Fourteen Years Earlier
“All right, class, line up.”
The nineteen young girls stood quietly from their desks and formed a line in front of the door. Except for the two in the back, all waited with their hands at their sides. In Classroom Two, the students were given more freedom of self-expression and fewer rules, but here in Classroom One, the prevailing theory was that discipline, particularly at an early age, sharpened the mind and cultivated a lifestyle of industriousness.
That was the theory, at least.
“Calea, stop whispering, unless you want to share it with the whole class.”
The eight-year-old stood at attention, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I was just saying that Donava didn’t wash her hands last time she was in the bathroom.” She turned to the other girls in the line. “We all know how germs spread. If anyone gets sick, it’ll be her fault. Remember that.”
“That’s enough, Calea.”
Calea opened her eyes wide, as if shocked, faked a shudder, and stood rigidly at attention. She was taller than any of the other girls. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Enough.” Their teacher took a deep breath. “We’re going down to examine the Well. We’ll be on the Greinham Observation Deck this time, so stay together and watch your step.”
The girls glanced at one another excitedly.
They took the main staircase down, a long, curving expanse around the open air center of the Tower. Calea wanted to ride the elevator. She had been on it twice in Tower Three since coming to school earlier in the year, once on her way to see the Headmaster. She tapped on Sindi’s shoulder as they descended.
“Don’t. You’re going to get me in trouble,” Sindi whispered.
“Why’re we going to the Well again? It’s not going to change.”
“We’re going close. I mean, Greinham almost sits on top of the Well. I hear you can touch the magic if you want.”
“Yeah, and burn your fingers off.”
“I said if you want,” Sindi complained.
The line stopped. “Calea, come up here.”
Calea obeyed the teacher, flashing Sindi an exaggerated look of terror as she made her leisurely way to the front.
“I want you here beside me. I don’t want you playing games. We’re very lucky to have a chance to visit the Greinham Observation Deck. Most times, there are too many experiments being conducted for students to be allowed onto it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s very important.”
A sour look crossed the teacher’s face. “If you do not behave, I will put you in solitary for the entire evening session.”
This did worry Calea. Three hours in that spotless, soundless, lonely room was horrible. “I’ll behave, ma’am.”
“Now, step in line behind me.”
They continued down, and Calea kept quiet. She was sullen at first, but as they passed through the first security door, it was hard not to be excited. Before they passed through the second security point, a man with a mustache and clipboard gave a stern lecture about the dangers of magic. Calea didn’t listen. She’d heard it from the teacher before. Like ten times.
There was a gun fastened securely to the wall, however, and she could not take her eyes off it. It was thick and heavy. She did not think she could pick it up, and she saw where a soldier could flip out handles on the sides so that two people could lug it around quickly. The shoulder straps were hidden nicely, too. She’d seen a gun fired, once, while passing through the Academy on an errand. With current capacity, it could get off twenty shots before draining the pack. But what shots!
The girl behind prodded her and she followed the teacher down a final staircase and onto the Greinham Observation Deck.
Everyone knew what the Well was–the lake of magic at the center of Jalseion. The Select, who were able to draw power from the Well, had built the Wheel over the top of it. Calea could see the eight spokes above her, radiating from the Academy in the center and terminating in each of the eight towers. And below was the magic.
Approaching the edge, she stared. Sindi had been right. Magic pulsed just beneath the platform they stood upon. It shimmered, its surface something like a soap bubble, seemingly thin and filled with flittering colors. She had never looked so closely into it. Though it seemed clear, like glass, it showed no reflection. It projected an illusion of clarity, but the longer Calea looked at it, the more it seemed to resonate with hidden meanings, like a strand of music snatched and lost.
“The Well is nearly at its high point,” the teacher said. “As you know, it rises and falls according to the use we put it to. Given time, it always regenerates. Even if it didn’t, at our current consumption rates it would take more than a year the expend the energy.”
“Have you ever been to Thyrion’s Well?” asked one student.
“I haven’t, but it is many times larger than ours. Ours has its own unique properties, though. For instance, we have determined that our Well is deeper than any other known well.”
Calea had a coin in the pocket of her dress, and she had an idea.
“The wells sustain our way of life in so many ways,” the teacher continued, “but they are also our limitation. We Select cannot manipulate the power we find here unless we are nearby. Outside of a certain range, the ecosystem becomes bare, and vegetation and animal life is very difficult. That is why continued research into the battery is so vital. Next week we will be touring a battery facility, and you can see what amazing work our Architects are doing.”
Calea turned away from the group, leaned over the guardrail, and tossed in her coin.
It hissed as it touched the magic, not sinking, but setting on the surface, or even, it seemed, just above the surface. Then, it sank, disintegrating, and was gone.
“Neat-o,” Calea whispered.
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