The bus just kept going. And going.
Kairen's gaze didn't see the passing world. All he saw was a smear of green and gray—his street, swallowed. The next street, gone. Houses swelled into mansions now, with arrogant lawns and iron fences. Nothing like home. He was leaving. Guilt—hot and heavy—sat in his stomach.
The bus was filled with the smell of fresh clothing and the anxious, tense enthusiasm of kids who belonged. His arms were stung with the tiny hairs by a low, nearly quiet hum of magical energy. Kairen felt completely alienated from the other kids, even though their laughter was a loud, happy buzz of belonging.
A soft pop of magic startled him.
The boy in front was showing off: his pen twirled, lazy and perfect, suspended between his fingers. The kids beside him didn't even bother to look up.
For Kairen, it was a physical blow. A punch in the gut.
He'd spent a decade trying to do just that. Hours in his room, head aching, eyes burning with the tears of frustration, staring at a pebble and begging it to twitch. His mother would only hug him, whispering it didn't matter. But Kairen had seen the truth in her eyes. The disappointment she couldn't hide.
He shifted his eyes. Across the path, a tiny, shining globe of light hovered over a girl who was reading a massive book. Better than any lightbulb, the pulse was steady and warm. He wondered what that felt like. To simply… conjure light. Did it feel warm? Did it make a sound in your head?
They were speaking a language he would never know. They belonged here. He didn't.
He leaned the cloak up and went more deeply, hoping for the easy grace of invisibility. Please don't look at me. His palm tightened white-knuckled around the wing necklace's cool, solid metal under his shirt. Only that anchor remained.
Why did you send me here? The question was a silent, angry thought aimed at his father's ghost. Did you know I couldn't do any of this? Is this a punishment? A joke?
The bus finally gave a long, loud hiss of brakes. This was it.
Oh, god.
He grabbed his bag. The strap was already slick with sweat. His legs felt heavy, stiff, like slabs of wood as he followed the others out. He stepped onto the pavement.
And just… agony.
It was too much. Too huge. The gates were blinding, white, shiny stone that soared up into the sky, hurting his eyes in the morning sun. They glittered with a chaotic, unstable rainbow sheen. High in the archway, the letters carved into the stone weren't still; they were alive, twisting like snakes made of soft, white light.
The air tasted wrong here. It was buzzing. Not just in his ears, but a low-frequency vibration on his skin, making his teeth ache. It felt like the thick, electric silence before a bad thunderstorm.
The wing-mark on his back went instantly hot. Not the usual dull warmth. This was a sharp, prickling heat, like a tuning fork reacting to the deluge of magic pouring through the air. It hummed, matching the oppressive buzz in the world.
It terrified him.
What is this thing on my back? What is it doing?
This place was real. It was real, and he was here, and he did not belong.
Kids streamed through the gates, oblivious to the impossible scale or the buzzing air. A boy with bright red hair walked past, his textbooks floating in a neat stack behind him. A girl warmed her hands with a dancing ball of blue fire in her palm. The magic was everywhere.
Kairen made himself get up. He let out an anxious breath. As he went under the archway, his back heated up suddenly and then cooled to a sharp, deep pain.
He felt not real. A knockoff. He was only a blur of gray, whereas everyone else was a strong, vivid color.
He murmured, "Just blend in." The sound was useless, swallowed by the vastness. "No one knows you."
Liar.
They were already staring. The whispers started immediately—quiet, slicing hisses of sound that followed him like predatory shadows.
"Is that him?"
"The Zephyrwind kid?"
"Which one?"
"The one who looks lost. Pathetic."
"Heard he's a dud. A total blank."
A dud. His face seemed to be on fire. Shame came up his neck, hot and prickly. He pushed himself forward, staring only at the shining stones on the ground. Keep your eyes off of them. Simply move forward one step at a time. Don't pay attention.
But he couldn't stop listening.
"Seriously? Torren Zephyrwind's son? That's just sad."
"My dad says it's an embarrassment to the name."
The words were tiny, stabbing needles. The mark on his back was burning now—an angry, itching heat. It hated this, too. He wanted to turn and run, right back to the bus, right back home. He couldn't. He just kept walking, head bowed.
Walk. Just walk. Don't look up.
THUD.
"Oof!" His lungs blasted with air. He landed hard on the stone path after hitting something important and rolling off. His head rang.
"Whoa! Sorry, man! Didn't see you there! You okay?"
Kairen raised his head. Over him looked a giant of a man. Huge, with a troubled smile and spiky dark hair. A hand the size of a dinner plate was extended by him.
It was Kairen's fault. He hadn't been looking.
"My fault," Kairen mumbled, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the offered hand. "I wasn't watching."
"Nah, my fault! I'm a walking hazard," the giant said. His voice was a friendly rumble, laughing. "Name's Dain Ragnor! You a first-year too?"
Kairen could only nod, brushing dust off his pants.
"What's your name?"
Kairen hesitated. He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to see the face-change, the drop of disappointment. But he had to. "Kairen," he mumbled. "Kairen Zephyrwind."
Dain's eyes went wide. "Wait. Zephyrwind? As in… the Torren Zephyrwind?"
Kairen braced for the look. The pity. The disgust.
It didn't come.
Instead, Dain's face broke into a massive, ridiculously excited grin. "AWESOME!" he yelled, making a few heads turn. "You're his son? That is so cool! You must be crazy strong! What's your specialty? Fire? My element is Earth, I think. At least, I'm good at hitting things. And breaking things. Mostly by accident."
Kairen stared. He actually thought it was awesome. He wasn't disappointed. He was… excited.
"I… I'm not sure yet," Kairen lied, his voice a dried-up whisper.
"Not sure? That's cool! A late bloomer!" Dain declared, as if it were the best thing in the world. "My grandma says the best potatoes are the ones that take the longest to grow! Come on," he said, slinging a friendly, heavy arm around Kairen's shoulders. "I think we're supposed to go to the main hall. Before a teacher turns us into garden gnomes."
He was weird. But he was nice. With Dain pulling him along, the knot of tension in Kairen's shoulders unraveled. For the first time all morning, the crushing loneliness lifted. Even the whispers died down. No one messed with the giant, friendly boy.
Dain led him through massive archways. The air grew cold, heavy with a distant hum. Kairen's stomach clenched. The space inside was an echoing abyss, swallowing their footsteps. He looked up. The night sky, a huge expanse of softly shifting stars, looked nothing like a ceiling. How did they hold that up?
Above, chandeliers forged from captured galaxies floated, their light shimmering on the polished marble floor. Beneath it, lights swirled like trapped river water.
Dain laughed, pulling Kairen from his panic. The hall filled with hundreds of other children, and their voices resounded. They stood silently in a circle, looking at a single object.
A giant black crystal.
On a stone platform, it was a towering shadow that was impossible to reach. Inside, like a sleeping heart, a gentle, captivating blue light pulsed despite its gloomy, impenetrable appearance.
Kairen felt a chill of fear. He had never seen anything like this, wonderful. It also scared him. It felt like a source of mental trauma, waiting to rip his world apart.
"What is that?" His throat twisted as he rasped.
A serious face replaced Dain's smile. He spoke in a gravelly mumble. "That's the Animus Crystal. It's how they find out. It measures your magic."
The floor dropped out from under Kairen. A sick, dizzying panic hit him.
A test. Of course.
This was it. The first test. A gigantic rock designed to announce to the world that his life was a lie. The wing-mark on his back gave a sharp, searing throb, a warning that tasted like ash on his tongue. He was trapped. The air crackled with unstable arcane energy. Everyone here had the power he could only pretend to possess.