Whispers of Arcane Academy

Isolde sat alone in her compartment. The train she had boarded was nothing like what she had ever experienced. Sure, she had been on underground electronic trains before, but none had the feel of what she had boarded. The express she entered was sleek and black with the words Arcane Academy Commute painted on the side in white lettering.  

The inside was just as modern and sleek as the exterior, with black seats with white seams. The leather was smooth, and each compartment left plenty of room for multiple passengers. Isolde was sure no one would join her. She never had friends, though she was desperate for that to change once she arrived at Arcane Academy. She didn't think the ride there would provide such. 

As Isolde looked out her window, she watched families hug and say their goodbyes. She had wished her parents had come to see her off. They had been busy, as they usually were, and even if they weren't, they weren't permitted to drop her off at the bullet train.

As far as her parents were concerned, she had gotten into a prestigious school that was isolated and far away. They had not shown any emotion at the possibility of her being away from them. It had made the idea even more ideal for Isolde. She never understood how parents, especially hers, could be so uninterested in their child's life. They were always kind and never raised their voices with her, but they were never present. In short, they were absent most of the time.  

More than once, she had even noticed that her parents feared her. It didn’t matter that she was their child; they were concerned about the strange things that had occurred around her. It was the same with the girls and boys at her school and the other dancers at her studio, which she attended. It was why she had been ostracized and often left to her own devices, for the most part. 

“Is anyone sitting with you?” A voice said, and Isolde looked up to see a boy standing there. “No,” she said, trying to smile at him, but he didn’t reciprocate. Isolde told herself it was because he didn’t see hers. He sat across from her and stuck his hand out. “I am Ethan,” She gently took his hand and shook it. “Isolde,” she said shyly. “Is this your first year, too?” he asked, and she nodded.  

“Mine too, though I have been looking forward to it since I was a little kid.” He said, and her brow rose. “So, you grew up with Craft?” She asked. Craft, that is what the Wielders referred to as magic, at least that is what it seemed like when she read about it. “Yeah, my uncle is a keeper, and he raised me, so yes.” Isolde nodded at his response.  

Keepers, she tried to recall the term; she had read something about it. “I take it you are from a mundane line?” Ethan asked, seeing her look pensive as if she was trying to recall what that meant. “Oh, um, yeah.” She said, slightly embarrassed by that. From her reading, she had come to realize that having non-Wielding parents meant that she was sometimes going to be looked down on.

Though there should be no prejudice, the law supposedly prevented that, but the history she read said otherwise. “Oh, so you probably don’t know what I meant when I said my uncle is a Kepper. It is like law enforcement.” She nodded. Just then, the compartment door was pulled open again. “There you are, Ethan. I was looking for you everywhere.” Isolde let her eyes shift to look at the new boy standing there.  

“Come grab a seat, Ben. This is Isolde.” Ethan introduced her, and the boy sat next to him. “Hey,” he said, and she just gave a smile. “She is from a mundane line,” Ethan said. Isolde didn’t like how he brought up her lineage so casually. “Oh, that is cool. Are you excited to be around Craft? How did it go with shopping for the Academy?” She didn’t like how they were casually speaking like she was less than them.  

Then again, she considered that at least they were speaking to her. “It went fine,” she said politely, not wanting to explain that it had been rather confusing for her. “I wouldn’t worry too much about your line, I mean, there are always plenty of students that come from Mundane lines that go to Arcane Academy, mostly they get placed with the Wolves, though the Eagles, my sisters say, take a few too, as do the Stags. Really, you just won’t be placed with the Snakes. I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Isolde hadn’t been worried about which society she would be sorted into upon arriving. She had read up on all of them and found that out of all four societies, she would probably go into the Stags. She was rather bookish, and that society apparently valued learning.

“So, what is your familiar?” Ethan asked her. His question caught her off guard. “Excuse me?” She asked. “What animal chose you to be your familiar?” Isolde now understood. Along with the instructions she had been given, when she had been evaluated, on where to buy her things and where to board the bullet train. There had been a school list, and on it was a familiar.

“You must bring a familiar (an animal that bonds with you); it would be unfortunate if said familiar is too large to attend your class.” The instructions had said. Isolde said, “A snake chooses me, what chose you?” She asked, trying to be polite while ignoring the two boys' concerned faces.  

She couldn’t help what animal had picked her, though she didn’t tell them that the bond she had formed with her new familiar was nothing like what she read while researching her new life, nor what was explained by the shop owner from whom she purchased her snake. “But a snake as a familiar that is.” Ben began to say, but Ethan interjected. “I have a bird; he is a blue and gold Macaw.”  

“How about you, Ben?” Isolde asked, wanting the boy to stop staring at her. “A box turtle, I found him under my Garden Shed.” She just nodded.  

The two of them began to talk about other things, but Ben kept glancing at her, making Isolde feel self-conscious. It wasn’t her fault she bonded with a snake, though she knew the implications. It was the same everywhere, even with non-wielders. Snakes were considered wicked; she had never thought that, but it didn’t stop others from believing it.  

She surmised it had to do with religion and that the devil was often depicted as a serpent. But to her, they were just animals. Isolde was grateful when the fast-moving bullet train began to slow. As much as it had been nice to have someone wanting to speak to her, the boys who had engaged with her had been rather strange. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was how everyone had always viewed her.