That night, Marcus couldn't sleep.
For the first time in his life, his feelings kept him awake.
He was annoyed at himself. If he had used both elements, he could easily have passed the exam. Instead, he let himself get scared and now his friends were moving on to the future while he was stuck in the present.
"Damnit. "I'll have to get a regular job somewhere now. I'll have to start looking before I leave."
He tried to force himself to have a brighter outlook. "Maybe it won't be too bad. Yeah, who wants a life of danger anyway."
He managed to calm down his annoyance. But he still couldn't find the embrace of sleep.
Truthfully, he was terrified. Those two had been his friends, the only two he considered friends at least, for as long as he could remember. The fact that he now stood at the edge of the unknown, staring into a possible future without them kept him awake for most of the night.
Not knowing when, he fell asleep at some point through the night.
He woke to the sounds of a commotion.
Stumbling out of bed, he went to his door and stuck his head out into the hall.
The sight he saw made him laugh.
Bran had somehow forgotten he had to leave today. The commotion was made by him, as he bundled his belongings and himself down the hall, along with his things.
A few minutes later, Marcus headed downstairs to see his friends off.
"Good luck to you both," he told them with tearful eyes. "Bran, make sure you cool your head off with water from time to time. Lox, look after him will you?"
"How about you focus on catching up to me, Marcus?" Bran asked him as Elanor nodded.
"I'll be there before you can breathe."
"Marcus, make sure you stay out of trouble here," Elanor told him. "I'll look after him, but I can't be there for you."
"Don't worry Lox, I'll be fine."
He said goodbyes, before heading back inside.
He spent most of the day reading dusty tomes in his room, absorbing as much information on his elements as he could.
As the sun set he collapsed onto his bed, his mind exhausted from the consumption of knowledge.
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He woke groggily in the middle of the night.
'Is my room warmer?'
He sat up and rubbed his eyes before taking a look around the room.
His eyes widened.
The room was on fire.
He glanced across towards his door. There was a narrow path between the fire. Marcus snapped his fingers, trying to widen the gap for him to run through.
Nothing happened.
'Shit, I'm not strong enough.'
He thought back to the books he had read earlier. They had reminded him of something he learned years ago.
"Only a B+ can control their spells once cast, nevermind someone else's. I'm only a D at most!"
He sighed, before charging toward the door with an inspiring yell.
As he skidded through the door, he checked his body. 'No burns, good.'
He sprinted down the corridor and threw himself at the stairs, coughing up smoke as he ran.
He stumbled down the stairs and slammed into the wall. "FUCK!" he yelled, hearing a small pop and feeling pain erupt in his left shoulder.
He continued right down the stairs while gripping his shoulder.
The door was wide open. He could see his escape! His eyes sparkled at the thought.
He ran under a large explosion of flame and dove through the door. Finding his strength, he forced himself back to his feet.
His eyes saw a scene of carnage.
The grass surrounding the road to the orphanage was charred. The flowerbeds that sat in front of the building, offering welcome to any and all visitors, were utterly destroyed.
Marcus's heart felt like it was about to rend itself from his chest. His eyes began to water, or maybe they had been like that for a while, he couldn't tell.
'Why is this happening?'
He heard a window shattering above him to his left. One of the carers of the orphanage was thrown through, and landed on the ground with a wet crunch. Marcus was stunned as he saw her blood spurt outwards and bones pierce skin.
A cloaked figure followed the dead carer out of the window. In its hand it held a dagger, which it lifted to its face.
Marcus gagged as the finger whipped out its tongue, licking the blade clean.
Turning away, he looked back at the building. Originating from multiple windows, similar scenes were happening all around.
"Keep looking!" Marcus heard a voice shout. "They only took four. There's still plenty of them left!"
'Wait. Are they here... for us? For the kids?' Terror washed over Marcus as he realised this was no accident. This was probably an intentional, pre-meditated attack, and he was the prey.
"Shit," he yelped as he spotted one of the cloaked attackers looking at him. He turned and ran toward the entry gate of the orphanage.
"One's right there! Quick!"
"After him!"
Marcus reached the long road leading to the gate quickly. He looked back and found he had put a little distance between him and his pursuers. Despite this, the pursuers were faster, and were gaining on him.
He snapped his fingers when he felt them get too close. A large flame wall exploded behind him, covering his escape.
Somehow, this tactic worked to create enough space for him to run.
He got to the gate unscathed. As he reached out to open it, someone grabbed him from behind.
"Got you, you bastard. Think you're clever?"
Marcus struggled against his captor. He tried to bite the hand that sat below his chin, but he couldn't get his mouth there.
He snapped his fingers, and the ground behind him exploded.
'Hah,' he thought for a moment, before learning the mistake he made.
He was yanked up from the neck by the grip of the man, causing him to cough roughly.
Marcus squirmed in an attempt to get free, swinging his legs below him to try and topple the man above him.
"So, you're a dualist, huh? What an interesting find."
"Screw you."
"Be nice kid. Otherwise, you-"
Marcus felt a heat fly over his head.
"Otherwise what?"
He dropped back to the floor. Confused, Marcus looked up.
The man's body stood upward. His head rolled on the floor by his feet.
"How? Where's the blood?"
As he pondered the question in his mind, he was grabbed from behind.
"Don't struggle," spoke a soft voice, before Marcus was carried over the gate.
Marcus gave up and fell asleep. His last waking thought was one of terror, and the wish that things go back to how they were.