MODERN MAGICS. Tianyu (Tony) Zhu

from the hospital, then we’ll come and get you, okay?” Owen asked, and Damian responded with a nod.

      “Come on.” Owen said and dragged Sapphire out the door and closed it behind him.

      “That was the debt you owed?” Sapphire said to him the moment the door shut behind us. She could only vaguely recall the exiled pureblood rumour, since it happened before she was even born, but not once had anyone ever told her that it was her own father who had brought an exiled mage back into the family.

      “Yeah,” He replied as he looked down the hallway, lost in thought. “Your father was the only person who cared about me enough to come and rescue me. This is the least I can do to repay him, apart from - you know- almost slicing your head in half with a sword.”

      “You’re an okay guy,” Sapphire responded. Owen widened his eyes in surprise, then looked at her with such a pleased expression. She had to wonder if he had ever been complimented before.

      They approached the elevator and waited for its arrival after pressing the button.

      “The meeting wasn’t that bad was it?” Owen asked.

      “Please shut up.” Sapphire retorted.

      “Better than losing your powers right?”

      “I hate you.”

      His quiet chuckles echoed through the elevator shafts as the door closed behind them.

      Chapter 3.1

      Sapphire rolled her eyes for the fifth time that day as she watched Damian’s mouth drop at the sight of the Royal House’s grandiose foyer.

      She had to admit -- if she had never been to the Royal House before, her reaction would probably have been the same. Countless shining jewels were embedded into the columns and pillars holding the high ceiling up. Flashing chandeliers dangled above them, casting diamond-shaped shadows onto the ground and onto their skin. Intricate mosaics and tapestries depicted past Royal ancestors and stories with bright, contrasting colors.

      The constant chattering of nobles donned in expensive suits and robes passed along Damian in the foyer, which furthermore fed to his feeling of intimidation and inferiority. Damian had never witnessed such finesse and panache in his entire life, as he glanced down at the matching watches, emblems, and rings on their pulp fingers. His only context was centered around the Bierner Shelter, which only served as a stark contrast to the Royal House.

      “Come on, let’s go,” She said and grabbed Damian’s arm, realising that the other people had started to notice a boy in an oversized hospital patient uniform who was just standing in the middle of the foyer, spinning in a circle and staring into space. Shaking from his daze, Damian silently followed Sapphire and Owen.

      As they walked through the lobby, Damian saw something peculiar. The people in the lobby would glance and see Sapphire’s or Owen’s face, their expressions would transform into one of anxiety and slight fear, then they would begin to back away from the two Anaroths. These reactions happened with almost every single mage they were close to. As they walked up the stairs, Damian looked over his shoulder and saw the path they made slowly disappearing as the crowd filled in once more.

      “Do they not like you guys?” Damian asked Owen as they reached a hall of elevators.

      “With our job, we’re not exactly…” Owen said as he contemplated what to say.

      He didn’t have to answer. With a high-pitched ring, the elevator door in front of them opened. The people inside looked up, saw the two Anaroths, and hurriedly began to vacate the elevator with startled eyes.

      “Well thought-of here.” Owen finished, mimicking Damian’s own thoughts as the three stepped into the elevator.

      “What’s your family like?” Damian asked Sapphire as the elevator went up. He looked at her for a moment before staring down at the ground in awkward silence, noticing that Sapphire wasn’t paying attention at all. From the moment she has entered the Royal House, she has been chewing on her fingernails, thinking furiously about how she will deal with her untrustworthy cousin and conniving uncle.

      A few moments later, the elevator doors opened and they entered into a room that was not at all similar to the bright, palace-like lobby. They stood in the middle of what seemed to be a narrow, medieval hallway. The walls were made of distinct, gray, stone bricks, seemingly held together by clay. Stone arches were built into the walls, leading into other rooms. Natural sunlight seemed to be filling the room through the windows built high above them, though he clearly remembered this being in the middle of a giant manor.

      “Distortion magic.” Owen explained, spotting the curiosity on Damian’s face. “High Illusionist magic that can change your surroundings no matter what kind of space you’re in. Every royal family has a distinct room like this.”

      “You must be Mister Asher, yes?”

      Damian’s head quickly snapped around to the sudden presence of a middle-aged servant standing before him, who quietly emerged through one of the rooms to the right. He nodded his head yes, and the servant gestured at him to proceed into the other room, “Come with me, please.”

      He was about to respond, then he felt a sudden grasp on his arm. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with,” Sapphire muttered as she yanked him into the room with a seemingly angry stride.

      They passed by a grand common area, much bigger than the corridor they were just in. A bustling kitchen with a set of wooden chairs and a long mahogany dining table was positioned on the far side of the room. Servants and cooks scurried around, preparing food for the family’s lunch meal. The aroma of beef wellington and candied, caramelized carrots lingered in the corridor.

      A middle-aged man sat on a gray sofa laid next to Damian’s right. Behind him stood a boy around his age, most likely the man’s son, with their matching white hair and expressions that seem to pressure him, as if they were blatantly looking down at him. The father, presumably Sapphire’s uncle, wore a black robe decorated with streaked patterns of bright yellow. An ornamented pin was stuck to the robe where his heart should be, a pitch black symbol in the shape of what seemed to be a throwing star. His face was filled with creases from old age, despite that, his eyes were nothing but astute and attentive, as if nothing could escape his sight.

      The son was much different than his elder: he wore a casual T-shirt and jeans, a stark contrast from the formal attire of his father. He radiated an aura of flagrant superiority and cold indifference, fittingly accompanied by a crooked smirk and a hostile glare, which made it very clear to Damian that this individual would be no ally or friend. A formidable antagonist at that -- his muscular build and towering height was perfectly juxtaposed to Damian’s scrawny frame. Moreover, the polar contrast between Damian’s unkempt, jet black hair and Ethan’s glossy white hair made their physical appearances even more distinct.

      He felt Sapphire tap his back. Damian suddenly remembered what she and Owen had told him on the streets of Caphis, “ Greet the Anaroth’s formally, if you don’t make a good introduction, you’re not going to get anywhere.”

      “What do you mean?” Damian asked.

      “Trust me, personal experiences,” Owen, at that moment, seemed very somber and gloomy, so Damian did not pursue that matter anymore.

      Damian returned to the present moment as he felt the stares of the two people before him. He cleared his throat and spoke.

      “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Anaroth.” He bowed down, “I’m Damian Ash-”

      “-- this is it?” a voice interrupted him, and Damian looked up. It was the son who had spoken up, he had walked up to Damian and started examining him, “The hell can we expect from this bundle of bones, Father?”

      Sapphire stepped up and spoke to her cousin, “Ethan, we’re not talking to you right now, please let-”

      “Did I give you permission to speak?” Ethan’s father said in a low voice, his grave tone resonated