MEMORA, academy of magic

Late for hanger chaos

"The ancient art of magic is passed down through bloodlines, my son," Fin's father spoke gravely. "Though not all members of a family possess it, it appears that you have been blessed, or cursed, with the gift. I apologize for this burden that has been placed upon you."

"The fissure in the earth, you're saying that I caused it?" Fin struggled to contain his excitement and fear. "Is that what mages are capable of?"

"Mages harness the elemental forces of nature - earth, air, water, fire and even the void, which is the source of the most potent and dangerous magic. They can use magic for many purposes, including manipulating the earth as you have just demonstrated. However, at the onset of magical abilities, the power is raw and unbridled. It takes discipline and study to harness and control such power. Young mages often lack control and must learn to balance their abilities. Fin, you must resist the urge to use your magic and never reveal it to anyone. If you do, the powerful and secretive mage council will take you away to their hidden strongholds."

 "Is that where the school is located?" he queried. 

"Buried deep beneath the earth's surface, hidden from prying eyes," his father replied, his tone grim. "There is no natural light down there, no windows to gaze through. The place is a labyrinthine network of caverns, where one could easily become lost and perish without a trace." Fin licked his suddenly parched lips and asked, "But you possess magical abilities, do you not?" 

"I have not employed my magical powers since your mother's passing," his father replied solemnly. "I have renounced their use forever." Fin's curiosity was piqued by the mention of his mother. He possessed only a few faded photographs of her, depicting a beautiful woman with tresses of ink-brown hair and eyes of an unidentifiable hue. He knew better than to press his father for information regarding her, as he rarely spoke of her unless compelled to do so. "Did my mother attend the Memora as well?" Fin queried eagerly. "Indeed, she did," his father confirmed. "And it was due to the machinations of magic that she ultimately met her demise. Magicians are prone to engaging in war, and they pay little heed to the innocent lives that are lost as a result. This is another reason why you must take great care not to draw their attention."

That night, Fin's subconscious conjured up a nightmare that left him writhing and screaming in terror, as if he were being buried alive in a suffocating subterranean chamber. Despite his frenzied efforts to free himself, he couldn't escape the crushing weight of the earth, or the feeling of impending asphyxiation. This was followed by a dream in which he was pursued by a monstrous entity composed entirely of smoke, its eyes swirling with malevolent hues. Despite his desperate attempts to flee, the impediment of his damaged leg hindered his progress, causing him to stumble and fall as the monstrous apparition closed in, its searing breath scorching the back of his neck.

While his classmates feared the usual childhood phantoms such as the monster under the bed, Fin's terrors were rooted in his fear of magicians - the same individuals he held responsible for his mother's death and his father's withdrawn and reclusive existence, spending all his time in the garage, piecing together broken objects. He knew that he was soon to confront these very same magicians, and the thought filled him with dread.

As they hurtled past a sign heralding their arrival in the state of Virginia, the scenery appeared unvaried and monotonous. Fin couldn't quite discern what he had anticipated, but he had rarely ventured beyond the confines of his native Old North State. Their excursions outside of Asheville were infrequent, mainly to attend car-part swap meets and antique fairs, where Fin would meander aimlessly among piles of tarnished silverware, stacks of baseball cards encased in plastic, and bizarre, taxidermied yak heads, while his father engaged in tedious haggling for some mundane item. It dawned on Fin that if he did not botch this test, he may never again have the opportunity to attend one of those swap meets. A wave of nausea washed over him and a chill ran down his spine. He strived to focus on the strategy his father had instilled in him: to empty his mind completely, to concentrate on something diametrically opposed to what the "monsters" desired, or to fixate on someone else's test instead of his own.

He exhaled deeply, trying to steady himself as his father's palpable anxiety began to infect him. Despite his apprehension, he reminded himself that it was only a test and that mistakes were inevitable.

As they turned off the main highway onto a secluded road, Fin couldn't help but notice the ominous sign bearing the symbol of an airplane, with the foreboding caption "AIRFIELD UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE, NOT OPERATIONAL" emblazoned beneath it. "Where are we going?" Fin queried, his heart beginning to race as he wondered if his father had arranged for them to fly somewhere. "Let's hope not," his father muttered tersely, as the smooth asphalt gave way to a rough, unpaved path. The Duesenberg, a vehicle not meant for such terrain, jostled wildly as they progressed, forcing Fin to grip the door frame tightly to prevent himself from being thrown about.

As they emerged from the trees and into a vast clearing, Fin's eyes were drawn to a colossal hangar constructed of corrugated steel, surrounded by a diverse array of vehicles ranging from dilapidated pickup trucks to sleek, modern sedans. Parents and children, all around his age, bustled towards the hangar with a sense of purpose. Fin couldn't help but feel a knot of trepidation form in his stomach, unsure of what lay ahead.

As they approached the hangar entrance, Fin expressed his apprehension regarding their tardiness. However, his father's demeanor was one of satisfaction, as he brought the vehicle to a halt and disembarked, beckoning for his son to follow suit. The sweltering heat of the day bore down upon them as they traversed the parking lot. Fin, feeling the perspiration gathering on his palms, surreptitiously wiped them on his denim-clad legs.

Upon entering the hangar, the scene before them was one of chaos and commotion. The echoes of youthful exclamations reverberated in the cavernous space. Rows of bleachers had been erected along one metal wall, though they appeared diminutive in comparison to the vastness of the room. The concrete floor was marked with bright blue tape, forming X's and circles.

On the opposite side of the hangar, in front of a set of doors that would have once allowed aircraft to exit onto the runway, stood a group of individuals identified as mages.