Ermand found himself in a deserted place. There was no sign of wind, vegetation and not even the sun, though a glint of light illuminated his path. He was barefoot as he trudged, the ground beneath him cold as ice. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching him that echoed an unexpected warning. He immediately turned toward the source. 

A young man in his late teens dashed in Ermand’s direction. Something focused away his widened eyes from Ermand. His colour faded clothes were ripped, and had bloody scars and cuts on his face, drenching him along with sweat. Even amid utter darkness, it was impossible for Ermand to not recognize who it was.

“Hey Jack! Where are you going? What has happened to you? Why are we here?” Concern filled his tone as he cried out to his fleeing brother. Jack didn’t notice him, nor listened as he ran past him. Ermand pivoted, watching Jack dart away. 

A screechy, blood-curdling sound sliced the thinness of the air, nearly causing his heart to rip through his chest. Ermand turned back in the source's direction of the ghastly sound. 

A large but irregular figure soared toward him. It was a misty-looking, grisly creature with long fangs and blood streaming eyes, and had a pair of large, transparent ears perched at the sides of its head. 

He stood there rooted to the ground, trembling as he watched the creature glide toward him in vengeance. His breath became heavier and heavier as a fraction of moments passed by, and suddenly it hit him straight onto his chest, leaving Ermand writhing on the ground as it became boiling in a trice. The pain was overwhelming and searing at every atom of his body.

“Argh!” He groaned, his chest rose when the realization hit him. The pain… the pain was immeasurable, shredding at something that burned within him. 

He gasped for breath. Beads of sweat trailed down his face. 

What happened just now? 

The sheets rumbled under him as he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around it.

Although the weather was quite warm, he felt cold around him. He could hear the birds chirping through the opened window, and the sound of flurrying dewy leaves. It seemed like a joyful morning for everybody except for Ermand. It was because of the nightmare he had for a dream.

Dreams like these have been looming around his subconscious for as long as he remembered. Every night, the dreams assaulted him with those most valuable people in his life getting hurt. This time, it was Jack again. What did this all mean, he wasn’t certain of.

While it still caught Ermand in the horror of his nightmare, he heard somebody knocking on the door, which made him unconsciously leave a low gasp.

“Yes?”

A lean woman in her late forties opened the door gently and hastened toward him just as she saw her son, sweating and red, all over his face. She wore a long purple gown, covered by a stained white kitchen apron. Her eyes were sullen, eyebrows furrowed, and it slightly turned the commissure of her lips down. It filled her gestures with worry. Even her unsteady stance intensified it.

“Ermie dear, were you having those disturbing dreams again?” Her troubled but gentle tone filled the air. It created a new ambience upon her presence.

No woman in the world had ever cared for Ermand better than Mrs. Chisel. Even though she was not his mother by blood, she qualified to be the perfect and caring mother he always needed.

The dread of the dream lingered in him. Even though he had been having them frequently, the nightmare always made him judder. He couldn’t escape the terror of his loved ones crying out for help. 

Ermand could only nod. Although the dreams were as frequent as the sun, they still shook him. In his defense, the terror of loved ones crying and screaming for help could weaken any man. What was the meaning of all this? He was unsure, and as far as Ermand was concerned, he had been practicing nothing but positive mantras to keep away the dreadful dreams. 

Mrs. Chisel sat by the foot of his bed, Ermand's dream still filled her features with worry. Ermand peered down listlessly as she placed her hand over his arm. She believed it was the only comfort, along with positive advice that she could offer.

“Helmuth had gone to Geoffrey’s house to find a solution to this. Don’t worry, you won’t be troubled with those dreams again.”

“I hope it works,” he mumbled, though his mind had other ideas.

He knew he had to keep hoping for the good. For him, that was the only way to deal with the nightmare. 

A tall figure emerged near his bedroom door. It belonged to Jackson Chisel, the younger son of the Chisels. He wore a yellow T-shirt with tinted gray jeans. Ermand sighed with relief upon seeing his brother. He knew he was no longer dreaming, his brother was safe and as fit as a fiddle. Jack was alright.

“Trouble again?” Jack enquired. It was nothing new to him who frequently hears Ermand screaming in his bed.

Ermand wiped off the cold sweat that covered his forehead.

“My poor boy had been haunted with these stupid dreams since he was a little boy. Hell with these dreams,” Mrs. Chisel wept as her shoulders rocked up and down. 

She dabbed her handkerchief over her cheeks, but the tears didn’t stop. Jack ambled toward his mother. Unlike Ermand, who had straight golden hair, he had a wavy auburn. He looked like his mother, except he had sparks in his eyes that distinguished him from her.

“Well, just forget it. Dad has gone to Geoffrey’s. He will definitely sort this out. You should concentrate on attending Agledon. I wonder why you didn’t get your invitation. It’s been three days since your birthday. Hmm...” He pondered, rubbing his shaved chin.

“I guess they must have forgotten,” Mrs. Chisel suggested, shrugging.

“They couldn’t. I know the invitation sender. He has learnt so many birthdays that it is impossible for him to forget Ermand’s in the least. They don’t even hold records since the time he took the charge,” Jack argued, shaking his head in disagreement.

Just as Jack finished the conversation, something fluttered in through the window along with the warm breeze that brushed against their skin. It landed near the foot of Ermand’s bed, safe and sound. A bright, gleaming ball. 

“Speak of the devil. There it is!” Jack exclaimed, shifting from his position.

It was about the size of a tennis ball that lay on the floor. The outside of the ball seemed to be made of bronze, on which some floral patterns adorned the orbic structure. A glimmering blue-green light flashed through the gaps between while the intact structure juddered from where it lay.

Jack got up to get it, but he paused in mid-stride and turned back toward his brother and Mrs. Chisel, face-palming.

“How can I forget? You can only touch it, Ermand,” he notified, shaking his head.

Ermand raised a brow as he eyed the ball that rested on the floor. I wonder if this is it; he thought.

He jumped from the bed and bent his knees to grab the glimmering ball. The same blue and green mist danced and swirled inside the ball, finding a new enthusiasm. The colour of the mist intensified as he approached closer to it. Upon the stroke of his fingers, the ball split up into two equal halves and the blue-green mist rose, filling the entire room.

Then, a shadow approached him at a slow pace. It was a dark silhouette that slowly illuminated as the mist cleared. But it left him in suspense as it finally bursted into a sparkle. A startling, loud voice immediately accompanied the phenomenon.

“Ermand Chisel. I cordially invite you to attend the Agledon Magic University on the 15th day of Voltaire’s month. I had sent you this invitation in account of the motive to admit you to join the university by the 25th day of this month. Classes will begin by the first of next month. You should visit the college as soon as possible for the admission procedures and for further queries. We wish you the very best of luck!”

As suddenly as the voice emerged, it faded away just as quickly. The mist and the ball vapourized into the air within a matter of seconds. Ermand turned toward Jack and Mrs. Chisel, dumbfounded.

“What does this all mean?” He asked in an anxious tone. His face was quite pale from the sudden surprise.

“Well, what did they say?” Jack asked, bringing Ermand’s eyes surge out at his question.

“You all heard it.”

“Oh, I think Ermie still doesn’t know about that. Why didn’t you tell him about this before Jack?” a tapping of her fingers on Jack’s shoulders followed Mrs. Chisel’s voice.

Jack was Ermand’s second elder brother, two years older than him, while the four years older Jason was his first elder brother. However, excluding Jason, Jack and Ermand are a pair of best brothers in the world.

“That part must have slipped,” Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Agledon has its own official inviting post. Many other colleges might send you through Knockmen, crystals, Hymphers, but this one’s Agledon’s special. This is the Marene’s ball. Only the receiver can hear and see the charms of it and no one else, not even the sender, once he sends it. Gives privacy to the recipient, you see. I have received one like this when I was your age, and so did Jason.”

Ermand nodded, smiling. He remembers that once Jack and Jason had called Mr. and Mrs. Chisel saying that they received their Marene’s ball. It filled their faces with inexpressible joy. He was just too little at the time to understand what they exactly meant. It was then he realized what the news truly was.

“Now, time for you to go to Grover’s stitches and satchels after breakfast with Jack and Jason and choose the accessories you’d need. Do you know what time it is?” Mrs. Chisel fussed in her usual airy tone.

“Alright,” Ermand replied as he brushed his fingers through his golden messy hair.

Ermand and Jack dashed out of the room and headed toward the kitchen, once again darting off from his duty and leaving Mrs. Chisel alone to prepare Ermand’s bed neatly.

“Wait... Why am I invited by the Agledon University only, Jack? I had also applied for Skor colleges too,” Ermand paused before he took his sandwich, kept for them on the dining table.

“What’s the point of going to Skor colleges where they teach you unfamiliar work and provide job opportunities once the course ends, and nothing else? I mean, you can get a higher grade job than that…”

Ermand sighed, exasperated. 

“High grade job?” He mocked. “Tell me something I don’t know. The thing I don’t understand is why the Skor colleges didn’t send me anything stating my admission there?”

Jack turned his back to his brother, placing his palms on the counter. “The thing is… I… um,” he slid his tongue over his lips before he continued. “I just canceled the others.”

“Cancelled!” Ermand gaped at him, his eyes narrowed.

Why did he cancel it? 

“Why, Jack?”

Jack sighed with a low chuckle and held Ermand’s shoulders. 

“If I, as an elder brother, were to pick something good for you. I wouldn’t go anywhere less than Agledon. You should know that this was a decision we deliberated on as a family and agreed it was for your own good. I know it will be successful in the end.”

“Successful? Why didn’t you just ask me before cancelling the rest of the applications?”

Before Ermand could question any further, Jack turned and disappeared upstairs, which left him more frustrated. While he stood pondering over Jack’s words, Mrs. Chisel entered the kitchen. She had already prepared Ermand’s favourite chocolate sparkle pie and was about to cut it into pieces.

“Want to taste this, Ermie dear?” she asked.

“Of course, but mom, why did you let Jack cancel my request for other colleges?”

Mrs. Chisel paused from her work and turned to Ermand, her brows crinkling with worry.

“Ermie, if you join Skor colleges, you’ll never find your true destiny--“

“What destiny can a Chisel expect from a society where people choose clans over trust?” 

Ermand’s voice became stern. He had always expected what he would do when he turned eighteen. Whether he should join any educational institution or continue with his impecunious job in the café downtown had always been a dilemma for him. Since he and his family belonged to the middle-lower clan where people struggle to have a proper meal three times a day, great universities like Agledon were just a faint illusion to him. Although his brothers studied there, he knew Agledon would only choose the best, and as far as he validated himself, he wasn’t any better like them.

“Ermie, you can get better employment than the jobs provided at the Skor colleges,” Mrs. Chisel suggested. The worry in her brows never left.

“Are you not understanding me? I’m a Chisel! Chisels do what they always do. Work in potion factories, construction sites, household labour,” he nearly bursts out.

“Why are you limiting yourself, Ermie?”

“I’m not limiting myself. Others already limited us. Great colleges are not meant for us, and especially not someone like me! I don’t even know where I belong--“

“Ermand,” Mrs. Chisel walked swiftly toward him. “Do you even understand what you are saying? Ermie dear, your destiny is already written. You just have to know the direction, and we’re helping you with that. Even Lapels, the lowest clan, joins the college. We always want the best for you.”

Mrs. Chisel’s eyes got wet as she tried to explain to him. She was a sensitive woman. If Ermand spoke more, he was sure her eyes would flood with tears, and he didn’t want his mother crying because of him. She had loved him more than she had loved two of her other sons, and he knew that better than anyone else.

“Okay. I-I’ll go,” Ermand sighed, but smiled when he noticed his mother’s face gleam. 

“Where is my Specialization book? Mum, I had already told you - and what’s that? Chocolate pie?”

Jason’s voice, similar-yet distinct from Jack’s, came from the living room. Like all the others in his family, he had dark auburn hair and dull brown eyes.

Ermand went to grab a plate, breaking the moment that had already been broken.

“I’ll get it, Jason,” Mrs. Chisel answered him.

He dilly dallied toward the small kitchen counter but froze when he saw Ermand cutting his piece out.

“Hey! Cutting out the best piece before others come, huh?” Jason snarled at his little brother with his glare never leaving Ermand’s amber eyes.

“My intentions aren’t like yours,” Ermand snapped back and began cutting the rest of his piece.

“You should know where you are. If it weren’t for my parents to adopt you while you cried hungry and alone in the streets, you’d have been--“

“Jason, that’s enough! If you want to eat, just take a piece and go. Stop troubling others,” Mrs. Chisel fumed. She hurried toward the boys.

Jason, Jack’s elder brother, also studied at Agledon University in the fifth year. He disliked Ermand from the moment they brought him home. Over the years, his saying that Ermand won’t fit in their family became stale as anything. However, Jack was always there to contradict his assertion, saying that he had no one close to him more than Ermand and none could replace it. Although both of them live under the same roof, the two brothers always showed different attitudes toward Ermand.

“What did I say? It’s true, he’s living just because we gave him everything. Literally everything. Now, we sent an application to join the best and well reputed college in the whole of Iyerth and--“ 

“And a horrible brother like you!”

Jack interrupted Jason, entering the kitchen with his bag in one hand and a small glass bottle with a dark green coloured liquid inside. It was the first day of Jack’s third year and of course, Jason’s fifth year while Ermand had to wait for a few more weeks to join the college even if he was not surely interested in joining there provided that only if he’s selected. 

“Shut up, Jack!” Jason shouted in his usual moody tone. Jack muttered something under his breath as he went to grab his piece of chocolate pie. Ermand felt a bit relieved. At least when Jack’s there, Jason won’t bother to trouble him much.

“What’s special about today, mum?” Jack asked, seating himself on a chair.

Suddenly, the door opened as if someone had broken into the house. A man in his late forties hurried into the kitchen, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were slightly puffy and the panic and rushing formed beads of sweat on his forehead. He had been away from the Chisels’ eyrie, their home, for a couple of days, and his family hadn’t received a single note from him from the past days. Mrs. Chisel and the three boys gawked at the man, who was panting and gasping for breath.

“What is it, Helmuth? Is everything alright?” His wife hastened toward him and helped him sit on the nearest chair. She looked more terrible than him.

“F-finally... Geoff-Geoffrey knows about... what exactly is it all about... Ermie’s dreams...”

Mrs. Chisel gestured to Jason to pour water into the mug next to him. She grabbed the mug from him and gave it to her husband. He choked while he drank. It seemed as if he ran miles to get home.

Mrs. Chisel’s dull brown eyes were cautious upon him. Meanwhile, Jack scanned the look of his father’s clothes. It didn’t look weary or messy, but was a criss-cross of wrinkles.

“Helmuth, what did Geoffrey say? And why do you look exhausted, as if you’re coming home after a battle?” she asked after Mr. Chisel put the empty mug back on the table.

“It’s a long story… by the way, Ermie, have you got your--“

“Yes, dad. He had got it this morning—” Jack interrupted.

“He has got it?” Jason winced.

“Yes, he has. Feel bad, Jason?” Jack added a triumphant smirk on his lips. He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t care, he’s not even a part of us.”

Mr. Chisel and Ermand were quite exasperated, as well as indignant at that remark of Jason. A moment of silence lingered in the air until Mrs. Chisel interrupted with her naturally cheerful tone. “Well, it’s time for breakfast. Get ready with your plates. I have cooked--“

The ringing of their doorbell interrupted her.

“I’ll get it,” Jack said, rising and hurrying to the door while Jason also followed him under suspicion because Jack wasn’t a person fascinated about getting the door. Ermand couldn’t hold the suspense and he ran after them. Mr. and Mrs. Chisel drank their morning coffee after chuckling to each other.

“Kids…” they sighed.

Jack opened the door to find a package in front of him. “Jolly! I didn’t expect such a fast delivery,” he said, picking up the package.

“What is it that you ordered?” Jason enquired, hastening after him.

“Does it matter?” Jack smirked and took the package upstairs with a certain amount of heed he had never considered for any package, which doubled up Jason’s doubts. 

He gritted his teeth and followed Jack. When Ermand was about to close the door, he found a small piece of paper on the rocky step outside. He grabbed it before it got swept away by the wind. It was a receipt of what Jack had ordered. “Transformation and translation preparer…” Ermand read. He frowned and turned toward the stairs, his eyes traced up to the first floor.

“How dare you order it without letting me know about it!” Ermand heard Jason bellowing at the top of his lungs from upstairs. Ermand knew it.

“Oh yeah? I can order anything I want as long as I buy it from my collected money!” Jack roared back.

“I won’t let you have that, give it to me--“

Before Jack could complete, Ermand heard a thud. The delicate wooden ceiling cracked while dust flew from the gaps. The next moment, the yelling and bawling started again. Helmuth immediately stood up from his chair and stomped toward the stairs. His wife followed him, both their faces looking baffled.

Only when he raced through the stairs did the atmosphere turn back to normal. Ermand heard him barking furiously at the boys. Mrs. Chisel was with him downstairs, the only person who didn’t know what had happened. Everything went quiet except for Mr. Chisel’s harsh rebukes.

When all of them climbed down, they plastered a guilty look on their faces, and Mr. Chisel looked as cross as two sticks. He carried a small glass bottle with some bright and glittery orange-red solution filled in. Mrs. Chisel gasped at the sight of it.

“I never expected this from you, Jack!”

“Why do you need that thing, Jack? Don’t you remember what happened that day when Aillard used the same potion to be sorted into his individual self and para individual, and the consequences he had to face because of that?” Mrs. Chisel told him, a furious tone accompanying, that rarely escapes from her.

“Because he didn’t have an idea about how to use it in a strict sense, but I have. Also, it’s my third year. I gotta have some handy stuff...”

“You call that handy?” Mr. Chisel questioned in an uncanny tone, a tone that never left him unsettled.

“What’s wrong with the preparer?” Jack scowled, his eyes never leaving the bottle in his father’s hand.

“What’s not wrong with the preparer?” Mr. Chisel asked coldly.