Page 4 of Lightningborn

“Yes, ma’am. I know.”

“You are a first-year student,” the headmistress went on, as if Gem hadn’t spoken. “Within these walls, your station and privilege are nonexistent. Your father has already informed me that you are to be instructed and treated like everyone else. Which means you are to abide by the same rules, and are subject to the same punishments, as the rest of the students. I am aware that you had private tutors before you came here, and that your grasp of magic is likely better than the others of your year. But the rules are there for a reason, Gemillia.” Headmistress Idella was getting more and more agitated; the tiny crystals on her desk were starting to vibrate. “Storm magic is volatile and dangerous,” she continued, pointing at Gem with a blue-tinted fingernail, “and first-year students practicing their magic without supervision is a recipe for disaster. The last thing I want is to have to send a letter to your father explaining some terrible accident or catastrophe because you believe you are above following the rules here!”

The shards on her desk trembled, then floated several inches off the surface of the wood. Gem could feel the energy in the room: like the air preceding a storm, heavy and charged with static. Headmistress Idella let out a sigh and snapped her fingers, dispelling the magic and the energy that had built up at her outburst. The crystals spun lazily in the air a moment longer, then drifted slowly back to the desk with soft plinks.

Gem swallowed. One of the second-year students had been taunting her that morning, claiming she was only there because of her father, that she had no real talent for magic. She had to prove him wrong, of course, but she knew she’d be breaking the rules to do it. As her father had told her: “The laws are there for a reason. Not even we can ignore them. If we do break the rules, we have to face the consequences like everyone else.”

“I am ready to face the consequences of my decision, Headmistress,” Gem said, raising her chin a bit. “But there is no clear, stated punishment for practicing magic outside of class hours. The rules only say ‘up to and including expulsion.’ Perhaps if I had a clearer idea of the consequences of breaking the stated rule, I could make more informed choices.”

The headmistress pursed her lips. “You are your father’s daughter, through and through,” she muttered. “Very well. Here is your punishment, and further breaking of the rules will result in more of the same: I want a fifteen-page report on the history and dangers of uncontrolled magic and mages, from the Age of Chaos to the present day. And I want it on my desk by the beginning of next week.”

“Fifteen pages?” Gem nearly choked.

Headmistress Idella smiled. “Oh, don’t worry, there is plenty of information on the subject, enough to fill a whole library. And each time a rule is broken, the number of pages increases by five. Is that clear enough for you,MissGallecia?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gem said, a bit faintly.

“Excellent.” Headmistress Idella leaned back in her chair, looking satisfied. “You may return to your dorm. Classes are over for the day, but I suggest you get started on that report. You have a lot of ground to cover.”

Feeling a bit numb, Gem slipped out of the office into the hallway. The elegant blue-and-gold carpets, paneled walls, and large oil paintings of famous mages greeted her as she stepped through the door, still wincing over what she had to do.

A face peered around the corner at the end of the hall, a lanky boy her own age with short brown hair that had a spot of white in it, unfortunately in the exact center of his forehead. His name was Lutos, but some of the older students had started calling him Lighthouse, and the nickname stuck.

“Gem.” Lighthouse waved at her, still from around the corner.

Gem rolled her eyes. “You can come closer, you know. The headmistress isn’t going to pop out and eat you.”

“Don’t say that too loudly.” Lighthouse sidled into the hall and walked up to her, keeping a wary eye on the door she had just come through. He was, understandably, terrified of the headmistress, but then again, most first-years were.

Gem was not.

“Did you get expelled?” Lighthouse asked, his eyes wide as he stared at her. “I told you just to ignore Petor. He’s like that to everyone.”

“No, I didn’t get expelled.” Gem snorted. “I just have to write a report on the dangers of uncontrolled magic. Not so bad. And Petor is a jerk. I would do it again if I had to.”

“Wow.” Lighthouse’s voice was awed, and just the tiniest bit jealous. “Lucky you. I guess even Headmistress is scared of your dad.”

Gem’s irritation flared. No matter where she went, it seemed people only saw her as her father’s daughter. Never her. Never just Gem.

“Regardless,” she sighed, and started down the hall. “I need to go to the library to get books for this report. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

But Lighthouse shrugged and fell into step beside her. “I have nothing else to do anyway.”

They walked down the long corridors of the College of Magic, passing other students, staff, and teachers in the halls. Most of the students were dressed like Gem and Lighthouse: in identical black trousers, leather boots, and dark blue tunics with billowy sleeves. Though you could easily tell what year they were by the amount of silver embroidery on their tunic. First-year uniforms were plain and unmarked, while fourth-year students had elegant swirling filigree lining their shoulders and trimming their sleeves. So the older you were, the fancier your uniform became. Gem rather liked her plain blue tunic; none of the teachers wore elaborate finery except Mage Opus, but he was over-the-top to begin with.

There were very few senior students in this part of the college; the third- and fourth-years had their own dorms on the other side of the yard, while the first- and second-years were lumped together in rooms off the main building. Gem would sometimes see flashes of light or bursts of energy from the senior side of the college, and she wondered if the older students had to follow the no-magic-outside-of-class rule.

“Hey, did you hear?” Lighthouse asked, pushing open the door of the building, wincing a moment as bright sunlight flooded in. “High Mage Alaric is leaving the college.”

Gem frowned. High Mage Alaric was one of the central figures of the college, a tall mage with a hooked nose and white hair that stuck out in every direction. He was viewed as one of the most powerful figures in the college for his impressive control of storm energy. When a student reached the point where they were shooting strands of blue lightning from their fingers, you could be sure Alaric was their teacher.

“Why?” she asked.

Lighthouse shrugged. “I don’t know. No one will say, but the third- and fourth-years are really unhappy about it.”

Interesting. That was the second mage to leave the college in a single week. The first had been High Mage Elina, the Levitation teacher. Gem remembered the evening she left. Everyone had been in the dining hall, having dinner. The teachers and staff, of course, had their own table near the back of the room, and it had seemed like a perfectly normal end of the day.

Gem remembered seeing the doors open and a messenger slip into the room. She noticed him immediately because he wore the uniform of the royal couriers, and for a moment, she was afraid he had come for her. Perhaps her father had sent him. Perhaps he had changed his mind about her attending mage college and was ordering her home. But the messenger spotted the teachers’ table and immediately started heading in that direction, much to Gem’s relief.

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