The Green Mage

The Green

Martin did not know how to process what he had witnessed, for he did not understand any of it. Why did they not applaud at the end? Why was their such sinister energy coming from the bowl? Just who is Alan? These were some of the thoughts going through his mind. Martin did not want to believe what he saw and kept forcing himself to remember the Alan he had known: the Alan who got beat up by a bunch of 12-year-olds when he threatened them for calling Martin a freak; the Alan who stayed up all night with him when he got a fever; and the Alan who always knew what to do and say when he got scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed.

But at that very moment, Martin felt, that this man that stood in front of the golden bowl, who's very presence had invoked terrible fear among the multitudes that sat in that room, was a man he did not know.

"What a bunch of fraidy-cats," A voice of a girl said, a petite voice but with a strong English accent. Martin looked to his side to see where the voice had come from and found her one seat apart from him. She had pale skin, short white hair with a flush of mauve purple at the ends and wore a white cotton robe with threads of silver spun around her sleeves. The robe opened halfway to her legs, exposing her brown leather skirt that had about fifty sewn pouches.

"Be quiet, Larsa." The man that sat between them said, in a robust and authoritative voice. "Oh come on Renfri, I was just kidding. These faux wielders look so spooked over some tiny malevolence that I can't help but tease!" the girl responded in a playful tone as she suddenly shifted her gaze from the platform to Martin. "Hey kid! What's your name?" she said, slightly raising her voice. Martin was surprised to hear her calling him; he paused for a second and then answered in a low voice, "My name's Martin".

"Pleased to meet you Martin. The name's Larsa," she held out her hand and he received it. "Say Martin, are you okay? Your mana flow seem a bit.. agitated." She asked, with both a slight worry and interest in her eyes. "Oh.. I'm all good." Martin answered with a forced smile, a bit alarmed by her response.

"Your heart...," Renfri, the man between them, said unexpectedly. "It's in a state of hurt and confusion." He continued with a consoling and sorrowful tone. Larsa looked at him intriguingly and brought his gaze back to Martin. "This is my brother by the way, Renfri. You probably saw him get determined earlier. He's a Dragoon, under the Warrior mana type. They've got freakish auditory perception, so he probably picked up on your heart rhythm," She explained. "I still can't believe he got called before me, I'm older than him by around 20 minutes!" She complained, with a scrunched-up face like a little girl who had her lollipop taken from her.

Martin eyed Renfri who was abnormally tall and had long limbs and arms. He had white-grayish hair and piercing chestnut eyes and had on a black leather armor with belt-like straps along his chest and legs. Looking at him, Martin realized that he and Larsa must be fraternal twins - as no features, besides his white hair and slightly pale skin, was akin to hers. As their conversation dragged on for a while, more and more Determiners were called.

"Larsa Archades," the Headmistress then announced. "Finally, it's my turn!" Larsa said excitedly, as she skipped her way to the middle of the room and stood at the platform. She took the black dagger from the Headmistress and dropped her first blood. As the clear water made contact with the viscous ruby drop, the water immediately began changing; multiple spikes of crystal water started forming uncontrollably, before settling to a dark, purplish oil. "Thaumaturgist," the Headmistress said, as Larsa squeezed her hand for another drop of blood. As the droplet met the purplish oil, white flames began bursting from the Phiale - spewing all over the platform. "Seer." The Headmistress stated with stirred eyes. The room of determiners began blaringly applauding, both in awe and envy of the spectacle they'd witness.

Larsa skipped back to her seat with clear delight and satisfaction stamped on her face. She leaned over to where Martin was sitting and said, "Your turn.". As she said this, Martin's heart skipped a whole beat before it began, once again, thudding furiously against his already tired chest. "Martin Alalay-Branford," the Headmistress called out. Martin couldn't get himself to move - he was frozen in his seat - overwhelmed by the rapid beating of his heart and the complete unfamiliarity of the conundrum he was forced into. "Martin Alalay-Branford," the Headmistress said again, which was the very first time she repeated herself during the ceremony.

Martin was in absolute panic. Immediately, he felt the stifling stares of the people in the room fixed towards him - which he believed were stares of judgment, irritation, and pity. His breathing continued to get worse by the second and his head and eyes began wandering in numerous directions.

But suddenly, like finally feeling the earth after jumping from a seemingly unbounded cliff, his eyes locked with Alan; who had, across his wonderfully familiar face, the kind and genuine smile Martin feared he'd never again get to see.

As they looked deeply into each other's eyes - eyes that have memorized each other's lines like it was their own - all of Martin's panic and frustration vanished into thin air. From afar, Martin observed Alan's vermilion lips and found him wording the sweetest phrases that he so yearned to hear from him, "It's going to be okay, Mart. I'm here. I'll always be here.".

Martin took into him the deepest breath he could and stood straight up. He headed to the platform, in front of the Golden Phiale of Hecate, and felt the shell of his old identity crumbling away, like he was standing at the precipice of his rebirth: a completely new person.

"Stand and be determined," the Headmistress said to him, as she handed her the black dagger. It felt heavy in Martin's hand, far heavier than he initially had thought. With his whole body shaking, he sliced his left hand and gave a soft groan; he held it above the bowl and watched as a drop of his blood fell into the crystal waters. As it made contact, the water immediately went up in smoke before settling into an icy solid block. "Mental-," as the Headmistress was about to announce his mana type, she saw an unprecedented reaction from the substance that filled the golden phiale - it began changing. Slowly, the block of ice began reverting to its liquid state and sharp needles of water started forming from the surface and ultimately, turning into a dark purplish oil, a similar reaction to that of Larsa's.

The original murmurs and buzzing from the crowd turned to a downright uproar. "That's impossible!" a voice from the crowd said, with fierce opposition to whatever had occurred inside the golden bowl. The chattering of the Determiners grew louder and louder, with the voices of disagreement and contempt becoming relentlessly prominent across the room.

Suddenly, the Headmistress raised her hand and said, "Silence!". The sound of her voice surged powerfully across the whole room, deeply piercing the ears of the young 18-year-olds. "Mentalist and Thaumaturgist," the Headmistress continued, with a hidden panicked expression that only a select few would be able to notice.

With all these negative commotion and anger, Martin wanted to storm out of the room; to escape whatever hell he had entered. He withdrew his hand from the bowl, still bleeding, and turned around to look at the furious crowd. Thankfully, he again met the stare of Alan, who knew exactly what phrases to word to calm whatever storm was brewing inside Martin. "It's okay Mart. Continue with it. It'll be fine," when Martin read this from Alan's lip he calmed down and brought his attention back to the Golden Phiale.

"Go ahead, son. Offer your second drop," the Headmistress said, as Martin placed his bleeding hands above the bowl. He clenched it as hard as he could, as a drop of blood finally fell to the purple oil. Instantly, the dark murky color of the oil, that seemed impossible to purify, became the clearest water - leaving everyone, even the angry Determiners, in sheer awe and amazement.

"The darkest and most sinister of malevolence can only be cleansed by the blood of the Green. That is what you are my son - a Green Mage," Headmistress Faramis said, with beaming hope of the future that lies ahead for this young wielder.