He said his name. Kairen.
And then, "Zephyrwind!"
The words felt like a punch to Kairen's chest. His entire body went cold, like though it had been hit by lightning. Everything ceased for a time, including the slight buzz in the room, the scrape of shoes, and his breath. He was certain that everyone could hear the furious beating of his heart as the quiet grew so thick.
"My turn," Kairen thought, a sinking dread filling his gut. "Oh, gods. It's my turn."
A hundred pairs of eyes were on him. He could feel their weight, a hundred tiny pinpricks on his skin. They weren't just looking at a classmate; they were looking at a name. They were waiting for the son of a legend to step up. They were waiting for thunder and lightning. They were about to get… him.
His legs felt like they'd been filled with stone. They weren't his anymore.
"Just… walk. Come on. Walk," he screamed silently inside his own head.
He had to force them. One foot, then the other. The distance to the floor seemed so great. The soft scratch of his sneakers on the stone was the only sound in the the universe, yet it was so loud in the quiet. From the sound his sneakers made, he was certain that everyone could hear his unease.
"Don't trip. Please, please don't trip," Kairen begged himself. "There is nothing worse than this in the entire universe."
His eyes remained fixed on the floor as he counted the cracks. One, two, three... Anything to keep their faces out of sight. But he could see them anyway, in his peripheral vision. Some were curious. Some were bored. A few stared at him with a sympathy that was worse than rivalry.
Then there was Kaelan. Kairen felt his eyes more than anyone's, a physical weight of contempt.He dared to look. With a smart, cruel smile, Kaelan leaned closer. This was the moment he had been anticipating. This moment had been the turning point of his entire life.
Kairen finally stepped into the circle. The chalk felt weird, gritty under his shoes. It was a cage. A spotlight. An executioner's block. The world narrowed. The faces of his classmates became a gray smear. The icy stone, the stifling quiet, and the blank room before him were all that existed.
He held out his hand. It was trembling, a definite motion against the dark fabric of his uniform.
"Stupid; Stop shaking," he thought, clenching his hand into a fist and opening it, but the shaking persisted.
"Okay. Focus," he thought.
"Be exact, Ilya had said. Essence, Professor Valerius had called it." That word. The one that made the wing-mark on his back feel warm. He closed his eyes and searching for the strength. He felt like if he were standing on the edge of an endless, dark. He begged for the smallest flicker of light in his mind.
He got nothing. Just a cold, dead silence.
"It was never there. It was never there," Kairen's thoughts were a hollow echo in his mind.
He had to say the words. He had to try.
"Luminos Arcana."
His voice was a whisper. A dry, pathetic, hopeless sound. He opened his eyes.
"Please. Be something. A spark. Anything," he pleaded silently.
Nothing.
His hand was just a hand. Empty and pale in the dim light. The dust motes dancing in the sunbeams mocked him with their easy, floating movement when he could create none.
A single, sharp laughed disturbed the stillness. The girl in the back of the room covered her lips with her hand and muttered it as her friend shoved her. Then a quiet snicker. And another. The silence wasn't quiet anymore. It was loud with their pity, their amusement, their disappointment. Now it seemed like an actual weight, crushing the air out of his lungs as it pressed down on his chest. As a living reminder of his own failure, he simply stood there with his hand extended.
"Perhaps you need to focus, Mr. Zephyrwind."
Professor Thorne's voice was like a knife. Sharp. Precise. It cut through the laughing whispers. "The name Zephyrwind carries expectations. I suggest you try to meet at least one of them. Try again."
The name. He said it again. The weight of it was crushing him. And he wanted him to do it again. In front of everyone.
"No..., I don't want to. I can't...I can't do this again," Kairen's thoughts were a frantic scramble.
But he had to. Everyone was watching. His mom. He saw her face in his mind, her proud smile from last night. A pride he earned with a lie. His dad. His statue. The hero. And Kaelan. He could feel Kaelan's smug, hateful smile on his skin. He couldn't fail again. He couldn't.
He held out his hand again. It was still shaking. This wasn't about a spell anymore. This was about not being a complete and utter joke. This was about just wanting, for once in his life, to not be a disappointment.
He didn't whisper it this time. From the bottom of his stomach, he forced up all remaining hope, fear, and shame. He just… yelled.
"LUMINOS ARCANA!"
His voice broke. It was a sound of sheer desperation, rough and harsh. The sound of his hope dying.
And again. Nothing.
The words just… died. They echoed in the huge, silent room for a second, a ghost of his own failure, and then they were gone. His hand was still empty. He felt as though his arm were made of stone since it was so heavy. The entire world was beginning to become hazy. He thought… he thought he was going to cry. "No. Don't cry. Don't cry here. Not in front of him," he pleaded to himself.
A laugh.
It was Kaelan. A single, sharp, cruel bark that shattered the last of Kairen's composure. Enjoying his moment, Kaelan moved a few paces forward from the line.
Filled with fake, dramatic sadness, he inquired loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is this a joke?". He was approaching now, moving like a predator around Kairen. "Did you hear that, everyone? I think he hurt his little throat. Still the same weak, useless crybaby I remember."
He stopped in front of him. "I wonder what your father would think, Kairen. The son of the great Torren, unable to cast a spell, a simple child could manage."
The name. Something crumbled in his stomach, like a knife.
He took a sharp breath. "Funny, isn't it..?" Then they also say that "The apple does not fall far from the tree." His voice roughened, with every phrase hitting harder than the last. He enjoyed it and benefited from Kairen's shame. "But in your situation, it appears the apple rolled into a whole different orchard, fell into a ditch, and withered." He eyed Kairen up and down with open dislike. "The kitchens may be seeking for dishwashers." It's the only place you could be useful around here."
Then the laughter came. Little snickers that sounded so loud in the quiet room. The sounds were just… hitting him. Over and over. He couldn't move. He felt like he was floating outside his own body, watching this pathetic kid in a nice uniform get verbally destroyed. The words were hitting the boy down there, not him. He looked so small. So helpless.
"Hey, lay off him!"
Dain's voice. It was muted and distant, like if it were coming from beneath the surface. He sounded really irate and was shouting. It was fortunate for the child down there to have such a friend.
"Defending the magicless, Ragnor? How pathetic." That was Kaelan.
"At least I don't have to tear other people down to feel strong," Dain shot back.
Then Ilya's voice. So calm. Too calm. "You find it fascinating, don't you? People are more afraid that they would be nothing without their genetic authority the more they brag about it. It must be quite draining to be so insecure."
They were fighting. For him. For that poor kid down there. And he was just standing there. A useless rock. A failure that they were defending. They were going to get in trouble because of him.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!"
The professor spoke in a loud voice. He was sheltering behind a bubble of humiliation, but the sound was so powerful that it burst through it, bringing the horrible, cruel reality crashing back. Thorne released a surge of erratic arcane energy that caused Dain and Kaelan to separate by one step.
"This is a classroom, not a tavern! Mr. Brightblade, Mr. Ragnor, you will both have a month of cleaning duties in the alchemy labs! Without magic! Perhaps scrubbing cauldrons will teach you some discipline!"
A month. It was his fault. Even worse than the shame, a new, burning surge of regret came over him. He caused them to be harmed. He was a burden, not simply weak. He posed a threat to his companions.
Then he looked at him. Thorne. The professor. His eyes weren't angry anymore. They were just… cold. Disappointed. Dismissive. It was the look you give a piece of trash before you throw it away. A look that says, You are not worth my time.
That was worse than the anger. So much worse.
He dismissed him with a flick of his hand and called the next student. Kairen couldn't make his legs move. He was just standing there, in the chalk circle, as another student walked up and easily cast a bright, shimmering light.
The world was a blur. The class ended. As they went out, students began to grab everything they could while staring at him and whispering. He failed to notice them. He didn't hear them.
He was static, simply standing there. Replaying every second of his failure. Every cruel word from Kaelan. Every pitying look. Every snicker. His friends are getting punished for him. The professor's final, dismissive glare.
His back's wing-mark, which should have been the key to his strength, seemed icy all of a sudden. Dead. A mocking reminder of his father's legacy's putative location inside him—a screaming, cavernous void.
Kaelan was right.
He was a fraud.
A fake.
He was… nothing.