I know I should be concentrating on my other stories, but I had a bit of a nightmare and decided to turn it into a story. Hopefully it'll be something good for all of you.

"I see not a child, but a pig raised to slaughter. No? You say he is something greater? Then we shall call him a horse. But he is to die nonetheless."

Chapter One

There is a school hidden, in the deepest and darkest forest within the empire. Here, we are taught the arcane arts and trained for the king. We are taken young, as mages can become stronger the younger they start. But we are taken old enough to remember. That way we are supposed to know our place. Those of magical abilities are owned, living only to serve our eventual master.

What the empire didn't count on, was the fact that if we were old enough to remember, then we are old enough to hate.

Most fall to stock-home syndrome, and their wills cripple to the might of the kingdom. But a select few, including myself have remained strong. We remember our old names, lives, and families. And we know what had become of our past affiliations. They should have known that such actions would have only assisted our hate grow stronger.

Those who remember have tried to escape. That is where I start to differ from the group. There is no use running. Such courses of action only result in more severe punishment.

No.

I'll wait. There is a time to strike and that is not now. I need not worry until then. For now, my only concern is that of the king. Should he set his sights on my soul and brand this mortal body and its powers as his, I shall be forever lost, imprisoned for all eternity.

On the other hand, I do not believe I need to worry much. As a halfling, the chances of the so called great king picking me is extremely low. Elves and humans only barely get along as it is, halflings are frowned upon even more by both races. We are disliked by pureblooded elves even more so than the dwarves, who fancy themselves the greatest weapon makers.

Or so history tells us.

Each student of this school focuses on a specific field of magic. The majority are of the same skill and will end up as a soldier to the imperial army, the poor fools. But they are simple minded and believe that to work and die for the empire, is the greatest of honor. I pity their poor clouded souls. How far they have fallen, to become such loyal puppets.

Their stings shine so bright. It would be easy to cut them and watch the chaos that would ensue. But I shan't. As I said, it would not be the right time, for what damage could a few meager students do, compared to the armies strengthened by experience and time? No. I shall only do such an action if I am caught and pulled within the grasp of the grand court. I would probably be slain for such an act, but to decimate the 'great' king's army would be such fun. It would be a worthy death in my eyes, compared to laying my life down for the royal family to trample with mud coated boots.

But I digress.

The other students within these prison walls are focused off into healing, psychic/ESPer, manipulation, production, and special. From there the students are focused into even more specific groups, but I do not feel like attending to such topics as of right now. It is a tedious job and I care not to take such time. All that really must be known as of right now is that each mage can be fitted into a social class depending on what their abilities entail of.

What the teachers don't know is that I actually chose where I wanted to be. A middle class healer lives well enough and isn't required near battle, and with the addition of a weak flame ability, I am given a slightly higher status and an upgraded home. The fire must be weak, or I shall be inducted into a special class, which would put me under the eyes of the king.

I laugh at the fools.

Oh how fun it was to fool their little system.

If only they knew.

Ah my memory bank is so much stronger with that, but I must thank 'the Vault' for that. I may not have stored so many skills had I not met the poor wretch. It's a shame he had not the mental capacity and sanity to withstand so much information.

My true ability is simply mimicry. All I have to do, is catch a glance of another mage's magic, and I would be able to copy it. However, if I can see their personal magic circle, I can increase the power and even make changes to the spell itself. But that is where my ability became more difficult to maintain. I must remember every detail of the original spell circle as well as the changes I made for it to work.

However, this changed once I met the boy whose ability was named 'the Vault'. He could remember anything and everything, which later led to his end. I do not blame him, it is an enormous burden to watch and remember every detail that goes around you. He told me that he was constantly seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting, and feeling everything he did from the moment his ability kicked in at age three.

I was saddened to hear of his passing. He was one I could actually call friend in these dark times. He left me a drawing of his magic circle as his goodbye gift, tucked away within our favorite book. I only wish he had shown me sooner. Perhaps I would have been able to manipulate his circle so that he had more control over his ability. I met a girl, soon after his death, who had to ability to reach into another mage's soul and rearrange the magic circle within them. She was only in the school for a day before she was whisked off into the royal palace. But a day was long enough to meet her and learn her soul spell, which was the same as her personal magic circle.

Everyone born with magic abilities are born with a magic circle within them, or soul spell. When we use that particular spell born within in us, it will be the strongest magic we can conjure. Focusing on that specific spell will strengthen it even further. Soul spells will change over time as the user grows more experienced and learns or applies new tricks. It is a great achievement to know your soul spell and to combine it with your personal magic circle, as it could increase your abilities tenfold. Of course, we are not limited to only our personal magic spells. We can learn a few others as well. But they are too weak to be considered anything others than for basic living.

The downside of knowing your soul spell is that it can become prey to others. You can control others if you know the makings of their prey's soul spell and are strong enough. If there is a person who has the ability to see the soul magic circle of others, I hope to meet them so that I may gain their ability. I may actually have a chance of overthrowing the kingdom if I do. How amusing it would be, to see the king fall.

Oh yes. How funny it would be.

But perhaps this thought is what brought my undoing.

xXx

"Our academy humbly welcomes you, o' mighty king!" The headmaster calls out graciously, his voice amplified by one of the manipulation class teachers.

Hmph. Mighty king. He is but the murderer of dragons and the thief of young souls. But I bow nonetheless. An obedient subject is an overlooked subject.

"Our mighty ruler stands before us with his six heirs to the throne. They have graced us with their presence today, as each one shall be choosing their own individual mage."

Curses. I should have faked an ailment today after all. I try not to tap into the future reading abilities I copied too often. Tampering with time is hazardous to the health.

But perhaps I worry too much. A middle class healer doesn't have much to worry about, and a halfling no less. It doesn't matter that I am ahead of my studies. I am only of a .7 percent chance of being chosen.

No. I need not fret.

I am part of the tenth block and step forward with the thirty or so others when our group is called. Again, there is no call of uneasiness. This group is still much too large for me to worry. I am confident I won't be noticed.

Wait.

I can feel them. There are eyes upon me. But who?

No!

I won't give in!

I will not make eye contact and ruin all I've worked for! I will not become like every other slave to the king!

My gaze shall stay to the ground until our turn has passed.

I shall persevere.

I shall prevail.

I shall not bend to the king.

xXx

"We present to your lordship's son, Giotto: Karah of Winterhold Academy. May she serve you well."

I glare at the high court and fist my hands 'til they're white within the encasement of the enchanted chains binding me, preventing me from any form of escape. "And may your kingdom fall to ash."

Reviews are lovely~!