Kael Aldrich walked through the grand halls of Aldrich Academy, head low, hands clasped tightly in front of him. Each echoing step reminded him of the weight pressing down on him, the whispers, the expectations, the judgments. Magic flowed through everyone else here, effortlessly, as natural as breathing. For him, it didn't come. Not yet.
He tried to push the memory of yesterday out of his mind the fireball in the garden, the way it had vanished when he instinctively raised his hands. Rowan's pale face. The fear in his chest, the tingling heat of something inside him that shouldn't have existed. Kael still didn't understand what had happened. And that terrified him more than the whispers or the laughter.
Most students ignored him. Some whispered when he passed. Magicless, weak, the Aldrich shadow. The words brushed against him like thorns. They didn't know the truth, and he had no intention of telling anyone not even Elias, who might have understood.
He caught sight of his brother across the hall. Elias walked with easy confidence, the golden light of his practiced spells brushing the walls as he gestured and laughed with his peers. Everyone followed his lead. Everyone admired him. Kael's chest ached. Not from jealousy, but from longing—for the ease of belonging, the certainty that comes when others expect good things from you and you deliver.
Classes were worse.
In the first period, Professor Lysander, a tall man with hawk-like features, called on Kael to demonstrate a simple spell: a spark of light to illuminate a crystal. Kael swallowed, pressed his hands together, and focused as hard as he could.
Nothing.
The class shifted, uncomfortable murmurs rolling across the room like wind over stone. Kael's face burned. Lysander's sharp gaze narrowed. "Again, Kael," he said, his voice even but cutting. "Concentration. The orb shows potential are you denying yourself your magic?"
Kael opened his mouth but no sound came. His throat was dry. I can't, he wanted to say. I don't know what's inside me, and I can't make it work.
He tried again. Nothing. The sparks didn't appear. Lysander's lips pressed into a thin line. Other students snickered softly, careful not to attract attention. Some avoided his gaze, some stared openly, curiosity mixing with mockery.
By the end of the lesson, Kael's arms ached from holding his hands in the wrong positions, his chest tight from the effort, his mind spinning with doubt.
Lunch offered no reprieve. He sat at a quiet corner table in the courtyard, hoping to blend into the shadows. The sun was warm, the marble paths glowing beneath it, but Kael felt the weight of every gaze he imagined.
Students passed by, some glancing curiously, some deliberately ignoring him. He could hear pieces of conversations: magicless Aldrich… will never rise… what a joke…
Kael's stomach twisted. He pressed his palms together under the table and focused on breathing slowly. He tried to remind himself that this wasn't about Rowan anymore; Rowan was gone from the academy, lost in the network of the wider Aldrich family. He couldn't control what the others thought. He could only control himself.
And then Varrick appeared.
The third-year student, tall, broad-shouldered, with a grin that never reached his eyes, dropped a parchment onto Kael's table with a flick of his hand. "You forgot your notes again, Aldrich?" he said, voice dripping with mockery. "Or did your magic fail you again?"
Kael's stomach clenched. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Varrick smirked, gave a sharp nod to his companions, and walked away, leaving the parchment on the table like a slap. Kael stared at it, feeling its weight, the reminder of his difference, the proof that he didn't belong here not yet.
After lunch, Kael wandered to the edge of the practice lawns. Students trained in groups, practicing simple spells, performing small tricks with precision and ease. Elias was among them, demonstrating a minor levitation spell to a group of younger students, the golden sparks catching in the sunlight. Their laughter rang across the lawn. Kael watched from the sidelines, hands clasped behind his back.
He envied the lightness with which Elias moved, the certainty, the control. But he also felt something else admiration, trust, and hope. Elias wasn't laughing at him. He wasn't disappointed, at least not openly. He would never abandon Kael, Kael knew that.
Still, the ache of inadequacy gnawed at him.
That afternoon, Kael's lessons continued in small bursts of instruction. Every time a classmate demonstrated their magic successfully, a pang of anxiety hit him. Every whisper behind his back, every sidelong glance, reminded him that he was different. Not in the way anyone else could see, but deeply, fundamentally, painfully different.
In the library, he tried to focus on theory. Spells on parchment, diagrams, instructions. He traced the words with his fingers, muttering incantations under his breath. Nothing. Not a spark. Not a flicker. Just silence.
The librarian, an elderly woman with eyes like steel, glanced at him. "Concentration, Kael. Magic is in the mind as much as in the blood." Her tone wasn't unkind, but it was firm. Kael nodded, swallowing hard, feeling the weight of her words but unsure how to follow them.
Later, Kael found a secluded spot behind the fountain, under the shade of an overhanging willow. He sat cross-legged, thinking of Rowan, of the fireball, of the panic and the strange tingling in his hands. His heart pounded. What did I do? The question hovered in the air, impossible to answer.
He pressed his palms together, tried to imagine the flame leaving his hands, returning to Rowan. But nothing happened. He shivered at the memory. Whatever it was, it had been taken. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, and he didn't know if it would happen again.
Fear crept through him, cold and sharp. It was one thing to fail the orb test. It was another entirely to take someone's fire. He pressed his knees to his chest, trying to calm the trembling, and wondered if he was… dangerous.
Evening came. Lessons ended, the halls emptied, and Kael returned to his chamber in the main building. He didn't speak to anyone, didn't make eye contact, didn't want to draw attention. He thought of Elias, alone, practicing, probably unaware of the turmoil swirling in Kael's mind.
Kael sat on his bed, staring at the floor. His hands itched, tingling faintly as though the energy hadn't fully left him. He flexed his fingers, then relaxed. He wasn't sure what it was, only that it had changed something inside him.
He thought of Rowan's eyes, the shock, the fear, the helplessness. Kael shivered. He had never meant to hurt anyone. He hadn't even understood what he had done until the moment it happened. And yet… the knowledge sat there, undeniable. He had power. He didn't understand it. He didn't know how to control it.
But he knew one thing.
He couldn't tell anyone. Not his father. Not his mother. Not even Elias.
The fear was too great.
And so, he stayed silent, lying awake as the candles burned low and the shadows stretched across the ceiling. He pressed the memory of the garden into the back of his mind, hiding it, trying to understand, trying to breathe through the terror.
He didn't know what would happen next.
But deep inside, Kael Aldrich felt the stirrings of something new. Something he couldn't name. A flicker of possibility.