This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Skye spiraled as he watched everyone leave the amphitheater. He wasn’t even given an opportunity to find out if he had a gift.

“I know this isn’t fair,” Almanon said as if reading his mind. “Trust me.”

“How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t tell me the truth? My whole life I’ve been preparing for this. It would be one thing if I was a Duud. I’d be crushed. Sure. Yes. But you won’t even. You can’t even. The Desacte is the only thing that can,” Skye was too furious to notice the concerned look on Almanon’s face, though this was more than concern.

He was alert. Analyzing. “No. No. No. What I’m going to do is walk down that tunnel and let the Desacte show me, if it’s white. Fine. I’ll come back and get my damned labor assignment,” Skye marched towards the tunnel but Almanon blocked his path.

“Step. Aside,” Skye barked, but that’s all it was. Even with a gift, he doubted he could take his mentor on.

“Can’t do that. Can’t let you leave.”

“Then you better be prepared to stop me.”

“I am.”

“What…”

He was taken aback until he noticed the lights in the corner of the room flickering. Our gifts are a part of us. He remembered. And breathed deeply. The lights seemed to dim with each breath like it was responding to his rhythm. He felt connected. He could feel it. Until a cane whacked him hard against the back of the head.

“Careful boy,” an elderly man said with a smile. It was Sandeski. The man was ancient. He supposedly served for over thirty years. His posture was impeccable, and while his frame was frail, his presence absolutely commanded the room.

“You can’t stop me—” foolish words, even for Skye. Perhaps he should have said, you’ll have to do everything in your power to stop me, I’m going through that tunnel and I’m—. Except the tunnel was gone. Where had it gone? The benches, the theatre, Almanon, it was all gone. Replaced by a square cement room. Twelve feet by twelve feet, gray cement lined the floor, the walls, and the ceiling as well. Across the room, Sandeski stood grinning.

“You were saying?” Old Man Sandeski said.

“Yeah okay. Fair, I knew I’d eat those words.”

“I like the spunk, the grit. You would have made a fine protector,” the old man said proudly.

There was no way out, no windows or doors. “I will make this easy for you. Well. Maybe not easy. I will make this simple for you. Go back to your bunk, and over time the sting of being ungifted will lessen.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Or?”

“Or I’ll keep you here for eternity. But long before then will you no doubt descend into madness.” Sandeski seemed to be enjoying this.

The texture of the stone felt real beneath his feet and the grittiness of the rock beneath his fingertips.

“But I’m not ungifted. I’m not—” The room started to heat up.

“Forget everything you know Skye, everyone you’ve trained with. It’s over.” The room was so hot that the bottom of Skye’s shoes began to melt to the stone, his finger accidentally grazed the wall behind him and burned instantaneously.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Sandeski said, gripping his cane tightly. The air was so hot and thick that it hurt to take even the most shallow of breaths. His ears were ringing and his eyes stung.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I give up. I’ll. I give up.” Skye admitted defeat. He closed his eyes in sorrow, and when he opened them, he was back in the amphitheater, exhausted.

Skye rested with his back against the wall, clutching his knees like a child. Unable to look at anyone or anything. But this time when he closed his eyes instead of darkness, he saw flashes. Flashes of pain. Misery. Blood. Flashes of death. Skye couldn’t open his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he was stuck in a trance. Screams filled his head. The darkness was pulling him down, deep within itself.

“Skye. Skye!” Almanon shouted, but his voice was distant. Hollow. It dissipated like it was getting carried away by the wind.

Silence.

----------------------------------------

Skye sat in total darkness. Enveloping every aspect of him. He imagined that this is what the universe might look like without any stars or planets. There was a terrifying stillness to it. A feeling of peace to its quietness. Shapes appeared. They looked like humans. White outlines against the black backdrop. Like chalk lines on asphalt. What was that? Inside them?

He looked closer. What could only be described as a small sun the size of an orange resided in each of these outlines? Burning and bursting, it immediately made him think. A heart. A beating heart? A massive outline held another one by the throat, squeezing the life out of it. He could feel their pain, their agony. It was excruciating to watch, but there was nowhere to go.

Then its sun diminished, blew away, and returned to the galaxy. Why did this sting so badly? It felt like a part of Skye was being ripped out. He watched closely, but it was hard to understand the depth of it all.

He walked up to one of the outlines, it appeared to laying on the ground, not moving much. Its sun was diminishing. Flickering away. Skye felt oddly connected to it. To them? Were, these people? He wasn’t sure…

A tall outline towered over him. It was accompanied by a massive unease, a sickness in his stomach. The small sun was at eye level now. Skye reached out, enveloping it within his own palms. A danger swirled around him. A power coursed through his veins. Raw energy.

Why. Why do I want to destroy this? There was anger filling him. Rage unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Unable to control it. Skye crushed it in his hands. The outline crumbled, blowing away like dust.

He enjoyed it. Yet that didn’t quench the stress and pain that was twisting his insides.

Looking around there were only a few outlines that made Skye’s skin crawl. He walked over to them one by one, ridding them of their suns. Returning them to the universe.

Skye gasped with the air, he felt. Better. Alive.

Powerful.

As he surveyed the scene, there were still about six or seven outlines laying or wandering about, but when he looked at these. He felt. Companionship.

Before he could take another step. Exhaustion overtook him. His eyes fluttered. For some reason, it didn’t look like he was in the amphitheater anymore.

It looked like he was in the desert. Before Skye drifted into unconsciousness he thought.

How is that possible?