DESCEND , chapter- 1
WORLD OF MYSTIC
A man with looks industrial age. In his forties, with black hair neatly combed, he sat in a rickety wooden house that groaned with every gust of wind ,wore a crisp, vintage white shirt and simple black trousers, his scuffed brown shoes tucked beneath a small dining table. The morning light filtering through the window behind him was hazy, catching the dust motes dancing over a glass of milk and a few slices of bread.
He lowered his newspaper and looked at the young girl sitting across from him. "Mina," he said, his voice calm. "Go and wake your brother. He'll be late for the university's opening ceremony."
The girl, with her straight, long hair and startling emerald eyes, barely looked up from her drawing. "Yes, Father," she replied in a casual tone, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her long blue frock, trimmed with white lining, swished as she hopped off her chair.
She padded silently up the stairs. Shyne's door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she peered in at her older brother, who was fast asleep on his bed, his mouth wide open and a trail of drool on his pillow. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. Uncurling her fist, she revealed a fat, green grasshopper squirming in her palm. Tiptoeing closer, she dangled it over her brother's open mouth and let it drop. Then, as a bullet, she fled the room.
The frantic kicking of the grasshopper in his throat jolted Shyne awake. A wave of disgust and nausea washed over him as he sat bolt upright, gagging. "Aaaah! Thuu! Thuu!" he spat, sending the insect flying across the room. "MINAAAA!" he roared, his voice cracking. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
He stormed downstairs, the disgusting taste still in his mouth, to find Mina hiding innocently behind their father's chair. "What is this?" he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. "She dropped a grasshopper in my mouth! Why aren't you scolding her?"
His father glanced at Mina, who peeked out from behind him, and a brief, fond smile crossed his lips before he turned a serious expression to his son. "Shyne, it's your first day at the university. Do you want to be late? It's already half-past eight. Go and get ready."
Shyne's shoulders slumped. Defeated, he turned towards the bathroom, a flash of disappointment in his eyes. A sister who won't leave me in peace and a father who always takes her side, he thought while changing. Fine. I'll make her pay. An idea formed in his mind. They're selling those new Indian Ghost Chillies down at the market. Cheap, too. I'll grind one up and mix it into her slice of bread later. We'll see who's laughing then.
He shed his plain white shirt for the official university attire: a sweeping black robe embroidered with a silver, flying dragon, and smart blue trousers. He placed a pair of oversized, gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, which made his ruby-red eyes seem even more intense.
Downstairs again, he ignored Mina and quickly ate a few slices of bread with butter, washing it down with tea while scanning the London Times. The headline story was about a thief who had stolen an ancient African relic from the West Roshel military base. Beside it, a smaller article detailed Parliament's decision to deploy another ten thousand deacon-ranked mages to the Indian subcontinent to quell the "terrorist" uprisings. There was a grainy photo of a woman on a winged white horse, holding a sword. The caption identified her as "Rani Laxmi, a core leader of the rebel army and an archknight-level swordswoman."
Shyne scoffed inwardly. Terrorists. We invade their homes, exploit their resources, and call it 'development.' Then we call them terrorists for fighting back. What rotten diplomacy. He felt a pang of sympathy. And it's even worse for the Africans. They're treated like slaves, or animals.
Finished with his breakfast, he stood up and grabbed a long, rough-looking wooden stick from a stand by the door. It was unpolished and looked more like a branch than a proper wand. He took it outside, placed it on the ground between his feet, and whispered, "Aeromy Ephugas!"
The wand lifted smoothly into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground. Shyne hopped on, finding his balance. He glanced back at the house, waved a quick "bye" to his father and sister who stood in the doorway, and pushed off into the sky.
The city sprawled below him. He joined a river of morning commuters: other mages on wands, a large family bundled together on a flying carpet, and even a traffic police officer hovering at an intersection, directing the aerial flow. Down on the cobbled streets, life continued. The scent of garlic and tomato wafted up from an Italian pasta vendor, and a woman was scrubbing clothes in a bucket, the morning sun spreading its golden warmth over everything.
After ten minutes, a massive structure loomed ahead: the university, sealed by a giant metal gate. A crowd was already gathered—nervous first-years like himself, some with parents, others arriving on luxurious carpets. Many wore the same black robe. About half of them also carried swords and wore black armor with a golden cape, a crest of a flaming, winged horse emblazoned on their chests.
With a deep groan, the gates began to open, and the crowd surged forward. Shyne's heart hammered against his ribs. He expression suddenly become serious and he said inwardly " I am finally back, Horgon's"