CHANNILLO

Arvan and the Tempests
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Mondays sucked. Arvan knew it wouldn’t change his entire tenure in Avalora. Up at six-thirty print out final essays, out the door by seven thirty to get to their eight in the morning class on time, writing more essays, doing practicals in Light Magic, one hour to eat then driving lessons, one hour to eat dinner then practical Elements, running Havoc to the bathroom then Dark Magic.

Arvan watched as Havoc sniffed the snow around the building to find a good spot. Arvan kept his hands shoved into his pockets with Havoc’s leash wrapped around his right wrist. The sky was dark and the Mage Lights made pools of different colors lighten the snow. Wind blew his hair back and made a bit of snow swirl around his booted feet.

There were muddled conversations going on around him but they wer...

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