Another minute passes. Nervously, I waited at the mage training field. The wind blows by wih a heated gust following. The magrass swayed in the wind. I began feeling as though I were a fool. The air smelled bitter; I heard only a nearby squireel chittering away at an acorn. When, guess who comes along, cup of tea in hand?

“Varagas?” I was confused truly. Exasperatedly, he responded, “Seracor? What are you doing here? Master Sephith told me to come here. What’s your story?” I half-heartedly chuckled, “Same here.” Varagas was chosen as well… but why? What the hell was going on? “Why are you so out of breath?” I asked him, as he was panting loudly and sitting on the ground. He waited a moment to catch his breath, then responded, “Well, it’s not like I don’t have things to do before classes.” I remembered that Varagas’ family expected many chores of him in the mornings. He continued, “Where the hell is Sephith?” He laughed, “probably late like you all the time!”

If only he knew.