13. Starting Line

                                    

                                          
"You'd do well to remember this, class," said Professor Gray as he paced in front of the titanic chalkboard strung up on the wall. A floating chalk stick had been enchanted to inscribe his every word on the massive, green-colored slate as he spoke. 
"Our Era of Magic is but the culmination of centuries and centuries of misunderstandings and needless war. Take the aforementioned Aetherium, for instance. Otherwise known as the Great Sorcerer Uprising.
"Back then, the world was a lot more, let's say, cut-throat than the civilized society that we openly indulge today. Mages, victimized as freaks or used as biological weapons, came to the conclusion that the social order needed to change. "Why should we, creatures that are superior to that of a dullard, be forced to work as their packing mules, their obedient mutts?". One simple question, and a war lasting for seven long years washed over the entire country."
Elaine frantically jotted down the professor's lecture notes into her textbook. She moved so quickly, however, that it got to the point where a pestering cramp stung her hand, pinched at her fingers. But she ignored it, and she kept writing. She discounted the pain, she continued to—
The pen flung uncontrollably out of her hand, landing somewhere underneath the desk beneath her. Elaine muttered an incomprehensible sentence or two, and swiftly rummaged through her satchel for a replacement.
"Perhaps this can help?" said Custas. He was spiraling a blue-colored pen in his fingers, a smirk making his cheeks dimple.
"Thanks. You're a lifesaver," she whispered, accepting the pen from him.
"Not a problem," Custas grinned. "But you know, Elaine, don't you think you're overdoing it a bit?"
"Hmm? Overdoing what?"
"Need you ask? I mean, you did just fling away a perfectly good pen. Let's be hopeful you don't accidentally take someone's eye out next time. And this is not to sound hurtful, but your penmanship could use some finetuning." 
For the first time since she started class, Elaine took a solid glance at her work. It was...err, she could do better. What at first started out as lines of eligible text had within a page devolved into a cluster of scrambled letters and scratches. She could hardly make out exactly what it was she herself had written.
"Okay, I might need to slow down a little..."
Custas raised a brow at her. "Might?"
"I'm sorry. I can't help it."
"Is this another of your quirks, perchance? Like when you nearly tore my tongue out of my mouth at the marketplace?"
"No, it isn't like that. And you promised you wouldn't bring that up again!" Elaine pouted, jabbing him in his side.
Custas shrugged. "Eh, just taking a shot in the dark. So what is bothering you?"
"I can't stop thinking about what Professor Marsh said," Elaine admitted, sighing. "You know, about the whole "survival" thing?"
"Oh, that's what's got you so bent out of shape? Elaine, I'm disappointed. Surely you're not letting that nutjob's words get to you."
Elaine frowned at her desk. "And what if I am?" 
She couldn't deny it, the Abyssal Sorcerer had shattered her confidence, rattled her core. What if she really did fail to live up to his expectations? How long would it be before the terrifying mage materialized in one of her classes and told her that she was being placed under academic probation, or even worse: expelled.
It was enough to make her stay hyper focused on each and every lesson since she'd departed from homeroom. Fortunately, it helped that Magihistory was a subject she was already somewhat familiar with.