I wanted to help make a difference, and Aslan Academy would be my starting point in proving my worth to everyone who belittled and regarded me as nothing.
I lifted my arms to stretch, looking up at the clear blue sky.Hey, Papa, how's work going? I hope the council is treating you well and not overworking you. Do you miss me like I miss you? Can't wait to see you soon.
My father, Orlando Rainbow, was a kind man. He'd been my rock when I was a little child along with my mom, who had been looked highly upon for guidance, support, and protection in times of battles or infiltration by the Forsaken.
Both of my parents had easily tackled the darkness and proven their worth long before I was born, still continuing those duties after having me.
My mother had been summoned to assist in another dimension far away, leaving me with my father when I was four years old. My father was summoned when I turned six, leaving me alone to defend myself.
Our village was safe enough, with almost no possibility of being attacked by monsters or Forsaken, but I guessed my father hadn't thought I'd be bullied at such a young age.
In fact, he’d assumed the village would help raise me after all he and my mother had done for them.
There were many times I wished I had enough courage to tell him what I was going through, the emotional agony that gripped me daily and the physical beatings and bruises I suffered. But whenever he called to check on me, I couldn't say a word— the happiness I saw in his eyes when he was summoned to claim his position silenced my inner pleas. I couldn't ruin this for him.
There was only a one percent chance to become a gatekeeper at an older age, the higher beings granting such an honor to those they thought deserved it. That's what the Council told us anyway.
My father was in that one percentile, having awakened his gatekeeper powers during an expedition. Since then, the Council wanted him to uphold his responsibilities, regardless of little ol’ me.
I began to walk down the stone pathway of my home, heading toward the mailbox. I'd submitted my application to Aslan Academy after I got into an argument with my Master and filled out the entire thing myself. I’d probably get rejected, but if there was any chance I got in, I’d rub it in his face.
My Master, Magnor, was one of my father's dear friends. After training him, they continued their friendship, which may have been why he took me in so early.
That fateful day in the cold rain, when I had resented life itself. When I lay in bed at night I sometimes wondered, if he hadn't appeared that day, if I'd even be alive today.
In the back of my mind, I had made my choice — deciding that my life was not worth living, especially when everyone else agreed with the dark thoughts that haunted me every hour of the day.
When he'd brought me home that night, he helped with all the bruises and wounds, healing every one of them before giving me a long, hot bath. Once I was clean, he fed me a hot meal and tucked me into bed, all without asking what had happened to me.
The next morning he'd informed me I wouldn't be attending school, that he'd talked to the higher ups and informed them he'd homeschool me himself. Of course, that had been a shock around town; the rumors and whispers I listened to when I walked by his side to the market varied from astonishment to disbelief.
Everyone knew if Magnor took someone in, it meant they had potential. Many people from across the lands and even dimensions, begged for his teachings and guidance. My father had been his last student before he took me in.
The bullying had lessened when I began my lessons, mostly due to not having to go to school. Once I began physical training, all beatings ceased after I easily took down a group of boys who'd tried to pick a fight with me in the middle of town square during the busiest time of the day.
Since then, no one dared touch me. Sure, they continued to talk shit, but that didn't bother me. Anyone could talk the talk, but few could walk the walk and show how powerful and mighty they were.
Now it was my turn to walk the walk, though I doubted I'd get accepted into the prestigious Academy. It was known to be extremely hard to get into — choosing those who were from powerful families or had perfect test scores.
I didn't struggle academically, my Master having taught me everything from general magic to combat. However, being the unicorn shifter I was — a mythological being no one believed existed, I wouldn't get my hopes up.
When people heard unicorn, they imagined a cute little white horse with a colorful mane who could breathe out sparkles. Add a shiny gold horn in the equation and voila — a laughing stock.
No one believed a unicorn could cause harm and since I was the only one on record in our dimension, everyone assumed I would be of no use. I hoped to prove them wrong one day, but I didn't think it would happen this year.Maybe when I'm twenty-six or twenty-seven...who knows?
I passed by the little pond we had in our large garden, taking a moment to view the various fish that swam in the clear water. I took a second to assess my reflection — my mismatched eyes stared back at me.
I was born with bright green eyes, but when my hair began its purple transition, my left eye began to shift in color, with purple being the end result. My Master wasn't worried about the change, mumbling something about the power shift in my body and I shouldn't be concerned if it didn't physically harm me.
He at least showed me how to use magic to hide it — applying a glamor that wouldn't waste much of my energy to maintain for long periods of time.
I didn't use it often since I was home the majority of the time, but if I began attending Aslan Academy, it would indeed become useful.
I was five-eight, getting my height from my mother, as my dad was at least six-four. I wasn't complaining, my height showcased my curves perfectly. Plus, being too tall meant you were stuck wearing flats for the rest of your life, and who'd possibly want that?
My breasts were a perfect size — not too big and not too small, excellent for when I needed to run and didn’t give me back issues. I had a small waist, which contributed to my curvy look with hips that made it a pain to fit into skinny jeans. Not that I wore jeans often, but I did have a fondness for jean shorts.
I focused on the tattoo on my face — knowing it was blessed lines. It was a type of marking many of us gained either at birth or as we grew. I'd had mine since I was born, starting as a tiny swirl on each side of my cheek. As I grew, it spread, branching out into a few spirals. I wasn’t required to hide them, but chose to. I didn't need to add to the list of things I was bullied about.