The Takeover

I was fifteen in the year 2042, when nature rebelled against mankind. Not only normal animals, but other worldly creatures, too. Elves, trolls, dwarfs, vampires, dragons, and any other magical creatures you could imagine came out of their hiding place and fought against humanity’s destructive habits, tired of overpopulation, extreme pollution, and habitat destruction. The human race’s population was brought down tremendously, leaving only three million alive, compared to the massive tens of billions that used to occupy the planet. Those of us that hadn’t been massacred were either sorcerers that had hid in the mortal world, like my mother, or enslaved, like me. Anything that polluted the earth was destroyed, and, through magical means, the pollution levels in the world were slowly brought down until there was nothing left but clean air, water, and soil. Now, it’s 2054. I’m twenty-seven, and the Takeover, which is what the falling point of humanity is now called, feels like a lifetime ago. Almost all the humans I know are still upset about it, and want to fight against these newer, more powerful forces, but won’t because those who have rebelled were put down incredibly harshly and as publicly as possible. Not that I would say this to anyone, but I think that the world now is a lot better than the world was when humanity drove the wagon. There’s virtually no crime, absolutely no pollution, and the earth isn’t getting destroyed by an overabundance of mines and cities. Enslaving humankind isn’t right, because, like every race, we have our own good qualities, but the world is undeniably a better place because of it. I just wish that those of us who wouldn’t start a fight to bring humanity back to power would be freed, if there was an accurate way to pick us out.

The man I work for is kind, especially compared to most other intelligent beings. He doesn’t work any of us too hard, gives us a decent place to sleep, and always gives us enough to eat. On special holidays, he’ll let most of us off from work. Today, however, is just another sunrise and sunset, so I pull myself out of bed to prepare for the day.

I share my room with nine other men. It’s not extremely large but works for ten of us since we don’t spend the majority of our time here. I pull a shirt on, then brush my hair and shove a necklace of my mother’s into my pants pocket. I never go anywhere without it. It’s a simple silver chain, with only a locket to adorn it. The ornament itself is bloodred, in the shape of a heart, and on the outside of it are my mother’s initials inscribed in a fancy silver calligraphy that matches the chain. There are two pictures on the inside: one of my parents, and one of me when I was twelve years old. The only reason that I don’t wear it, and instead keep it in my pocket, is because the clasp on it is broken, and I have no way to fix it. But it’s the only thing I have to remember either of my parents by. I will probably never see my mother again, and my father died in the Takeover.

Once I eat breakfast, I begin sweeping the main hall, and the day goes as usual, until I leave from dinner. Usually, I just go back to my room and lay down to sleep, but today my master instead pulls me to the side.

“Ario, have you any interest in learning magic?” he asks me. His name is Lakjin, and he looks exactly like the stereotype of his race, trolls. However, he does not act stereotypically for his race. He also has the humans that work here call him master, to help keep our behavior more respectful by reminding us who’s in charge.

I’m taken back by this question. Interest in magic? Why would he ask me something like that? Why me, of all people? Because my mother is a sorceress? That would be the only logical explanation I can grasp.

Many nights, I have imagined being able to cast spells, of being in the same world as my mother, whose life in the present has to be so much better than mine. So I respond with “Yes,” then add, “If you don’t mind my curiosity, why are you asking me this?”

My master smiles, intrigue wandering through his eyes. “Because there are certain ways that I have been testing you since you’ve come to live with me, to see if you would do well with magic and what types of magic you would excel in and what types you would not. I also see certain traits in you that suggest you are not overly upset with the situation of humanity, and therefore possess less of a threat to the world as it is now.” This also throws me off guard. How has he been testing me? All I’ve done is clean the house and cook on occasion. And I’ve always kept my point of view of humanity a secret. How could he know that’s how I feel? “If you are genuinely interested, then there are two options I have to offer that would teach you sorcery. You could either go to a school and learn with other students, or you could stay here and become my apprentice. Each of these have their own merits, but they also have their own disadvantages. At a school, you would get a broader aspect of the different types of magic, helping to easier find one that suits you, as well as learn about magic you might have to face against in the future. You would also meet others that could be either allies or enemies to you as your studies progress. However, if you were to choose an apprenticeship with me, you would not have to go through the stress of becoming accustomed to new surroundings, your teacher- me- would be able to focus on you more because you would be the only student, and you would be less likely gain any enemies,” he says.

I think about this for a few moments, pondering the two choices he has presented to me. As he said, there are some pros and cons to each of them. But going to the school appeals to me more than staying here, so that’s what I tell him.

He nods. “Then I will arrange for that to happen. The school will begin accepting new students in the spring, so you will stay here for three more months, then leave.”

I hold back my excitement, hiding a grin behind a grateful smile. “Thank you for the opportunity.” He nods, then dismisses me, so I go up to my room and lay down.

~~~

Three months pass quickly in the shadow of my excitement, but still it doesn’t seem to go fast enough. I work around the house, still cleaning because I won’t get dismissed from this life until I leave for the school. What little I own is put together in my dresser, waiting patiently to be brought out when I leave.

A couple of days before spring, my master informs me to get what I want to bring to the school then leave with a carriage that’s waiting outside. The ride is uncomfortably bouncy compared to a car, and takes two days, but neither stifle my excitement. When we get to the school, I stare in awe for a few moments before getting my things and exiting my ride.

The place is different from the large, cliché castle I had been imagining. Instead, it is a college campus that has been repurposed for teaching magic. There are tons of people here, most inhuman, that range in ages from just walking to retirement. Some practice magic, others talk with friends, and others yet just walk alone or study, almost as if this really were a normal college from before the Takeover. With a deep breath, I thank the chauffeur, then make my way through the campus to find a new beginning for my life.