Diem followed Lora through the academy grounds, trying to commit to memory all the houses and buildings, landmarks and forbidden areas. It was a great deal to take in, but Lancaster was nothing short of beautiful. The campus was ancient and old world in a way that belied an impressive fusion of magic and technology. There was awe-inspiring architecture and art, well-manicured gardens filled with all manner of bright and exotic plants and flowers. It was picturesque, and the mortal realm paled in comparison with all its industrialization and concrete. The school system was laughable as well, and Diem had been to her fair share of underfunded public schools. Her father, who she missed dearly, was adamant that they move every few years. They never stayed in one place for too long, and he was often hesitant to enroll her at all. When he did, she was always behind. She was the oldest in her class, much to her own embarrassment. Teachers praised her for her intelligence and her ability to catch on quickly, but before she could ever truly excel they were onto the next place.<br/><br/>She learned to stop crying over lost friends and missed opportunities, and she eventually stopped begging to go to school—mainly because she began having her own difficulties. While her father struggled with alcoholism, she struggled with what she perceived to be mental illness. The voices that entered her mind abruptly and the vivid images that caused her excruciating pain were difficult symptoms to manage. With a great deal of determination, she was able to get her GED before her father passed away, waiting for a liver on the extraordinarily long donor list. Not long after his death, officials from Lancaster found her and persuaded her to pursue enrollment. So far, it was the best decision she had ever made and without a drunk father to jerk her chain every time she got comfortable, there was no fear of being whisked away. She would finally have a normal life.<br/><br/>Well, normal-ish.<br/><br/>A whimpering girl, carried by two classmates, crossed their paths as they made their way across the quad. Diem paused, noting that they were all sporting some nasty wounds.<br/><br/>“Combat training.” Lora informed her. “The training grounds are over there. You’ll get to see it up close and personal tomorrow. I’m still healing from last class,” she said, lifting the corner of her shirt to reveal a cringe-worthy bruise. It seemed to be fading, but it was still a bluish-purple hue. “Gross, right?” Lora covered it back up, almost pleased when she saw Diem’s expression turned to that of disgust. “Actually . . . If you look just over there,” she indicated with a finger. “You can see the instructor.”<br/><br/>Diem spotted him against the tree, a man with red hair and strange eyes, smoking a cigarette. She began to feel the telltale signs of a vision the longer she stared at him. It would do no good to look away. Whatever mystical bullshit that brought them on was already in motion. Her bright green hues began to fade, and her eyes glowed white. Imagines of shadows and bloodshed flickered through her mind. She could hear clanging metal and shrill cries of agony. Sharp pains lanced through her head, making her knees weak and her breath quicken. Before she could see any more, she ripped herself from the reality that had yet to come. When she did, she was leaning against Lora.<br/><br/>“What’d you see?” She asked curiously.<br/><br/>“N-nothing. Thanks for not letting me hit the floor.” She said, swaying on her feet and she used Lora’s shoulder for support until she felt better.<br/><br/>“It hurts less if you let yourself see. You’ll also avoid brain damage, too.” She smiled. “I mean, that’s probably superstition. My grandma used to say it to me, so . . .” With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she continued on, leaving Diem standing and staring at the being till she finally pried her eyes away from him.<br/><br/>The two resumed the tour, grabbed dinner, and headed back to House Anima to turn in for the night. The next morning, Lora accompanied Diem to her first class. It had taken the committee two weeks to vote on her entrance. Like old times, she was behind again. Fortunately, Lora was able to provide her with the notes that would get her up to speed. The only thing she couldn’t really prepare herself for was combat training. In the locker room, she changed with the rest of the girls, putting on the skin-tight, black compression suits they’d been given. One could tell by the colored accents on the suits what house they belonged to. They would help deflect some of the damage from spells, elemental magic, absorb blows, and lend aid with healing. Diem pulled her hair back into a pony-tail, then headed out with everyone else for instruction. Unlike them, she had no idea what to expect. Of course, she had heard stories and seen the end results. She just hoped it was merely an exaggeration.