The teacher raised his hand, drawing a sharp line of light through the air. Mana surged outward, weaving into a pattern that shimmered across the ceiling. With a muted chime, dozens of pale shards of crystal blossomed into being and drifted downward, one to each desk. They landed softly, balanced upright as though waiting for judgment.
A hush swept through the classroom. Every student now had their own shard gleaming before them, identical yet unbearably personal. The air buzzed with anticipation.
"This," the teacher intoned, lowering his hand, "is your mirror. Each of you will see only as far as your resonance allows. Do not force it. Let it answer you. Close your eyes if you must. Mana does not come from will alone. It comes from resonance. Find that rhythm beneath the noise of your body."
Ren stared at the crystal before him. It gleamed faintly, its facets catching stray glimmers of light. Around him, students leaned forward, breaths held, eyes bright. For most, it was pride… a door opening to futures both mundane and grand. For him, it was a silent weight pressing down. His gaze lingered on the shard, and in its reflection he thought he saw echoes of another light, divinity crumbling into ash, veins burning into threads of eternity.
His fingers twitched once on the desk. He willed them still. But…
The class had fallen into an expectant hush. The rows of crystals gleamed faintly, each one casting prismatic glimmers across wooden desks.
"Begin," the teacher said, voice carrying that same dull authority of ritual.
One by one, students leaned forward.
The first, a sharp-eyed girl near the window, closed her eyes and placed her palm flat before her shard. A faint shimmer passed over her skin, and the crystal rose smoothly into the air, rotating with a gentle hum. Gasps of admiration fluttered across the room. The teacher nodded. "Resonance: steady. You may continue."
Another student tried, hands trembling. His crystal flickered uncertainly, wobbling on its pedestal before tipping and rolling to the side with a clink. Laughter rippled from the back. The teacher's gaze silenced it at once. "Failure is not the end. In time, strength comes to those who remain patient."
More attempts followed. Some crystals lifted with elegance, others quivered but refused to budge. The air grew charged, a mix of nervous breaths and excited whispers.
Ren sat still, watching. Each success made the anticipation heavier, each failure another stone in the pit of his stomach. Watson nudged him under the desk, whispering, "See? Easy. You'll crush it."
Ren did not answer. His crystal gleamed faintly, untouched.
At last, silence settled as eyes shifted toward him. His turn.
The teacher looked down the row, eyes landing on him. "Ren. Begin."
The word cut through the room.
Ren's throat felt dry. He placed his hand near the shard. The crystal's surface caught his reflection, a pale face and eyes darker than they should be.
He inhaled slowly. The air tasted faintly metallic, heavy with mana currents. Beneath his skin, something stirred, not the gentle rhythm the teacher spoke of, but a vast, uncoiling pressure, ancient and cold.
He willed it forward.
The crystal did not move.
Whispers rose immediately. "Nothing?" "Maybe he doesn't…"
Ren shut them out. He focused harder, letting his chest tighten, pushing against that inner weight. For a heartbeat, the shard trembled, not like the clean resonance of his classmates, but with a jagged shudder, as though some colossal tide pressed against a thin barrier.
The crystal flickered once. A faint, unnatural twitch, wrong, almost alive.
Then it went still.
Silence.
The teacher's eyes narrowed. His expression did not soften into encouragement this time. "No resonance detected," he said flatly, voice devoid of warmth. A pause, then the cold dismissal: "You may step back."
The words rang louder than they should have.
Around him, the whispers came sharper now.
"Dead crystal."
"Mana-deficient."
"I thought he'd be good…"
Watson's face tightened, mouth opening as if to argue, but he said nothing. He only glanced at Ren, eyes flicking with worry he didn't voice.
Ren sat back slowly, fingers curling against the desk. His heart was steady, almost unnervingly so. Inside him, that vast presence had stirred, pressed against the surface… and then withdrawn. It was not gone. Merely waiting.
To everyone else, he was talentless. A failure.
To himself, he wasn't sure which truth was worse: that they were wrong… or that they might be right.
The teacher moved on briskly, calling the next student's name. The class forgot him within minutes, the way people forget empty space. But the stillness in Ren's chest lingered, a silence heavier than any noise.
Watson leaned close, his voice low but amused. "Well. That was dramatic. At least you gave everyone a good show."
Ren's lips curled faintly, though his eyes remained on the empty crystal. "Better than being forgotten."
When the final bell rang, the weight of the day did not ease. It only shifted. Students shuffled out, the usual chatter swelling. Watson stretched, yawning with exaggerated weariness.
The class ended, and the tide of voices spilled into the corridors once again. Economics followed, a blur of words about social tiers, mana tariffs, and the golden pulse of Elaris's trade. Ren listened faintly, catching pieces, currency bound with mana threads to prevent forgery, merchants arguing in the northern provinces, the divide between the guild-class and the labor-class. All painted a picture of a world leaning on mana not as myth but as coin, blood, breath. He watched the shifting graphs on the wall-screens, each one pulsing faintly with embedded circuits, and thought of power measured in scales both vast and trivial.
When break came, Watson dragged him toward the garden, where Mira was already waiting. She turned, her eyes narrowing instantly at Ren's expression. "So," she said, arms folded. "I heard you twitched a crystal so hard the teacher thought you'd break it."
Ren exhaled slowly. "Word travels fast."
Watson grinned. "She's exaggerating. He only looked like he was about to pass out."
Mira snorted, though her eyes softened faintly. "You'll get it right next time. Don't let idiots bother you."
Ren offered a thin smile. "That's your job, isn't it?"
Her cheeks puffed. "Don't get smart."
Watson laughed, shaking his head. Then they moved towards their bus. The parking was on the left side of the garden.
The bus ride home began like any other. The hum of mana-engines thrummed beneath their feet, glass panes shimmering with faint protective runes. Mira sat near the front, chatting animatedly with a pair of friends, while Watson slouched beside Ren, yawning dramatically. "If tomorrow's as boring, I might just sleep through it. Maybe forever."
Ren glanced out the window. Streets stretched wide, mana-lamps glowing faintly, towers piercing the sky with crystalline conduits. Carriages rattled past, some pulled by mundane horses, others hovering faintly with embedded circuits. Ordinary life pulsed, vibrant and alive.
Then the bus slowed. A screech of brakes. The world shifted.