Ferryn Odell, 3, Likely
The little shed that I'd turned into my workshop was drafty in the fall morning, but it didn't bother me much. I bent low over my worktable, holding my breath as I used my wand to carefully weave a thin thread through what would hopefully become a willow wand. It was a slow, painstaking process, but there was no other way I would have preferred to spend the morning. My mentor at Briarcliff, Professor Albany, had recently entrusted me with a single unicorn hair that would hopefully be the true core of the wand, but I wasn't about to jump right in with the precious material.
The door to the shed banged open, and I jumped. The sudden jerking of my wand caused the thread to snap, and I turned to glare fiercely in the direction of the intruder. "Anette!" I protested. It was rare that I was unhappy to see my closest friend, but she had an issue with knocking that often conflicted with my study schedule.
She examined the mess she'd caused. "It's not even a real hair," she countered, "You can whip up another."
"It took three hours to cast the replica," I frowned.
"You can hate me later," she dismissed, "Look at this!" She shoved a packet under my nose.
My eyes scanned it briefly before I shrugged. "So?" I asked. "We always knew there was going to be a Selection."
"But this is perfect timing," countered Anette, "You're doing so well at school you can ask deferment to enter."
My eyebrows furrowed. "Why on earth would I want to do that?" I summoned the broken piece from inside the wand and considered repairing it. It might not have the same fluidity as a real unicorn hair if I tried that, so I balled it up and tossed it into the trash with a sigh. "Where's that spellbook?" I wondered aloud as I searched for the tome I had used to create the thread in the first place.
Anette located the book first and grabbed it. "No," she declared, "Not until you fill out the form."
"What form?"
I groaned as the door to the shop opened again. My older sister, Coralie, walked in with a plate in her hands. She was followed by her husband, Noah, and I tried to tell myself that the sight of food was what made my breath momentarily catch in my throat.
"The Selection entry," declared Anette, turning to my sister for back-up. "Tell her she should enter, Cora."
"The Selection?" Noah's brows knit together. "That doesn't sound like a very Ferryn thing to do."
"Thank you," I sighed. I grabbed a piece of toast off Coralie's plate and turned back to the wand, inspecting it with a set of magnifying glasses to make sure that no broken fibers were left inside.
"Ferry," protested Coralie, "Why wouldn't you enter? You don't know that you'll be picked, and if you are, what a cool opportunity…" She and Anette continued with their persuasion attempts, which I firmly ignored.
"What are you working on, Fer?" Noah asked as he leaned his elbows on the worktable beside me. His arm brushed mine, and I had to channel all of my focus into not letting the contact cause my hands to shake.
"Willow wand," I told him, "Albany thinks I can bind the unicorn hair myself."
"That's incredible."
I tried to repress my smile, but it was one of my favorite things about Noah. He always understood what I wanted from my career and why I cared so much about wandlore. While my family was encouraging in their own way, he took an interest that was just more. "Do you want to see it?" I asked, glancing over at him.
"Of course," he grinned.
I pulled the vial that the unicorn hair had been placed in from the locked drawer of the table and removed it with my wand. I hadn't shown it to anyone else since Albany had placed it in my possession, partially out of greed to have something with so many magical properties in my possession and partially fear, since it was such a coveted and valuable item. Noah and I both stared mesmerized at it as it floated through the air.
"This is going to be an incredible wand," Noah declared.
"I hope so," I smiled in agreement. "The hair is unusually vibrant, and Albany said that the tree that I picked—"
"Ferry, it's going to be incredible because you made it," he countered.
I blushed and returned the unicorn hair to its container. "If I don't mess it up," I muttered.
"Ferryn, are you even listening?" protested Coralie.
I begrudgingly swiveled around on my stool to face her. Although Coralie was five years older than me, people often asked if we were twins. We had the same caramel brown hair, the same doe-like features, and dimpled smiles. We'd always been close as well, which made my current predicament even harder.
"I really think this would be good for you," she insisted. "You could get out there—meet some new people. And if that's not enough, you know the prince's tutors are Voris Alastor and Miryam Deene."
Voris Alastor was generally regarded as the brightest wizard of our age. Miryam was his apprentice, the only student he'd ever taken under his wing. Both had been employed for the royal children's education and had all the resources of Illéa at their fingertips.
The things I could learn…
Noah fidgeted beside me, seeming uncomfortable. "Cora, you don't want her to enter to use the prince for his tutors."
Coralie's brown eyes softened. "I want her to get out of this dusty workshop and live," she insisted with a smile. "I want her to see beautiful places and meet interesting people and experience things."
Coralie had always been a dreamer.
I noticed Anette watching Noah with a critical gaze, so I took the form from Coralie. "I'll think about it," I promised her. "Thank you for lunch, but I really have to get back to work." My sister gave my shoulders a quick squeeze before she took her husband's hand, and the two departed.
When it was just the two of us, I spun away from Anette and tried to focus on the wand on the table. But I couldn't. I knew what she was thinking. "Stop," I sighed.
Anette shrugged as she took Noah's vacated seat. "I didn't say anything."
"I can practically hear your thoughts," I frowned. I didn't need to cast a spell or slip her a potion to know what Anette thought of my friendship with Coralie's husband.
The truth was, it was complicated. I had met Noah three years ago at Briarcliff. He was the top of his class, studying to be a magizoologist and the type of person that drew people in—professors, friends, everything.
It began with studying together in the library. I didn't know what to say when he asked if he could sit with me, so I did an awkward spasm that he luckily interpreted as approval. We didn't talk for a week, just silently sitting in each other's company. But then he asked me the simplest question—"what made you want to be a wandmaker?"—and I opened up like never before. He was the easiest person for me to talk to.
No one had ever understood me like Noah had. No one shared the drive that kept me locked in the workshop until the late hours of the morning or made me jump to take on more tasks when my workload was already overflowing. No one except Noah.
But I didn't know what to do when he asked me to get dinner after a late study session one Friday. A million thoughts and anxieties ran through my head. The initial fear was that he knew my mother was a famous magizoologist and that had inspired his interest. The second was how on earth could he like me? The third was that a relationship would impact my work.
But I'd also been worried about what would happen if he moved on to someone else. He would probably study with her, tell all of his greatest hopes and dreams to her. I didn't want to lose him, but I wasn't brave enough to take him. So, I invited him over for dinner instead and introduced him to Coralie. Although she worked as a librarian, she didn't share same drive as the rest of our family. She was more laid-back, calm, creative, open to life.
Anyone who knew Coralie loved her. She married Noah a year later.
Anette's eyes were pitying. "Please don't," I sighed.
She was a therapist and tended to psychoanalyze everything. "Fer, if you don't enter this competition, this is going to be the rest of your life," she declared. "Pining after stupid Noah in this stupid workshop."
"I don't pine—"
"You do, and one day Cora is going to see it," she declared. "And she's going to feel betrayed, because you know that she wouldn't have even gone on that first date with him if you hadn't lied and said you didn't like him."
The problem with having such a smart best friend was that she saw everything and wasn't afraid to tell it like it was. I stared down at the Selection form again. If it made Cora happy… I sighed, picked up my wand and slowly inscribed my name onto the first line. Instead of looking triumphant, Anette put a comforting hand on my shoulder. It was exactly what I needed to fill out the rest.
Prince Jackson
The morning got off to a rough start when the first jar exploded. It was a little unsettling, because I'd never met anyone more in control of their magic than Voris. I sent a questioning look at Minnie, who also looked surprised. Dad stopped talking, his eyebrows knit together in concern.
Voris didn't apologize or pick up his wand to deal with the jar. "What you're asking is outrageous, Florian."
Dad blushed, looking uncomfortable. Voris had been his tutor when he was young as well, the type of influence that Dad still tried to please even though he was in his late forties. "I don't know if it's 'outrageous,' Voris," Dad countered with a hopeful chuckle, "I was thinking innovative or perhaps progressive—"
"Furthermore," continued Voris, effectively cutting Dad off, "it's foolhardy and stupid."
This shut Dad up.
"Now, Voris," Minnie tried, "even when only Fives and Sixes could enter from the lower castes, we dealt with their elevated status to Threes."
Maybe I should explain a little: the issue on the table was Sevens and Eights. Since the Selection hadn't been open to all the castes since my family had come to power, it brought up some new complications. The biggest problem was that just by chosen, the girls were elevated to Threes—Threes who technically had a right to practice magic.
"Yes, they bought real wands and went on their merry way, usually remaining subpar at magic. Sevens and Eights are different," Voris dismissed her argument. "Do you realize, Florian, that many Sevens and Eights won't even have magical abilities? If their families ever even did—highly doubtful—it'll have been stamped out by now."
"Then it won't be an issue," Father offered brightly. "Look, Voris, I'm just asking you to help them along a little, maybe help them choose wands or show them how to control their powers so they won't be completely helpless—"
Another jar cracked, though it didn't shatter completely. "No."
"Now, Voris," Father tried, "Be reasonable."
Voris drew himself up to his full height—impressive, considering he was an eighty-year-old man. His lined face was set in a determined glare, and when he spoke, there wasn't a hint of yielding in his voice. "I am the crown prince and princess' tutor," he announced, "It is my duty to teach and assist them on their magical journeys, and I will continue to do that as I have since they were children. My time will not be wasted, Florian, on this attempt at pacification."
"Need I remind you that these people are the reason that our kind was forced to conceal their gifts under the Schreave rule," Voris added. "We owe nothing to Sevens and Eights."
There was a tense silence in the room. I knew that the plan to open the Selection to all castes was being received with mixed reviews, but I hadn't realized that even people in the palace were so conflicted about the decision.
It was obvious that Dad had no clue what to say, so Minnie spoke up. "The girls will have a handler once they leave to help them with their caste transition," she pointed out, "and I suppose they shouldn't really be focused on their new castes and opportunities anyway while they're here. Giving them wands preemptively might impair their ability to form a relationship with Jackson." It was weird hearing them discuss my life like I wasn't here, but I had nothing to add so I tried to focus on my potion (it didn't work well, in case you were wondering). "I'm sure Voris wouldn't object to helping the new princess once Jackson finds her, though?" added Minnie.
Voris' mouth was pulled taut in a thin line. "Permitted she has magical abilities."
"Uh… yes, I suppose that sounds all right," Dad nodded. "Thank you, Voris."
Voris still looked disgruntled. "Jackson and I were in the middle of a lesson," he reminded Dad.
"Oh, of course," chortled my absentminded father. "Well, I'll not bother you any longer then." He scurried away, like he was afraid Voris might bewitch something to chase him from the room.
My tutor's dark gaze landed on me. "Back to work."
"Must you be so curmudgeonly?" chuckled Minnie as she repackaged the broken jars with her wand.
Voris sighed and sank into a seat, momentarily looking his age. "Sometimes, Florian is too blindly hopeful."
"He means well," countered Minnie. I returned my attention on the potion I was supposed to be brewing.
"Counter-clockwise stirs, Jackson," Voris noted with a glance in my direction. I changed the direction of my wand and the potion turned the proper shade of blue.
"Besides, you don't know that any Sevens or Eights will even be chosen," continued Minnie. She was one of the few people whose opinions Voris ever seemed to really consider, but even in this case, he shook his head.
"Oh, there will be some. And mark my words, Jackson," he frowned, "watch out for these Sevens and Eights. They didn't get to their castes by being good people."
A shiver slid down my spine, and I glanced around to see if anyone had opened a window (they hadn't). "Define 'not good people,'" I requested.
"When King Lear reinstated the caste system, Sevens were those who ardently fought the equality of magical people, and there were no Eights," Voris declared. "It is a caste you fall to, and it has filled quickly."
It didn't make sense that Dad would open the Selection to such people, but Voris continued, "There have been increased reports of dark magic from the Department of Magical Law. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if it was the result of Sevens and Eights."
"I thought they couldn't do magic," I frowned.
"They're not permitted to legally, of course, but technically… Let's just say if we're lucky, they can't," noted Voris. "But what do you think happens to witches and wizards of higher castes that go dark?"
Fortunately, I knew the answer to this one. "They're sent to prison," I recited, "Evidence of dark magic is a lifetime ban from owning a wand and a fifteen-year minimum sentence."
Voris grimaced. "If they're caught by the DML. Sometimes, they're cast out by their families or live as fugitives, which makes them Eights and now eligible for your Selection."
I shivered again. "Can we light a fire in here or something?" I muttered, glancing around the tower where Voris spent most of his time. It was in one of the older parts of the castle, elegantly decorated but a little dated. Particularly drafty today as well.
"Stop it," Minnie scolded Voris as she pointed her wand at the fireplace. A warm blaze burst to life. "There won't be any criminals in Jackson's Selection."
"Hmm. We'll see. Until we know for sure, I'll be brewing as many detection draughts and truth potions as possible," he declared. While Voris could be intense, it felt good to have him on my side. If there was anything suspicious going on, he'd get to the bottom of it.
He tapped the edge of my cauldron sharply with his wand. "Stir," he reminded me. I did as instructed, shaking off all thoughts of Sevens, Eights, and dark magic.
A little more background on the society, I suppose, and our first Selected! Ferryn is one of our main characters, and there are many more that I cannot wait to introduce! There will also be supporting and minor characters, so a lot of roles still open (: Thank you to everyone who has reserved a character or let me know that they enjoy the story! I cannot wait to receive all of your wonderful OCs, they've been so creative and interesting!