Ren Curran and Emi Griffin are both mages, born from the extremely powerful and prestigious Curran and Griffin families. Despite their families' similarities, they have never met. Ever. That changes in the year that they turn sixteen.
As expected of...
I glanced down at the envelope once again, checking the address. Then, I looked back up again, eyeing the building that it was addressed to. It was at least three stories tall, but there were only four windows for the entire thing, and a fence encircled it. Ivy grew up the walls, and it looked a little run down.
I gulped, and stepped inside the gate, walking up to the door and knocking. Almost immediately, it was opened by a man who could have been Miss Dupont's age, or a little younger. His face was closely shaved, and the hair on his head was a white blond color. His eyes were plain brown, and he was dressed in a black shirt and jeans.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"M-miss D-dupont sent me," I stuttered, handing me the envelope.
He quickly tore it open, his eyes scanning the paper like a starving man consumed food. When he looked up at me, he said, "So, your name's Emi Griffin?"
"Yes," I looked down.
"You're a Wind mage."
"Yes," I sighed.
"Come in, then," he gestured me inside, closing the door behind me.
What I saw astounded me. The entire building was one room, though the walls were lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Sliding ladders were on every wall, and the shelves themselves were full of leather-bound grimoires. The room was sparsely decorated with two chairs and a small table, while the rest of the floor was bare.
"I'm also a Wind mage, Emi," the man smiled. "You could call me one of the best."
"Why do you have so many grimoires?"
"I collect them," he smiled. "Grimoires for every magic under the sun. Then, I use them for research, developing new Wind spells. I want to prove that Wind isn't a weak element."
"That would be the greatest accomplishment."
"Aye," he smiled at me. "Do you want to learn from me, Emi?"
I nodded quickly, and he walked to the northern side of the room, pulling out a grimoire. He handed it to me, and I flipped through it. It was an old grimoire, and was almost five inches thick. The handwriting in it was small and neat, clear even in the faded ink and yellowed pages.
"The first thing you should do is read that," the man smiled. "It has all the basic Wind spells that are taught to Wind mages. If your parents had enrolled you in Wind classes, this would be all that you'd ever learn."
"Is it all I'll ever learn?"
"Of course not," he gestured back to the northern wall. "that's only the tip of the iceberg."
"Thank you, sir," I smiled, tucking the grimoire in my bag.
"Call me Altair."
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When I finally left Altair's place, it was almost night. The sun was setting, casting everything in an orange light. I almost slapped myself for getting caught up in the time. My parents were going to kill me for not coming home earlier. I broke into a run, sprinting in the direction of my house. I twisted and turned around the corners, my feet carrying me there on instinct.
