Magic Yielder: The last flame. -Edited.-

Patterned light.

The night seemed endless, never ending in its pursuit to ensure he didn't sleep. Xaivier found himself engrossed instead, as he traced the pattern the light left on his nightstand. The shape of a creature he couldn't describe. He took in a deep, sharp breath and wished there was some magical remedy to his lack of sleep. But alas, there was none that he had been told about.

Instead, he knew the lack of sleep occurred from how his mind had refused to stop racing. A story played out inside of it. The exact same they had read in the library when he'd been doing homework. He could see it in action, as if he'd been present himself.

His eyes flitted back and forth; the snowy dunes covered in the aftermath of the bloody battle. Torn armour and hair were the only evidence there had been one in the first place. Not one bird song to carry on through the quiet. Deathly still. The perfect way for one realm to end, for the normals to begin in forming a society. One where they wouldn't realise there was more out there than themselves.

At the time, not one other person who he'd been studying with could see the point from the normals; how scary the unknown, of if the magic yielders would want all the power. To be in charge of the society, especially with how bad some of the treatment the normals had to go through; some treated more like slaves or lowly animals than equals. However, after he lived as if being one himself for most of his life. He could. The very real point of how dangerous it could have become for them, worse than what they would have had to face at the time, especially if anything from the history of how the magic yielders acted towards those they thought differed from them, less powerful or uniformed. The judgement and racism that survived among their own people.

Xaivier couldn't dwell on it for too long as the montage filled his vision. His father's words were from an old myth of another battle that started after the magic yielders left crossed its path.

"When the hills ran dry from the magic, the people that were left struggled. Some died from the lack of knowledge, some were too stubborn to learn how to live without it. New wars raged from the injustice it left. A battle soon to begin between the magic yielders and those that were named the normals. Centuries passed full of heartache and loss, with many of the magic yielders binding their blood with creatures which were so horrific to the normals, until one day, the different types of humans came to an understanding. All evidence of the magic yielders would be destroyed for the protection of both. But there are those out there, people who still believe in them. Some have good intentions when trying to find them, while others still view them as a threat." The thinly veiled warning rang piercingly through him.

He shot up as if static was injected into his blood. His nerve endings still trembled from how it felt. Xaivier was stunned at the memory.

"All those stories." He muttered to himself. As he came to the conclusion that unlike the point some had made to him. His dad had known all along, he had taught him history without Xaivier knowing, he had introduced Xaivier to this world when he'd thought it was all just that, stories and myths that were fanciful.

Filled with tales of magic yielders and mythical creatures, some fought amongst themselves, while others fulfilled quests to bring their houses honour and riches.

When the memory had finally surfaced, it made it that much harder for Xaivier to sleep. He paced around the room, as he desperately kept his footsteps light so it didn't wake anyone else up.

He leapt up, no longer able to stay contained and well aware of how a couple of his roommates grumbled before they turned around at his intrusions. He left the room as the noises his feet made echoed across the darkened corridors. They jumped towards the next one to inform all that a student had abandoned their sleep.