Nobody is born evil. They're only seen as a hero in a different perspective.
Macey Russells is the moon mage, the reincarnation of a goddess who saved Amberguarde thousands of years ago, harbouring the abilities to manipulate the lunar energy aroun...
'Good luck with that,' thought Connor, creasing his face at such a foolish idea. Rather than listening to more of the nonsense that others were implying, he then reached for his notepad, beginning to jot down key points about his lecture.
I need to focus, Connor told himself. If I'm to be a Paladin — I must be the best.
When his pen hit the parchment paper, Connor began to feel a sudden icy chill running down his spine. It made him shiver, weakening him tremendously, almost making him unable to move. He clenched his teeth and grimaced, wondering where this frosty whisk of energy was coming from.
Suddenly, a hand came in contact with his shoulder, causing him to wince and shutter. When he looked back, Connor couldn't help but furrow his brow, creasing his face at the sight of another student.
It was a male. He pointed his finger at the chair next to Connor. "Hey," said the man shyly with a heavy Specia accent. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
He narrowed his eyes at the man. He watched him nervously brush his fingers through his short brown hair that had way too much hair products. His light hazel eyes bored into him and his smile stretched from ear to ear, his face screaming with anticipation.
"Sure," replied Connor, waving his hand at the man. "But please do not take this as a—"
The man dragged the seat from under the desk and smiled. "Thanks," he said, extending his hand out towards Connor. "My name is Isiah, but everyone calls me Iza. I'm an ice sage from Evravas, and who might yo—"
Before Iza could complete his sentence, his eyes diverted towards Connors chest, becoming large eyed and slack-jawed. He couldn't help but shake his head. This ice sage knew instantly who he was.
"Oh," gasped Iza, "You're a Heslington."
A necklace hung down from Connor's neck. It was encased in pure gold and in the shape of a serpent. It had crystal eyes that shimmered in light and could sparkle in the dead of the night. Such an adornment screamed nothing but honour and it was the one thing that symbolised Connor as a Heslington.
An attitude of whatever it takes is impossible to stop.
A motto that has crafted each one of his ancestors, making them a leader one either respects or one undoubtedly fears, and, just like the serpent that dangled around his neck — it made everyone realise he could be cunning and deceiving.
"I am indeed a Heslington," he replied. "Connor is my name."
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The once empty room which had only the sounds of dragon fire was now occupied from the multitude of students. Water mages sat in the front, summoning tendrils of water to circulate across the desks. Lightning sages leered at a few wind mages, attempting to make coy remarks by creating heart shaped magical sparks but failing at their courtship.
