Welcome to Inkscribes!

Scholomance

---

     It's been exactly a year since I came too Scholomance.
     I shifted the dark blue robe around my feet and bounced on my heels. The older men glared at me.
      I was the youngest person admitted to the school, and out of the ten of us, over half of them hadn't spoken to me for the entire year.
     Not only was I the youngest, I was a girl. Don't get me wrong, Scholomance has admitted girls before. Old and grey like most of these bastards.
     People trained and schooled themselves for decades to get admitted here.
     To be taught by the Devil himself, in the kind of magic that
stole your life, and ate away at your soul.
     These guys? They had a few good spells in them; good being a relative term. They would sell them to the highest bidder, spend the last years of their life in luxury.
     A wasted existence for an old man.
     But me? I was only eighteen. They envied the hell out of me.
     The large black obsidian doors creaked open and we turned to watch the dark form enter the room.
     Shadows shrouded him but they fell away as he walked, as if he were dropping a cloak.
     The devil himself was rather unimpressive.
     Nondescript even. It was hard say.
     He moved down the row, hands tucked deep into his pockets, no words were necessary as he passed us. Today nine of us would go home and one of us would stay as payment to the Devil for his teaching, and as he stopped before me, I felt the old men smirk.
     Damn the Devil.