A chorus of alarmed, frightened, and angered people erupted within the assembly hall. The assembly hall was a massive chamber, with daunting columns spiraling upwards, supporting the bowing arch above, and marble pillars intricately carved with numerous etchings, even embellished with jewels. Balconies framed the walls, swelled with countless individuals who stared with hungry, venomous eyes. They were here to witness, though they craved nothing more than blood. Statue-esque dragons mounted the sprawling stage, one for each housemother. They too stared with eyes—far too lifelike to put someone at ease. Multitudes of benches lined the flanks of the hall; many people lined them, staring with growing curiosity toward the front of the aisles. Upon the stage lay a wheel, specifically brandished for such an occasion. Numerous gruesome punishments, none of which were welcome, marked each potential landing. A girl stood near the first bench, surrounded by a striking row of guards. Silver cuffs aggressively gripped her slender arms, and a muzzle-like contraption muffled her mouth. Swiping her lilac eyes around the room, she took in her situation all too well, and despite appearing no older than eighteen, she found herself in a difficult situation.
"Everyone, silence," echoed a truly intimidating feminine voice, her voice reaching all ears, obviously using some sort of verbal-enhancing magic.
"We are all gathered here to decide adequate punishment for Anastas Makial, accused of murdering six B-class wizards." One could hear a variety of startled gasps, with many eyes searching for the spoken individual who, like some servers, remained in the booths. She showed no signs of fear, nor did she flinch at the mention of her name; instead, she gazed boldly ahead, a hint of meekness evident on her face. Although it would have been futile, she didn't try to escape. Anastas, the petite mage with the lilac eyes, firmly kept her gaze upon the wheel that had yet to move. She was eagerly anticipating the end of this, her thoughts spinning despite her overwhelming calmness. I did this. She mentally owned to her deed, waiting for the wheel to begin its taunting pirouette. Finally, the wheel began to churn, the wood groaning and uttering click after click as the tapered arrow nicked the edge of the bar. It spun fiercely, showing no signs of stopping; purple eyes gazed upon it, patiently waiting for it to halt and deliver her fate. Perhaps if she was lucky, she would stumble upon Polymorph, and she would live her life as a mindless beast, but some would argue death would be far more merciful. The taunting click slowly echoed, approaching its end. A faint bead of sweat sat precariously atop her brow, pupils constricting while she witnessed it teeter upon the final peg. Before it flicked towards the fated label, wisps of light scorched the watcher's eyes. A blinding image, likely created with illusionary magic, blinks a vivid name in place of the wheel. Gripped with true puzzlement—anxiety nipping at her—Anastas could only gawk in confusion. The name was "Scarlet Flamelash," with the title flashing continuously.
The audience also mirrored the unexpected event, with a surge of gasps piercing the throats of almost everyone present; the same colors fluctuated in and out, echoing the name. Anastas quickly swung her head around, desperately attempting to comprehend the significance of this, but her confusion paralyzed her as the guards ushered her to the foot of the stage. She almost toppled to the ground, her legs proving unable to support her, but the guards firmly gripped her shoulders in place, forcing her to stare at the double-doored entrance toward the back of the assembly. Anastas blinked rapidly, almost unaware that the cuffs no longer clamped her wrists in their merciless jaws, freeing her lips from the binding muzzle. Pale lavender iris gaped forward, firmly staring in the direction of the doors.
"I-it was bought out!" choked out the female voice once more. Although it appeared to be late, her transfer only took a few moments; her voice gradually faded away as she moved. The speaker was clearly surprised, but the crowd fell silent in shock. No one uttered a single word. Heavy-heeled footsteps clicked rhythmically on the marble flooring, the noise resounding with such bold confidence. There was the woman; she stood out like blood against the purest silk, clad in complete red. Her long crimson hair snaked downwards, coiling towards her hips; the vermillion hue of her dress complemented the bold fire pigment in her eyes. Draped along her throat was a slender dragon, cruel, emotionless eyes bearing into Anastas. The women cautiously approached them, and it was without a doubt Scarlet Flamelash, the matron of fire. Suddenly, the realization dawned on her: Scarlet had paid for her trial, and she now automatically belonged to her house. The guards bowed toward her as she approached. Scarlet spared no glance toward Anastas, merely letting her gape in utter surprise.
"The judgment is over; Lady Scarlet Flamelash now owns Anastas Makial, and she shall study under her name. No one argued, but hushed voices faintly echoed among the gathered. Gulping, the color returned to her frighteningly pale face. Anastas was struggling to regain her senses. The speaker, a member of the college staff, strode towards Anastas, but not before darting her eyes towards Scarlet, who seemed slightly apprehensive about her presence.
"Anastas, listen carefully," she snapped her boney fingers to gain Ana's attention, who unfortunately was still a bit in shock.
"We have dissolved your trial period and placed you under house arrest." She spoke slowly to better convey the meaning.
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"Do you understand?" Anastas jerked an awkward nod.
She nodded again, then flung open her mouth like a gasping fish. "My-my mink!" she stuttered a bit feebly, and the woman crinkled her lips, obviously cross. Shortly after, a guard appeared, revealing the elongated, pale body of the mink, Kismet, within the cage. It hissed aggressively and gnawed the bars as if it were a rabid beast. The mink flung the lock open, exploding from it like a wounded spring. It met the delicate arms of the girl who desperately gripped the mink, engulfed in her wooly pale fur. Now reunited with her familiar, Anastas began to wobble down the aisle, her eyes staring at her with hunger. Anastas placed her palm atop her crown, feeling the faint knot that reminded her of what had happened and why she was here. She sustained a wound as a result of her friends' murder. The walk felt slow, but she took in the stares and faced them despite her feeble strut. For a moment, her steps stalled, and her lilac eyes swept towards another girl on the bench. She gazed at Willow, my other friend, with a look of confused hatred. She knew nothing; she was innocent, and she knew she killed them. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Willow gritted her teeth in a snarl, fighting for tears, but Anastas showed no signs of sadness herself. Yanking her stare from Willow, she continued on, her lazy steps barely uttering a sound. Kismet leaned into the crook of her neck and stared at the watchers with seething, ruby eyes. Kismet did not falter; she met their venom with a brand of her own, seemingly gloating as if to say, "We're alive; deal with it." Anastas didn't seem to reflect Kismet's boldness; her shoulders slouched during her walk of shame.
With the sound of a creek, the doors swung open, freeing her from the stares. Guards narrowed their eyes as she continued to walk, instinctively heading towards the portal that flickered in the center of the vast room. She swished her hands, gesturing the coordinates into the pulsating orb, before stepping inside. In an instant she found herself standing in front of the vast hallways that hinted at the dorms, and she quickly returned to her relaxed pace. Kismet tried to soothe her master by gently nipping her hair and purring softly, but Anastas responded with a feeble stroke. The hall was pristine and glittering, her reflection dancing below in the glow of the stunningly clean flooring. Anastas gazed at her own reflection in the hall, her expression numb and solemn. She appeared dreadful; her demeanor conveyed a sense of heartlessness, which may have been her true nature. Approaching her room number, 559, she hesitated, hands elevated above the doorknob. Kismet gazed at her, encouraging her to turn the doorknob and enter, to which Anastas finally complied. As she firmly gripped it and swung it open, the scent of her former roommate enveloped her, making her feel as though the wheel had doomed her. Kismet snarled at her thoughts. The scent also brought back memories of her actions; it was, after all, Willow. As a fellow, or more accurately, a former trainee and dormmate, she expected her actions to leave her alone. Sinking into the depths of her bed, not bothering with the lights, she festered in silence, glaring at the divider between the two beds and the vacancy it left.
She remembered killing them, and she was very much aware of her actions, or the fabrications she made out of shock. In the end, she had killed six people, including six important wizards, as well as her friends, but did she regret it? No. If only...If only her thoughts churned with crystal clear recognition; however, the muddled memories merely recalled that she had killed and her feelings weren't one of sorrow. The mental note remained; she felt as though they had earned it. Throb. Pain pulsed beneath her skull from any attempt to delve deeper; she discarded her attempts at trying to think and took to lying in bed like a sack of rotted filth. This provided her with ample time to contemplate the matron, the mother of fire, and possibly her reasoning.
College affairs were unique, with authority and laws entirely distinct from those of the outside world. Due to the Wild Mage Ban Act that was issued about sixty years ago, any mage unregistered was forbidden to use magic or parade as a mage. Taking that into account, they scouted you and transferred you to Lemenstas Grantz, also known as "Grand Elements," the largest school of magic. Anastas knows that a powerful crystalline scrying glass detects any bursts of magic within the region and dispatches mages to track down the culprits. Registered mages maintain identifications that typically ping back to the college, alerting them to their alias, whereas wild mages remain as mere unknown dots. In Anastas's case, an accidental fire exposed her to these individuals, leading to her immediate removal from her family. Magic typically manifests around the age of thirteen and above, with rarer cases occurring at younger ages and varying based on race. Extremely minor magics are more difficult to detect with scrying glass and may take longer to manifest. Anastas managed to evade them for a considerable amount of time, but he made a massive error that illuminated the map like a lunar festival.
Thus started her trial period. The school typically uses categories of dragons to label the wizards, but before that, it begins as a 'trial' period. This period spans three months, during which the school evaluates the new wizards for their compatibility and suitability. A house element chooses them if they prove capable and grants them access to further study; if they fail, they lose their magic and return to life. Madame Flamelash chose Anastas, who was capable of bypassing the trials, but the circumstances were far from fortunate. It's rare to buy out punishments, even from one of the strictest mothers. Anastas would have a week before she reunited with the new students who had successfully completed the trials; perhaps she could use this time to regain her composure. With a soft sigh, she buried her pale face into the plush blankets and dreaded the end of this week. On the other hand, Kismet eagerly positioned herself on her back, demonstrating her readiness. If word spread, as Anastas undoubtedly knew it would, the students would recognize her instantly, leaving their judgment open to interpretation.
