My iris shines a delicate violet. A sure sign of full magyce. Magyce being the higher form of magic. Magic is just petty mind illusions. Magyce is full on physical hurt. The water beside me flows silently. I am at a spring. The spring where the world began. The world of Ayliora.
The purple sparks of magyce fly between the two sparring partners. Gruya Valley Academy for the Magycinly Talented had just reopened.
The students are straining. Their eyes, sky blue, emanate a glow of determination. I stand on the side, waiting for my turn; the stage a pathetic strip of scaffolding.
I can't even believe they reopened. The classes are just in a big hall with canvas dividers.
And I'm hardly top of the class, so this situationisn't going to help.
"Taydenne, it's your turn to spar," Sir Yawum calls.
"Sir, my name is prenounced Tay-De-Anne," I say, "and yes, who is my partner?"
"Koray."
