Emotionless (The Emotionless Book 1)

by Shaina Anastasi

  If only he knew that when Donte and Nixon said prep, that they meant preparing for their pranks, not preparing the paperwork and scouting for the best table to sit at. Looking back to Donte and Nixon, I was now worried about what is to come being in the same class as my brothers. Not even at the Ordinary-Human school did I ever sit in the same classroom as them. I have never been below average in classes, but here, for the first time in my entire life, I will be known as a novice. I feel a little degraded being on the same level as my brothers. Not like they are incompetent with magic, but somewhat unwilling to do any of the work in the first place to score higher grades.

  Everyone shuffled back inside, shivering. Spencer and I were the only ones left outside. He looked longingly out at the sports oval and at the icicles that dripped down on the goalposts. Frosted breaths shakily escaped my lips, and I tugged my sleeves over my hands, wanting to keep myself warm enough while I waited for him to tear his eyes away from the oval. I am patient when I need to be. I used to wait forty minutes for my therapist to come out of her room and call my name so that I could dwell further in my past.

  Spencer turned, jumped and stepped back when he bumped into me. He looked surprised that I was still here. “Shit, uh, sorry, Eileen. I didn’t… Yeah, I guess I didn’t see you there,” he breathed out. “What’s up? Do you have questions?”

  “Where’s your library?” I asked.

  “I can show you. Come up these stairs, it’s much quieter and fewer mages to bother you.”

  He must have noticed that in the cafeteria, I was growing uncomfortable. Mages hate me, mostly because of their parents, perhaps… or maybe because they never liked my family and wanted another to win. If that is the case, then they don’t have to hate me anymore, I am not in the running for the next ruler of Organisation. Even if I were, I doubt anyone would vote for me. I am the most hated mage in the world. That label will never fade.

  Warmth flooded into me when we stepped back inside of Mage Academy. My fingertips burned and tingled and throbbed red in colour. Up the stairs, I have a feeling that I am not going to like the fact that there are so many stairs. Tormented by them, I trudged behind Spencer, that was taller and had longer legs for a smooth stride up a flight of stairs. After the third flight, we went down the hallway that was the English and rune classes. Way down the hall, at the end was large, double doors. When Spencer was close to the doors, they opened automatically and creaked.

  Inside, that dense, overwhelmingly pleasant old book smell lifted in the air. Rows and rows of books piled along the walls, circling around. I walked forward and placed my hands on the railing and looked down the spiral staircase that led the way down, perhaps to the ground floor.

  “The library resides in the north tower, three stories high. Each level has a study section with computers, or large study tables, or a lounge area that overlooks windows to look out or fireplace,” Spencer explained. “Were you looking for anything in particular?”

  “Curses,” I murmured.

  “Curses?” He questioned. When I turned to him, his eyes dragged up to my forehead, where the curse stood out on my pasty skin. “Right. Um, I think over here.”

  I followed Spencer around, and near the fireplace that crackled to life. He dragged his finger along the groves of books then paused and then tapped his finger along one that wasn’t covered in dust and dragged it out with a grunt. It was a thick and vast book.

  “Curses, right?” He asked, and I nodded. “Where do you want this?” I pointed to the fireplace. Spencer hobbled over to it and made a loud, earth rumbling of a sound as the book slammed it on the wooden coffee table between fireplace and leather brown chairs.

  “Well, I am off. I guess I may see you more if you end up going into any of the masterclasses.”

  “Okay. I will. Thank you very much.”

  “You are welcome, Eileen.”

  Eyes darted to the book as soon as Spencer was out of sight. Eager to delve into curses, I crouched down onto my knees beside the coffee table. Fingertips touched the front cover that was clean from dust. Deep purple in colour, cursive, looped writing overlapped the rune circle that was underneath it. That rune design, from what I could see, was the ‘Marked by Death,’ rune. A tie between the curser and the one that was cursed. A puppeteer to a master puppet master. I recall learning about that curse. Marked on you until the one that cursed you decides to kill you. Before then, the mage that was cursed would have to abide and do what the mage that cursed them says until they either grow bored or deems what they have done was now finished, and they had no use with them.

  Worried about what curses lay inside after just looking at the cover, I opened the book to the index and dragged my finger down until I got to ‘Butterfly (Emotionless) Curse.’ My heart pounded in my chest and throat tightened as I flicked through page after page until the mark etched onto my skin presented itself, dominant even on paper.

  Curses are tricky to do. Not only do I need to draw the curse in thin air, not on paper, I also need the will and desire for the curse to work, which I never will have. Not many mages know how to design a rune in the air as well. It’s tough when there’s nothing to go from, unable to see the lines drawn in the air until it is wholly completed. Even then, if it doesn’t work, the curse will not appear.

  Living outside of a mage-based land, it was hard to find a proper curse book with descriptions. They also banned knowing about curses on the internet. A rumour spread about learning how to draw curses easier on the internet than in a book. Not sure how that rumour came about, but it was incredibly hard for me to learn more about the curse imprinted on me. Now, a book about an assortment of curses was right in front of me, and the one I needed most was the one I wanted to see if there was a way around.

  Butterfly Curse.

  The butterfly curse freezes mages ability to express, rendering them emotionless on the outside. It may not seem like a terrible curse, but unable to express can leave a mage vulnerable: Unable to be taken seriously, unable to talk normally, cry, laugh, scream, even to fight back.

  The Butterfly curse stops a mage from acting out.

  Their movements are much more sluggish. Running will never be an option to a mage that is marked by the butterfly curse.

  Irritated by the immense amount of reading. I glazed over paragraphs that described the curse that I already know about – living with it and all – and flicked through the pages until I got to a section that interested me most.

  Cures.

  There are no potions, runes, crystals or any mage-based magic that can break the Butterfly Curse – But, there is a way to cure the curse. Mythical, in away. One that is only written in fairy tales.

  The one you love most has to die.

  I closed the book and placed my hands on the front cover and wished I could throw the book across the ground and scream at it.

  I don’t want my older brother to die.

  I Found the Boots.

  I’m nervous about meeting my classmates. I only know the group that I have toured with, and three of them clearly didn’t like me. I wonder if the other students would be the same.

  I decided to skip breakfast and get to class first. A thing I usually did at the Ordinary-Human school.

  In the cafeteria, I noticed my brothers sitting with Charlie and a few others they must have befriended yesterday. They seem to be settling in more comfortable than I am. I have always had trouble making friends. Being emotionless makes it harder. Now learning about what the cure to this curse would be, I am more hesitant to bond with my brothers more. Especially my older brother.

  I had English first today. Up the flight of stairs, I went into the room Spencer showed us. In the room, there were three rows and ten tables in each row. The blackboard at the front was wiped clean, and the duster and chalk were on its holder.

  In the corner of the room was the teacher’s desk. Papers stacked and on the edge of their desk. When I stepped closer for a better look, I noticed that they were today’s
work. Near the chair, set in the middle of the table, the computer and keyboard were on and active, and a video with no sound was on. Interested, I went around and looked at what was playing when I immediately averted my eyes for a moment when blood spurted out of the mages mouth. When I looked back, a woman, blood stained her face and blond hair, raised her Guardian’s arm high in the sky. In golden writing, ‘Victory,’ was announced. They will travel to the Phrelale Flower after this and make their wish.

  This was the most prolonged A Mages War. Not sure if the reason was that they changed the layout for the first time in years. Organisation formed space for the participants in A Mages War. A secluded and protected area in the world. So many islands that have protection on them so none of the mages could quickly destroy the island, as well as a few cities and towns that begged for A Mages War participant to use. Some mages evacuated because they didn’t want to interfere, but the crazed mages that obsess over this war stayed to live stream. This was one of them, I guess. The screen is blurry and low quality. Nonetheless, a victor has been made, and they will now make their way over to have their wish fulfilled… hopefully.

  “Oh. You’re early.” Surprised – without showing it – I stepped away from the teacher’s desk and went around the front of the desk.

  A lady came in with a weak smile on her face. Dark brown eyes cast up to my forehead and then down to my eyes. “Eileen Frost, correct?”

  She knows already but was being kind enough to pretend that she doesn’t, which I am not sure if I like or not. Nonetheless, I nodded in agreement, and she smiled. Wrinkles creased her face, along her cheeks, forehead and chin. An older lady with age lines. She was probably around early forties. Her hair was dyed black. I can smell the chemicals in the dye, so I am assuming she dyed her hair a day or so ago before school started, to keep her look fresh, I guess. She wore a button-up dark blue blouse and high-waisted, flared black jeans. Around her neck she had a key card with her picture on the side of it and name. Taking her all in, I hadn’t realised she was still waiting for me to respond.

  “Sorry. Yes,” I answered. “Can I take any seat?”

  “There’s a fair few available.” She went into the first drawer and took out a glittery green sticker. “There are stickers on the corner of mages desks. Any desk that doesn’t have one, you can claim as yours.”

  Perhaps coming earlier has its benefits after all. I can plot where I want to sit and make sure I gain one that I know wouldn’t be close to Donte and Nixon.

  Going around the room with my sticker pressed within fingertips, I went towards the window seats first, but none of those was available, unfortunately. It would have been nice to daydream when I find the classwork to be boring. Knowing I won’t be getting one, I went around the back rows, where there were two available. The middle one and the one against the wall to the corridor. The middle one, there was a spare seat in front and an additional seat in front of the one that was also empty against the wall. However, the one that was empty against the wall had other spots filled up while the middle row was mainly empty. If I sat on either, it would depend who comes in next. If Rebecca comes in, she may claim the one next to mine, maybe even in front of my seat so that she could turn around and torment me. If Donte and Nixon come in next, I’d have to listen to their evil plots every time in English, which I wasn’t interested in at all. That led me to the front rows. There was a spare seat. Stickers on either side of the place and the one behind as well. This looked to be the best option. Even knowing I haven’t met the other mages, they would be better than sitting next to Rebecca or her, I guess, minions… or my own brothers.

  I placed the sticker on the table, slung of my backpack, put that under the table and dragged out my chair when it was a little harder to move more than an average chair. Curious, I went down onto my knees, looked under and noticed a ball of gluggy slime wiggling underneath the seat. I guess that’s what Donte and Nixon have been cooking in their room. I don’t want to be slimed. Upon my feet, the teacher raised her hand to me and walked out with her phone pressed to her ear.

  “I know! They won! … yes, but I have a student in class already so I am going out…” She cut off when she closed the door behind her.

  I lifted the chair out carefully and placed it in the aisle, went up to the seat that was in the corner, against the wall, that didn’t have a sticker, took out that chair – made sure I checked if there was slime underneath, which there wasn’t – and replaced my chair with theirs. Satisfied, I sat down comfortably and took out my pencil case.

  I finished organising my desk when the bell rang for class. A few mages unrecognisable to me came through in groups. They paused for a moment, took me in, looked between one another and that’s when the whispered conversations about me happened. But I was glad that the mages that sat around me weren’t mages that looked like they would torment me like Yasmine done for years at that Ordinary-Human school.

  Rebecca came in with her minions. They sneered at me and went towards the back seats. I looked back. Her minions were suddenly disappointed when she moved away from them and took a seat in the middle when she noticed a guy she recognised. Her minions, cannot live without her, followed her into spare seats that were near her.

  Charlie came through the door soon after and sat on the chair against the wall a seat behind and to the side of me. She waved and smiled, which made me awkwardly look away and back to the door. Donte and Nixon came in then, and Nixon yelped, slapped Donte’s chest and pointed to where I sat.

  “Shit,” Donte groaned. “Eileen would have destroyed our fun. Next class it is then.”

  They took a sticker off the teacher that stood at the door and went towards the back. I ducked my head and felt my veins light up. When I heard the chair scrape outwards, a light flutter swirled in the pit of my stomach.

  A loud bang and gush sound, like a flush of a toilet, filled the entire room. Mages screamed and yelped, chairs and tables scraped away, and sounds of chaos filled the air.

  “Oh my god!” Rebecca screeched. “My hair!”

  “Is that… is that slime?” A student asked.

  “Ha-Ha! Nixon, you’re covered!” Donte howled with laughter.

  “Gross,” other students laughed. “Who done this?”

  “Amusing,” I murmured.

  I could already tell that English was over.

  Rune crafting went forever after English. I dislike chiselling away at crystal rocks when I know that the number of times that I create a crystal, it doesn’t work out to how I really wanted it to be. I did persist, but I am finding it rather hard to do so when I had to work with my brothers and Charlie in a group of four. They fooled around, weren’t taking it seriously, and ended up using that lesson to plot what they were going to do tomorrow, for their prank. Charlie enjoyed that type of conversation and pitched in with ideas.

  Downstairs, in the cafeteria, I lined up with Charlie. Behind us was Rebecca. I could hear her snickering and gossip to her large group of friends she ended up befriending within crystal work.

  Conversations overlapped me and overwhelmed me. By the time I got to the end of the line, I had taken a bottle of water from one of the cold trays, a meat pie, apple and a bar of chocolate and left the cafeteria. There weren’t any rules that forced me to stay in or around the cafeteria to eat. I could go upstairs, and to the tower I desperately wanted to see again and eat there. That was a possibility that I wanted to take.

  Charlie asked where I was going, but I ignored her because I didn’t want anyone to follow me. I didn’t want to make up an excuse either or lie to my only friend’s face. I was pleased when she just shrugged and walked over to where my brothers were seated. That gave me enough confidence to go up the stairs alone and back to the tower.

  The further up I went the stairs to the tower, the less rummaging and noises I heard in the cafeteria. I will enjoy eating up here and maybe working on homework or drawing runes without being disturbed.

  Down the dusty and unkempt h
allway and to the door with the metal loop handle. My hands were filled with food and a bottle of water. I used my foot to open the door. The door creaked open, and I stepped into a dimly lit room. Curtains closed over, no winter light seeped through, and there were no torches lit along stone walls. I placed my food on a desk that was in the far back corner, against a window that had curtains closed across the window. I then aimlessly looked around, but there wasn’t really anything inside. There were a few boxes stacked along the back wall and a blackboard dusted and blank.

  I sat down on the seat at the table, and grabbed hold of the bottle of water and twisted the cap when I noticed a burnt mark along the back of the room, across from me. I then set the bottle back down on the table, stood and went over to the burnt mark.

  I remember five years ago I summoned my Guardian in this room at this exact same spot as well. I know that when a mage summons a Guardian, it leaves a mark of the rune that brought the creature to the mage. I know already that this rune wasn’t the one that I was designing in my bedroom that night. I didn’t summon a Dragon, and now I don’t know what I summoned. The designs were utterly new. I don’t think I have seen this in any of the Summoning Guardian books, or on the internet, and I Speggled a fair few. Now I am unsure if I summoned a Guardian. Maybe I summoned something else entirely new to the mage world.

  That’s worrisome.

  “Can you get out of my room?”

  A voice from behind surprised me. I stood up and turned to a mage that was sitting on the seat I was at. He was even opening the packaging of my meat pie.

  I have met this mage recently, as well. He was the mage on the side of the tower building, watching me fall. His veins throbbed white and Melancholy golden eyes narrowed underneath straight, shoulder-length, white hair. He was as pale as a ghost. He also had power withering around him that made me feel as if he was a threat. That was until I looked at his boots.

  “I want those boots,” I murmured.