Sing Me to Sleep

Chapter 1: Strain

Skara Jubal was something of a bard track prodigy.

While she specialized in music and the performing arts, that was just the tip of the ribcage. She could write provocative literary critiques, paint breathtaking landscapes, and throw together jaw dropping outfits that never failed to make a fashion statement.

She was at the top of her track, but not out of sheer talent, as her peers were led to believe.

No, Skara was all passion.

She had drive. Determination. She put her all into perfecting her bard magic and technique, when she wasn't busy during grudgby season, or taking care of her younger siblings.

Bard magic wasn't the most coveted of the nine covens, but it was still highly respected among the upper classes of the Boiling Isles. Bard students graduated from school to become renowned performers, sought after philosophers, respected historians, and skilled artists. And the bard coven collaborated heavily with all of the covens, primarily for record keeping and research studies, as such their abilities were widely valued.

Skara was proud of her magic, and the skills she had honed over years of hard work.

Whenever she was faced with a new challenge, she would face it head on. She forged her own path, confident in her abilities to take on whatever the Boiling Isles threw at her next.

Until now.

"The midterm will count as 25% of your grade," Mr. Beathooven declared as he paced back and forth at the front of the classroom, his hooves clopping loudly against the tiled floor. "Your task is to write a love song, and it will be due the day of St. Valenswine."

Skara watched the centaur prattle on about the assignment, stressing the importance of being able to write music from all genres in order to become a fully-fledged bard. Normally Skara would listen attentively to her teachers, but all she could feel was a rising sense of dread at the task that loomed ahead of her.

"Love is a universal feeling, whether it be familial, platonic or romantic. All witches experience it at some point or another." Mr. Beathooven crossed his arms as he came to a halt in front of a student who had dozed off. "I trust that all of you will be able to produce something worthwhile, so long as you draw from your lived experiences. However, with the upcoming holiday, I will be expecting a love song with romantic themes."

He slapped his palm against the table, and it sent a shockwave through the room. The student, Ludwig, let out a loud snort as he shot up out of his seat, eyes wide and hair mussed. Had Skara not been devolving into a state of panic, she would have laughed along with her peers as Ludwig wiped the drool stuck to his cheek and mumbled an apology.

"Now, are there any questions?" Mr. Beathooven asked, his tail swishing lazily through the air.

A few hands shot up in the air, but all Skara could do was stare blankly at her notes spread neatly across her desk, her grip on her quill tightening ever so slightly as her mind raced a million miles per minute.

How am I supposed to write a love song if I've never been in love?

When it came to music, she drew on her emotions to channel feelings into her songwriting and playing. It was something that felt natural to her, and that she felt was necessary so that when she performed it was authentic and real.

Skara wanted to bring her best to the table, not only for herself, but to show her parents that she was someone they could be proud of. That all their effort in working their way up the social ladder paid off, and that they didn't have to worry about her. They already placed so much trust in her, as she consistently watched over her siblings since they worked long hours.