Kaelan's words hit Kairen. Hard.
"Did your father's name buy you a spot you didn't earn, Zephyrwind?"
The air in Kairen's lungs just… vanished. The world briefly shrank to Kaelan's mocking visage and the ruthless sparkle in his eyes. Everything vanished into a gray, dull background, including the joyful buzz of the school, the enchanted view outside the window, and Dain and Ilya seated behind him. There was only Kaelan, and the ugly, slimy feeling his words left crawling on Kairen's skin.
He had a burning face. It burned behind his ears and climbed up his neck like a burning, prickly shame. He felt the grain piercing into his palms as his hands, covered below the desk, tightened their grip on the bright wood. He wanted to say something. He wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, to just… hit him. But his mind was a blank wall of white noise. The words wouldn't come. They were all caught in his throat, suffocated by the same old, cold, familiar terror and a sudden, burning anger. He wished he could vanish through the floor as he looked at the spinning patterns in the wood of his desk.
SCRRRAPE…..
In the silent chamber, the noise was intense and unbearable. Dain. He pushed his chair back on the stone floor. He was on his feet. He moved so fast for a guy his size. He was sitting for one moment, and then he was standing, his shadow descending over him like a storm approaching, his head full of height above Kaelan's.
Kairen was surprised. He had expected to be alone in this. He was always alone in this. But he wasn't. The thought was a small, shocking jolt in the middle of his humiliation.
"Get away from him, Brightblade," Dain growled. His friendly, booming voice was gone. This was a low, dangerous tone that held no trace of humor.
Kaelan didn't even seem to care. He just looked Dain up and down, bored. "Or what, Ragnor?" he sneered. "You'll hit me? How utterly primitive. You're nothing but a lumbering animal with a strong back and a weak mind. You don't belong in Class A any more than he does."
"Are you really this insecure, Kaelan?"
Ilya's voice. It sut through the tight air like a sharp blade, but it was silent. She hadn't even stood up yet. She was just sitting in her chair, watching Kaelan like a bug under glass, with a nice, indifferent fascination. What was she doing? She was just going to make him angrier.
She went on, her tone level and calm, each word carefully chosen, "You have the highest aptitude score of any first-year."
"Everyone in this room is already aware of your power. So why this urge to abuse another student that is so needy and almost pitiful? Does criticizing someone you think is weaker than you help you feel stronger? Is it necessary to stand on someone else's neck in order to puff out your own chest?"
Kaelan's smirk finally faltered. A flash of genuine, hot anger crossed his face. She was right. She was completely, totally right, and he knew it. He looked at her with pure venom. "Stay out of this, Veyne. This has nothing to do with you."
"That is enough."
The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a shout. But it was filled with so much raw power it felt like a physical force. The air in the room got heavy. Everyone froze. Even Kaelan. They all snapped their heads to the front of the classroom.
There was a tall man standing. His black eyes appeared to notice everything, and his beard was crisp and graying. He felt scary even though he was only a teacher dressed in dark robes. He felt old.
He looked at Kaelan's angry, flushed face. He looked at Dain's protective, half-standing posture.
Then he looked at Kairen.
And he just… stared. For years and years. The mark on his back, the nightmare from this morning, and everything else he was making a concerted effort to hide seemed to be staring right through him, straight through his skin. Kairen was sure he was going to kick him out. For causing a problem on the very first day. His heart beat rapidly, a rhythm of pure fear. How would he tell his mother? He couldn't go home. Not like this.
"Take your seats," he commanded.
Dain and Kaelan sat down. Immediately. The fight was just… over. To the entrance of the room the man walked. There was no sound from his boots.
His voice was a loud rumbling that filled the entire room as he stated, "Welcome to Class A.".
My name is Professor Valerius. And in this classroom, your family name means nothing. Your wealth means nothing. The score a glowing rock gave you this morning means nothing." His eyes flicked over to Kaelan for a fraction of a second. "Here, you will study magic. Real magic."
His hands were clasped together. Once. It sounded like a whip crack, final and piercing.
Just now, a ball of fire appeared. in his hands. It was dancing in the air, lingering there.
Kairen could tell how handsome he was even from the other side of the room. He gazed in curiosity as the yellow, red, and orange flames twisted and swirled. It was beautiful. And it was painful. A stab of pain in his chest. Just a friendly reminder. He was unable to do this. Everyone else in this room could accomplish this. All but him. He felt sorrow for something he never even had, and it was a sense of loss.
"There are many paths to power," Professor Valerius says. "The most common is Elemental Magic." He flicked his wrist. The fire twisted and became a swirling ball of water.
Water.
Kairen's mind flashed back to that day, years ago. The rusty bucket. Kaelan's mocking face. The feeling of pure, helpless rage. The hiss of steam. His mom's terrified eyes. Was that him? Did he do that? The thought was a cold, scary thing that he immediately tried to push away.
The water solidified into a piece of frosted ice in his fist. He made it appear so simple. Just… deciding what the world should be. Fire. Water. Ice. And Kairen was just… him.
He closed his hand, and the ice was gone. "Then there is Runic Magic." He waved his other hand in the air. Glowing blue letters just hung there, burning in space. They formed a complex, interlocking symbol that hummed with a low, quiet power.
The symbols… they looked familiar to Kairen.Uncomfortably so. They recalled the strange forms that stuck in his thoughts and the odd patterns he wrote in his notebooks when he couldn't sleep. But the professor's made sense. They had a purpose. They hummed with power. Kairen's were just… scribbles. Empty. A language he was trying to write without knowing any of the words.
The runes faded away. He continued, "And lastly, there is the skill of magic," before his voice faded. He grabbed a basic piece of white chalk off his desk. A chunk of chalk, nothing special. He whispered something to it, a word so quiet Kairen couldn't hear it. And the chalk started to glow. A soft, gentle white light. It wasn't a big, loud spell like Kaelan's. It was quiet. Humble. Kairen liked that one. But it was still magic. Still something he couldn't touch.
The earlier fight, the shame… it was all gone. He was just watching the professor, completely captivated. All his life, he had thought magic was one thing. A gift you either had or you didn't. But this was different. This was… knowledge. It's a structure. A set of rules. It's a language. And maybe, just maybe, there was more than one way to learn how to speak.
"These are the paths you will begin to study here," the Professor said, looking at all of them again. "But you should know, the division of magic into these neat categories is a modern, limited way of thinking. The oldest texts, the scrolls that were written when the world was young, speak of other, more ancient forms of magic. Lost arts."
His tone changed. It became more serious. More mysterious. He leaned forward a little, and the whole class seemed to lean with him.
"They speak of a universal power that connects all things… a fundamental energy that is the building block of all creation. They called it… the Essence."
The word.
It hit Kairen. Not as a sound. It was a feeling. A jolt. Like a lightning strike, but without any pain. It began precisely in his back and spread through his entire body in a rush of clear, cutting force.
The mark was on fire.
Not the bad, itchy heat from before. This was a good heat. A clean heat. A warmth that felt like… recognition. A part of him that had remained asleep all through his life seemed to awaken all of a sudden. There was a feeling of coming home.
His hands were tingling. The air tasted… sweet, just for a second. The blue of the sky outside the window, with its floating islands, seemed so much brighter, so much deeper. Everything was sharper. Clearer.
Essence.
The word just echoed in his head, over and over, a silent, powerful chant. Essence. Essence. Essence.
He knew that word. How did he know that word? It felt… right. It felt like his own name. The mark on his back was burning. It wasn't a bad burn. It was… alive. Was this it? Was this the clue? The secret his mom was so scared of? Was 'Essence' what he was?
He gazed at his own hands resting on the polished, dark wood of the desk.. They were still just his hands. They couldn't make fire or ice.
However, for the first time, the icy, empty space inside of him—where his power should have been—did not feel so empty. It was still quiet. But it wasn't empty anymore.
It felt like it was… listening.
Waiting.
Maybe… maybe he didn't have their kind of magic.
But maybe, just maybe, he had something else.