Chapter 9: Departure
The morning sun painted the village rooftops in gold, but inside the Lorian household the mood was a strange mix of pride and chaos. Fay was turning fifteen, and that meant he was leaving.
His mother bustled about the kitchen, her hands moving with both care and frustration. Every few minutes she muttered, "Did you pack enough shirts? Did you bring the cloak I mended last week? Did you remember socks?"
Fay sat at the table, crimson eyes half-lidded, idly balancing a spoon upright with a tiny flicker of telekinesis. "Mother," he drawled, "I could leave naked and I'd be fine. I don't really need socks when I can conjure boots from pure energy."
The spoon wobbled, overbalanced, and shot into the ceiling like a dart. It stuck there, quivering.
His mother stopped mid-sentence, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Fay Lorian. If you destroy my ceiling again before you even reach the Academy, I swear I'll drag you home myself."
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."
His father chuckled from the doorway, arms crossed. He was calm, as always, but there was a gleam in his eye that Fay had only started to understand in recent years. A mixture of pride… and worry. "Let him be, Mira. He's leaving as himself. That's all we can ask."
Fay leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes bright. "You're not going to cry, are you?"
His mother smacked him lightly with a folded cloak. "Don't tempt me. If I cry, you'll cry, too."
"Me? Cry? The strongest god—" He stopped himself, nearly biting his tongue. He had never spoken his divine identity aloud to them, even after all these years. They knew he was powerful — far more than a human should be — but he hadn't told them how powerful. The secret was his alone.
He forced a grin. "I mean, the strongest son of this family doesn't cry."
His father raised an eyebrow knowingly, but said nothing.
---
By mid-morning, the villagers had gathered outside their small home. Word had spread quickly: Fay Lorian, the odd crimson-eyed boy who broke more tools than he fixed, had been chosen by the Academy.
Children whispered excitedly.
"Do you think he'll become a knight?"
"No, no, he'll be a mage! Did you see how he made that scarecrow fly last week?"
"He nearly set Farmer Jaren's barn on fire!"
Adults murmured, some with pride, some with skepticism.
"Special admission? That's rare…"
"But he's a commoner. How did he catch their eye?"
"Mark my words, he'll stir up trouble there just like he does here."
Fay stood awkwardly at the center, wearing a travel cloak that felt too stiff. His hair gleamed white in the sun, his crimson eyes catching too much attention. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the stares.
The short woman — the Headmaster — stood nearby, staff in hand, looking entirely unfazed by the attention. She adjusted her glasses and addressed the villagers in a calm, firm voice. "The Academy chooses students not by birth, but by potential. This boy has both. He will be trained to use his strength responsibly. That is all."
The murmurs quieted. No one dared argue with the Academy Headmaster.
Still, Fay muttered under his breath, "Couldn't you have made it sound less like I'm a walking disaster?"
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Accuracy is important."
---
When the moment of departure finally came, Fay's parents stood before him. His mother clasped a necklace around his neck — a smaller version of the emblem she wore. Its gem glowed faintly, sealing some of his overflowing aura.
"This will help," she said softly. "It won't make you normal, but it will keep people from fainting when you walk by."
Fay touched the gem, feeling its weight. "Thanks, Mother."
His father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, Fay. Power is not what defines you. Choices do. Don't waste time trying to prove yourself to nobles or rivals. Just… be the son we raised."
Fay's throat tightened unexpectedly. For a moment, he almost did cry. He hugged them both instead, quickly, before stepping back with his usual grin. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll write letters. Probably."
His mother swatted his arm. "You'd better."
The Headmaster tapped her staff. "Time."
The crowd parted as Fay and the Headmaster began walking toward the road that would lead them to the Academy. Children waved, some yelling good luck, others shouting things like, "Don't blow up their roof too!"
Fay waved back, laughing. "No promises!"
---
As the village disappeared behind him, Fay felt a knot in his chest. For fifteen years, he had been just Fay Lorian, the clumsy boy with strange eyes. But ahead of him was a future where he would have to stand among the proud, the ambitious, and the dangerous.
He clenched his fist, feeling the ocean of power within him ripple like a storm.
No matter what happens, he thought, I'll live this life my way. Not as Nirvana the God, but as Fay Lorian, the commoner… even if I shake the world in the process.
The Headmaster glanced at him sideways, as if she could hear his thoughts. "Don't fall behind, boy. The Academy waits for no one."
He smirked. "You'll be the one falling behind."
And with that, Fay Lorian took his first steps away from home — and toward the next chapter of his life.
End of chapter 10