Teleportation magic, also known as travel magic, is a hazardous and challenging form of casting. These spells are usually designated for only the greatest and most apt of our magic users. Through carefully crafted teleportation mediums, we have allowed traveling over great distances safely and securely for all of Elven kind. These are ancient gems from ancestral crafters who had a far better understanding of magic than our post-Wall generation.
These gems are known as Teleportation Coffins, or simply Coffins. The name stems from the fact that they prevent you from needing one.
An inexperienced mage—or maybe even an experienced one—trying to use teleportation magic might find themselves bisected, decapitated, or fused with another elf or creature. Never use teleportation magic unless you are a trained caster or Whisperer.
This is why we use coffins for daily commuting. It is quick, safe, and efficient. Whenever an elf uses a coffin, a bright flash matching the color of the coffin's gem is present after teleporting. Guards are often posted at coffins for this reason, to prevent unnecessary tragedies.
In times of war in the past, coffins were never used by rival houses, as the act of using a coffin to ambush an enemy was considered cowardly.
Treaties were signed explicitly to prevent the use of opposing armies' coffins.
For a long time, this was the norm—until the King of Terror came to power. Magical protection spells had to be invented to target specific individuals (such as the King of Terror). These spells must always be active in every area of importance. If it weren't for these spells, the King of Terror would have already destroyed all of Keceo by now.
From the widely distributed pamphlet titled Teleportation and You: The Known Dangers of Using Travel Magic.
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I didn't know if you knew where to get food or not. So, I left you a meal. Hope you enjoy!
- Elise
There was a plate of food on the dresser, still steaming, accompanied by a note written in beautiful elven script.
There was a little heart next to Elise's name. For some reason, the sight of that little heart sent a flutter through Gwynevere Grim.
She groaned loudly and smashed the letter to her face as if that would hide her feelings. She tried to reason with herself.
She's just a crush. Get her out of your head. You saw how beautiful she was; there is no way she would be interested in someone like you.
Whenever Gwyn thought about how beautiful she was, Elise's backside was the first thing remembered.
She sighed at her own perverseness and placed the note back on the dresser.
Picking up the plate, she inspected the food. It not only smelled delicious but looked even better. It appeared simple: a deep purple-colored rice dish with a curry sauce sprinkled with chunks of something. It looked like meat, maybe a chicken or a beef alternative.
Gwyn opened one of her cabinet drawers, and it wasn't full of utensils, but had enough to get by. Gwyn even had two whole drinking glasses to her name now.
"Wow, I'm basically rich."
Sarcasm flowed from her as she picked up the only spoon in the drawer.
First, a spoonful of rice, then a little curry. She inspected it as though the food could have been tampered with.
Gwyn, not everything here is poisoned.
She laughed but still eyed the bite suspiciously.
When she did take a bite her senses were overwhelmed by a rich, coconutty, salty…
"God."
Gwyn said through a mouth full of food.
It was delicious, probably the best thing she has ever eaten, certainly far superior to stale bread.
The food didn't last much longer after the first bite. When the plate was bare, she noticed that a notable draft was missing. Picking up the note again, a little passage she had overlooked was now obvious.
P.S. I had someone replace your window, as I promised. Try not to have this window mysteriously vanish, okay, Chosen One?
Chosen One was written in such a way that it stood out from the rest of the words. An identical window had replaced the old one. Gwyn looked at the dresser where the note had been placed initially, then her eyes drifted to the window. An idea popped into her head.
Heavy grunting.
Panting.
Sweating.
Loud noises that probably disturbed the neighboring rooms.
A little screaming.
Finally... a long and deserved climax.
The dresser now sat comfortably in front of the window.
Gwyn dusted her hands, staring at the transparent glass as if it were her mortal enemy.
"Not going to get me twice."
After pushing the dresser that Gwyn figured weighed a ton, maybe two tons—she washed up in her normal bathroom, with her normal toilet, and took a normal shower. Everything was so normal and so fantastical at the same time. Just familiar enough to make Gwyn wonder if she had ever left Earth.
When she lay in bed, she stared at the note occasionally, but ultimately fell asleep, clutching the paper.
The following day, Gwyn made a quick stop before heading to Kaldere Academy. She was confident that she would arrive on time today, or at least close to it.
A quick step on the opal coffin, and she teleported. She made her way to the classroom where she had been humiliated the day prior. A mantra seemed to repeat within her.
Why am I even going to school? I can probably just read books all day and figure it out on my own.
She then began talking to herself, since she was the only one in the hallways.
"I mean, I could study under Mr. Keeper, although he was…"
Conceited? Abrasive? Impatient? Headstrong?
Too many words came to Gwyn's mind.
"Maybe I could take advantage of the fact that he has spent the last one thousand years reading."
Suddenly, her teaching session in the gardens was clearly in her mind. How he would say, "Ye haven't figured it out yet?" After barely explaining anything.
Gwyn frowned.
"Maybe that's not a good idea, after all."
She approached the classroom. There were elves ranging from prepubescent to a little more mature looking. They formed a living, breathing mass of testosterone as the males gathered eagerly by the door, awaiting their savior.
What Gwyn was completely unaware of was that a relatively innocent rumor had spread.
"Gwynevere Grim, the new Chosen One, is attending my class."
The rumor began when Mrs. Farcroft shared this information with a particularly chatty faculty member. This chatty faculty member spread it to their students the following morning. The students spread the information during lunch, and by the end of it, that rumor, which was initially a simple truth, had spiraled out of control into:
Gwynevere Grim, the new Chosen One, is like super-hot and can shoot lasers from her eyes, who wants to crush you with her thighs, and is single, and—it's pretty easy to imagine what else the students could've come up with.
This rumor developed a life of its own, the simple fact that she was attending the Academy had developed a cult following—a cult of predominately young, horny, and chemically imbalanced men.
A sad truth for these young men is that most of the recent Chosen Ones have not been particularly exciting to look at. The youths of this world were ready to feast their eyes on what other worlds had to offer regarding Earth's humanoids, and they weren't disappointed.
"That's her!"
A vigilant male shouted, his voice eager.
Immediately, Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds of elves. All of them bombarded her with questions and compliments.
Crap! I forgot to put my hood up.
She thought as she was in the center of a tornado.
"Oh my god! Look at her hair! Wavy and the color of copper. Wayyyyyy hotter than what the rumors said!"
It's just regular hair, guys…
This was only slightly more pleasant than being called a "Wabbajack's excrement".
Wait… rumors?
"Look at her rounded glasses! Do you think she's one of those girls who is even hotter without them?"
I am most definitely not.
"Her ears are also round! How peculiar! I wish I could nibble on them!"
Nibble?!
Actually, this wasn't pleasant at all.
"Nibble, bro? That's so weird…"
A loud scoff escaped the elf.
"You're weird!"
A fight ensued and Gwyn politely pushed her way through the crowd of horny onlookers. People brushed up against her, trying to get closer, feeling her hair, touching her skin, and grabbing her robe.
"Will you be my girlfriend! Please! You are so pretty, your green eyes pierce my soul!"
"Eyes? Nah, look at her figure, bro, if I just had one minute..."
"I've been telling you, dude, aliens are so hot."
Not an alien.
"She has those little dots all over her face. So cute!"
Freckles? Did he mean my…
"She's probably royalty where she comes from!"
I wish.
"Take my link!"
"No, take mine!"
"Hey, I asked first!"
A second fight erupted.
"You guys are ugly. She definitely wants my link!"
A ravenous dog pile started.
Gwyn used this moment to weave through the crowd. They swarmed her like starving cats to kibble. She was just thankful none of them groped her in all of their excitement.
Oooooookay.
"Excuse me, pardon me, yes. Thank you, you are all so kind, excuse me."
She reached the door, opened it, and quickly slammed it shut. No one followed her in, but she could hear them talking outside. All conversation was about her.
"Did you see her? So hot! I want a human girlfriend now!"
"Me too!"
"Is that all you guys think about?"
"For real, bro? Why are you here if you're saying—"
Gwyn walked away, the voices fading out of volume. The words outside became a union of mumbles.
All eyes were on her when Gwyn entered the classroom. Her hair was a storm, her glasses askew, and she was covered in sweat. At least what she was hoping was sweat.
Thank god that's over.
For some reason there were two adults standing at the front of the room, instead of Mrs. Farcroft alone.
Gwyn address Mrs. Farcroft, adjusting her robe, hair, and glasses.
"I am so sorry."
"No, no. This is better than I expected. I thought people would want to harm you, but it seems they want to… become more intimate with your kind."
She snuck a wink at Gwyn.
Gwyn flushed.
"Right."
She hurried her way to the back of the class, sitting next to Griffith.
"Oh, and Ms. Grim?"
Panic crawled up Gwyn's spine.
"Yes?"
"Try to arrive before lunch tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh… Yes. I will try, ma'am."
I thought I was on time today.
Once she sat, the mop-haired boy, Griffith, had to pick his jaw up from the floor.
"I had no idea you were so popular."
His eyes were wide. Apparently, being popular gave Gwyn some respect with the elven children.
"I wasn't until about three minutes ago."
Gwyn shivered, remembering what all the bodies felt like, closely pressed against hers. It was better than being insulted constantly, but not by much.
She reached into her robe and pulled out a journal that Mr. Keeper had given her after she had a brief visit to the Great Library this morning. Well, it wasn't exactly a journal. She pulled out an economic manifesto that Mr. Keeper deemed "Totally worthless and inaccurate."
Well... he said a lot of things. It was mostly, "That bastard heads so far up his own arse that when he blinks, shit is flung everywhere."
But Gwyn summarization was pretty accurate.
As she flipped to the first page, his words echoed in her head, "Wipe yer ass with it if ye'd like."
She wasn't going to do that. But she figured she could write in the empty spaces on the edge of the pages.
Better than nothing.
Mrs. Farcroft addressed the man who was standing there, still as a statue, wearing a hard helmet and leather protective gear
"Sorry, Mr. Hornbill. Would you like to continue your talk?"
Gwyn's eyes shot to the board, and in bold, elven script, it read "Career Day".