introduction to zen's current situation- using abilities in today's society sucks
Absent-mindedly, Zen stared out across the lawn of the sprawling Academy grounds as she sat on one of the benches beside the path, looking for the entire world like a student taking a break from unpacking her things. Her dark hair whipped about in the breeze, and her eyes glowed a quiet purple. She was dressed in the academy uniform, blue plaid pleated skirt, pressed white shirt, and a blue jacket with the Academy’s logo on it- a shield with three horizontal stripes with a simple “Z” in the center of the crest. Underneath was the word BOHICA, all in capital letters. The vast majority of students here, including the seniors who had been here since they were ten, could not for the life of them decipher what the origin, or anything about, the word. Zen had smiled when a student in her prep class had suggested “Bend Over, Here It Comes Again”, using a military term. Of course, when the headmaster had asked if anyone else wanted to hazard a guess, Zen had made herself as invisible as possible, without really doing so. She didn’t have to guess- she knew.
It’s hard to forget a term a traitor had designed while he was still fighting the good fight over five hundred years ago. BOHICA stood for “Bené Ost Heurikkan Ien, Casf Alore”- loosely translated “war is not only on the outside, but inside as well”. The Academy, or one of its founders had stumbled upon one of the books that Zen had used to record her travels- no doubt the finder believed it to be nothing more than a fantasy story written in ancient times- after all, everyone knows that Faeries aren’t( and weren’t) real. Zen almost wished she could find one, just so that she could kill it. She still wanted to be the one that killed Felix, the twerp responsible for the Overqueen Faerie’s death. Zen had really wanted to be the one to finally kill the psycho. Unfortunately, Felix had switched sides, and had gone on a suicide mission to kill the operator of all Faerie forces- and died of massive wounds after an overwhelmingly annoying success.
Looking at Zen, you wouldn’t think her to be a battle-hardened Vigil (also believed to be fictious) well over a thousand years old, thanks to the Barrier’s veil that refused to let her slip into the Other World- zen had been the only one, Vigil or not, to truly bond with the Barrier in such a way that should she die, the world would end. At least that’s what Wizard Thryst had told her. Zen had developed a steady mistrust for wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, and any sort of spellmaker. Which technically placed her in the heart of the enemy: The Academy- known in the magical realm as the best training school for gifted beings(AKA sorcerers, witches, wizards, sorceresses, and people with control over the elements.)
Zen tugged her jacket straight as she stood up, glancing at the sun to figure out the time- she still couldn’t bring herself to use the clock as a primary source for such a constant thing in her life. She was supposed to meet the headmaster soon to determine what sort of classes she would assist in teaching during her free time. She herself would be learning the history of magic, flight, and probably battle tactics and strategy. As if she needed any of them to teach her about what she could do, who she could become- she was a thousand year old veteran of countless magic wars trapped in a seventeen yearold’s body. There was also that stupid evaluation of student’s skills she was supposed to attend, a sort of opening assembly to the new academic year- basically where the newbies tried to beat the crap out of each other so that the rest of the school wouldn’t target them for their magical mischief. Zen wasn’t sure how she wanted to appear here, or why she was even here in the first place.
Stupidity. That’s how. Zen had been running low on cash so she stole some from a bank. She didn’t go in the bank with a gun or stuff like that, she had simply walked through the walls to the vault, then walked out invisibly. It was too easy, Zen had already gotten that feeling after grabbing the first ten thousand. Zen had made it ten blocks from the bank undetected with two million in her back pack when suddenly everything went black. Pitch black. Darker than a coal mine with the lights off. Zen tried to turn around, to use one of her abilities to find out what was going on, but couldn’t move. All her senses were cut off. Zen blacked out.
Coming to, Zen had been in an interrogation room, cuffed to the chair. Focusing on the cuffs, she had tried to make herself immaterial, to get out, but it hadn’t worked. Her abilities, normally reminding her of their presence by flaring every few seconds in the back of her mind, seemed to be cut off from her, as if by some sort of wall. Zen had been arrested by the COPS- the specialty witches, wizards and co. charged with the task of keeping their fellow kinds in line and keep up the Law of Absolute Secrecy- which Zen had defied by using her abilities to steal from the humans, putting the rest of “her kind” at risk. When they had found out she was a “minor”(Zen wasn’t going to tell them differently) they had sentenced her to attend the Academy, the most prestigious and diverse school of abilities- teaching people to develop their powers and blend in with humans one boring lesson at a time.
To this day, with the wind blowing in her face as Zen walked down the decorative garden path leading to the offices, she could not understand how wizards and the like had caught her, how a Vigil could catch their attention. Vigils were all but extinct. She was literally the last one, and her abilities worked nothing like any of the others’. She didn’t rely on outside sources except for the Barrier, which was safely buried deep enough that none could reach it, even if they could breathe underwater.
Zen stormed up the front steps of the main building, which housed teacher’s offices and administration centers, as well as the library. Life for the next three years was going to suck, everyone thought she was sixteen, again Zen chose not to point out they were off by quite a few centuries, and Academy attendees graduated at eighteen- if they were lucky.
Black thoughts of what she would do to anyone who rubbed her the wrong way swirling through her mind, Zen entered the red Brick building, prepared to meet her fate.