Mages of Alandris

so here I'm going to put a few of the scenes and workups I already have, and I would like it if you guys would read them and ask about anything you like, so I can help flesh out the world more and make it more live-in-able and believable. I'm also working on the preliminaries of making an actual conlang to go with the stories tentatively called "fusha" from which a few common terms will come. it's essentially a fusion of arabic and welsh almost entirely with a smattering of other things thrown in, especially a brick by brick grammar setup like esperanto (but probably a lot messier). 

in the most basic terms, the Mages work like Dr Strange got together with Avatar the last airbender/legend of korra. elemental magic performed with intent and physical motion. a lack of one can be compensated with an overabundance of the other, but both have to be there for magic to actually happen. the more complicated a given spell is, the more complicated the associated casting motions, with spells eventually becoming similar to dances/martial arts exhibitions. Mages are born, never made, and are disproportionately left-handed to the degree that normal society is right handed. about 9 in ten mages are left handed, and about 1 in five people born left handed wind up being mages. in addition, having a mage child causes sterility in the mother, so it is very common for mages to only have one to two child families at most and for families of two normal parents to have an unusually low number of children as well.

part one that I have: this is one of the first scenes of the first book, and one of the best written scenes I have. 

Mages of Alandris: Marking Scene
As they walked down the corridor, Nadia couldn’t help but stare a bit at the little lamps at intervals along the inner wall to their right. 
‘I’ve never seen such an odd color of lamp before,’ she noted aloud. Turley looked round and realized what she was referring to. He gave a little self-condescending laugh. 
‘I keep forgetting all the things you don’t know yet,’ he commented. ‘Those aren’t lamps- they’re weir lights.’
‘werelights? You mean those turn into people?!’ Nadia looked a little alarmed at the thought that the scarlet lights might be humans, perhaps those who had committed crimes or some such. But Turley only shook his head with a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
‘No, no, not “were” like werewolves, W-E-I-R. They’re Mage’s lights.’ He stopped walking momentarily as they neared another of the sconces, gesturing to it with his nearer hand. ‘See how it’s red? That’s because a fire nature created it. They have by far the easiest time with making them, but eventually everyone can make them. It’s a pretty advanced spell.’ He smiled a little at the weir light. ‘I can’t wait to learn it myself. The fire nature students are always out and about at night because they can use these to see- they’re always getting into trouble.’ He started to walk again, and Nadia quickly started walking beside him once more. ‘These weir lights are made by the headmaster of the academy. He’s a dual fire/air nature. At night, the lights burn red, because it’s easier on the eyes, and during the day they’re a bright and cheery yellow color.’ 
At this point, they had finished walking down the long hallway and reached a door. Hanging in a small sconce above the door was a single small blue weir light. 
‘This is the headmistress’s office,’ Turley explained. He gave a vague motion to the blue light above them. ‘She’s the headmaster’s wife and a water nature. You can imagine the fights they must have gotten into when they first got married!’ He reached up to grab the knocker on the door, giving three light taps. 
‘What is it this time, Turley?’ A woman’s voice sounded through the door. He gave a stricken look to Nadia.
 ‘How does she always know it’s me?’ He asked plaintively.
‘Well, you haven’t stopped talking since we arrived,’ Nadia pointed out. Turley gave a grunt.
‘Suppose you’re right.’
‘Who’s that you’ve got with you? I don’t recognize their voice,’ the woman spoke through the door again. 
‘Oh,’ Turley explained, ‘that’s why I’m here, headmistress. I met a girl today. She’s really special, you need to meet her.’ There was silence on the other side of the door. ‘Headmistress, she has a Touch Me Not aura.’
Abruptly, the door was thrown wide and an older woman was standing in the doorway. Nadia raised an eyebrow slightly at the small diamond-shaped mark between the woman’s eyebrows, wondering what it was for. She noticed also that the woman had the outline of a downward facing triangle directly below the hollow of her throat that contained a small upward facing triangle inside it. Before she could open her mouth to ask about these markings, however, the woman pulled her inside her office. 
‘Who are you, child? Where do you come from? How has a tracker never found you with such a powerful aura?’ The headmistress bombarded Nadia with questions. Once Nadia opened her mouth, she couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words, telling this woman she had just met almost her entire life story. After what seemed like an eternity, she was finally finished and fell silent. The old woman nodded a little. 
‘I see, I see,’ she muttered to herself, tapping her chin with one finger thoughtfully. ‘Living in such a remote place, it’s no wonder a Tracker never found you. And it’s incredible luck that you managed to find your way here. Not to worry, you’ll fit right in.’  The headmistress then turned to Turley and her gaze became stern. ‘You, young man, ought to have been in bed an hour ago at least. Off with you now!’ She gave a shooing motion with her hands and the young man visibly deflated before leaving. 
‘Oh, but, I really can’t stay here.’ Nadia stared down at her hands and knees, where her fists were knotted in folds of her pants. 
‘I suppose I didn’t ask,’ the headmistress said, ‘have you any luggage that needs fetching?’
Nadia just shook her head, not looking up. ‘I haven’t owned anything but the clothes on my back since I was 12.’
‘Well, then, what’s the problem?’ The old woman asked. ‘This is the place you belong, child. By tomorrow afternoon, you’ll have a uniform, three square meals a day, and the chance to learn how to do things you never dreamed were possible. And all you have to do is study dutifully and carefully.’
Nadia wanted to ask why those two particular adverbs were chosen, since they seemed to be at odds with one another. Before she had the chance, a huge yawn escaped her. 
‘Yes, it’s well past time for bed, isn’t it?’ The headmistress commented. ‘You’ll sleep here for the night, and a tracker will be here before breakfast to mark you.’ She shook her head a little, though she was smiling. ‘That Turley is always causing trouble, but the good kind I suppose. He’s a lot like his father, Kai. My son trained with him. A good child, but always meddling.’ She shook her head a little again. ‘Anyway, time we both got to sleep, I think. Dawn comes too early Midsummer for my liking.’ She reached up, taking the weir light from its sconce above their head and cupping it in one palm as she walked out of the room. 
Nadia laid back on the bed she’d been sitting on, nuzzling into the down pillow and letting the exhaustion of a long day take her off to sleep.
What seemed like seconds later, a beam of brilliant light woke Nadia up. She quickly threw an arm over her eyes to shield them-they almost felt sunburned. ‘What time is it?’ She groaned. 
The headmistress turned around with a small smile. ‘It’s the break of day,’ she informed the 16-year-old. This elicited another, louder groan. ‘Oh, don’t be like that. The Tracker will be here any second and he’ll barely have enough time to mark you before breakfast.’ Finally, Nadia sat up, rubbing her eyes a little. ‘Here,’ the woman said, and Nadia looked up, almost miraculously catching a comb. ‘Your hair looks like you got caught in a thorn bush,’ the headmistress said gruffly. Nadia sighed, combing through her long black cherry hair. ‘Do you keep your hair up or down?’ the old woman asked, holding out a bit of leather strap for a hair tie. 
‘Down,’ Nadia said, holding the comb out once finished. She didn’t want to explain she hadn’t had her hair in a braid or bun since her mother had done it when she was 11. ‘It stays back all right by itself.’ 
Just then, there were two short, sharp raps on the door, and the headmistress hurried to open it, letting out a small sound of pleasure. ‘Oh, Victorio! How are you?’ she asked, quickly embracing the 20-something man who stood in the doorway. He had black hair, dark eyes, and darker than normal skin. On his forehead sat a marking that looked like four bird tracks facing outward. Nadia couldn’t help but think that if you connected the heels of the four tracks it would look an awful lot like a snowflake. 
‘Well, where is she?’ Victorio asked, looking around. He quickly spotted Nadia, seeing as she was the only other person in the room, and almost took a step back in surprise. ‘By the Master,’ he said in awe. ‘I’ve never seen an aura so powerful. And certainly never a spirit one.’ 
‘She’s special all right,’ the headmistress confirmed with a small, proud smile. Victorio stepped in front of Nadia with a quick step and a slight, polite bow. 
‘May I touch you?’ he asked in a suddenly ceremonial tone. Nadia looked up in surprise and slight concern to the headmistress, who clarified. ‘You need to retract your aura, or the marking won’t work.’
Nodding, Nadia closed her eyes, concentrating for a few moments and finally breaking the aura, feeling it disappear. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and she opened her eyes again. He placed his left hand on the center of her forehead and his right hand on the center of her chest, over her heart. ‘I See your nature, and I give it its rightful name- Spirit.’ As he spoke the final word, a sudden searing pain washed over a spot two inches wide above Nadia’s heart. It was over in a second but left her gasping in surprise. She was shocked her aura hadn’t snapped back due to the pain. He removed both of his hands, then put his right fingertip into his mouth for a moment, causing Nadia to give him an incredulous look. He gently reached forward, tracing the outline of a downward facing triangle just below the hollow of her throat. ‘I mark you as a Mage of the academy from this day forward,’ he said, then put the finger in the center of the triangle he’d just traced. ‘I bless you with both skill and luck.’ With these words, the triangle suddenly seared, making her gasp again in shock. It was a sensation halfway between the stab of a thousand needles at once and burning oneself on a hot woodstove. Victorio finally reached forward (Nadia almost didn’t let him) and put his thumb on the middle of her forehead, tracing down to the bridge of her nose- then giving her a light tap on the tip of her nose. ‘Good luck, and welcome to the Academy,’ he said with a smile, his air of ceremony gone. He stood from his kneeling position and gave, first Nadia, then the Headmistress, a small bow and quickly left, giving a sniff as if to track down breakfast 
‘what is your last name, child?’ the headmistress asked suddenly, surprising Nadia, who was trying to look down her blouse to see what mark she’d gotten over her heart. She started guiltily, patting the fabric back flat.
‘Er, Hypatia, ma’am,’ she replied, turning a little bit pink with embarrassment. 

‘Very well. Mages have a centuries-old tradition of being called exclusively by their last names,’ the headmistress informed her. ‘So, from now on, you’ll be known only as Hypatia.’ Hypatia nodded, realising she’d have to remember to introduce herself in that way from that point forward. That would take some getting used to. ‘I’ll show you to the dining hall, and then I’ll give you a tour of the Academy. After lunch we’ll get you a Uniform- you’ll be wearing purple, the color associated with spirit.’ Hypatia nodded again, already feeling as if information was going to start leaking back out of her ears any second. ‘Come on then- breakfast time!’ the headmistress said cheerfully, stepping out of the doorway and following the corridor lined with brightly glowing yellow weir lights.

here's another gem with a couple of other characters:

Sir and Madam
As Hypatia stood awkwardly trying not to ogle the massive rows of books in seemingly every direction, the Scholar smiled knowingly to herself. She cleared her throat a little to get the young woman’s attention, and Hypatia started guiltily, turning just slightly pink. 
‘Did you know ink is made mostly of water?’ the blonde woman asked, gesturing to the inkwell on the desktop behind her. The girl nodded, and samanthiya continued, ‘that means I can do something special with it. Watch.’ She began to move both her hands in random yet mesmerizing patterns, each finger independent of the others, palms and even wrists in every possible position. The ink behind her flowed in a thin ribbon from the bottle and poured with delicate precision onto the page, a drop at a time, until the woman’s hands stilled, then scooped to one side, putting the leftover ink back into the bottle without a drop spilled. 
Samanthiya smiled wider at Hypatia’s incredulous reaction to the spectacle. Her mouth was hanging slightly open and she was faintly wide-eyed and certainly speechless. ‘it’s called speed-writing,’ the scholar informed her, ‘something every Scholar is trained in. our ink is made of a particular blend of charcoal and black minerals, making it possible for every affinity to control it as I did. You, on the other hand, as a warrior, only need to learn to read it.’ She turned to the page she had written on and handed it to Hypatia to examine. The youth’s dark brows furrowed.
The script was fairly plain yet elegant in its plainness. It was immediately obvious that there were no large letters, but only small ones, so it was difficult to tell when phrases began or ended. Missing, too, were spaces between words, since they were all connected by threads of ink. Even the periods weren’t so much specks as blots of ink with a tail on either side. Hypatia had never been the best reader in her lessons at home, but this was practically illegible! She turned to turley after a moment. ‘can you read this?’ she asked, holding out the sheet so he could see it better. 
‘yeah, of course. Took me the better part of a year to learn it, but yeah, I can.’
Hypatia sighed a little in determined frustration, brows furrowing even deeper in concentration on what she assumed was the first word, and not an entire phrase. 
‘ah, Turley! What spell are you researching today?’ a voice asked from quite nearby, causing Hypatia to start again in surprise, quickly lowering the paper. This was the first person she had met since entering the academy who actually wore robes instead of a uniform. The open book adorned a high brow between locks of raven hair and eyes every bit as dark. The gentleman smiled a little, not showing any teeth. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met, miss-?’ he asked of the girl with the black cherry hair. 
‘Hypatia, Sir, I’m studying to be-‘
‘Don’t call him Sir,’ Samanthiya suddenly interrupted, earning her a glare from the man and a startled and slightly annoyed look from Hypatia. She turned slightly pink as she realised she had corrected someone who, having been there less than two days, couldn’t possibly have known. She wasn’t used to dealing with a brand-new person of over 16 years! ‘ah, sorry. There are only two people you may call sir here in the academy. Your mentor, if they are male, and the headmaster. There are likewise only two people you may call madam- your mentor, if female, and the headmistress.’ She cleared her throat awkwardly.
The man nodded at the blond woman’s thoughtful recovery of the situation. ‘Samanthiya is correct. If you feel formality is needed or the name of the person you are addressing is not known, you may use their title, such as scholar or warrior. If, say, you need the attention of a trainee and don’t know their title, you may call them “mage” as a generic title. It’s just best to ask for names—you’ll find we’re not so stuffy and formal as some outside would paint us.’ The man gave his funny little tight-lipped smile as he turned to leave. ‘ah, one more thing, as you’re new—never, ever refer to any person here as “master”.’ At that, both Turley and Samanthiya cringed at the thought. Hypatia looked slightly lost, but nodded her thanks. ‘my gratitude, si-Scholar.’ The robed man gave a slight bow, tucked his hands into his robes, and strode off every bit as soundlessly as he had come.

‘well, then, Hypatia, I’m going to say that speed-writing is your assignment. Turley, you’re forbidden to help her with it- she needs to learn this on her own.’