The last note escaped off the violin, the vibrations of the string lingering in the air.
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“That was great!” Zack exclaimed, giving applause.
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“Thank you.” Hezago said, setting the instrument down. “I wrote it myself, actually–”
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The door burst open, interrupting him, and the orphanage manager, Madame Delatin, entered. “You two, my office. Pack your bags.”
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Hezago and Zack stared at each other, very much confused. ”What do you think this is for?” Zack asked, rather quietly.
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Hezago shrugged. “...I don’t know.”
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Despite their confusion, the two got ready. Hezago had no bags in particular to pack, since he didn’t actually live there, but he for sure had a good amount of things to do–his hair served as an ordeal of its own.
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As if summoned by his frustration, a faint blue light materialised in his right hand, then coalescing into a sleek crystalline wand, its surface etched with intricate symbols. With a muttered spell, Hezago pointed the wand towards his hair, and a soft, humming energy surged from within the crystal, instantly untangling the knots and leaving his hair satisfyingly groomed.
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As you should be able to tell by now, since it’s very much blatantly obvious, Hezago is no ordinary child. 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 anyway. 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 very much dead, was the first Borealis of all, and the creator of the first existence 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 volume of it all, the power that rested within. 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, most definitely not.
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He’d be the puppeteer.
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Hezago was, and is, the youthful ruler of Borealia, the lunar country. Though he holds a crown devoid of real power, his influence, though undeniable, is constantly manipulated by the greedy council that ran the country, 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.
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But that's a rant for another time.
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Hezago looked in the bathroom mirror, and his silver eyes gleamed back at him, his mind lost in thought.
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“Hey Hezago! Are you done?” Zack said, snapping him out of it. Hezago blinked back into the present, realised where he was, then walked out, red turtleneck and jeans and all, looking overall, in Zack’s words, nice.
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Oh, and Zack, a whirlwind of windblown hair and easy smiles, who towered over Hezago. Sometimes he'd tease him 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, like a flicker in Hezago's eyes, and Zack would find himself tongue-tied.
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It wasn't dominance, but whatever it was, it both fascinated and flustered him.
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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 out of the room and then 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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So yes, it was old.
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The orphanage was founded in 1563 by Worth Dallatine, a person who was very well known for founding the most obscure of things, with the institution, after his death, being handed down his family line, but not without hitting many problems.
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You see, his descendants, the Worths and the Dallatines, would constantly bicker over who owned the institution for centuries and at every opportunity, with the splitting of the orphanage finally happening in 1846, the Mexican-American war. Those who ran the orphanage would be forced to choose between either the Mexican Empire or the Commonwealth of North America, as Texas, for some reason, decided it was a great time to split off from Mexico.
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But nonetheless, the orphanage split. This was a heavy handed shock to most people who were employed at the foundation, and many more, as the institution had been around for basically forever in their eyes. Although the institution would reunify soon after, it would once again find itself stuck between a rock, and quite disappointingly, a hard place.
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The American Civil War would see the establishment once again split. This was, yet again, another surprise, but it was expected, as later discovered, 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 side of the family’s rule, as the Dallatine's scheme was found out and very much disembowelled by the public.
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Yet again, though, it would split again, but not due to a war, but to some randomly idiotic and nonsensical political bickering. You see, many of both families supported the unification of the cities that the institution resided within, but there was enough of a minority to oppose the majority, so as of 2034, the institution decided that for the fourth time, it was a great time to split.
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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. So, as of 2045 and onward, the orphanage was finally, hopefully, maybe? Reunited.
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But that’s besides the point.
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The two boys sat their things down within the office, and soon found they were not the only ones there. Madame Delatin was sitting at her desk, a lady, prim and proper, standing next to her.
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“Ah, Miss Varias,” Madame Delatin began, “would you mind telling these four why they’re here?”
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Miss Varias, black hair and piercing orange eyes, spoke. "Thank you. Veronica Hazales, Evian Bivax, Zackariah Sodonnes, and Hezago Borealis," she announced, pausing, "are hereby invited to Vonellia Academy of the Arts."
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Hezago raised an eyebrow, the name was oddly familiar.
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Zack, slightly disappointed, spoke. “I’ve never heard of that place, would you mind-” Miss Varias interrupted him.
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“Vonellia is an academy intended to teach and raise possible prodigies like you all into being better at whatever you choose to be your work. This includes not only your standard Academia, but also Magic.”
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Evian spoke. “Magic?” He scoffed, “I’m not sure that exists–"
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"I can very well assure you it does, Mister Bivax.” She said, a wooden and intricately decorated wand appearing in her hand. She tapped it lightly upon the table, and upon muttering an incantation, the CNA’s crown appeared.
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Veronica, ever so fashionable, sat there, shocked. “I- Isn't that the Crown!?”
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“Yes, it is, and more specifically, mine. Oh, before you ask, yes I am the Queen. I just work for Vonellia in my free time.” The lady said, her professional facade slipping off.
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Veronica was very excited. “Oh my gosh! Can I get a–”
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“No, no 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 Sharaedia charm, otherwise known as an identity charm, was used here, and cleverly so. She’d 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.
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But then there was the invitation, which remained a constant nag. Borealia already kept him far too busy, 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.
