C1 Chapter 1: Sorcerers Library

Located at the epicenter of Massa, nestled in between two tall structures I slowly walked into the ruins of the mage library looking down at the notecard my father gave me.

The blue arrow pointing me to this desolate spot finally started glowing, its brilliance signaling that I had arrived at my destination.

The silver veil of magic seemed very powerful as normal citizens were unable to see and enter the library.

I was finally permitted by my father the Duke of Massa (one of the most powerful sorcerers in Privell Kingdom) and the Sorcerer Academy to pick up the books that would further my education for the next five years.

As I sauntered in through the rotted oak doors, I was expecting the decrepit building to be halfway destroyed wondering where I would even find the necessary books for the academy.

I walked through the veil with little resistance and immediately had to shut my eyes. Gold gilded crown molding on whitewashed walls, very little furniture in the room except a few mahogany desks on either side of the room. Gold-plated frames decorated every wall with pictures of famous cultivators, royalty, and the most powerful sorcerers in the last millennium blinded my sight. My vision slowly adjusted as I rubbed my eyes, thinking this was a dream. ‘Not even the palace has this kind of stature.’

Three separate rooms appeared as I passed the hallway. Each room had an adorned glowing sign above the entrance and what looked like another silver veil of magic to keep people in the station assigned. I could feel the heat radiating from this silver obstruction as I stepped into the main lobby.

The left room was for sword cultivators, the middle room was for magic cultivators, and the right was for body cultivators.

I was taught the sword at an early age and was quite proficient with a sword or saber, but unable to harness the necessary energy required to be an expert sword cultivator.

I looked to the right door and flinched suddenly, reminiscing how my father would beat me regularly with a cane or use his magic to see if I possessed any inclination to protect my body. However, I was unable to handle the multiple bruises and scars that a body cultivator could easily endure. I winced again just thinking of the daily floggings I received when I turned 13. The punishments finally stopped after just a few weeks when my bruises healed magically.

My father, completely elated, yelled out “You’re a sorcerer just like me.” To be sure, I was tested thoroughly by diviners, who confirmed my father’s best wishes for my future.

Knowing I was short on time, I walked briskly into the room for Magic. As I ambled into the lobby area of the magic room, I looked up and was astonished to find seven floors, each floor had a veil of bright white magic to restrict the uneducated.

This building was odd in another way besides being a secret treasure trove of archaic knowledge, it was the one area where slaves were not allowed.

I was truly thankful. I am proud to be from Massa and will always call it my home, but my nation is amongst the most prolific Slavers. They have procured and peddled every creed and color with their only consideration being the gold they could make with no care or concern for their charges.

I was gawking at the upper levels when a man nearly fifty years of age came up to me abruptly and asked me what I was looking at. “I’m looking at all the décor and trying to figure out how many books and floors are in such a small building.” Is all I could retort still aghast at the size and spectrum of this amazing building.

The man smirked, let out a small laugh, and pointed to the wall and a small shelf that had nine books. “New blood I see, this is your area, and don’t wander off. The introductory volumes will be on that shelf.

You can also go up to the first floor and pick one tome per magic core.

"My primary core is healing, and my minor cores are Arcane and Fire," I exclaimed as I shuffled my way to the shelf with the fewest books. The elder gave me a quizzical look which I noticed. A look that I was extremely used to.

It was rare to have a double-core talent and was already extraordinary but to have a triple-core talent was unheard of. Also, to have healing magic as a primary was beyond exceptional and exceedingly unique.

“In the future, we will expect great things from you, sir.” He whispered with a mysterious grin before fleeting off to the upper floors.

I smacked my head to scold myself. I was not supposed to say anything about Healing magic as a primary. I was punished by rod and cane a few times this year by my father for letting out that information, but I healed within a few minutes. I picked up the rough volumes one by one, examining each book briefly before putting them into my satchel.

The first book, a dark red, almost blood-red volume ‘Magic Conquers All’ is a volume of transitory history of magic that is replaced every five years. I felt this book was less than worthless since I was told for a long time by my father that history is written by the victors. How are people supposed to learn from their mistakes if only one side of the story is written and believed? Who, what and why are the most important questions to always ask in history. I remember causing my tutor's many headaches by asking those very simple questions.

Who started the Magnus wars, why was the war started in the first place, and what was the main objective achieved from every war before and afterward?

The second manuscript was lighter and dark as night ‘Sorcerer Basics’. I was excited to dive into this book and master my arcane core and fire core.

My innate arcane magic was limited but still powerful. I could listen from approximately fifty feet, even through walls and doors. I could hide myself in shadow but only for a few seconds.

My fire core was my weakest core magic, I could heat a tiny area of a room and make sparks from my fingertips sadly with little control. I’m glad my father taught me how to extinguish a burning flame so I wouldn’t destroy the villa. It was a costly mistake a few times as I burned down a few cottages trying to control my magic.

Healing was my favorite not only because my magic didn’t hurt anyone but, because it could be used to help people in dire need. I was pleased that my most powerful core was curative magic. Yet everyone I conversed with about healing magic said it’s the most dangerous and then would direct the conversation to lighter topics, even my father would change the topic.

My father never shied away from a battle whether it be physical, or verbal, and usually always won except when we talked about my primary healing core or my mother. He refused to talk to me about anything for weeks when the subject was brought up.

The last volume I picked up was a simple green book, simple yet heavy ‘Imbuing Magic’. I looked at the first few brown pages with crude drawings of ice swords and fire whips with archaic writing underneath each illustration.

I shoved the last book into my satchel and looked at the shelf to see if there were any more volumes I missed.

Nine books were on the shelf when I approached it, three of the same volumes split up into three dividers, which led me to believe only three sorcerers were allowed to train from Massa.

I was about to walk out of the library when I looked up at the other floors remembering I still had to pick one tome for each of my cores.

I knew I was running late, and my father would be displeased if we missed our transportation to the capital. I made my way up the winding stairs and found it difficult to reach the last step. I used the magic power within my core to push back against the barrier that was halting my progression.

With a slight push of arcane magic, I was escalated up the stairs. It felt like a big cold hand grabbed me by the waist and pulled me with sheer force.

I searched each aisle for what I needed as quickly as possible. I grabbed the first tome off the Fire shelf hoping it was a suitable volume for a beginner ‘The Fire Within Us’ and put it into my satchel instantly without reading anything from it. Stupid I know, but I was rushed and thinking fire is my weakest core. Something that I would rarely use.

I went to the Arcane section which had over three hundred books. I didn’t have time to peruse every book, so I quickly grabbed the oldest-looking tome I could find. ‘Arcane Arts’ the book was falling apart so I carefully placed the tome on top of the others.

I tried to grab another Arcane volume quickly as I left and was removed from the section by a powerful yet unseen force before grasping the spine of another tome. I guess the rule of getting only one book was finite.

I looked through the other aisles until I crossed the threshold of the last aisle Healing, the subject I was planning on spending the most time perusing. I leapt into the aisle so excited only to be distraught as I looked around.

A single book on the subject was placed on the shelf a ratty crimson petite book ‘Traditional Magic Spells for Protection and Healing’. I was beyond perturbed. There had to be some kind of conspiracy on healing magic.

I felt someone was not giving me the answers I needed to understand my magic. I would get all the answers I needed at the academy, hopefully.

As I left the aisle frustrated a force beyond my control or understanding pushed me down the stairs, out the lobby, and out onto the cobblestone street. It wasn’t wind or air magic. I couldn’t feel any magic around me as it guided me out of the building.