The air carried a faint blue color.
It was always present, spread thin across the world like a quiet mist. People were born into it, grew up breathing it, and learned to treat it as part of the world itself. Most stopped noticing it after childhood. The blue tint became normal, something no one questioned, like gravity or time.
Kavien stood in the training yard with the other children and watched the mana drift around them.
They were lined up in straight rows on cold stone tiles. Their feet were bare against the ground. Their hands were held slightly away from their bodies, palms open and relaxed, just as they had been taught since early childhood. The morning air was still. The city beyond the walls had already begun to wake, but inside the yard there was only quiet breathing and discipline.
Kavien was shorter than most boys his age. His body was lean, lacking the visible strength some of the others already showed. His hair had grown long because no one had bothered to cut it properly. It was dark near the roots, but the ends faded into a dull purple shade that never fully disappeared. Some thought it strange, others ignored it entirely. His eyes were pale grey, often mistaken for boredom or indifference, though they missed very little. There was nothing remarkable about his face, but people rarely looked at him for long. It was as if the world had learned to pass over him without thinking.
"Focus," the instructor said. "Do not force the mana. Let it come to you."
Kavien adjusted his stance slightly and followed the instruction.
He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
At first, nothing changed. The air entered his lungs easily, just like any other breath. Then the mana reacted. Thin strands of blue drifted closer, brushing against his skin and chest. For a brief moment, Kavien felt hope rise quietly in his chest.
Then the pressure came.
It pressed inward from behind his ribs, heavy and uncomfortable. His chest tightened. His breathing slowed without his permission, as if his body was resisting on its own. His heartbeat skipped once, then stumbled again. The sensation was familiar now, unwanted but expected.
Kavien stopped breathing in mana and opened his eyes.
No one noticed.
Around him, the other children continued their practice. Some smiled as warmth spread through their bodies. Others frowned in concentration, guiding the mana inward with growing confidence. A few gasped softly when the energy finally settled into their cores.
Kavien kept his face calm and still.
"Again," the instructor said.
Mana clusters were passed down the rows. Each cluster was a small crystal, smooth and cool to the touch. They were designed to help beginners guide mana into their cores more safely, reducing strain and instability.
When the cluster reached Kavien, he accepted it carefully.
It felt heavier than it should have.
He pressed the crystal into his palm. It warmed slowly, reacting to his presence. The blue haze around him thickened slightly, responding to the activation.
Kavien breathed in.
The pressure returned immediately, stronger than before.
The mana did not settle. It pressed inward, then scattered sharply through his chest. Pain followed, dull but intense, enough to blur his vision. His fingers trembled before he could control them.
He released the cluster and took a step back.
"Next," the instructor said without looking at him.
A girl nearby laughed quietly as faint blue lines appeared beneath her skin. A boy a few steps away clenched his fist and smiled, clearly pleased with the strength moving through his body.
Kavien wiped his palms against his clothes and lowered his gaze to the stone tiles beneath his feet.
He had done everything correctly.
He had followed every instruction. He had controlled his breathing. He had used the cluster exactly as taught. Still, the mana refused to stay inside him.
The lesson continued.
Names were called. Progress was recorded. Some children were praised, others corrected. Kavien's name was not mentioned once.
When training ended, the children gathered their belongings and left the yard in small groups. Their voices were filled with excitement as they talked about what they had felt. Warmth spreading through their limbs. Strength settling into their muscles. Control that came naturally.
Kavien walked alone.
Beyond the training yard, the city opened into narrow streets lined with stacked buildings and overhead walkways. People moved with confidence, their steps steady and practiced. Mana shimmered faintly around them, shaped by habit and routine.
Along the lower roads, beasts worked under watchful eyes.
Some carried loads heavier than any human could manage. Others pulled carts or stood in holding areas, waiting to be directed. Guards stood nearby, hands resting close to their weapons, watching with expectation rather than trust.
Kavien slowed his steps.
He had always noticed the beasts. He did not know why. Something about them felt familiar in a way he could not explain. It was not comfort, and it was not fear. It was a quiet recognition that settled in his chest.
"Move," a guard snapped at one of the beasts.
The creature flinched and obeyed.
Kavien looked away and continued walking.
By the time he reached home, the pressure in his chest had faded into a dull ache. His father sat near the entrance, cleaning tools used for beast handling. The smell of oil and worn metal filled the air.
"How was training?" his father asked without looking up.
Kavien hesitated, then said, "It was fine."
His father nodded and returned to his work.
That night, the house grew quiet early. Kavien lay on his mat, staring at the ceiling as shadows shifted faintly with the light outside. The blue haze was thinner here, barely noticeable unless he focused on it.
He raised his hand slightly.
The mana brushed against his skin, then pulled away.
His chest tightened.
Kavien lowered his hand and turned onto his side.
Everyone breathed the same air.
Everyone absorbed the same mana.
Yet his body reacted as if something was wrong.
He did not know why.
As sleep slowly claimed him, the feeling remained. Not pain, and not exhaustion, but something unsettled, as if a question had been left unanswered.
Deep inside him, something stayed awake.