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Chapter 9 - The fool

The field shimmered in the morning light. Dew still clung to the grass, but the air was already thick with heat and expectation. Damon stood in the middle of it, still breathing hard from his last failed attempt.

Arthur didn't move. His hands were folded behind his back, posture as precise as a blade. "Again," he said flatly.

Damon swallowed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded. He could feel everyone watching. Cedric with quiet calm. Luna with her faint, reassuring smile. Imogen with that perpetual look that said she'd seen better. And Luke—

Luke was grinning. Of course he was.

"Come on, prodigy," Luke drawled. "Show us that miracle you pulled in the alley. I'm sure it wasn't luck or anything."

Damon clenched his jaw. "You really like hearing yourself talk, huh?"

"Someone has to," Luke shot back. "You're too busy wheezing to hold a conversation."

Imogen groaned. "If you two are done marking territory, maybe one of you could actually train?"

Cedric sighed. "Ignore him, Damon. He barks more than he bites."

"Wrong," Luke said with a lazy grin. "I bite and bark. Equal opportunity."

Luna covered a soft laugh with her hand, though her eyes stayed kind. "Focus, Damon. You'll get it."

He shut his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and pressed his palm to his chest—just as Arthur had shown him.

Center. Gather. Release.

He could almost feel it. A faint hum beneath his ribs, flickering like a heartbeat. His pulse quickened. There.

He pushed.

Nothing.

Just a dull ache in his chest and Luke's laugh breaking the silence.

"Magnificent," Luke said, clapping slowly. "Truly, a masterclass in flailing."

"Luke," Arthur said without looking at him. "Speak again, and I'll test your jaw's durability myself."

The grin evaporated. "...Right. Shutting up."

Arthur turned back to Damon. "You are thinking too much. Mana does not respond to thought."

Damon's frustration bled through. "Then what does it respond to? Blind luck? Divine pity?"

"Neither," Arthur said. "It responds to will. Not fear. Not ego. Will."

"I am willing!" Damon snapped, fists trembling. "I've been willing for hours."

"Your will," Lily's voice came from behind him, soft and steady, "is loud. Too loud."

He startled—he hadn't even heard her approach again. She seemed to glide instead of walk.

"The current does not come to those who shout for it," she said. "You must listen to the silence within yourself. The louder your mind, the quieter mana becomes."

Damon laughed, short and bitter. "You people and your riddles. Maybe if one of you actually explained it—"

Luke smirked. "Maybe if you actually got it—"

"Luke," Arthur said again.

Luke raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Gods, you're all so touchy."

Imogen stood and brushed off her pants. "If he can't even feel mana by now, he's hopeless."

Luna frowned at her. "Don't say that."

"It's true," Imogen replied. "Even a fool can sense the current. If he can't, he's not trying."

Damon's temper finally cracked. "You think this is easy? Why don't you all stop talking and—wait." He paused, squinting at them. "Why aren't you training, anyway?"

Luke grinned. "Because we already know this part."

Imogen folded her arms. "We're here for more advanced instruction. But since you're hogging up Arthur's time, we get to watch remedial lessons instead."

Cedric shot her a look. "Imogen."

She shrugged. "What? It's true."

Damon's hands tightened at his sides. "Great. Glad to know I'm holding up the prodigies."

Luke's grin widened. "Hey, at least you're entertaining."

"Luke," Arthur said, voice like a drawn blade. "Enough."

The field went silent. Even the wind seemed to freeze.

Arthur stepped closer, his eyes sharp enough to cut. "You had strength once—enough to harm a creature of darkness. Yet you stand here powerless, wasting everyone's time."

Damon's pulse spiked. "Maybe because that thing nearly killed me! Maybe it wasn't power—it was panic!"

Arthur's gaze didn't waver. "Then panic better."

The words hit harder than a punch.

No one spoke. Even Luke shut up.

Arthur turned away. "Until you can call the current at will you are not ready to move forward."

He started walking with lily back toward the house, leaving Damon and the group alone in the field.

The silence that followed was worse than the mockery.

Luna knelt beside him, her tone gentle. "He's harsh, but he's right. You've touched it before—you'll do it again."

Cedric nodded. "Don't force it. Everyone struggles at first. You're not the first to fail."

Luke scoffed under his breath. "Some of us didn't need this long."

Imogen rolled her eyes. "Yes, Luke, we know."

He smirked, then leaned in toward Cedric and muttered, "Seriously, though. What were Arthur and Lily thinking? Bringing a mortal to train?"

Imogen shrugged. "If he were truly mortal, he wouldn't be able to touch mana at all. Maybe he's some rare case." She gave Damon another skeptical look. "But I doubt it."

Cedric frowned. "Enough speculation."

Luna straightened, her kind voice firm. "He's one of us now. Stop talking like he's not."

"Whatever," Luke said, throwing his hands up. "Let's just go eat before Arthur decides to starve us for breathing wrong."

The group slowly drifted back toward the house, their laughter fading with distance.

Damon stayed in the field, silent, the breeze cool against his sweat. His muscles ached, his pride throbbed, but his mind wouldn't stop turning.

Why can they all use it so easily? Why me? Why now?

He looked down at his hands—empty, shaking.

When he finally stumbled back to his room, the sky had darkened to bruised blue. He collapsed onto the thin mattress hunger burning in his stomach but he didn't even bother to go eat the humiliation and uselessness burned in his mind fresh, he felt sore every muscle screaming in protest. The faint smell of damp wood filled the air.

Sleep dragged at him, heavy and slow.

But as his eyes closed, the questions came—one after another, relentless.

What am I? Why did Arthur bring me here?

And somewhere in that blur of half-dream and exhaustion, he thought he heard a whisper.

Soft. Distant.

Calling his name.

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