A good morning

The small clock hanging over my head points to four in the morning.

From my position on the ground, I can see the dark dawn sky from outside the window beside my bed. Piles of scattered paper surround me, some crumpled and others torn into pieces. The candle's light shines softly illuminating page 564 as I hold the tome over my lap. I stare, eyes dark with bags and skin pale with exhaustion at the way the flame flicker slowly. This is the last page. I snap the tome shut. A refreshing gush of air enters from the window and Youssef, sleeping soundly in his bed, hugs the cover closer to his frame.

It's already four in the morning, the thoughts echoes in my mind. My hand clenches around the tome in my lap. My fingers tremble and the shaking goes up my arm, reaching my shoulders. Today is the start of the second term. I stare down at the other three tomes I threw away in a fit of rage, feet away from me, after I finished looking through them. Shit. I've gone through all the books I've borrowed from the Academy's library before, but I have yet to find a substitute for the Rafik summoning ritual.

The clock ticks away, the sound reverberating in the deathly silence of the bedroom. It's almost dawn now. I watch with half lidded eyes as the sky clears up and rays of light enter the dark room. My back is aching from bending down for too long and I lean back on the right leg of the overflowing disorganized table. I could go to bed now, get two hours of sleep but that probably wouldn't make a difference. Not that it matter. It wouldn't be the first time I spend a sleepless night researching something.

I stifle a loud yawn with my hand. I should've given up hours ago, but by that time I already spent too much time and effort in my search. I was so frustrated with myself; I felt that stopping would mean admitting that I wasted time and energy for nothing. I cover my face in my hands. I desperately need a Rafik. I have to take part in the tournament. Shit. Nothing is working out like I hoped it would. Fuck. The graduation exam is in three months. I'll need to start preparing for that too.

I stagger up to reach my bed. My body slams on the mattress as soon as I reach it and I groan. If I could just figure out what went wrong with the first Rafik ritual... I roll on my back and take a deep shuddering breath then let my eyes fall close. Sticking out my feet under the open window's sunshine, I relish in the morning's warm glow. I yawn sleepily. When I peer my eyes begrudgingly open again it's already past 7.

Time to get up.

I groan in frustration, still I force myself to take a deep breath and sit up. With tired dark eyes, slowly, I stand up. Youssef, in his bed, kicks off the covers and dangles his legs while he mutters nonsense in his sleep. I trudge out the bedroom down the stairs and to the bathroom.

It's childish, stupid and irresponsible, but I don't want to go to the Academy.

Yet, I call upon all my strength to wash my face and brush my teeth. In the small splattered mirror, I stare at myself: my eyes look as lifeless as I feel and exhaustion seems to seep out of every pore of my skin. I try to mat my short curly brown hair into a semblance of order and fail. Angrily, I snap the bottle of fixing paste open and take a good handful.

My mother's footsteps reverberate through the thin walls, and I turn around lazily to see her standing, arms crossed in front of the bathroom door.

"You spent another sleepless night, didn't you?" she stars with pursed lips. I nod slowly and she shakes her head. "Even though it's already this late, before going to the Academy, you should at least eat something."

I frown at her. What time is it? I dry my face and rush back up the stairs to my room. On the small clock hanged over the pile of disordered books, the hand points to 7:50. SHIT!

"I'M LATE!" I yell. Panicking, I search through the piles in the floor for today's lesson books and rip my uniform out of the closet. I pull the standard blue button shirt over my head and slip into the black jodhpur pants.

Under my mother's disapproving gaze, I almost fall down the stairs and hit the ground. But years of waking up late had me develop a variety of reflexes that helped me realise a graceful landing. My mother shakes her head and sighs.

"I don't know who you take after." she mutters.

The cots and small shops scattered around Kabila's roads turn into a blur as I dash madly out of the door and straight to the Inter-Bab*.

The gate to Medina is already full with the villagers and merchants, the former looking anxious about the time. It's a long line to the Inter-Bab*'s gate and I groan. The woman in front of me turns back at the sound.

"You're Khaled, Malika's eldest son, right?" She asks suddenly and I nod.

Immediately a smile forms on her lips. She whispers something to the man standing in front of her and the latter glances back at me as well. Soon the whole line is buzzing with murmurs, eyes drinking me in and heads nodding in agreement. I watch this all unfold curiously, until they start one by one to stand back leaving my way to the gate empty.

I stare confused and unsure at the row of smiling villagers.

"Go on." the woman smiles at me, "You must be late for the Academy. There's only so much we can do to show our gratitude. You did save our village." she explains.

A/N:

*Hadeya: gift

*Rafik: Familiar

*Inter-Bab: Teleportation portal connecting small neighbouring cities and villages together

*Irsal: Telekinesis

*Toukous: Ritual studies

*Anasir spells: Elemental spells