The last note escaped off the violin. “That was great!” Zack exclaimed, giving applause. “Thank you.” Hezago said, setting the instrument down. “I wrote it myself, actually-”
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The door burst open, the orphanage manager, Madame Delatin, entering. “You two, my office. Pack your bags.” Hezago and Zack stared at each other. ”What do you think this is for?” Zack said, rather quietly. “...I don’t know.”
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And so the two got preparing. Hezago had no bags in particular to pack, as he did not necessarily live there, but he for sure had a good amount of things to do, as his hair proved undisciplined.
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As if summoned by his frustration, a faint blue light materialised in his hand. It coalesced into a sleek crystalline wand, its surface etched with intricate symbols. With a muttered spell, Hezago pointed the wand towards his hair. A soft, humming energy surged from within the crystal, instantly untangling the stubborn knots and leaving his hair satisfyingly groomed.
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As you should be able to tell by now (It’s blatantly obvious), Hezago is no ordinary child. This relevancy lies in his not necessarily conventional last name. He, and many others, can use magic, but he’s more special even beyond that point. He is a Borealis.
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Of course, you may not find that a point of significance, but nobody asked for your opinion. The significance of his last name lies in its history, which dates back to before the concept of existence itself. Nora Borealis, otherwise known as Mother Nature (and now dead) was the first Borealis of all and the creator of existence (as we know it), likewise.
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She held a power beyond imagining, and now it was that of Hezago’s. He wasn't new to the feeling, the vastness of it all stretching his mind like a flimsy tent in a hurricane. He knew what he wielded, and he knew there'd be plenty lining up to yank his strings, wanting him to play their tune. But he wouldn't be a puppet. He’d be the puppeteer.
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Hezago, the youthful ruler of Borealia, the lunar country, holds a crown devoid of real power. His influence, though undeniable, is constantly manipulated by the greedy council – a room full of imbecilic barbarians who wield their power for their own selfish desires, deeds that would surely warrant a trip to the fiery pits of Gloria. But that's a rant for another time.
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Hezago looked in the bathroom mirror, his silver eyes gleaming back at him. “Hey Hezago! Ya done?” Hezago blinked back into the present. He walked out, red turtleneck and jeans and all, looking overall, very… spiffing.
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Zack, a whirlwind of windblown hair and easy smiles, towered over Hezago. He'd tease him mercilessly about his height, saying things like: "Need a lift, shortie?" But those taunts always died in his throat under Hezago's quiet gaze. A shift in the air, a flicker in Hezago's eyes, and Zack would find himself tongue-tied. A silent reminder, a brush of magic against reality, that beneath Hezago's easy going attitude resided a power that dwarfed any physical advantage. It wasn't dominance, but wahtever it was, it both fascinated and flustered Zack.
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“Okay…! Finally leaving this place! Wonder who’s here to adopt this time?” Zack said, giddy. Unlike hezago, who had a monarchy (or two) to lean back on, Zack was fully dependent on the orphanage that housed him, and was always excited when there was a chance he could get his own ‘forever home’.
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The two walked down a hall, a staircase, and finally arrived at Madame Delatin’s office. A sign labelled ‘Sir Worth’s Orphanage for the Alone’ stood on the door. A name that would always annoy anyone who lived there. The orphanage itself was three floors high, a midrise, and was the oldest one of its kind. So old in fact, that it had been there since the days of French North America.
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The orphanage was founded in 1563 by Worth Dallatine, a person who was known for founding the most obscure of things. The institution, after his death, was handed down his family line, but not without hitting some problems. You see, said descendants would constantly bicker over who owned the institution for centuries, with the splitting of the orphanage finally happening in 1846. The Mexican-American war.
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Those who ran the orphanage would be forced to choose between either the Mexicans or the Commonwealth of North America, as Texas, for some reason, decided to split off from Mexico. And so, the orphanage split. This was a very heavy shock to most people who were employed at the foundation, and many more, as the institution had been around for basically forever, and although the institution would reunify soon after, it would once again find itself stuck between a rock and a hard place.
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The American Civil War would see the establishment once again split. This was, yet again, another shock, but it was quite frankly expected, as some members of the Dallatine side of the lineage had planned to sell the institution to a corporate entity. The establishment would once again be reunified, but this time under Worth's rule, as the Dallatine's scheme was found out by the public.
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Yet again, though, it would split again, but not due to a war, but to some random political bickering. You see, many of both families supported the unification of the cities that the institution sat in, but there was enough of a minority to oppose the majority, and so as of 2034, the institution decided it was a great time to split. Thereafter, as if all of it never happened, the two sides of the family decided that, since the cities united anyway, it would be fine if they came back together. And so, as of 2045 and onward, the orphanage was finally, hopefully, maybe? Reunited.
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Anyway, the two sat their stuff down and found they were not the only ones here. Madame Delatin was sitting at her desk, a lady standing next to her. “Ah, Miss Varias, would you mind telling these four why they’re here?”
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A sharply dressed woman with black hair and piercing orange eyes spoke to them. "Veronica Hazales, Evadin Bivax, Zackariah Sodoneess, and Hezago Borealis," she announced, pausing after each name. "Are hereby invited to Vonellia Academy of the Arts."
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Hmm. Hezago thought. Why does that sound familiar? Eh, I’ll find out later. Zack, disappointed for his own reasons, spoke. “I’ve never heard of that place before. Would you mind-” She interrupted him. “Vonellia is an academy intended to teach and raise possible prodigies like you all into being better at your work. This includes not only your standard Academia, but also Magic.”
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Evadin spoke. “Magic? I’m not sure that exists-" "I can assure you it does, Mister Bivax.” She said, a wooden and intricately decorated wand appearing in her hand. She pointed it to the table, and upon muttering an incantation, the Commonwealth of North America’s crown appeared.
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Veronica, ever so fashionable, sat there, shocked. “I- Isn't that the Crown!?” “Yes, it is, and more specifically, mine. Oh, and before you ask, yes I am the Queen. I just work for Vonellia in my free time.” Veronica was very excited. “Omg, can I get a-” “No, I must decline photography, but what you can do is make up your mind on whether you’re going to accept the invitation or not”
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Hezago sat there, impressed. A Liuxvernvelive charm, otherwise known as an identity charm, was used here, and cleverly so. She had made it so that people only recognised her with her crown in her vicinity, which was, with Hezago having experience of his own, likely very helpful in public.
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But then there was the invitation, which remained a constant nag. Borealia already kept him far too buisy, and royal duties ate into the rest of his time. School, even if he knew most of it already, felt like another headache to add to the mix.
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But then there was Zack. Zack, with his stupid grin and an adequate knowledge of magic from Hezago that he didn't mind explaining at all. Zack was already all happy about going, so maybe, Hezago thought with a shrug, just maybe, saying yes would be the better decision.258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡleSGV2KTJf
