Arcane Shadows:I Want To See You Fall

Luminary

"In the year 2895, the world had transformed beyond recognition. Magic and science, once separate realms, had merged into a new, unpredictable reality. At the heart of this world stood the University of Arcane Sciences, a beacon of knowledge and discovery."

-Rafael Mayer's, Introduction to Arcane,year 2895

I, Skyleen Winters, stood in the grand library, my fingers tracing the ancient runes etched into the cover of a weathered journal. It had belonged to my ancestor, Alisante Winters, one of the greatest scientists of her time. My auburn hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, and my green eyes scanned the ancient text, trying to decipher its secrets.

As I opened the journal, the words seemed to leap off the page, pulling me into the past. "Today, I am torn between right and wrong. This discovery could be ground-breaking, but are we ready for it? The uncertainty is ..."

I closed the journal with a sigh, frustration bubbling up inside me. How many times had I read these pages, hoping for clarity? The smudged, barely readable words seemed to mock me. The paper, yellowed and fragile, felt like it might disintegrate under my touch. Yet, despite its age and wear, the journal held secrets I was desperate to uncover.

"Put it back, Sky" my father scolded, his voice sharp and commanding. His stern gaze bore into me, making my hands tremble as I carefully placed the journal back. His tall, imposing figure and sharp features always made me feel small and insignificant. Jeremiah Winters, one of the most respected man in this country and my father. Sometimes, I thought he found it inconvenient to be a father.

"Yes, Sir," I murmured, putting the journal inside the protective case warded with runes that held this piece of history unchanged through time. I glanced out the window, seeking a moment of solace. The view was both awe-inspiring and haunting. The university stood atop the ruins of what was once a remarkable city of the old world. New York, I think it was called back in the days when just humans walked the ground of what was called Earth. Now, it was a sprawling landscape of ancient, crumbling skyscrapers intertwined with nature's reclamation. Vines and trees grew through the skeletal remains of buildings, their roots merging with the remnants of previous human civilization.

The campus was alive with activity. Students in distinct uniforms representing their factions hurried between classes, their laughter and chatter filling the air. The Mechanist Guild members wore sleek, silver uniforms with glowing blue accents, symbolizing their mastery of technology and magic. The Dark Science Guild donned dark, enigmatic uniforms with intricate patterns that represented their exploration of forbidden knowledge. The Bio-Arcanist Guild wore deep green uniforms with gold trim, reflecting their expertise in bio-magic and transmutation.

Hovering platforms and magical drones zipped overhead, carrying books and supplies to various destinations. In the gardens, groups of students practiced spells, their enchanted gear and staffs emitting sparks of light and bursts of energy. The air buzzed with the hum of magical mechanisms and the faint scent of blood.

I glanced at my father, silence engulfing both of us. We did not talk much. I was closer to my mother and brother than I ever was to him. I still remember all the controlling and commands from my early years. He made my brother's and my life miserable. But what do I know? Many children were the centre of an abusive father's wrath. We were like many families in Antara: all smiles and happiness outside, and misery and loneliness inside. That did not make us special. Sometimes I think we got it easy, my brother and I. He didn't beat us or starve us. He just mentally abused us over and over again, and yes, I realize that is messed up either way. He was supposed to love us, but alas, he didn't, not really. Finally, our mother had enough and fled with us in the middle of the night. I know it was hard for her, but she made the right choice for her and for us. And my father, well, he is still my father whether I like it or not, and some weak part of me still loved him even though I never said it aloud to anybody.