The Tales Of Crowboy The Incredible: Of Ink and Power

Chapter One

       The books misled you. Everyone wants to think that once they get relocated to a mystical refuge that their lives will get so much better. That everything will be fixed because they're around people like them. But, think about it. The social norms that you now have to adjust to. The lingo that you have to pick up and use correctly. And you'll still be the social outcast, until you become normal to the abnormal kids. It wasn't like everything would just become perfect. A little better, yes. And a lot less lonely. But not perfect. Never perfect. 

      And that's what I'm thinking about as I make my way through the hallways, trying to dogde magic and feathers and tails. I had been at this school for a month now, yes, but I still had to deal with all of the social expectations, which seemed to be changing every time I walk through the huge double doors of Celenian Halomorn School. I didn't have any close friends, persay. There were kids who were nice to me, yes. But none who would go out of they're way to sit with me and meet up between classes. 

      I'm what they call a Winglet Celestial. A Celestial is a person who has two types of primary magics. My primary magics are Winglets and Fanglets. Winglet is my main primary magic. It's what I developed as first. It's essentially bird magic. A couple months ago, I grew wings. It was hopelessly painful. But worth it.

      The Fanglet part of my magic is less apart, seeing as it developed last and some of those parts of it disappeared. I still have my fangs, and sometimes my tail will come out. But Fanglet magic is still fun. So, I'm incredibly joyful with this. 

      You probaby want a bit more context on your narrator, don't you, dear reader. And also loyal, if you made it to book two. But Hi! My name is Felix. I'm 14 years old. I live in Charlottesville, and yeah. I'm hella neurodivergent, which is so much fun. I'm mostly smart, but kind of in the middle. I have brown hair and green eyes, and green bits in my hair. I have a little brother, and live with my Mama and sometimes my Papa. So yes. 

      "Over your head!" I heard a kid yell. The people around me closed against the walls. This place didn't have lockers, just cold white walls with absorbing charms against them. I tried to follow the children in quick pursuit. A ball of steam whisked through the corrdiers, my feathers only barely getting out of the way. All the other children moved back into the hallway, squeezing me into someones wings. I moved out of the way as quickly as I could and kept my head down. This wasn't my territory. It was my place to say sorry and keep moving. 

      A couple months ago, I got kidnapped and almost got my wings torn out. It left me in the hospital for what seemed like a year, and it left me unable to fly for the next couple of weeks. Everything physically got healed.....but emotionally, there are wounds that still gush blood. Which is part of the reason I do classes here at night and on weekends. Safety. And to learn how to protect myself. 

      I wasn't a loner, by any standards. I had friends, and really good friends at my other school. Only one of them went to this school though, and my relationship with him was complicated, to say the least. I had friends online, and I had people I would somewhat interact with. A quick wave, a "how's school going?" but nothing past that. You get that sort of reputation when your doctor will ucompany you to school ever so often. Never any enemies, though. Those were for my other school. I hate loads of those. 

      I made my way to my next class as effectivly as I could. This one I genuinly enjoyed, for various reasons. One of them being that I understood what was going on. There were times that I would stare at the Mentor, unable to process even half the things of what they were saying. I wasn't the new child in class. I was the child that would be able to pass with a mediocre grade and be proud of it. 

      The second reason was because out of all the hundreds of kids here, the single person that I knew was in this class. Owen. He was my guardian; he taught me the basic parts of being a Winglet. Continuing to validate my point: we go to the same human school. And he's one of my best friends. Even though I've been a bit estranged from him lately, I'm sure that he still wants to be my friend. Yeah. I'm positive. 

      The History of Lets of the World is my favorite class. Normally, I have a feverant hatred of History. But this is good history. Magic and uncertainty has been twisted into human history in the way the seems to explain all of the worlds questions. It was great. Plus, Mentor Angleben explained things in a way that I could learn well. It was a win, win, win. I understood the materiel, my friends didn't have to listen to me gripe, and I sat quietly in class, not disrupting and yelling things when I accidnetly got too impulsive. 

      I walked through the door quietly, trying to subtly make eye contact with Owen. His hair had become more brown lately, and he had starting cutting his hair shorter. It kind of looked like nutella had been swipped over his head, but in a pretty way. He was beautiful. In a nice, masuline way. He sat at his desk, scrolling through his phone nonchalontly, like he had all the time in the world. Like he got everything he would ever want. Owen looked up for a second, just to see who opened the door, but then brought his eyes back down to his phone. There was a little ping in my chest. That little ping had started becoming more and more frequent. I don't know how I about that. I took my seat quickly, and pulled out my textbook. 

      "Alright class." Mr. Angleben said, strolling into class. He was wearing his teaching robes, but he wore them loosly, which fit his lassiez faire attitude. He had a deep, soothing voice. "Can we please flip to the chapter we were on last week? I beileve it was the Witch trials?" He started talking about how Lets would get murdered and burned, and I started to zoin out a little. I swear on the Gods, it wasn't on purpose. It just kind of happens sometimes. 

      My class consisted of 18 kids: 9 main Winglets, 5 main Fanglets, and 4 main Scalets. 10 of them were boys, and 8 girls. Four of those boys had tripped me or made some backhanded comment. 2 of the girls had reached out and become my sort of friend. Most of the kids in the class were loud and trouble makers, which I soon want to become. If I learn how to blend in. They seem to have bonded with the teacher, because they'll constantly make jokes about his husband. Kind of like Mrs. Davis. God, I missed Mrs. Davis. 

      My other school ran so much easier than this one. It was still complicated, yes, but being there for three years helped a lot. Some of my most formitve years were there, and I grew up with the kids basically. They were mostly morons and imbeciles, but still. To each their own. I tolerated them all. 

      The unspoken rules of CHS were simple to a legacy, a person who's known about Lets their entire life. To someone like me, who was almost a complete stranger to stuff like this, it was one of the most difficult things in the world to learn. But I was starting to grasp some of the core concepts.

      Number one: Never, under any circumstance, flaunt your magic. Don't say its better than someone else. Don't use it to an excess. And don't use it in a fight in the hallway. If it's out of the teachers eyes, everything is fair game. I don't know the real reasoning behind this unspoken rule, but I guess it's just common decency. 

      Number two: You don't bully the non-legacy kids. Hell, you don't even interact with them. Out of the maybe 900 kids here, only 50 or so of us don't come from long lines of Winglets or Celestials. For whatever reason, Owen seems to be an exception. Everyone wanted to be his friend. I, unfortunately, am not an exception. 

      And that's all I've deciphered from this mysterious web of children. The legacies guard their secrets better than a pharoh guards his dead body. It was aggravating. Let me figure out the social norms already!

      "Felix. Would you like to read the next paragraph?" Mentor Angleben asked. I was violently torn away from my thoughts.

        "Uhm, yes, sure." I fumbeled with my book. "In 1659, the Salem Witch Trials-" And then, my beeper went off. At the worst possible time. 

      See, I had an implant thing that would release dopamine into my brain for me. Or a dopamine replacment, at least. Something that Dr. Salliman said it would help with. I don't really know. Every single Let in the world got the brain chip thingy, but mine had some special modifications. But whatever it was, it made me loopy. Very, very loopy. My stomach dropped to the floor, and my mouth filled wit vomit. 

      "Do you feel alright, Felix?" And then my head hit the floor, and everything went dark.