As I stepped into the classroom, my heart felt like it was pounding so loudly that surely everyone could hear it. The air seemed thick with anticipation, and the eyes of my new classmates bore into me like piercing daggers.
I kept my gaze glued to the floor, focusing on the intricate pattern of the tiles beneath my feet, hoping to shield myself from the intensity of their scrutiny.
The headmaster's words echoed in my mind, offering reassurance that everything would be fine, but the knot of anxiety in my stomach refused to loosen its grip. With a gentle push from Headmaster Sterling, I reluctantly lifted my gaze, taking in the scene before me.
A women at the front, a vision of ethereal beauty that seemed to soften the harsh lines of reality. She was an elf, with delicate features that spoke of ancient lineages and a grace that was almost otherworldly.
Her hair was a cascade of autumn leaves, shimmering with hues of gold and copper, and her eyes were like twin pools of the clearest water, reflecting a wisdom that transcended time.
"Welcome, Aurelia," she said, her voice a gentle melody that seemed to dance through the air. "I am Miss Rose, your teacher."
I nodded, managing a small smile as I stood before my new classmates. Miss Rose gestured for me to introduce myself, and I drew a deep breath, finding strength in the calm assurance of her presence.
I took a tentative step forward, my gaze flickering briefly to Miss Rose before settling back on the floor. "Hello, my name is Aurelia," I began, my voice steady despite the nerves that still churned within me. "I'm 8 years old, and I hope to get to know all of you better."
Miss Rose's smile was like a beacon, warm and encouraging. "You can go sit next to Lydia. Lydia, please raise your hand," she instructed.
A hand rose from the sea of students, and my eyes found Lydia. She was a human girl, her presence commanding even in its stillness. Her hair was a tapestry of spun gold, each strand catching the light as if imbued with its own luminescence.
Her eyes were the vibrant green of new leaves in spring, framed by lashes as delicate as butterfly wings. A tiara rested upon her head, its jewels glinting with a quiet authority that matched her regal bearing.
I made my way to the empty seat beside her, my steps measured and careful. "It's nice meeting you," I said, extending the olive branch of friendship.
Lydia turned to me, her expression unreadable. "I don't care about you, so don't talk to me," she replied, her voice devoid of warmth.
I felt a pang of hurt at her words, but I quickly schooled my features into a mask of indifference. It seemed that my hopes of making a friend on my first day were dashed before they even had a chance to take root.
Her words stung, a sharp contrast to the softness of Miss Rose's welcome. I recoiled slightly, a frown creasing my brow as I processed the rebuff. But I would not let it dampen my spirit. I was here to learn, to grow, and no amount of coldness from Lydia could change that.
I settled into my seat, turning my attention to Miss Rose as she began the lesson. The world of academia was my refuge, a place where the magic of knowledge could shield me from the slings and arrows of social strife. And as Miss Rose's words filled the room, I let them build a fortress around me, a sanctuary where I could be safe, where I could be me.
Miss Rose's announcement that she would be our magic teacher sent a ripple of excitement through the class. "So I think you all know about your magic, so today we are going to test it. But first, let's go to the training ground," she said, her voice carrying the promise of discovery and challenge.
The students rose from their seats, a symphony of shuffling papers and scraping chairs. Lydia, with her regal bearing, joined her friends—a dragon girl with hair the color of twilight and eyes as deep as the void, and another human girl, her hair and eyes a matching set of earthy brown. They moved with the easy confidence of those assured of their place in the world.
I followed in their wake, a silent shadow amidst the chatter and laughter. The training ground was a vast expanse, open to the sky, with mannequins arrayed like silent sentinels awaiting our spells. I understood the unspoken challenge—they were our targets, our silent judges.
"I want to know your magical strength, so use your magic freely on the mannequins right there. We are going to start with Lilie, please go on," Miss Rose directed, her gaze sweeping over us with an encouraging smile.
Lilie, a little elf girl with the poise of a seasoned warrior, stepped forward. Her presence commanded attention, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anticipation. "May the wind give me its strength so that I can use it," she intoned, her voice a whisper that seemed to carry the essence of the breeze itself.
She assumed a stance that spoke of ancient traditions, her hand outstretched as she summoned her magic. "Windball," she declared, and a sphere of swirling air materialized, darting forward with the promise of power.
But then, just as it neared the mannequins, it dissipated into a gentle zephyr, leaving no mark. I watched, my surprise mirrored on the faces of those around me. "So that's the strength of an 8-year-old," I murmured, a note of despair coloring my words.
How can you be so bad after saying all that, I try do not beat them all by accident.