The Last of the Sages (Sage Trilogy, Book 1) by Julius St. Clair Page A

his words really meant.
    “I would escort you, but I have some business to attend to. Good night.”
    “Good night, Arimus.”
    Arimus turned around and swiftly ran toward and out the steel courtyard doors before James could blink, opening their massive exterior with a simple, effortless shove - a phantom disappearing into the night.
    James watched until he was out of sight, and then turned to enter the building, wondering just how Arimus looked so young yet had such gray hair. The shut of the oak doors behind him broke his thoughts and he sighed and looked around. There wasn’t much to see.
    The most impressive feature of the gigantic lobby was the winding stairs that came from the east and west sides of the building. They spiraled downward and diagonally until they nearly touched in the center. In the center was an entrance, leading to a narrow hallway through which he couldn’t make out whether there was actually a room or even a door at the other end. The respective destinations of the winding stairs were also invisible from where he stood. But it seemed they led into grand halls of stadium or arena-like size. He surmised that the Academy as a whole was a lot bigger than he had previously speculated.
    One of the more interesting features of the lobby (and it wasn’t saying much), were the various scratched-out or destroyed paintings that hung on each side wall, ten in total. For a moment, James considered checking out each of the paintings, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a picture of a Sage gracing the canvases, but he dismissed it almost immediately. The disappointment of finding there was none would be too depressing.
    Other than the paintings, there was nothing noticeable in James’s surroundings, like statues or chandeliers, beautiful tapestries or intimate candles. All that stood out was the dreary gray that inhabited the room like a foggy odor. The room was painted gray. The paintings were framed in gray. The stairs were gray, the floor was tiled in gray, the marble walls were for some odd reason painted in gray. To be honest, his mood was starting to turn gray by the second.
    He sighed in disgust and started heading through the winding stairs, through the narrow hallway that would lead to the infamous “room” Arimus spoke of. James barely fit in the hallway, it was so tight. The ceiling practically touched his head. No wonder Arimus wasn’t escorting him. He wouldn’t even fit.
    James didn’t bother testing the width in case he got stuck, so he decided to just jog to the door and burst through. When he did, he was surprised by what he saw. There were no windows(which he noted even prisoners received), but the room was humongous. About a fourth of the size of the courtyard in width, and with a ceiling that reached stories above him. He could only wonder at the room’s true purpose. A pastel blue, the room was much more inviting than the lobby, especially with the recently prepared fire that lapped at the back of his legs from the brick fireplace. He stretched and yawned and decided to allow himself a little time to relax, a feat he had accomplished many times over. Strolling over to the only two items in the room, a bookcase and a bed, he rummaged through the book selections, careful to actually take the time to fully read the titles. One in particular caught his interest : How to become a Sag e .
    He squealed in delight but then quickly covered his mouth, hoping no one had heard him. Even though he had decided to bury the bad boy image, there was no need to cremate it. He waited a moment for laughter, but heard only the crackling wood under the might of the flames. Satisfied he was in the clear, he tried maintaining his composure as he opened the leather bound gargantuan. Opening it slowly, as if it contained hidden treasure, his eyes widened as he saw the inside of the book carved out; in its place, only a tiny note remained, reading : HAHAHA. Psych! There is no book on becoming a Sage,