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  • Penheads Club Writing

Becca Sharman

Excerpt from The Sorcerers of Rosewood

by Becca Sharman

I was rudely shaken awake by my mentor, Master Draco. His sharp white-flecked blue eyes, usually so critical, were alive with excitement.

“He’s coming! Today! He’s coming!” He cried with joy.

“What?” I groaned groggily. Before he could continue, I heard another voice come from the door.

“I can hear you from across the commons. What’s happening?” Ronan leaned against the door frame, wearing a loose shirt and pants, his black hair mussed from sleep, making it messier than usual. He rubbed his pale, colorless eyes.

When a child used even the littlest bit of magic, their irises drained of color, rendering them colorless. Color returned when you became a full sorcerer, a true one. It didn’t return to the original color, though. Not completely. If you became a Fire Sorcerer (you can’t choose, by the way), your eyes became fire red, which is not as evil as it may seem. If you became an Air Sorcerer, your eyes would revert to their natural color, except paler. For an Earth Sorcerer, your eyes would be fresh dirt brown with flecks of vibrant forest green. For a Water Sorcerer, your eyes would turn to blue with flecks of white. For a Shadow Sorcerer, your eyes became void black, with flecks of gold.

“The king!” Master Draco smiled gleefully. “The king is coming.”

Ronan’s head jerked up in surprise. “What? Why?” Master Draco opened his mouth to reply, but I intervened.

“Hey! Whoa. No. Get out. My room is not the commons. And- hey, wait a minute- Ronan, how’d you get in here? Only Master Draco and I can enter my room.” Ronan slowed a bit but didn’t stop, with his back to me.

“Master Draco left the door open.”


I walked into the common area, a circular room that could be turned into anything, from a training room, to a dining area, to a sitting area, which is was now. Master Draco had conjured some couches, arranged in an awkward circle.

“Okay. Why is the king coming?” I collapsed onto one of the couches. Across from me, Master Draco was fidgeting in his seat. Ronan was sprawled on the couch to my left, trying to look calm and relaxed, but his whole body was tense. He had changed into his apprentice uniform, like I had. A hunter green tunic, cinched at the waist by a brown leather braided belt, black pants, and combat boots.

“I don’t know. Maybe to see Ronan. Maybe to give me an official pardon.”

“For what?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. Ronan leaned forward in anticipation.

“Yeah, what’d you this time?” He asked, unable to keep a tiny smile from forming on his face. Master Draco waved a dismissive hand.


“If you need an official pardon, then you must’ve done something." I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping my gaze on Master Draco.

“I told you, it was nothing!”

“Does ‘nothing’ mean crashing a dragon into the Library of Records?” A booming, good- natured voice said from the door to the entrance.

“You crashed Mal into the Library of Records?!?” I cried in disbelief.

“No wonder she hates you.” Ronan muttered.

Dragons were for sorcerers only. When you first came to a sorcerer tower, you were taken to the dragon nursery. Apprentice groups were small, only five kids at most. Ronan and I were a rare number, as the only apprentices to Master Draco.

The apprentices walked around, blindfolded, following instinct to a dragon egg. That would be their dragon. Their companion. Their friend. My dragon was named Akita, or Kia for short. Ronan’s was named Alistair, or Al. Master Draco’s dragon was Mallory, or Mal. The king walked in, grinning broadly. He slapped Ronan on the back, who stiffened at his touch.

The king frowned. “Aw, don’t be like that! Can’t you let bygones be bygones?”

“Hi dad.” Ronan muttered stiffly.