It was a dark and stormy night—not that Elyas was overly dramatic, but for once, the weather was matching the state of his life. He was lying under a particularly soggy tree in the academy's courtyard, rain drizzling down his face, as he tried to avoid Marlowe's latest poetic performance. He had to admit, the tree wasn't the most comfortable option for shelter, but it was better than listening to another verse about the "unyielding passion" of his "crimson blush." He hadn't even blushed—that was just sunburn.
Elyas sighed and rolled over onto his side, hoping the damp leaves would drown out the sound of his thoughts.
Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, a shadow loomed over him, and a voice broke through the pattering of the rain.
"You know, you'll catch a cold sleeping out here."
Elyas groaned inwardly. Great, now even the storm had opinions about his life choices. But as he squinted up through the drizzle, he realized the voice belonged to someone far less ominous: Seraphina.
Seraphina wasn't just any student at Arcanis Academy. She was known for her talent in enchanting objects, her sharp wit, and her general aura of having her life completely together—something Elyas admired from a distance, in much the same way one admires a dragon from far, far away, preferably with a wall between them.
She stood above him, holding an umbrella that seemed to be glowing faintly in the rain. Of course it was enchanted. Everything Seraphina touched seemed to either glow, float, or sing a little tune. She had that kind of magic that just worked—the opposite of Elyas's magic, which often resembled an enthusiastic toddler trying to drive a carriage.
Elyas blinked up at her, feeling like a damp, defeated cat. "I'm fine," he mumbled, "just, uh, enjoying the fresh air."
Seraphina arched an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. "Right. And the tree? You were planning to turn it into a new piece of furniture, or was it going to serenade you like Marlowe?"
Elyas sighed. She had a point.
"I don't know what to do, Seraphina," Elyas admitted, pushing himself up into a seated position. "Marlowe won't leave me alone. Every time I think I've escaped, he pops up with a lute and a ballad about my 'ethereal beauty.' I mean, I barely have regular beauty, let alone ethereal."
Seraphina chuckled, the sound light but not unkind. "Have you tried just talking to him? You know, like a normal person?"
Elyas frowned. "Talk to him? Like, with words?"
"Yes, Elyas, with words," she said, rolling her eyes but still smiling. "It's this new thing people are trying. You tell someone how you feel, and they… listen."
"But what if I hurt his feelings?" Elyas asked, staring down at the muddy ground. "Marlowe's so... enthusiastic. I don't want to be the one to crush his poetic dreams."
Seraphina plopped down next to him, despite the rain, her enchanted umbrella magically keeping her dry. "Here's the thing about Marlowe: he's a bard. He thrives on drama. If you tell him you're not interested, he'll probably write an entire tragic ballad about it, but he'll get over it. He's not exactly fragile, you know."
Elyas bit his lip, unsure. "I don't know. What if he's... relentless? What if he writes even more poetry about how I 'spurned his advances' or whatever?"
Seraphina looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "You know, there's an enchantment I can use to help with that."
Elyas blinked. "Really? Something to... stop his advances?"
"Not exactly," Seraphina said, her eyes twinkling with a plan already forming. "But I could enchant something to give him a little... creative redirection. Bards love muses, right? We'll just introduce him to a new one."
Elyas blinked in confusion. "Wait... are you suggesting we create a fake muse for Marlowe?"
Seraphina's grin grew wider. "Not fake. Just... magically inspired. I'll enchant something that subtly nudges him in a new direction. Something he won't be able to resist."
"Like what?" Elyas asked, his curiosity piqued despite his better judgment.
She looked around, her sharp eyes scanning the courtyard. "How about this?" She plucked a nearby stone from the ground and held it up like it was a rare gem. "This could be perfect."
"A rock?" Elyas asked, his skepticism returning.
"Not just any rock, Elyas," Seraphina said, her tone deadly serious. "This will be the rock of Marlowe's dreams. His muse. His... 'ethereal beauty.'" She said the last part with a dramatic flourish, mimicking Marlowe's style.
Elyas stared at her, then at the rock, then back at her. "You're going to enchant a rock to be Marlowe's new muse?"
"Exactly," Seraphina said, pulling out her wand and tapping the stone gently. A soft glow surrounded the rock for a moment before fading. "There. Now, whenever Marlowe sees this, he'll feel an overwhelming sense of inspiration. He'll compose endless odes, sonnets, and epics. To this rock."
Elyas wasn't sure if he should laugh or be concerned. "And... you think this will work?"
Seraphina smirked. "Oh, it'll work. Trust me. He won't be able to resist."
The next day, Elyas found himself waiting in the courtyard again, this time with Seraphina's enchanted rock in his pocket. He had to admit, the whole plan sounded ridiculous, but Seraphina seemed so confident that it was hard not to believe her.
Sure enough, Marlowe appeared right on schedule, lute in hand, ready to serenade Elyas once more. He struck a dramatic pose, his eyes gleaming with poetic fervor.
"Oh, Elyas, the winds whispered your name—"
"Hey, Marlowe!" Elyas interrupted, pulling the rock from his pocket. "Check this out!"
Marlowe paused, mid-strum, his gaze shifting to the rock. "A... rock?"
Elyas nodded, trying to look as serious as possible. "Not just any rock. This is... a very special rock. I found it last night, and it just seemed so... inspiring. Don't you think?"
For a moment, Marlowe looked confused, but then something magical happened. His eyes widened, and his expression shifted from confusion to pure, unadulterated awe.
"Oh my gods..." Marlowe whispered, dropping to one knee before the rock. "This... this is it. The muse I've been searching for my whole life!" He gently took the rock from Elyas's hand, cradling it like a priceless artifact. "It's perfect. So simple, yet so profound. It speaks to me!"
Elyas tried not to laugh as Marlowe began to strum his lute, immediately composing an impromptu song. "Oh, stone of destiny, so smooth and strong, I've found my muse, where you belong..."
It worked. It actually worked.
Marlowe was officially in love with a rock.
Seraphina, watching from a distance, gave Elyas a triumphant thumbs-up before disappearing back into the academy. Elyas could barely contain his relief. Finally, he had a moment of peace.
Marlowe, now utterly captivated by his new muse, spent the rest of the afternoon composing sonnets to "Rocky," as he affectionately named it. Elyas, no longer theChapter 7: Seraphina's Intervention
It was a dark and stormy night—not that Elyas was overly dramatic, but for once, the weather was matching the state of his life. He was lying under a particularly soggy tree in the academy's courtyard, rain drizzling down his face, as he tried to avoid Marlowe's latest poetic performance. He had to admit, the tree wasn't the most comfortable option for shelter, but it was better than listening to another verse about the "unyielding passion" of his "crimson blush." He hadn't even blushed—that was just sunburn.
Elyas sighed and rolled over onto his side, hoping the damp leaves would drown out the sound of his thoughts.
Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, a shadow loomed over him, and a voice broke through the pattering of the rain.
"You know, you'll catch a cold sleeping out here."
Elyas groaned inwardly. Great, now even the storm had opinions about his life choices. But as he squinted up through the drizzle, he realized the voice belonged to someone far less ominous: Seraphina.
Seraphina wasn't just any student at Arcanis Academy. She was known for her talent in enchanting objects, her sharp wit, and her general aura of having her life completely together—something Elyas admired from a distance, in much the same way one admires a dragon from far, far away, preferably with a wall between them.
She stood above him, holding an umbrella that seemed to be glowing faintly in the rain. Of course it was enchanted. Everything Seraphina touched seemed to either glow, float, or sing a little tune. She had that kind of magic that just worked—the opposite of Elyas's magic, which often resembled an enthusiastic toddler trying to drive a carriage.
Elyas blinked up at her, feeling like a damp, defeated cat. "I'm fine," he mumbled, "just, uh, enjoying the fresh air."
Seraphina arched an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. "Right. And the tree? You were planning to turn it into a new piece of furniture, or was it going to serenade you like Marlowe?"
Elyas sighed. She had a point.
"I don't know what to do, Seraphina," Elyas admitted, pushing himself up into a seated position. "Marlowe won't leave me alone. Every time I think I've escaped, he pops up with a lute and a ballad about my 'ethereal beauty.' I mean, I barely have regular beauty, let alone ethereal."
Seraphina chuckled, the sound light but not unkind. "Have you tried just talking to him? You know, like a normal person?"
Elyas frowned. "Talk to him? Like, with words?"
"Yes, Elyas, with words," she said, rolling her eyes but still smiling. "It's this new thing people are trying. You tell someone how you feel, and they… listen."
"But what if I hurt his feelings?" Elyas asked, staring down at the muddy ground. "Marlowe's so... enthusiastic. I don't want to be the one to crush his poetic dreams."
Seraphina plopped down next to him, despite the rain, her enchanted umbrella magically keeping her dry. "Here's the thing about Marlowe: he's a bard. He thrives on drama. If you tell him you're not interested, he'll probably write an entire tragic ballad about it, but he'll get over it. He's not exactly fragile, you know."
Elyas bit his lip, unsure. "I don't know. What if he's... relentless? What if he writes even more poetry about how I 'spurned his advances' or whatever?"
Seraphina looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "You know, there's an enchantment I can use to help with that."
Elyas blinked. "Really? Something to... stop his advances?"
"Not exactly," Seraphina said, her eyes twinkling with a plan already forming. "But I could enchant something to give him a little... creative redirection. Bards love muses, right? We'll just introduce him to a new one."
Elyas blinked in confusion. "Wait... are you suggesting we create a fake muse for Marlowe?"
Seraphina's grin grew wider. "Not fake. Just... magically inspired. I'll enchant something that subtly nudges him in a new direction. Something he won't be able to resist."
"Like what?" Elyas asked, his curiosity piqued despite his better judgment.
She looked around, her sharp eyes scanning the courtyard. "How about this?" She plucked a nearby stone from the ground and held it up like it was a rare gem. "This could be perfect."
"A rock?" Elyas asked, his skepticism returning.
"Not just any rock, Elyas," Seraphina said, her tone deadly serious. "This will be the rock of Marlowe's dreams. His muse. His... 'ethereal beauty.'" She said the last part with a dramatic flourish, mimicking Marlowe's style.
Elyas stared at her, then at the rock, then back at her. "You're going to enchant a rock to be Marlowe's new muse?"
"Exactly," Seraphina said, pulling out her wand and tapping the stone gently. A soft glow surrounded the rock for a moment before fading. "There. Now, whenever Marlowe sees this, he'll feel an overwhelming sense of inspiration. He'll compose endless odes, sonnets, and epics. To this rock."
Elyas wasn't sure if he should laugh or be concerned. "And... you think this will work?"
Seraphina smirked. "Oh, it'll work. Trust me. He won't be able to resist."
The next day, Elyas found himself waiting in the courtyard again, this time with Seraphina's enchanted rock in his pocket. He had to admit, the whole plan sounded ridiculous, but Seraphina seemed so confident that it was hard not to believe her.
Sure enough, Marlowe appeared right on schedule, lute in hand, ready to serenade Elyas once more. He struck a dramatic pose, his eyes gleaming with poetic fervor.
"Oh, Elyas, the winds whispered your name—"
"Hey, Marlowe!" Elyas interrupted, pulling the rock from his pocket. "Check this out!"
Marlowe paused, mid-strum, his gaze shifting to the rock. "A... rock?"
Elyas nodded, trying to look as serious as possible. "Not just any rock. This is... a very special rock. I found it last night, and it just seemed so... inspiring. Don't you think?"
For a moment, Marlowe looked confused, but then something magical happened. His eyes widened, and his expression shifted from confusion to pure, unadulterated awe.
"Oh my gods..." Marlowe whispered, dropping to one knee before the rock. "This... this is it. The muse I've been searching for my whole life!" He gently took the rock from Elyas's hand, cradling it like a priceless artifact. "It's perfect. So simple, yet so profound. It speaks to me!"
Elyas tried not to laugh as Marlowe began to strum his lute, immediately composing an impromptu song. "Oh, stone of destiny, so smooth and strong, I've found my muse, where you belong..."
It worked. It actually worked.
Marlowe was officially in love with a rock.
Seraphina, watching from a distance, gave Elyas a triumphant thumbs-up before disappearing back into the academy. Elyas could barely contain his relief. Finally, he had a moment of peace.
Marlowe, now utterly captivated by his new muse, spent the rest of the afternoon composing sonnets to "Rocky," as he affectionately named it. Elyas, no longer the subject of Marlowe's intense poetic affection, sat back and enjoyed the quiet, wondering if he should feel guilty about the whole thing.
But as Marlowe serenaded the rock under the same tree Elyas had slept under the previous night, Elyas decided that, no, he didn't feel guilty at all.
Sometimes, you had to get a little creative to survive at Arcanis Academy.