Chapter 1
The thunder clashed, shaking the sky and sending ripples across the ominous waters of Murky's Pond. Heavy droplets pitter-pattered down, soaking the ground and Jon's already sodden clothes. The ten boys circled him like vultures, each taking a turn to drive their fists into him. They had cornered him at Murky's Pond, a notorious spot known for its dark legends. Jon's eyes had swollen shut by this point, each raindrop making him jump with a mix of pain and fear.
"Look at this fake here. How did he even get into our school? Mages are strong. Ha." Jon recognized the voice—the leader, Marcus Vardou. Marcus's father was not only the head of the Blue Ring Mages School but also one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom. His disdainful tone cut through the downpour like a blade.
"I'm not a fake! I'm just having a hard time controlling my power," Jon cried, his voice trembling as much as his knees. He could feel his strength waning with each passing second.
"Oh, Jonny boy, I hate to break it to you." Marcus's large fist slammed into Jon's gut, knocking the wind out of him. "You come from the weakest family, the slum of the mage world. I was shocked you were allowed here."
Pain shot through Jon's leg as Marcus kicked his knee, forcing him down. The rain began to pick up, and Jon could feel his long blond hair sticking to his skin.
"Death will be good for all of us. The school will be rid of its embarrassment, and we will be free of having to deal with you." Marcus's snicker was followed by the hideous laughter of the other boys.
"Finish this, Marcus. We'll be late for class, and we do not want to anger Professor Igor," Vane said, his voice cold and heartless.
"Shut it, Vane. Just because you're a Rank 3 doesn't mean a thing. You are nothing without me," Marcus retorted. Vane was the strongest kid in school, a loner who needed to make alliances to climb the social ladder.
"Fine, I will end this for you," Marcus declared. The rain seemed to pause, a cold mist rising from the ground. The other boys backed away hurriedly. "I am sorry, Jon, but this is the end."
"No, please. Please, this can't be the end." Jon dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together in a desperate plea. His sobs were louder than the rain. "This… is my… family's… last... chance. Please… don't take this… from… me."
"Jon..." Vane's words hung in the air.
It was the moment Jon needed. He knew he wasn't strong enough to take them on alone. He was only a Rank 1, barely making it into the school and unsure if he would ever truly become a mage.
"Firebolt." Jon's palm glowed a dull orange, a small ball of light forming an inch away. The orange ball compressed until it almost disappeared, then streaked across the space, hitting Vane's shoulder and drawing blood.
"ARGH! YOU BASTARD!" Vane screeched, summoning a purple orb in his hand. He hurled it forward.
Good. You have proved yourself worthy, a deep, gravelly voice whispered in Jon's ear.
Time seemed to slow down. The purple orb hung in the air, raindrops suspended like crystal beads. Jon could reach out and catch them.
Who's there? Why am I hearing voices? Jon asked in his mind, expecting no answer.
I'm here to help you. I can make you stronger than all of them. I promise, the voice said.
I don't care about the price! I'll sell my soul if I have to! Jon screamed in his head.
The world came back into motion. The rain pounded down. The purple orb raced forward.
"Hello? Please don't leave me!"
Jon saw the orb just in time. He raised his hands to block it, but he failed. The orb exploded on impact, throwing him into the pond. With a large splash, Jon's body sank.
"Yay!" The group of boys cheered—except for Vane.
He shivered, feeling cold and alive. This was the first time he had killed someone. They cheered for him, but what had he really done? He had killed a weak boy for being weak. What did this mean for him?
"Well, I will make sure to pass on some good news to my father. He will see that you find a good teacher. No need for a talent like this to go to waste." Marcus slapped Vane's back.
Vane knew this was the path he had chosen, and now he had to walk it.
Jon, it is time to wake. They have left, the voice called out.
Jon, frail and burned, cracked his eyes open. Only pink scars remained. He looked around, seeing only murkiness.
He jumped as scales rubbed against his leg. His heart raced. He struggled to swim upwards, feeling himself being pulled down.
Stop fighting it, boy. Come help me, so I may help you.
Why am I not dead? How am I down here? Jon's heart pounded in his ears.
He could breathe despite the cold water wrapping around him. His toes touched the bottom, muck rushing between them. The vines of seaweed swayed like trees in the wind.
Chained to a large black rock was a book, its seals flapping in the water. The closer Jon looked, the more mesmerizing it became. A faint red glow emanated from the book. Two blue chains held it to the rock, one twisted and cracked.
Jonathan Hilgrass, son of the famous Dirk Hilgrass. Once you grab me, I will be free. Set me free, and I will make you strong. Is that not what you desire? the voice called out.