Gifted

         She stared out into the water, watching the ripples as the rain hit. Each one affected the other, yet all remained in a balance. Balance, everyone told her this is what is required of her, of any user of enchantments. Sighing she turned her thoughts to the state of the world. Only a few had seen any of it coming, the same few who had been locked away, condemned as loons. No one even suspected that humans were not alone, so no one ever dreamed of the attack that came. They said that they were tired of hiding and they had come to take back the world. They viciously attacked everyone, no one was left unscarred. They were heartless. Most of them, a few of them are what stood in the way of our complete annihilation.

         Now the world was in chaos. Humans were at war with demons, fairytales and myths come alive. There was now a desperate search for “gifted” humans, needed to fight, taken away to be trained. No matter what age, the gifted are taken away. All those who were of high school age went to The Lyceum for The Gifted. We have no choice, we have no freedom. Though we are far better treated then bitterly called half-breeds, we still are prisoners of our own kind. Slowly the ripples stopped, time for training to continue.

         Stepping onto the training grounds was always an experience, nothing was expected or predicted. “CUT TORCH!” She tumbled out of the way, the attack burning her shoulder length burgundy hair about an inch shorter. Crouching she glared at the tall boy in front of her. His deep set gray eyes were hardened and reminded her of pools of mercury. His waist long, thick, straight hair was the color of black coffee and swayed softly with the wind. He wore a simple red muscle shirt and black pants and seemed to glow as the sun reflected the paleness of his skin. He stood there a moment with a look of disappointment, but soon had a sadistic smile in its place. “Tsk, tsk. I thought everyone who entered the training grounds would be on guard.”  She still crouched there, her violet eyes practically glowing with anger. With amazing speed she ran forward and punched him in the chin with her right hand. Spinning to her left she caught the other side of his face with her left foot, knocking him down. She stood above him still fuming that he had attacked her as soon as she walked through the door.

         “You stupid bitch, you must be new here. Let me tell you how it works here, the strong rule and the weak die. How dare you attack me, Do you know who I am?” He was now back to smiling, the type of smile that puts fear in the pit of your stomach. She answered very calmly, her elegant voice ringing out through the now gathered crowd. “I don’t really care, but if I were to guess. . . I would say the village idiot.” Gasp and a few snickers were heard in the crowd. “You made a big mistake girl.” She smiled, almost laughing. “I am sure I will and do not call me girl, my name is Ophelia. Do not forget it.” The strange boy turned in a huff, mumbling about his revenge. Ignoring him and all the stares she was getting, she walked to a tree and began to meditate.

         About ten minutes later she sighed and opened her eyes. The training grounds were amazing. Nobody was quite sure how it was managed but it was an arena with every terrain and environment Imaginable. Parts of it were breathtakingly beautiful and others were the worse kind of waste land. It was perfect for training the gifted. Ophelia fell back in to her thoughts. Gifted…It feels more like a curse. Her thoughts were interrupted by a deeply-tanned, voluptuous girl. Her luxurious, straight, brown hair was done in a way that reminded you of a strange headdress. Her large brown eyes begged for attention. “I just had to tell you what a good laugh I had over you completely embarrassing Kennith. My name is Roxie.”

         Ophelia studied Roxie for a moment before replying in a somewhat amused voice. “So that’s his name….It’s nice to meet you Roxie.” Roxie’s eyes lit up and she almost bounced around, “You just got out of induction, right?” Ophelia visibly paled, but this wasn’t unusual. Roxie had seen it before; if anyone was suspected of being gifted they went through induction. If you lived you came here to be trained. No one ever talked about their induction and it drove many to insanity. Inductions happened once a month, but it was not often that any new people came to The Lyceum, so they were always noticed, always are target of one kind or another. Inductions decided how strong you were, what your classification was, and where in the dorms you would stay. There were four dorms; there were the dorms for docile humans, “hippies”. There were the dorms for hostile humans, “the hot heads”. There were the dorms for docile half demons and one for the hostile ones, both called “half breeds”.

         “Yea, I am in with the hippies. They said I was on borderline and would be calmer there. I am taking a guess; you’re a hippie, aren’t you?” Roxie stopped humming long enough to tilt her head. “Yea, how’d you know?” Ophelia simply laughed, but was cut short by a bell. Roxie sighed a said her goodbyes. Ophelia pulled a small piece of paper from her bag and looked at it. It was her first day with other gifted people, first day on a schedule.

6:00am Wake up call/Shower
6:10am Breakfast
6:30am Free style Training
7:00am Meditation
8:30am Classification Training
10:00am Physical Combat
11:30am Lunch
12:00pm Free Time
1:30pm Strategy
3:00pm Math
4:30pm History
6:00pm Language
7:30pm Dinner
8:00pm Formal Training
9:30pm Shower
10:00pm Lights Out

         It was going to be a very long day. Ophelia made her way to the meditation room and immediately was the center of attention. “Class as you can see, we have a new student.” Turning to Ophelia, the teacher continued, “Please stay out of the way until you are assigned a guide.” All she could do was nod dumbly and stand back. She stood there for thirty minutes wondering if her wavy, burgundy hair looked okay. If she looked like a freak being so tall and fair skinned. She looked down at herself wondering if her maroon shirt had any stains. She had always liked this shirt; it showed her arms nicely and fit really well. She knew that her black jeans looked terrible; they had been torn earlier when she dodged the attack from Kennith.

         The meditation teacher was a short with an elegant build. She had straight, slate-gray hair that was worn in an elegant, businesslike style. She had olive tinged skin and her very movements, speech told of how disciplined she was. Her piercing gray eyes resembled two pieces of steel and were overflowing with wisdom. A strangely gentle yet firm voice pulled Ophelia from her thoughts. “Hello, I am Ms. Bowers. Your guide is on the way. I suggest you start paying attention.” Ms. Bowers looked at the girl before her. She looked broken, of course everyone looked like that their first day. She desperately wanted to simply hug this girl and begin crying for all of her students, but it couldn’t be that way. Showing emotions was strictly forbidden for any teacher, they had enough trouble getting emotions out of the students. At least that was their job, to eliminate anything useless to a fighting machine. Of course the publicly known job description was simply to train the gifted, if anyone knew what really went on here, it wouldn’t exist. It was her choice to be a teacher here at The Lyceum, to teach meditation. As the meditation teacher she was responsible for reviewing their induction files and choosing each new arrival’s guide and roommate. This was how she helped these broken teens.