Messenger From The Sky

Chapter One: Gift From The Tempest

MEDIA:

A stone-faced ornament. It's, uh, well...It's Mak.

"Who?"

Read the chapter. That'll answer your question! :3

(I do not own this image).

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It was the massive explosion which announced the failure of yet another spell.

Erin Maelstras stood, watching as smoke billowed from the crystallised remnants of the coloured rock in front of her. The grey smog quickly spread, obstructing her view of the room ahead and clouding the very air around her within seconds.

'For crying out loud,' she muttered, coughing in an attempt to rid of the ash stuck in the back of her throat. 'That's my sixth attempt at perfecting the bloody conveyance spell! What the hell am I doing wrong?'

'Patience is key to perfecting one's talents,' a voice beyond the mist replied. 'You of all people should know that, Erin.'

'Oh, shut up, Mak! Like you know anything about patience.' Erin looked over to the other side of the room, 'Can we get someone in here to clean this up, please?'

A small collection of levitating brooms appeared on cue, as if summoned by her words. They moved in a precise formation, gliding effortlessly through the smoke and over to the girl who had beckoned them. She pointed towards the floor and hurried away as they set to work, sweeping away at the ash strewn across the wooden floorboards.

Erin marched over to her desk, which was situated in the far corner of the room, and sat down. 'Why do I even bother?' she asked, propping her feet on the table. 'I swear, it's like I'm destined to fail!'

The smoke soon began to diminish. Erin watched whilst the curtain of mist pushed back, withering to unveil what appeared to be a massive library. Towering shelves, filled to the brim with books, surrounded the young magus and a gentle orange glow cast by the line of wall lanterns filled the room, providing her with a sense of warmth and comfort. However, it failed to cast back the feelings of uselessness which accompanied her most recent failure.

'Cheer up, Erin,' came an enthusiastic reply. 'You cannot allow something as simple as this to get your spirits down. Come on, turn that frown upside down...'

She did no such thing. In fact, the unpleasant frown she wore only grew stronger as she looked back at the self-levitating brooms, which continued to work, oblivious to her words, and shook her head. 'Am I just an idiot?' she asked, seeking a response from the voice she knew all too well.

'I'm going to answer that, but I'll be honest.'

'Ah, forget it,' she muttered. 'And they say conveyance spells are meant to be simple. Turns out I can't even do that without blowing something up!'

'Well, think about it like this: at least nothing caught fire this time.'

'You're not really helping me, Mak.' Erin rubbing at the ash which clung to her face. Her dark hair sat in tatters above her head, the curls of which appeared to stick up on their own, resembling a badly constructed birds nest. She leaned forward, resting her elbows against the table. 'At this rate, I'm never going to become a proper magus.'

A stone ornament with a face which had been carved to resemble an elderly, bearded man sat on the desk next to her. It was the same face which responded, 'Well, maybe it's for the best.'