Fire crackles softly, its warmth wrapping around me as I slowly blink awake. Today is the day—the day I finally receive the letter that will determine my fate. The acceptance letter from Crowno Academy, named after the greatest alchemist in Zelferia, looms in my mind like a specter. I feel both excitement and dread swirling within me.
With a heavy sigh, I push aside my thin, worn blanket, which has seen better days but still offers some comfort. Sitting up, I instinctively check my shoes for any rats, recalling last week's unfortunate encounter when one had the audacity to bite my toe. Slipping my feet into the crudely made leather shoes I fashioned myself, I'm reminded of the harsh lessons poverty teaches.
*I shuffle over to the fire, glancing around my small, cluttered space for the cooking pot. I need to get some water boiling for breakfast, though I dread the thought of yet another bowl of cabbage stew. Ugh, I'm so sick of it. I grab a cabbage and begin chopping it into small pieces. The rhythmic sound of my knife slicing through the vegetable is oddly soothing.
As I prepare the pot, I glance at my shelf, overflowing with ground ingredients and vials of strange liquids. My passion for alchemy has drained every last shekel I had, leaving me in a perpetual state of struggle. I place the kettle on the fire, changing into my work clothes and mentally gearing up for the morning's experiment. I gather a touch of dreamroot, some dragon's blood resin, and a few moonflower petals. Dropping 500 grams of dreamroot into my small cauldron, I add 1 ml of dragon's blood resin and six moonflower petals.
I begin to stir, watching as the liquid shifts from a clear blue to a deep, smoky purple. A small wisp of vapor escapes the cauldron, teasing my senses. I grab a 5 ml vial and carefully fill it. If my calculations are correct, this concoction should transform wood into tin. I let a single drop fall from the vial onto the wooden pig carving, then tip the entire vial, allowing the purple liquid to soak into the wood. Almost instantly, the carving absorbs the liquid, and with a bright flash of purple smoke, the room fills with a thick haze. Cough cough
Rushing to the window, I swing the latch and fling it open, letting the smoke pour out. Once the air is clear, I return to my workbench, only to find the pig carving has become nothing more than a pile of black sludge. Ugh, another failed attempt. I pull out my notebook and scribble down "Attempt 69: Failed." Perhaps if I tweak the dragon's blood resin to a smaller amount and add some metal bug legs, I might find success. I jot down the new formula while cleaning up the mess.
Glancing toward the door, I realize I need to forage for those bug legs. In retrospect, it would be easier to just buy them, but as I reach for my coin pouch, the absence of any jingle confirms it's completely empty. Maybe I should forage for food, too. As I step toward the door, I hear a crunch beneath my foot. There, on the floor, lies a letter emblazoned with the Crowno Academy emblem. I snatch it up and, with a ferocity akin to a wild animal, rip it open.
"Dear Desmond, thank you for your application to Crowno Academy. Unfortunately, you are not a quality fit for the academy. You have no merits and your bloodline is lacking. Thank you for applying."
Tears blur my vision as I read the words. Are you kidding me? No merits? Bloodline-less? This world is ruled by class and bloodlines—they dictate who you are, from royalty to the lowest of the low, like shoveling rhino dung. I am bloodline-less, abandoned as a baby and left to fend for myself in the streets, picked up by a poor couple. I've never belonged anywhere, just a forgotten shadow in society. Crumpling the letter, I throw it to the floor and storm out of my shack, slamming the door behind me. Who needs that dumb academy anyway?
With each step, I walk faster, my heart pounding, until I find myself running, tears streaming down my cheeks. Before I know it, I'm at the edge of town, entering the Hollowbe Woods. Nothing dangerous lives here. Stepping into the forest, my mind is consumed by angst, and I don't notice how unnaturally quiet it is—there's no hum of the tree fairies, no croaks of the frog birds. Looking down, I think, Maybe I'll at least find some good ingredients today.
As I venture deeper into the woods, I soon reach the inner Hollowbe Woods, where the trees twist together, their thick canopy blocking out the light and closing me in.