The Misfits of Al'Magi Academy: Rionriv Singlemoon

Rionriv was exhausted. It had been a long day of travel onboard the galleon, after a longer week of carting north to Sutin’eli, which followed three even longer months of repeated failures. And that fell upon her shoulders as the de facto leader of her triop.

This triop—a group of three magical students—was brought together by the arcane and divine energies of the world. They ate, slept, studied, fought, and sometimes nearly died next to each other. And all of this was so that one day, they would graduate from Al’magi Academy together as powerful Magilancers ready to make history.

But lately, that future felt like a big maybe to Rionriv.

She loved the other girls to death, but as of this moment, she needed a breather from them. The summer had been a total waste of time, and not only did they fail to retrieve any of the pieces of the runic puzzle that was their summer assignment, but they had also managed to nearly kill the overseeing professor. This meant that they had failed their project and didn’t earn the extra credit for assisting the teacher. The latter of which would have bumped up Aesandoral and Sharzin’s failing grades from last year enough to be barely passing.

The thing was, Rionriv didn’t think that she was free from fault for their summertime blunders. No, in fact, she had her fair share of failures over the last three months, but the problem was that most of the errors came from the other two.

Rionriv was in charge, and, despite that fact, they never seemed to listen to anything she said. If Aesandoral had listened when she yelled, the rock golem wouldn’t have thrown the piece of the puzzle into the lava pool. And if Sharzin hadn’t been more focused on being stealthy than observant, the frangulnoa wouldn’t have caught the professor off guard.

“Ugh, are we there yet?” Aesandoral spoke queasily. “I hate boats.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Rionriv eyed the archer. She was a tall elf with flowing brunette hair and big emerald eyes. Unfortunately, her mortal nemesis was the sea, and she never stopped reminding everyone of that.

“We’re close enough.” Rionriv said, whipping her hand at the deck and quickly muttering an incantation. “I’m going for a walk.”

There was a forceful gust of wind as thunder clapped beneath her, and she flew from the galleon to the nearby dock.

Landing with a thud, Rionriv walked purposefully, refusing to look back—

She just needed some time to think.

What the hell are we going to do? She stressed to herself as she stomped, grabbing her chest.

Bah-dump! Bah-dump! Bah-dump!

She attempted a calming breath, but it wouldn’t work. Her mind was racing too fast, and her heart was trying to catch up.

Professor Skirrtlegirt is a hard no, now. I know they got to him in time, but he was pretty clear that keeping him unharmed was part of the extra credit. By the Six, Sharzin, you had one job.

Stepping into Dwindlefyre Square, Rionriv observed as a pair of First Years flung freshly purchased Phyllis wands around like toys.

One of them flicked their tool a little too hard, casting a bolt of ice from the tip.

“Watch out!” The kid yelled.

Rionriv watched, continuing her pace, as an icy blast cut through the air. It collided with a young-looking First Year. His warm, sun-kissed face and stark white hair quickly whipped as he doubled over in pain.

She paused her stride, watching as he released a pathetic whimper before collapsing to the ground.

Holy crap, heh-heh, that raised my spirits.

Rionriv wasn’t the most sympathetic person when she was upset. Luckily, it was usually the little things that improved her mood.

But as Rionriv watched the kids laugh and flick a copper at the boy's head with ridicule in their voices, something clicked, and she gave pause.

Thuh-thump!

Holding her chest, she took a deep breath. She must have passed by hundreds of people in worse conditions over the summer alone. But she never stopped for them. Not once. Though as she looked at the boy, something bound her to the cobblestone just long enough to do something.

With a quiet incantation and a flick of her wrist, the coin lifted into the air as though a pair of invisible fingers had plucked it. Pocketing the copper, Rionriv drifted over one of her remaining three gold coins and silently placed it back. She watched for a moment as the boy began to shift before continuing forward, feeling content with her decision.

Casting the moment from her mind, Rionriv eventually made her way to the Grand Central Library. This was only after taking a short stroll around the primary campus and coming up empty for ideas concerning her current conundrum. Walking through giant doors, she paused and looked at the gaggle of First Years running around with excited looks on their faces.

Ugh, I don’t have energy for that. She thought, turning immediately around and pondering other places that the new mages likely wouldn’t be.

I know! She realized, quietly snapping her fingers. Mitriv’s Mimic Café.

So, she continued to move deeper into the campus towards a café that the newbies would never find. It had the size and shape of a janitor's shed, but if you reached through the window and didn’t panic when you felt the sharp teeth of a mimic, you could easily find the secret lever. That switch opened a back panel and revealed a spiral staircase down to the cozy café filled with friendly mimics.

This will be where I can sit and think about what to do about Aesandoral and Sharzin. And if we can save their grades—I really don’t think they can handle retaking First Year courses and succeeding Second Year tests.

That was around the time Rionriv heard a familiar whimpering sound. Rounding a corner, she watched as the same boy from earlier had stumbled into a vermin trap set for First Year triops. He seemed to have put up a good fight, but was currently pinned under his shield with the corpse of a rat weighing his scrawny body down.

Nah, sorry kid, one a day.

Then he started to cry before vomiting over himself. Falling limp, Rionriv felt her heart skip.

“Godsdamn it, not again!” She yelled out, rushing to his aid.