Silence was the harbinger of danger, especially at a time like this.
Standing atop of what used to Cobalt Tower, the tall figure kept his balance effortlessly. Beneath and all around him lay piles of rubble, ash and flames. Through the silence came a round of deafening explosions, some faraway and some much too close for comfort. The noise rang in his ears, a terrible reminder of the feud that raged on between the three nations.
His fine black hair stood on end, prickling the nape of his neck. It was a pointless war and it seemed as though the country’s chances were decreasing with every minute that passed by.
From above, a gargantuan silver aircraft released an array of long black pellets that plummeted towards the remnants of the city. Their sheer size grew rapidly as they fell. Knuckles cracking, he lifted two hands to the skies and clenched them into tight fists. Three of the many black missiles burst into flames, orange flowers blooming within a plume of smoke in the middle of the sky.
And then he jumped.
The air rushed past him but with a single image flashing before his eyes, a burst of air cushioned his fall, letting his feet land softly on the ground.
Boom! came a thunderous blast not so far away. He felt the impact of the attack shake the ground, flinging bits of debris into the air. The ground shook several more times as more bombs landed in the area. Conjuring up an orb of protection, the wave of bombs sent a gust of wind bursting into his hair but none of the flying wreckage touched him.
Suddenly, a screech pierced the air, causing his head to snap up in alarm. Eyes flashing dangerously, he ran in one clear direction, drawing upon his abilities to shield himself from the flames. The heat burned against his skin but did not scald him.
Seven large beasts, the size of houses came rearing up towards him. Their vicious snouts were wide open, snarling savagely and saliva dripping from their teeth. Drakkans.
A sly smirk tugged at his lips. There was only one way to fight fire-breathing drakkans. His hands burst into flames, arms suddenly engulfed in orange. Picking up his pace, he threw his hands forward, a jet of fire exploding across the ground.
With a terrifying roar at the top of their lungs, the drakkans charged forward at the first attack, leaping over the wall of flames.
And he was more than ready for them.
“Ingrid, wake up.”
A groan slipped from between her lips. She turned over, digging her head beneath the pillow. Why were the covers so rough? Why had the mattress suddenly grown hard and stiff?
“Ingrid, if you want breakfast, you need to wake up.”
“Beatrice, what did I tell you about my mornings?” Ingrid mumbled, her voice taking on a whiny tone.
There was a soft laugh that met her ears. “Beatrice? You must be mistaking me for somebody else. My name is Amelia, remember?”
“Amelia,” Ingrid muttered, dragging herself from beneath her covers and rubbed her eyes vigorously. When she opened her eyes, she blinked. “Amelia Dawson. Roommate. Academy.” Her eyes bulged. “Oh my goodness!”
Ingrid scrambled out of bed, brushing her wrinkled nightgown and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes entirely. “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually sleep in.”
“You must have had a long night travelling here,” Amelia guessed sympathetically. “Be down at the dining hall in fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you there.” Well this was sudden.
“Wait!” she blurted out, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “I-I mean . . . aren’t you going to help pick out my dress today?”
Amelia’s perfectly thin eyebrow slanted upwards in disbelief. “I realise you are new and Madam Matilda has explained that you come from a sheltered background. But you should know this: Madam Darlington’s Academy strives to help Imaginists not only fulfil their potential but also to help them become independent. I suggest you start cracking on the latter.” The sharp tone she’d used came as a surprise to Ingrid’s ears.
Without another word, Amelia spun on her heel, dress and long black hair flaring out behind her as the door snapped shut.
Ingrid blinked. What had she said? All she wanted was a second opinion on her dress for the day. Usually her maids helped her but Amelia was no maid. The fabrics Amelia wore were clearly not rags and if Ingrid was not mistaken, they were quite rich, high-quality materials. And what was all that about independence? Yes, she had lived a sheltered life but she grew up independent. What did Amelia know anyways?
“Forget her,” Ingrid muttered. She turned to her white trunk and snapped it open with a series of clicking combinations along the impressions on the side.
Now comes the hard part, Ingrid thought as she drew out dress by dress across her bed. She stood back, hands on hips with a contemplative look on her face. Which one?
The moment Ingrid stepped foot into the hallway, bright-eyed and eager, she realised she had made two crucial mistakes – or rather, miscalculations.
One; the Academy was much bigger than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t even seen much in the pitch black shadows last night when she’d come in, half-asleep. With just a glance out of the window, Ingrid knew the land was bigger than the Charles’s estate by tenfold.
And two, it was because of the school’s enormity that she became conscious of the fact that she wouldn’t be able to find the dining hall without getting lost. Judging by the watch on her wrist, she only had five minutes until she was due to meet Amelia – and Ingrid absolutely loathed tardiness for anything, no matter how trivial.
You’re not going to get anywhere just standing around, she thought to herself and marched left down the corridor, around the corner. Several rooms had doors ajar but Ingrid found most of them to be empty, devoid of any signs of inhabitants. She shrugged off the peculiar vacancy and slowly descended the stairs. The floorboards occasionally creaked beneath her boots but it was something she was used tom from the manor.
Home. The word and place itself seemed like a distant foreign memory all of a sudden, despite that the academy and the manor were located within the same country. She knew the distance between Montgomery and wherever the Academy was located was great but how far apart, she wasn’t quite sure. That was what suddenly brought about the feeling of nostalgia.
There would be no maids or butlers at her hand, waiting for a command. She wouldn’t be met with a chorus of “Good mornings” by obedient staff for a long while and the thought gave her chills. Amidst her excitement in arriving and getting here, she’d forgotten to consider the other factors of this adventure; homesickness.
Ingrid leaned against the nearest wall, breathing heavily in the silence of the empty dormitory. No, she’d completely forgotten the possibility that she’d miss home –
“That girl is so – oh!” The sharp cry of a voice interrupted her thoughts. “By Cedric’s Tainted Soul, you almost scared me to death!”
Ingrid was about to scold the other girl for the interruption until she thought better of it. Amelia did not seem to like her very much and Ingrid guessed it was possibly due to the fact that her words might have sounded like a bossy command rather than a suggestion. It was probably best not to talk to strangers or potential friends as if they were her maids. After all, she was no longer at home.
“Ah right, Madam announced we would have a new addition last night. Are you lost?”
Ingrid’s pride almost jeopardised her one chance at finding her way to the hall. “Yes. I would appreciate it if you could lead me to the dining hall. Amelia is expecting me.” She ran through her tone and words in her head. It didn’t sound very patronising or haughty which was a relief – at least she hoped she didn’t come off as such.
The girl let out a sudden peal of laughter, thin frame shaking. “Why are you speaking so formally? Tough background, I see.” She clapped Ingrid on the shoulder, much to her utter surprise. “There’s no need to speak so politely. We’re all friends here.” She flashed an encouraging smile but it gradually faded as her eyes raked over Ingrid’s blank expression. “Oh . . . kay. You’re gonna need more cracking than I thought. Well, I’ll take you to the dining hall. About time I get my chow-on.”
“Chow?” Ingrid echoed in confusion.
She laughed again, high-pitched but good-natured. Then she patted her flat stomach. “Food. Breakfast. Let’s go!”
In a flurry of wild red hair, the girl had bolted through the nearest door. Ingrid jumped into action, chasing after her. It was a good thing she’d chosen to wear a loose-fitting dress today.
“Wait!” Ingrid called, ploughing on across the concrete path. “Hang on, slow down!”
She’s nuts, she thought, picking up her pace. She hadn’t run this fast since the day she had tried to conjure a car in the old shed.
“Sorry, I just got excited!” The girl came running back with a speed Ingrid didn’t even think girls were capable of. Her big toothy grin was infectious as Ingrid couldn’t help the wry smile tugging at her lips. “But you are rather slow. No worries though; the school will fix that up in no time.”
“Great,” she muttered under her breath, smoothing her hair. A throng of figures all headed in the same direction caught her eye. She felt her racing heart speed up even further at the sight; they were all men.
“What are you . . . oh.” If it were possible, the redhead’s grin only grew wider. “A handsome bunch, aren’t they?”
Ingrid blinked then shook her head vigorously, drawing her attention back to her escort who wiggled her eyebrows at her. It wasn’t that they weren’t handsome. “No, it’s just . . . well I thought they would all have been conscripted by now.” The pair started trekking at a steady walking pace. “They look well over sixteen.”
“You probably don’t know then.” The redhead shook her head, her smile fading to a frown. “This is their conscription. Those in the military that had imaginations were handpicked by Madam Darlington herself. When they’re ready, they’ll be sent to war.”
“I knew some could go to war here but I didn’t know they could be conscripted like this.”
“This is where many of the men come instead of war, only if they have an imagination,” she explained nonchalantly. “Just the young ones though.”
A shadow cast over them as they walked beneath an arch supported by stone pillars. Ingrid noted the doors to her left lining the walls of the building. They must have been classrooms of some sort.
“And that there is the dining hall. The entire academy has all their meals together at the same time. Madam believes it promotes some sort of unity.” She pointed with a tanned finger at the regal mahogany doors where a horde of students were piling in. Ingrid couldn’t help but notice that they too were all boys, or rather young men.
“You know, you speak as if we’re close friends but I don’t even know your name.” Ingrid smiled dryly at the girl. She was grateful for her openness towards her. She truly needed some sort of friendship but she just wasn’t sure how to go about it. Were others more like Amelia or this girl?
“Oh! How silly of me!” The other girl let out another high-pitched laughter. Ingrid almost flinched at the sudden tone. There was no doubt this girl liked to laugh. “Daphne! Daphne Goodwin. A pleasure to meet you, Ingrid Charles.”
“You know my name.”
“Madam gave the entire dormitory an introduction last night,” Daphne told her with a shrug.
“The entire dormitory?” Ingrid squeaked in horror. “Oh.”
“Don’t you worry, most of us are friendly!” She grinned, the corners of her eyes creasing as she smacked Ingrid’s shoulder again playfully.
“Most,” Ingrid muttered, wringing her wrists. “And how many would that be?”
“You’ll see.” She didn’t miss the mischievous glint in Daphne’s eye which gave her a slight twinge of worry. What was Daphne thinking?
Once they approached the entrance to the hall, Ingrid felt her eyes widen, almost bulging from their sockets. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her heart stuttering wildly in her ribcage.
The entire hall was dotted with clusters of tables but almost every single one of them were young men. Ingrid blinked, rubbed her eyes vigorously and felt her mouth curve into an incredulous O.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Daphne nudged Ingrid’s side with her elbow, jolting the girl from her daze. “Mostly men you’ll find here, from sixteen up until twenty-five. Amazing, really.”
She couldn’t muster any words and merely nodded silently. If only the age restrictions were twenty years higher. Then Papa could be at the Academy with her, safe from war and armed with imagination rather than science. That was more reassuring than anything to Ingrid right now.
“There were many more men willing to train their imagination than women funnily enough.” Daphne crossed her arms, striding into the room with confidence in her stride.
Ingrid shuffled after her, unable to believe the number of men in the room; there had to be several hundreds if not a thousand. They were all very focused in their breakfast but she caught the gazes being tossed her way as they passed by. They recognised her as a new face.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, playing with her sleeves nervously. She had never been in the presence of so many men before, let alone those who had imaginations. She couldn’t believe so many people had imaginations either. They may have been recruited from all over their vast country but even so, a thousand civilians with imaginations was enough to stir excitement in her chest.
“And the ladies get this table.” Daphne fell into a chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaned back with a content expression. “Here.” She pulled up another seat beside her and gestured to Ingrid.
Lowering herself, Ingrid lay her hands in her lap, avoiding the gazes of the other women at the table. However, when she glanced up, she found that they were not women but rather girls, only a few years older or younger than herself. Some were chatting animatedly amongst themselves, others resorting to staring curiously at her.
“It took you long enough.” Ingrid lifted her head at the sound of Amelia’s voice. “Well come on, aren’t you going to have breakfast?” Amelia appeared much more at ease than she did with Ingrid earlier.
As if on cue, Ingrid’s stomach gave a rumble. She clapped a hand down on it and bit down on her lip. According to her watch, she would have had breakfast but now, were she still at home. Her brown eyes drew to the empty space before her whereas the others on the table had steaming plates of bread, bacon, eggs and pancakes.
“Remember, this school is for Imaginists,” Amelia spoke again, leaning forward with her chin atop her interlocked fingers. A smirk toyed at her lips. “So this is your first test: make your own breakfast.”
It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. A little light flickered in her mind. Ingrid was almost hesitant to try out her imagination, feeling the judgemental gazes of the other girls at the table boring into her as she stared down at the table. Closing her eyes, she inhaled quickly, an image forming in her mind. This time, she wouldn’t forget crucial details like she had done with the car.
On a white ceramic plate, Ingrid imagined three long and fat strips of bacon, sizzling as if it had just come off the pan. Next came the large egg, the edges slightly yellowed and crisp while the centre yolk was warm and runny, trapped within its sac. Lastly, she imagined two slices of bread and a tub of butter upon the plate, the bread freshly toasted.
When she opened her eyes, Ingrid was relieved and eager to find exactly what her imagination had conjured up.
“Well, you do have an imagination,” Amelia mused. “That’s how we have meals here. Understood?”
Nodding vigorously, Ingrid dug into her breakfast, more than willing to imagine her own meals. She wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.