Dain’s words were a death sentence. "It asures your raw magical potential."
The floor dropped out from under Kairen. Not figuratively—he felt it in his stomach, a sudden, sickening plumt. The beautiful, impossible academy wasn’t a sanctuary.
It was a giant, magical rock designed to put him on a stage, shine a spotlight on him, and scream to the entire school that he was a fake. A fraud. A dud. The trap was sprung, and he hadn’t even been here an hour.
A weary-sounding teacher started shouting nas in a steady tempo of fear. Kairen’s jaw hurt. His acceptance was a mixture of sheer, unadulterated dread and mad excitent as he watched children approach the dais.
He knew them—the terrified ones. In his own chest, he felt their nervousness like a tight knot of mutual worry.
A little girl walked forward, her face pallid and trembling, a solitary rose in her ponytail. She appeared to be about to pass out.
A soft, soothing green glow, like freshly fallen leaves, surged from the depths of the crystal as her anxious palm touched it. A little relieved, she nearly hurried back to her friends. There were a few distant claps of admiration.
Next, a big, confident guy with slicked-back hair. He walked rather than simply approached. He strode rather than rely approached.
His hand striking allowed the crystal to sparkle brilliantly, blazing gold, like a tiny sunshine chasing away the night. With a proud smile, he returned to his students, who were cheering him.
It was an exhibition. A competition. Kairen had a dry throat. He was going to lose in the most obvious manner imaginable.
Student after student went up. A shy boy produced a faint, shimring blue. An arrogant girl created a flash of fiery red that made the crowd gasp.
With every student, there would be a soft murmur that resonated down the hall, a mix of respect, jealousy, and a continuous, silent criticism that rubbed on Kairen’s skin.
He kept using his new gray jeans to wipe his sweating palms. He felt like a guy destined to die as he watched an assassin polish his axe and wait for his na.
Then, the crowd shifted. The whispers changed. They beca colder, with a strong sense of wonder.
A tall, blond lad with a well-tailored uniform walked to the front with a bored, arrogant expression on his attractive face. The other students just... moved. They cleared a path for him like he was royalty.
"Who’s that?" Kairen whispered to Dain, a sick, cold dread washing over him. He knew that walk. He knew that hair. A chilly, unwanted spark of recognition punched him in the gut.
Dain let out a low grumble beside him, the sound of shifting rocks. "Kaelan Brightblade. His family is one of the most powerful on the High Council. He’s also a world-class jerk."
Kairen’s blood ran cold. Kaelan. Obviously, it was Kaelan. Hissing the vapor from the muddy water that had hit his head, the feel of mocking laughter, a recollection that now felt like a physical burn on his skin—a flood of humiliating mories flooded back, not as pictures but as a horrible rush of sensations.
Kaelan placed his hand on the crystal. For a single, silent heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, the crystal erupted.
It wasn’t a soft pulse or a steady beam. It was a violent explosion of blinding, brilliant golden light. The light was rude, unbridled, an unadulterated, almost violent, demonstration of power.
The brilliance of a little sun drove back the darkness in every part of the large space, twelve tis stronger than anyone else’s. Kairen had to cover his eyes as he gasped.
With a crowned laugh on his lips, he withdrew his palm as the golden glow gradually faded. His icy blue eyes scanned the amazed audience, absorbing their disbelief. And then they locked onto Kairen.
The smile strengthened, becoming ruthless as recognition set in.
The lengthy silence was broken by Kaelan’s rudely pleased voice, "Well, well." I never thought it would be you, but I had heard that a Zephyrwind would be joining the academy this year. Still looking as pathetic as ever, Kairen."
The low chatter died instantly. A crushing, physical pressure settled on Kairen’s lungs as every single head turned. He was in front of a single, staring spotlight on a stage, and his mind was a blank, scared space.
Fans trailed following Kaelan like a shark’s pilot fish as he approached. His features were sharper and he was taller, but Kairen could still clearly rember the cold hate in his eyes.
"Son of the great Torren?" He gestured lazily toward the crystal, which now pulsed with its calm, blue heartbeat again. "Go on. Show us all what the son of a legend can do. Your father supposedly made this crystal shine so bright they had to replace the enchantnts on the chandeliers. I’m sure your display will be... impressive."
Kairen froze. His heart beat against his ribs. This was his understanding of his nightmare. Everyone was staring, waiting. Waiting for him to step up. Waiting for him to fail.
Then, a voice. Cool and clear, cutting through the tense silence like a silver blade.
"Perhaps he’d rather not."
A girl moved forward, her beautiful silver-white hair shining in the magical light. Her posture projected a quiet assurance that was the complete opposite of Kaelan’s booming arrogance, and she wore the uniform with simple ease. Kairen was startled to see that her eyes were the sa rich violet color as his own.
"My na is Ilya Veyne," she said, her voice calm but firm, directed at the crowd as much as at Kaelan. "The Animus Crystal only asures raw, untad power. It says nothing of skill, of control, or of courage. It is an antiquated tradition designed to foster jealousy and division. He doesn’t have to participate."
Kaelan scoffed, a short, ugly sound. "Please. She’s just being sentintal, Zephyrwind. The crystal doesn’t lie, Veyne. It just reveals the truth. So are born with power. Others," he shrugged, looking Kairen up and down with open disgust, "are not."
"Is that what you believe, Brightblade?" Ilya asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "That we are all defined by the mont of our birth? How limiting. It indicates that you will never need to aim higher and that you will always be greater than you are now."
It took a mont for the insult to settle in because it was quietly and beautifully delivered. Kaelan’s attractive face turned red with rage.
Ilya looked back to Kairen, and she attentive stare seed to dig harder behind the surface of nervousness and terror.
"It’s completely up to you," she muttered quietly, focusing only him. "Avoid from allowing the expectations of others to define you. Not your father’s, not the school’s, and certainly not his."
Kairen’s mind was a panicked blur. If I touch it, everyone will know. They’ll laugh. Kaelan wins. If I don’t... then they’ll call a fool. Kaelan still wins. It felt like a trap with no escape.
His mother’s voice repeated in his head, nervous and appealing. Being a hero is not necessary for you. You just have to be Kairen.
What does that even an? What would Kairen do? The old Kairen, the scared kid from this morning, would have shuffled forward, touched the stone, let it show nothing, and endured the humiliation in burning silence.
But sothing had shifted in him. A tiny, fragile spark of defiance. A flicker of a question. Maybe it’s a clue. The secret on his back... this crystal won’t find it.
Stepping up would be a lie, playing a ga he was destined to lose. Refusing... refusing was the truth. Here, it was the first thing he could do with honesty.
The air tasted like sulfur and ancient magic as Kairen inhaled deeply.
He moved away from the crystal.
He answered, "Maybe later," and was shocked to hear how relaxed and even his own voice was heard. "I would much rather be judged on my skills than what a rock says I can produce."
A collective gasp shocked the audience. There were a lot of whispers. "Did he just... refuse?" "Who does he think he is?"
A ugly sigh altered Kaelan’s handso face. "Coward," he scread the word laced with poison.
"Careful, Brightblade," Ilya murmured quietly, but her voice now had an edge like sharp blade. "So might think you’re the one who’s afraid. After all, what would happen to soone who was just given all of their power at birth if soone without "inborn talent" might beco strong through discipline and hard work?"
After giving her an angry stare, Kaelan twisted on his heel and walked off, his minions rushing to catch up.
The tension in the air vanished instantly. Using a softer motion, Dain gave Kairen a back set. "Wow. That took guts, man. Real guts. You just made a powerful enemy, though."
"Is it normal to make enemies within the first hour of school?" Kairen asked weakly as Dain and Ilya led him away from the crystal and toward the rows of long benches being set up.
"I prefer to think of Kaelan as an educational opportunity," Ilya said, her movents fluid and silent as she walked on his other side.
"How so?" he asked, confused.
She answered, "He teaches patience," and a small, covert smile appeared on the corner of her mouth.
Dain let out a loud laugh. "I just think he’s a jerk who needs his perfect hair ssed up."
The little smile continued even after Ilya rolled her eyes. She drawn closer to him, murmuring in a voice only he could hear. "I observed your focus on that crystal. You weren’t just afraid of failing. You were afraid of sothing else entirely. I find value in looking past the surface of things. In finding the truths others miss. And in understanding the power of secrets."
A chill traced a cold path down Kairen’s spine, a deep shiver that ran right along the hidden lines of his mark. She seems to know. It looked like she could see the secret he was carrying on his back through his shirt. What did she an? Does she know sothing? The thought was a scared voice in his thoughts, a ntal shockwave.
The hall’s massive main doors swung wide with a loud, resonant BOOM that cut off all talk before he could think of anything to ask. The whole crowd beca silent.
The headmaster entered.
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