The girl possessed a defining trait of aloofness, which was accentuated by her radiant, flaxen tresses and whimsical unicorn backpack. As they traversed the corridors together, her gaze would evade him, as if he were intangible. With a peculiar and unexpected gesture, she made her way towards the Toyota, where her parents sat anxiously in the front seats.
Could it be that she was headed towards the same destination as him? The Arcanum? If so, someone needed to caution her.
Many individuals, particularly those from families with a history of magic, misguidedly believe that the Arcanum is a test of exceptionalism. However, as Fin's father had stated, "It's the children with no magical relatives you should pity most. They're the ones who think it's going to be like it is in the movies. It's nothing like the movies."
At that precise instant, Fin's father abruptly arrived at the school's curbside, abruptly interrupting his son's line of sight with Sophia, as he brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. Fin, with a slight limp, made his way towards the entrance and exterior, but by the time he reached the luxury vehicle, the Williams' Toyota had already rounded the corner and vanished from sight. This effectively precluded any possibility of warning her.
"Fin," his father said, as he emerged from the car and leaned against the passenger-side door. The man's mane of unruly, jet-brown hair - which mirrored Fin's own - was beginning to gray at the temples, and he was attired in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, despite the sweltering heat. Fin often found himself comparing his father to Sherlock Holmes in the classic BBC series; and was not surprised when others were taken aback by the absence of a British accent. "Are you prepared?"
Fin shrugged, as he grappled with the overwhelming uncertainty surrounding the situation. How could one possibly be ready for something that had the potential to completely alter one's life, if approached incorrectly? Or conversely, if approached correctly. "I suppose so," he replied noncommittally.
His father opened the door of the Duesenberg with a flourish. "Proceed," he commanded.
The interior of the Duesenberg was as immaculately maintained as the exterior. Fin was taken aback to discover his long-abandoned pair of crutches haphazardly tossed in the rear seat. He had not required them for years, not since his fall from a jungle gym had resulted in a twisted ankle - on his unmarred limb, no less. As his father smoothly slid into the car and ignited the engine, Fin gestured towards the crutches and enquired, "What is the purpose of those?"
"The more impaired you appear, the more likely they are to reject your application," his father responded in a somber tone, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"That seems dishonest," Fin protested.
"My son, people resort to dishonest means to gain an advantage. You cannot resort to dishonesty to achieve a disadvantage," his father retorted.
Fin rolled his eyes, content to allow his father to maintain his own perception of the situation. All Fin knew for certain was that he would not make use of the crutches unless absolutely necessary. He did not wish to argue about it on this particular day, when his father had already deviated from his usual behavior by burning the toast at breakfast, and snapping at Fin when he had expressed his dissatisfaction with being forced to attend school for mere hours before his dismissal.
As his father meticulously manipulated the gearshift with an intense grip, Fin's gaze fixated on the natural spectacle of the trees beyond the window, their leaves gradually transitioning to a brilliant yellow hue. He attempted to recall every detail he had learned about the elusive Memora and the enigmatic Masters who bestowed their coveted apprenticeships. The recollection of his father's initial disclosure about this mystical realm flooded his mind, he remembered the day clearly. He had been seated in one of the ornate leather armchairs in his father's study, nursing a bandaged elbow and a split lip from a recent altercation at school. He had been in a state of defiance and not in the mood for any lectures, but the solemn expression on his father's face instilled a sense of fear in him. His father's ominous tone of voice only added to the ominous atmosphere, it was as if he was about to deliver a dire diagnosis. But the reality was far from it, the "sickness" was an innate potential for magic.
Finnick had curled up in a defensive posture as his father spoke, his mind transported back to a traumatic incident from his past. He was all too familiar with the cruel taunts and bullying he had faced from his peers due to his physical disability. Typically, he had been able to assert himself and convince them of his strength and resilience. However, on one fateful day, a group of older boys had ambushed him behind the shed by the playground on his way home from school. They had physically assaulted him, hurling insults and trying to break him down. Finnick had learned that most bullies backed down when confronted with resistance, so he had attempted to strike the tallest of the group. This proved to be a grave mistake. Soon, they had him pinned to the ground, with one of them sitting on his legs and another punching him in the face, demanding that he apologize and accept his role as a "gimpy clown." Despite the severe beating, Finnick had defiantly spat out the words, "Sorry for being awesome, losers," before losing consciousness.
As he opened his eyes, the receding figures of his tormentors could be seen darting away in the distance, their flight prompted by his powerful retort. Fin was taken aback by the effectiveness of his rejoinder.
"That's right," he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "You better run!"
As he surveyed his surroundings, he was struck by the sight of the playground's concrete surface, which had split apart in a dramatic fashion. A deep fissure extended from the swings to the shed, bisecting the small structure in two. He realized that he had been lying directly in the path of what appeared to be a miniature seismic event.
While he found the occurrence to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him, his father held a vastly different opinion.

Latest Chapter
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"It transforms the symbols into a quincunx," declared Master Zoltar as he raised three wristbands from a stone table that appeared to be carved from a single piece of rock. The wristbands, which were wide leather cuffs with a strip of iron riveted into the cuffs and secured with a matching metal buckle, elicited awe from Samantha as she picked up her own wristband."Wow," she breathed.Fin, however, remained skeptical. "Are they magic?" he asked."These wristbands symbolize your advancement in the Memora. If you successfully pass your end-of-year examination, you will receive a higher rank," Master Zoltar explained. "The first rank, Arcanum, is represented by iron, followed by Aureum, then Obsidian, Platinum, and finally, Diamond. Once you have completed your Diamond Year, you will be considered a journeyman mage, eligible for admission to the Collegium. "In answer to your question, Fin, yes, these wristbands are magic," he added. "They have been crafted by a metal shaper and serve a
Wristbands
The enormity of the entrance hall astounded Fin, its sheer size dwarfing any interior space he had ever encountered. Its dimensions could comfortably accommodate three regulation-sized basketball courts, with ample room left to spare. The flooring was made of glittering mica, which he had previously seen in the apparition in the airplane hangar, while the walls were adorned with flowstone, resembling the result of thousands of wax candles that had melted and trickled down the surface. Stalagmites jutted out along the edges of the room, while stalactites hung low, almost touching in certain areas. A radiant blue river bisected the chamber, its luminosity reminiscent of a brilliant sapphire. It flowed in from one archway and out through another, a carved stone bridge spanning its course. Intricate patterns were etched into the sides of the bridge, patterns unfamiliar to Fin yet reminiscent of the markings on the dagger his father had thrown to him.As the new apprentices from the Trial
The Introduction
FIN STOOD resolutely before a towering mountain facade, with verdant forests flanking his position on either side. Yet, directly before him loomed a pair of immense double doors, exhibiting a pallid, weather-worn appearance. Their iron hinges were twisted into ornate spirals that curled inward upon each other, and Fin envisaged that in the absence of the luminosity cast by the bus headlights, these doors would have been nearly imperceptible. Etched into the rock above the portals was a symbol that was alien to him, and below it were inscribed the words: "The flame yearns to ignite, the currents aspire to flow, the winds crave to soar, the earth yearns to anchor, and dark hungers to consume." The word "consume" sent a chill down his spine, and he contemplated his last opportunity to flee. However, he realized that he was not fleet-footed and that there was nowhere for him to escape to.The cohort of aspiring mages had obtained their apparatus and were now congregating, mirroring the st
The Arrival
The nocturnal bus journeyed deeper into the stygian wilderness, as the last vestiges of twilight vanished from the horizon. Through the window, Fin gazed upon the celestial expanse, speckled with countless glittering constellations. The dense, leafy foliage of the forest and jagged rocks were obscured by the enveloping darkness, rendering them indistinct and eerie."And that's precisely what the Deathless one is waiting for, a chance to breach the Treaty," interjected Frost, his tone sardonic."He wasn't the sole practitioner of magic in his generation," Samantha added, her voice reverberating with reverence and conviction, as she recounted out the tale she'd learned by heart. "There was another, a valiant champion named Radiant Storm, who was slightly older than us, but she fought valiantly against the Deathless one and we were gaining ground. Unfortunately, the Deathless one committed the most heinous act imaginable." Lowering her voice, Samantha continued, "All knew that a great ba
The Deathless one
Fin was plagued by a deep-seated aversion towards the school bus. His social awkwardness and perceived oddities had rendered him friendless, and even among the cohort of aspiring mages during the Trial, he stood out as peculiar. Yet, the bus offered him a modicum of solace, affording him a row of seats to himself, likely due to the unpleasant odor of burning tires he emitted. At this moment, all he yearned for was solitude to reflect on the recent traumatic events and the loss of his father. He felt a pang of regret for not having a phone to hear his father's voice one last time, and to seek guidance on his next course of action.As the bus embarked on its journey, Master Eldritch rose to address the students, detailing the structure of the Arcanum Year program. The students were to remain at the school for the winter, as it was deemed unsafe for them to return home with only partial training. The curriculum entailed working with their respective Masters throughout the week, attending
A hot spot
Fin's father's sudden recoil was inadequate, as two mages forcibly pried Fin from his grasp. The father's outcry filled the air, but Fin's thrashing and resistance proved fruitless as he was hauled over to Lance and Samantha, who appeared petrified. Fin retaliated by launching a well-aimed elbow at one of his captors, eliciting a pained groan and causing his arm to be wrenched behind his back. The reaction from the assembled parents, who had come to observe their children's aerodynamics schooling, was a mystery to Fin."Fin! Listen not to their deceitful words!" His father's fervent shout echoed as he was being escorted out of the hangar by other mages. "They are ignorant of your true nature!" Despite the commotion, Fin struggled to comprehend the surreal events unfold.Suddenly, a glimmering object caught Fin's eye. Unbeknownst to him, his father had broken free and had thrown a dagger toward him. The projectile flew with uncanny accuracy, its blade aimed straight at Fin. In a daze,
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