Ancestral Lineage

"Ethan Smith, Trevor Barnes, Lamair Griswold, Clara Verna, Emily Daniels! Come to my office right now!"

BOOM! CRASH!

The sound of the school's siren echoed across the entire Anbord Mage Academy, followed by the unmistakable voice of Miss Carmen Steil. It wasn't the typical harsh or commanding tone one would expect from such an order. Instead, it was sweet, calm, and unsettlingly gentle—like the eye of a storm. The voice sent shivers down the spines of everyone who heard it, regardless of who they were. No one was immune to the effect of that voice, which was laced with an unspoken authority that could freeze even the bravest soul in their tracks. This voice, terrifying yet honeyed, belonged to none other than Miss Steil, the legendary and formidable principal of the academy.

Rumors surrounded the principal like a cloak—whispers of her power and ruthlessness had swirled since the day she took the prestigious seat at the head of the academy. Some called her the "Ferocious Cat Queen," others referred to her as the "Queen of the Jungle" or "Killer Cat." Each nickname was a testament to the fear she instilled. Her authority was absolute, and everyone, from the most experienced mage to the lowliest first-year, knew better than to cross her path. Even the new students, fresh-faced and unaware of the school's internal workings, instinctively understood the gravity of her presence. It was as if the very air carried the weight of her reputation. A silent, encoded mechanism within every student's mind warned them to tread carefully when it came to the principal.

Ethan Smith and Trevor Barnes, two first-year students, felt the full force of that weight pressing down on them when they heard their names called over the siren. Panic set in almost instantly. Without even finishing their meals, they scrambled to their feet and bolted toward the principal's office, running as if the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. And in a way, they were right to feel that way—no one dared to be late when summoned by Miss Steil. The consequences of tardiness were enough to send any student into a cold sweat.

The academy was massive, more like a small village than a school. Its sprawling grounds were dotted with buildings, training areas, and mystical zones. The principal's office, however, was situated on the outskirts of the academy, far from the bustling heart of student activity. Ethan and Trevor were fortunate in that their Year One building was somewhat closer to the office, but they still had a long and grueling run ahead of them. As they ran, the sound of their hurried footsteps seemed to echo louder than usual, as if the very earth beneath them was aware of the trouble they were in.

After what felt like an eternity—30 minutes of non-stop running—the two boys finally arrived at the office area. The black pagoda-like structure stood in the center of a breathtaking, surreal landscape. Sunflowers and dandelions surrounded the building, creating a makeshift forest that looked like it had been plucked straight from a fantastical dream. The sight would have been calming to anyone else, with the flowers swaying gently in the breeze and the sunlight filtering through their petals. But for Ethan and Trevor, it only heightened their anxiety. How could they feel at peace when they were about to face the person they feared most in the entire academy?

The principal's domain was vast and imposing. The very air around the building felt different, thicker, heavier, charged with a subtle but undeniable energy. Both boys stood frozen at the base of the short staircase that led up to the building's entrance. Their legs were shaking, and sweat dripped down their faces, not just from the long run but from the overwhelming sense of dread that had settled in their chests. Trevor, normally confident and composed, looked like a ghost, his pale skin almost as white as his hair. His breathing was ragged, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. Ethan, though a bit more composed, wasn't faring much better. His bright green eyes darted nervously around, searching for some unseen threat, while his hands shook at his sides.

Neither boy could bring themselves to take that final step, to climb the three small stairs that separated them from their fate. They knew they couldn't stand there forever, but their bodies refused to cooperate. It was as if an invisible barrier was holding them back, feeding their fear and making it impossible to move. Just as they were about to consider turning back—knowing full well that such an action would only make things worse—their hesitation was interrupted by a voice.

The voice came from inside the building, soft but firm. It wasn't loud, but it carried through the air like a ripple in a still pond, brushing against their minds and forcing clarity upon their clouded thoughts. It was soothing, almost like a mother's voice calming her children, but it only brought more terror to the boys once they realized who it belonged to.

"What are you standing there for?" the voice asked, laced with the same gentle menace they had heard over the siren earlier. "You have only 30 seconds to enter or else, you will be late."

That was all it took. Any remaining hesitation was obliterated. They scrambled up the stairs, their limbs moving as if on autopilot, driven by a primal urge to survive. They burst through the doors, their hearts pounding in their chests like drums of war.

Inside the office, the atmosphere was even more oppressive.

It was a spacious room, tastefully decorated with rich, dark wood and soft, ambient lighting. The space had an elegant, almost regal air to it, but it didn't make the boys feel any more comfortable. Instead, it only heightened the sense that they were stepping into the lion's den.

Both boys were doubled over, gasping for air, their faces deathly pale. They looked worse than vampires who hadn't seen the sun in centuries. Ethan, usually a confident, bright-eyed young man, was reduced to a trembling wreck. His tanned skin, which usually glowed with a healthy warmth, now had an ashen tint to it. His messy red hair clung to his sweaty forehead, and his circular spectacles sat askew on his nose, adding to his disheveled appearance. Trevor wasn't faring much better. His short, white hair was damp with sweat, and his fair skin seemed almost translucent. His deep red eyes, usually sharp and alert, were dull with fear.

As they stood there, trying to catch their breath, they realized that they weren't alone. Sitting on one of the plush sofas in the corner of the room was another boy. He had purple hair that fell messily around his pale face, and his eyes were wide with terror. It was Lamair Griswold, one of their buddies, and he looked like he had already been through a lifetime of torment. His hands were trembling, and his entire body seemed to be shaking as if he were freezing, though the room was warm. Whatever had brought him here clearly hadn't been pleasant.

Ethan and Trevor exchanged a glance, and instantly, their fear subsided just a little. Despite the seriousness of the situation, a familiar mischievous glint appeared in their eyes. Their expressions shifted into maniacal grins. Nothing good ever came from those grins, and anyone who knew them would have recognized that trouble was brewing.

For a brief moment, all their fatigue and fear evaporated, replaced by their shared, unspoken camaraderie. Whatever awaited them beyond that door, they would face it together.