And so, ninety years after the legendary tale of these six youths, leaders of their own guilds, who would later go on to establish… — When I noticed, I looked over the book I was holding and saw that my sister, wrapped in her reddish-pink scarf, had fallen asleep. I couldn’t help the sincere smile that took over my features as I watched her adorable and peaceful expression, after a harsh, cold winter’s day. And so, I closed the white covered book, adorned with beautiful golden details, titled “Akedea”. With silent steps, I left the room and, upon reaching the door, I turned off the table lamp next to me. I whispered softly, almost as if afraid to disturb that peaceful moment. — Good night, sister.

I carried on my way down the hallway, seeing that my mother was awake in front of the door.

— Did she fall asleep yet? — My mother, with a smile and with tiredness seeping from her eyes, always fussing over my sister’s sleep and growth, asked, although she already knew the answer.

— Yeah, fell asleep fast. It makes sense, since she spent the whole day out playing in this cold… I’m scared she’ll get sick. — I answered, adjusting my coat and my gloves.

She smiled, with an exhausted look, and then hugged me.

— Thank you so much, my son. You’re so thoughtful, even though you’re so young. I’m so proud of you. — The feeling of affection warmed me, and I hugged her back, glad to see her well. That day, I was only ten years old, but I was already fully aware of how exhausting her work was, especially her research.

It was not my mother’s praise or the proud look that moved me. My family always praised my behavior — well mannered, quick-witted, kind to others — but I never felt smug about it. I do not act this way out of meaningless pride or a need for acknowledgement, which made me feel somewhat repulsed by the spoiled nobles from the great capitals, with inflated egos, whom I would later know. For me, those were not qualities; but rather my obligations.

— What about dad? Is he coming home yet? — During mission times, it was always rare for me to see my father. Known for never losing any of his soldiers in the battlefield, he truly inspires me, my hero.

— It’s sad, but we still haven’t heard about when he’ll… — My mother paused, a worried look on her face. — We still haven’t heard about your father…

My mother’s doubt about my dad snapped me out of my own thoughts. It broke my heart everytime I saw my mother looking like that, a familiar look of apprehension. I’d seen it many times, prolonged absences and a constant longing for any news, no matter how small. I knew that doubt was constant. That was the kind of life mages had, that uncertainty of, every next outing, wondering if that will be the one they never return from. How many nights did my mother stay awake, seized by silent prayers, waiting for news that never came? I was too young to truly comprehend all of that, but I understood enough. That night, seemed to be another one of those, and as my mind wandered with such thoughts, suddenly…

— It truly is a mystery… When will I come home?— He said, with his usual casualness. — My father appeared at our side, without any warning, hugging us.

It was as if he had simply popped out of thin air in the middle of the hallway, emerging with his typical boldness. Always an inspiration, he also had his funny way of lightening up even the most tense moments. — Surprise! — He exclaimed, at around 11 p.m., turning my mother’s facial expression from a worried look to a light, slightly angry scowl in the blink of an eye.

— Rodion, Lecia is asleep, you’ll wake her up yelling like that! — My mother said, in a quiet, but still angry, tone.

My father lowered his face and, with all of his strategic knowledge gained from years upon years of experience, answered with an awkward smile on his face:

— Uh… you look drop-dead gorgeous today?

I don’t quite remember whether they argued, what I do remember is, that night, my father almost woke up the whole house with his sudden appearance — lucky for him, my sister did not wake up. The last memory I have of that night is lying in bed, listening to stories from his mission.

Those were good times that, much to my sadness, would never come back. After all, a few weeks after that day, the worst night of all of our lives happened. At that time, I could hardly imagine what fate had in store for me. If I could, I would have stayed in that hug for longer, as it was one of the last times I felt that sense of peace, when we were all together.

The train rocked gently, until the clasp brakes brought it to a sudden halt, on top of the sound of metal grinding against metal, the present awoke me from such lighthearted memories, as I gazed out over the pine trees and mountains covered by snow. I was no longer that kid who did not know of cruelty or the pain this world could cause, my mind no longer occupied only with childish fears. Now, at fourteen, is the age at which most teenagers truly start their journey as sorcerers, and although I was an exception to the rule — having already began my studies years prior — the idea of joining Ice Barrier messed with my expectations, I knew the journey would be different — more difficult and perhaps more lonely.

When the steam engine finally stopped, between two mountains, I saw in the distance the gigantic wall of ice my new school was named after. Even from afar, its presence was imposing and intimidating. Ice Barrier is the biggest mage school in the country of Gorskaria, where they taught all I wanted to study. Near there was the main building of the school, a place I’ll spend much of the next three years in. While some ran, in a rush to leave the train first, I made a point of turning around to see if anyone needed help with their baggage. As it was not the case, I just carried on my way, ’till I was called by the train driver.

— So, ye’re the new student that came from the Osfner family, ain’t cha? Hoo, yer family is a blessing fer us folk living in these lands, lad! Knock ’em dead! 

— The engineman was around sixty years old, he was a short man with grizzled hair, who stood out thanks to his big nose and mustache, in addition to the engineer cap and blue overalls that were lightly covered with snow. If he dressed in red, he could easily play the role of Santa Claus to cheer up children during the holidays.

His comment made me remember I was an Osfner, a member of one of the great mage families that existed all around the world, with mine being the biggest of the whole country. I could not falter at any point, we are the Heroes of this land, of this nation. — Leave it to me, Mister. You’ll hear lots of news about me yet! Can I ask your name? — I need to show confidence, when they need help, we mages need to be there for them, that is one of our duties.

— Oh, the name’s Francis Strun! — He said cheerfully, smiling from ear to ear. I guess it’s not everyday a student stops to talk with the old engineer. — What about yours, lad?

— My name is Lucen Osfner, Lucen Ren Morvaen Osfner! The future greatest strategist this world has ever seen! — I answered eagerly. My birth name is Lucen Morvaen Osfner. In the world of magecraft, the more important family name comes after the less famous one, because of that, my mother’s surname comes before my father’s. It is not uncommon to see unending family arguments over something as futile as “which surname is more important”, all of it purely in order to decide the way in which the lineage’s surname is going to be written, but my family never cared about all of that. On the contrary, most of my relatives are on good terms with each other. Ren is not exactly part of my name, but I like to introduce myself like this. It’s a tribute to an old friend of mine…

— I’ll be rooting for ye, Lucen Osfner! — The engineer yelled out with a smile before I left through the doors of the train car.

After waving at the locomotive as it left the station, I noticed a few gazes — both good and bad — locked straight onto me. I already knew what they were 

thinking. They took out their cellphones and took pictures of me as if I was some kind of exotic being, a sub-celebrity, but I always hated that feeling… It was like I was an animal at a zoo. I took a deep breath and went on my way, simply ignoring them all. I want to be treated as an equal by my classmates. Being seen as something different — for better or worse — is something that always bothered me. I’m not better than anyone because of the family I was born in, I want to be a mage, just like anyone else can be.

As I walked through streets covered by snow, I bore witness to the grandeur of the large, dark gates made of solid steel, emblazoned with a massive version of the emblem of the school that protected the ice barrier. I was engulfed by the school’s expanse, the grayish marble floor reflected the lobby’s lights, and a thin, cold mist hung all over the entrance, with the warmth of the heaters not being enough to quell the anxiety of the bundled up students beside me. Each and every step taken in that vast hallway echoed like the march of an army, broken up slightly by excited chitter-chatter and light, mocking laughter.

Among so many new faces, I recognized some acquaintances from my homeland. Carson, the baker’s son, adjusted his own gloves while talking to Jaylen, the stylist’s daughter, along with some others I did or did not know the name of, but, well, it was not as if we were exactly friends. To be honest, they’d always kept an odd distance from me, treating me with forced cordiality. I knew they were somewhat afraid, even though I’d always been nothing more than a skinny kid with messy hair and a pair of glasses, my surname always had more weight than my appearance. I couldn’t help but think — I hope I can meet someone nice here… — That spark of hope reminded me of Ren.

Ren was the only friend I had who was my age. Well, actually, the only friend with the same age as me that I had for a really long time. He was a white-haired kid with crimson red eyes. We met in elementary school, back when some older kids kept pestering me for being an Osfner, though they were never brave enough to lay a finger on me. I didn’t care about it at all, but then one fine day, I saw that same white-haired kid being called horrible things, due to the pair of red horns on his head. Only Bouvare have horns — due to having traits reminiscent of bulls or sheep, or other similar animals — but Ren was a Blood-Orc, and so, he was often called the worst names possible, names that I refuse to remember. Cases like that were often the result of unnatural genetic mutations, caused by some malevolent wizard’s experiment, and I was the only kid there who had a way of knowing that.

Before I realized, Ren and I were already best friends. Something curious that was, honestly, a huge coincidence, was when he told me he was an orphan, I found out he lived in the Sister Helena orphanage, where my mother used to volunteer at. Ever since then, we were like brothers — we played together everyday, sharing our dreams with each other, as if time was of no importance. However, just like many other things in life, that too did not last forever.

In the same week, a few days before that horrible accident, Ren disappeared. There was no explanation. He was presumed dead, and over time, people came to accept that narrative. I, too, learned to accept it… well, almost. After a few years, I began to carry his name with me through the use of a nickname — as if to keep it as a memento of him — or maybe… as a sign of unwillingness to give up. A part of me knows it’s foolish, but the other one —  perhaps the more stubborn and childish one that everyone carries deep within throughout life — still holds onto that small hope.

I leaned back against a pillar, and that was when…

— Attention, attention please. Those who wish to integrate into this institution, please, line up in rows according to the instructions given by the supervisors. — A somewhat raspy and tired, yet very stern voice echoed from the entrance hall’s loudspeakers. As I followed their directions, I saw a very familiar face that made me smile.

— Don’t go thinking I’m going to give you an advantage in any way, ‘kay? — A young woman a little taller than me, with hair and eyes black as ebony, but skin white as snow, spoke to me in a somewhat joking and sarcastic tone as she adjusted her glasses. This was Peri, one of my cousins. As she had just graduated from the most reputable mage academy, she was doing internships in order to later on become an instructor. There is a good difference between schools and academies, that is an even bigger filter. There are many mage schools across the globe, but, currently, only five great mage academies — the elite and ultimate scholarship goals for most mages — exist. In Peri’s case, she had just graduated from the biggest deal of them all, Akedea.

— Of course not, and that’s exactly how I want it. — I answered as I waved towards her. I wanted to go out there and give her a hug, but now wasn’t the best time. And so, I settled on just smiling at her.

— The bigger the challenge, the better, isn’t it? Hoping to see you in first place, ‘kay? — Ever since she said she wanted to be an academy teacher, I made a promise to Peri; I would enroll into Akedea before she was officially granted the title. We’ve had something of a competition in play since then, and I would really like to win, but it’s not like I would particularly dislike losing.

— I’ll see you when I’m on the podium. — I smiled, adjusting my scarf around my neck as she walked away. She and the other supervisors walked up the stairs to the mezzanine of the entrance hall, where students wearing uniforms — my future upperclassmen — stood alongside a few teachers. One of them was the owner of the voice we had heard echoing from the loudspeakers, a messy-haired man wearing a black uniform with gray details, who then took a few steps forward.

— Well, it’s a pleasure to have all of you entrants here. You will all go through the selection exams, where only those who score over 20 points will be allowed to pass. However, due to the new decree presented by the Mages’ Council, unlike previous years, the top five entrants alone will receive a scholarship, which will allow them to study here without the need for payment. Not every institution is required to comply with the council’s terms, but the Ice Barrier is a serious institution that maintains discipline as one of its core values. Those who do not wish to take part in the three exams may leave the room now. That is all, good luck.

While some students perplexedly raised questions or confused doubts, others whispered insults, a few dozen of the students who were there ended up leaving the room, whether out of resignation, or out of indignation. Although I was indifferent towards the test – after all, I had full confidence in my capabilities – I knew this would come as a shock to the grand majority, given the disaster that happened in the mage community last year. The death of a student during a broadcast.