A Lesson in Alchemy, Chapters 1 - 5

Story by aaronmv2k6

Hey all, aaron again.

Working on Chapter II of "Sick Note" at, like, 12:30 last night, I hit the wall. I'm a paragraph or two till I'm finished, I've got a ton of things I wanna do, and no way to phrase them.

So I stayed up working on this instead. It's the first chapter of my more fantasy themed series.

There's no "action" for this chapter, in fact, not much explicit content at all (except for a remark..or two:D ), but don't let that scare ya away! Things'll get hotter, I promise!

I apologize in advance for the ending, it is lame, and it does leave you hanging.

A Lesson in Alchemy

by aaron

Chapter I

Greensdale Girls School, situated in sunny Southern California, is like many private schools. If you or I were fortunate enough to attend Greensdale, we would see a beautifully lanscaped campus, excellent learning facilities, and comfortable living quarters for both students and teachers. We, however, wouldn't be able to attend. Surprisingly, the students of Greensdale aren't daughters of the wealthy & powerful, being prepped for their entrance into the world of exclusive golf clubs, fancy costume balls, and the rest of the trappings of social elitedom. The reason these girls are enrolled here is beacuse they have talents. Talents normally invisible, but a at a moment's notice, more beautiful than the most intricate snowflake, or more terrible than the forces of Nature herself. In addition to classes like Algebra, U.S. Government, and Earth Science, Greensdale has classes teaching students in the arts of Alteration, Illusion, Restoration, Destruction, Conjuration, Mysticism, and Alchemy. In short, Greensdale teaches magic, to those select few destined to wield it.

Now, most of us, if we were willing to belive such a thing as magic even existed, would have a lot of misconceptions about what a magic school would be like. We'd imagine Merlin-like teachers in peaked wizard hats, and students reading dusty manuscripts, riding brooms and waving magic wands. Greensdale has none of this: It is a school after all. True, some teachers keep wizard's hats, but only as a joke, and Greensdale's books are all latest editions, regardless of subject. Students are much more apt to whip out a cell phone than a broom, and on an all-girls campus, the closest thing to a magic wand that gets waved around is probably a vi...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Greensdale, and all the other schools like it, operate like they always have: in secret. Even before the rise of Christianity in Europe, magic was beginning to be feared, rather than praised, and with the advent of the Crusades, many practitioners of the Old Ways simply dissapeared, either slain by those fearing their abilities and calling them heretics, or because they had gone into hiding. Many of the survivors decided they would spread to various parts of the world, keeping in touch, and teaching their arts to a select few. It was their earliest ancestors that had shown their prehistoric brethren the secret of fire, thus shaping the course of human civilization. Perhaps some day, they thought, humanity would leave its ignorance behind, and they could come to enlighten us, just as they once had. But for now, they thought with resolve, they would have to wait. And wait they did. Each generation passing on the teachings of the old, and the hope of the new. Which brings us to the present, December 9th 2007, to be exact.

It's 3:00 AM on a Saturday, and most of Greensdale's students are fast asleep. Two however, are not. On the second floor, east wing, is one room, lit by a soft lamp. The windows and door frame of this room have been smothered by thick blankets, so as to obscure any light from inside from reaching outside. The owner of this room is one Lina Raybrant, a student of Alchemy. Lina's eyes are pouring over the latest batch of notes, hastily copied from the faculty-only Archives. It's been a long time coming, she thinks to herself, but I'm close, dammit I'm so close I can almost tas-

A stifled yawn comes from behind her, and Lina whips her head around to glare at the source of the interruption, her "assistant", Tracey Bevelle, a student of Alteration. Tracey looks around and sighs.

"Li, can't I go? It's been four hours.."

"Trace, I told you. We're gonna try a new formula tonight."

Tracey rolled her eyes at Lina's reply. You mean I'm gonna try a new formula, she thought to herself, as she struggled to keep her eyelids open. It was a fight she was beginning to lose, and sitting on Lina's oh-so-comfy bed wasn't helping. She could move to the floor, she thought, but that wouldn't help, either. Tracey slept like a rock. Lina wouldn't be able to wake her for at least five or six hours if she passed out now.

Trace felt something prick her nose, and she made the mistake of sniffing the air. She nearly retched as the odor of a half dozen godawful smelling ingredients wafted to her nose. Crap, she must've started distilling that stuff for

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