. They love you.”

“You can’t even leave your tree.” He answered with a smirk. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Trees talk.” She shrugged. “And even if you fail, I’m sure things will be fine.” She answered, pulling him in close in an awkward hug.

He paused for a moment, letting the stress melt into her before sitting up. “Thanks.”

She smiled.

The rest of his time was spent talking; about the future, about his studies and taking care of the magical beasts. Afterwards, he gave her a hug goodbye, during which she gave him a kiss on the forehead before returning to her tree. He got back into the vehicle, drove it back home, parked and cleaned it before feeding the dwarf cockatrice. He went inside, changed into a white button-down shirt and jeans, put on his shoes, and walked out into the front yard.

Outside, in front of the house, there was a large concrete block; inside that block was carved a magic circle, beside which was a small panel on a post with a single button. He pushed the button, completing the mana circuit and causing the circle to glow, sending out a signal to let the transport know there was a passenger waiting.

The craft was a small, windowed tube with wings. Along the outside, various runes glowed, flowing around the vehicle. It lifted off after he boarded, heading away from the ranch and toward the distant city..

Inside, the air felt oppressive. These things were alway crowded, often standing-room only. Today, it was filmed to the brim with passengers around his own age, mostly human but some elves and a pink-haired goblin who stood in the back, trying her best not to be noticed. Occasionally faces would wrinkle in disgust as they saw her.

Michael stood hanging from a dangling handle and looking nervously out the window. Below him, the world stretch in a panorama, a patchwork quilt of woodlands cut through by those brave should willing to eek out a living far from the city.

Florin itself stood out in the distance. There were multiple rings, reinforced and enchanted; the unprotected slums on the outside, and getting more affluent the further in you wentt, with the center being a skyscraper that stuck out like an axle on a wheel. Six roads radiated out, passing through various gates. One of those lead to a landing pad, which is where he was headed.

The shuttle continued into the city, passing through spiraled gates that resembled camera shutters. Everyone felt a slight tingle as they passed through the barrier, scanning their aural signatures as well as the chips implanted in their skin; no one reacted, continuing whatever it was they were doing as they passed into the city proper, passing along the skyways, passing over and around the tall buildings of the residential area of the outer outer ring.

When they finally landed, it was at the university. The landing pad was one of many, a large runes circle with a line that connected to a small, central place. In the enter of the plaza was a bronze statue on a pedestal of the founder of the company, and therefore the city. An unimpressive looking man, he was tall, skinny man in a business suit with a wizard hat on top of his head, complete with stars and moons. With one arm crossed across his chest, he held an accounting book; with the other, he adjusted tiny reading glasses. The plaque at the base read “Mark Florin”.

Surrounding the outer courtyard were five large, pale, blocky buildings, lined with glass windows. He knew from what he had read that each served to teach a myriad of subjects, including one specializing in magic. Students and teachers of various races, mostly human, wandered the premises, as well as contacted gargoyles on patrol, some gliding and some walking on four legs or two.

As the shuttle lifted once again into the air, they were approached by an elvish woman wearing a sharp business skirt, the tan color and white skirt going well with her pale blue skin. She looked at them through ominous pitch-black eyes, her lips curved up in a not-so-ominous grin.

“Welcome to Florin University. I am Mandy, and I am in charge of admissions. If you’ll follow me, we need to perform some tests, and then we will do what we can to make your dreams come true.”

Hi there folks. It’s me, Hairthulhu! You might not know my name, but maybe you should. I certainly hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

This didn’t have a lot of interaction, but that wasn’t its purpose. It is here to introduce you to the world. How did I do?

I like mixing fantasy and sci-fi, so you can look forward to a lot of that.

Next chapter has to do with his testing, the new students, and some disappointments. Gonna be a good time.

If you like what I write, share is with your friends! If you hate it, share it with your enemies!