SOTL Draft Two/MAGIC - Prologue

Overview: https://kaylinrosealexande.wixsite.com/kaylinalexanderbooks/post/the-formation-of-school-of-the-legends

Read-aloud, pt. 1: https://www.tiktok.com/@kaylinrosealexander/video/7195203005992521002?lang=en

Previous: https://kaylinrosealexande.wixsite.com/kaylinalexanderbooks/post/sotl-draft-one-marg-ch3

Draft Two of School of the Legends was called M.A.G.I.C., and I planned to make it a series. The first book was called The Beast in a Beauty, which is a little on the nose and cringe, but I'm glad I was making the fairy tale thing more noticeable.

I technically do have two versions of this Draft, but it's mostly just name changes, and that would be a pain to write about, so just check out the overview blog post I linked at the top if you're curious about that.

I wrote this around my seventh or eighth grade year, starting using a writing app on my phone and translating it to a Google Doc.

Let's enjoy!

Arturo paced around the empty halls of the castle. His parents were in the neighboring kingdom doing whatever it was that kings and queens did. Arturo couldn’t care less. He didn’t get to go, and if he didn’t get to do it, then it wasn’t important.

He trailed by the front door. The giant front door that towered over him. He should not be looking at these doors. He should be looking at the other kings and queens of the kingdoms. In fact, he should be king. He was of age--twenty-one, but his father would have to die before he became king.

And everyday, Arturo’s father seemed to grow stronger and healthier.

Arturo stomped away from the door and entered one of the seemingly hundreds of hallways in the castle. Lining the hallway were portraits of the royal family. Arturo walked the hall, looking at the paintings of his ancestors. He stopped when he reached his father.

His father looked like himself. Brown hair, tanned skin, bright amber eyes. Only, his father sported a beard.

Arturo glared at the portrait of himself next to his father’s. The resemblance between the two paintings made Arturo angry. He found his hands closing into fists and hitting the portrait of his father, hoping it to crack, but it didn’t. It stayed on the wall, and looked as though it hadn’t been touched.

“I HATE YOU!” Arturo screamed. “I HATE YOU! I SHOULD BE KING! YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN! IT’S MY TURN! I WISH YOU WERE DEAD SO I COULD TAKE THE THRONE!”

Arturo was so angry at his father that he didn’t notice the wind rushing through the hall until there was a knocking at the door. “Someone get the door!” Arturo screamed, but then he remembered the servants would either be asleep or on the other side of the castle. Grunting in annoyance, Arturo stormed out of the hall and once again to the front door. He through one open, and was surprised to see it was raining. Hard. But even more surprisingly, there was an old woman in a cloak standing in the doorway.

“Who are you?” Arturo demanded. “What do you want?”

“Just shelter,” said the old woman.

“And what do I get in return?” Arturo asked, but he wasn’t going to invite the woman in. Ever. What could she possibly have to exchange anyway?

“This is all,” said the woman, reaching in her cloak and pulling out a rose.

Arturo stared at her like she was insane. “A rose?”

“That’s all I have,” said the woman.

Arturo snorted. “I’m sorry, can’t help you. Bye!” He began to close the door.

“Wait!” said the woman.

Arturo paused. “What is it, madam?”

“Your Highness, I just want shelter for the night!” she pleaded. “I’ll give you anything!”

Arturo opened the door again. “Actually there is one thing I need.”

The woman stood up straighter. “And that is?”

“Your absence,” Arturo smirked and slammed the door.

“Very well,” said the woman.

Arturo turned, surprised to hear her voice through the thick door. He reached toward the door and threw it open. The homeless woman was gone. In her place was a beautiful enchantress.

Arturo dropped to his knees. “Milady, I didn’t know, you are welcome to stay the night!”

Enchantresses were powerful creatures, and could destroy one with the blink of an eye if they didn’t get what they wanted. And Arturo just did the opposite. She had to come in!

“You have already proven that your heart has not learned to love or care,” said the Enchantress. “You have lived the last twenty-one years in hatred and cruelty. Now, you must pay.”

Arturo held his breath, closing his eyes, and waiting for the end. He felt the Enchantresses’ magic hit him, and waited to die. But he didn’t die. He didn’t know what he was feeling. He opened his eyes, but immediately regretted that decision, for he saw tufts of hair growing all over his hands. He gasped in horror as the hair spread to the rest of his arms. Soon, he could feel the fur on his face.

Then there was so much pain--more pain than he had ever felt. His body was in agony as he felt his clothes start to tear. He was getting bigger. His hands hurt when his nails turned to talons. His head hurt when he felt horns growing out of him. His face hurt when his nose turned into a snout.

The Enchantress had turned him into a hideous beast.

“You will remain a beast for the end of your days,” said the Enchantress, “unless you learn to love another. But you only have until the final petel of the rose falls. If you have not found love, you will remain a beast forever.”

You know what? I like this. This is so much better than anything I've posted--better than TSP Draft Three which was still a little cringe. This was written only one year after that. One year after MARG. I'm honestly flabbergasted about how much I grew as a writer.

MAGIC is far from perfect--way far. But in terms of writing style and voice? I actually really like it, especially in comparison.

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