August 1, 2065

Faalzar Residence, Soneria

I awoke to the sound of a blaring alarm.  I looked at my clock from under the warm comfort of my bed, it read 0400.  Groaning, I slowly climb out of bed.  The last two weeks have been filled with near-nonstop training of both my body and my powers.  Today was the day I figure out just what the extent of my powers are.  I roll out of bed and get dressed.  Walking down the steps from my room and into the kitchen where I see a rare sight: My father was actually cooking breakfast, not heating something up from the freezer or just having toast.

“Ah, Good morning Patrick.  Take a seat.”  He motioned to the breakfast table, set for three.  I took my usual seat.  “Breakfast will be done in a sec,”  As I take my seat, I see a figure shuffling into the kitchen, a mass of disheveled crimson hair atop a body wearing a T-shirt and short shorts.  I wave to her.  “Morning Karen.”  My father says, in a rudely cheery mood.

“Morning.”  My mother says, staggering for the coffee pot.  She takes a massive swig from the pot, chugging half the pot.  She puts the pot back and takes a seat across from me.  after a few seconds of awkward silence, a plate appears in front of me, and another in front of my mother.  On the plate was a burrito, covered in salsa.  At the sight of the burrito, my mother’s face immediately perked up.  “Ganashi, you didn't have to go this far.  I would have been fine with toast, you know.”  She protested, devouring the burrito.

“That’s because this wasn’t for you.  I made this for Patrick, he is going to need every bit of stamina he has today.”  my father replied, sitting down at the table with his own burrito.

“Oh really? Why’s that?”  My mother replied, in between mouthfuls.

“We’re doing backfire testing.”  My father replied, before digging in.

“You want me to get an ambulance on standby?”

“I think I’ll be able to stop him before it gets that bad.”  At the last two sentences, I decide I should probably find out what they have planned for me.

“Uh, what exactly do you guys have planned for me today?”  I say, sounding wary.

“Well Patrick, I’m going to have you cast spells until it isn’t safe for you to cast any more.”  My father replies.  “Basically, I’m forcing you to almost suffer a backfire.”

“A backfire?  I didn’t read anything about that.”

“A backfire is what happens when you try to cast a spell when exhausted.  You write a check that your body isn’t good for, and the spell has catastrophic effects on the body.  Nine times out of ten, you die from backfires."  My father raises his prosthetic arm.  “I got lucky.”

“Oh great.  So, my body will just start shutting down at random?”  I reply.

“That isn’t how it works.  You’ll know when you are on the verge of backfiring.  It does not feel good.”

“If I’ll know when I’m on the verge of backfiring, why decide to put me at risk and have me do this?”  My father’s face turns serious.

“This is no laughing matter.  If you are in the thick of battle, adrenaline can dull the feeling.  Because of this, you need to recognize this and realize when you are spent.  Additionally, this will also tell me what type of Magus you are.”  He replied.  “If you go some absurd amount of time without it wearing on you, that’ll tell me if you are an ascendant.”

I finish my breakfast and return to my room, ready to do my daily routine.  In the weeks after leaving the hospital, I have been doing exercises to facilitate the growth of my Affinity.  An hour later, after a multitude of stretches and flowing affinity throughout my body, I return downstairs and meet my father out in the backyard.

“Alright, what do you want me to do?”  I say, cracking my neck.

“Just fire concussive blasts at the target while wearing this.”  He hands me a device that straps onto my right wrist.  “It’s a biocomputer.  It’ll monitor your condition and warn me when you are about to backfire.”

“Didn’t you say that I’d know when I get to that state?”

“Do you want to run the risk of losing an arm or worse?”  I shake my head, indicating no.  Strapping the device on, I raise my arm at the target, recalling the sensation from my birthday.  I twitch an imaginary muscle in my arm, and a bolt of concussive energy erupts from my hand, colliding with the target with a loud bang.  I fire continuously.

“Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.”  My arm starts to feel odd, almost like it is hollow.  I switch arms.  “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.”  I get lost in the rythmn of the shots.

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“_____ck!  ____p!”  I hear something odd from my father, I continue.

“Twenty one.  Twenty two.  Twen-”  A feeling not unlike getting beaned by a baseball bat assaults me from the side. I fall to the ground.  getting to my feet, I notice that the usual yellow glow that emanated from my arms when casting spells had almost completely faded away.  I also notice that the feeling in my arms has gone almost completely dead, and that I have a ringing headache.

“Patrick!  Are you alright?  You completely zoned out there, and I had to stop you by any means necessary.”  My father said, running over to me.  I stand up, and stagger towards the door.

“I’m fine, I just think that I need to rest a bit, that’s all.  I say, staggering back inside and i lay down on the couch in my living room.  Within 5 minutes, I pass out.

I awaken to the sound of cursing coming from the kitchen.

“Now where the fuck did all the eggs go?  Damn, guess I’ll need to go get some more.”  I hear my father say from the kitchen.  I get up and walk out to the kitchen.

“Hey.  What time is it?”  I say, my eyes adjusting to the harsh light of the kitchen.  My father turns and looks at me.

“It’s like four.  Hey, are you feeling up to making a run over to the market for me?  Your mom got called out and I need eggs to finish making dinner.”

“Yeah, sure.  I should be back soon.  I’ll call you if anything comes up.”  I walk towards the door, grabbing my coat on the way out.  As I walk down the path I notice a woman, looking to be in her mid-thirties meandering about as if she was lost.  As I approach her, I notice two things immediately.  First, she had vivid pink hair, the sort of thing that is only possible with ungodly amounts of hair dye.  Second, she had horrific scarring on her otherwise attractive face, in the shape of a hand.

“Excuse me Miss.  I couldn’t help but notice that you looked lost.  Do you need help finding your way somewhere.”  I say, slowly approaching her.  She gives me a peculiar look.

“Uh yeah, do you happen to know where Ganashi Faalzar lives?”  I now return her strange look.

“Yes I do.  What business do you have with my father.”

“I’m an old war buddy of his, and since I was on Soneria, I figured I’d drop by and say hello.”  She replied.  I look at her a bit more closely.  She was wearing a heavy trench coat and looked sincere.  I relay the direction to my house to her.  “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, anything for a friend of my father’s.”  I say, continuing on my walk.

“Again, thank you so much.  Bye.”  She calls out from behind me.  As i continue on, i ull out my phone and dial my father.

“Hello?”  I hear him answer.

“Hey dad.  I just had a run-in with an old war buddy of yours.  She is planning on stopping by, so I figured I should let you know.”

“Wait.  She?”  My father replies, confused.  “Was it Marzi or Tys’Ral?”

“Nope.  She had pink hair and a scar on her face.”  I hear the sound of my father’s phone falling to the floor.  After a beat, he picks the phone back up.

“Get out of there.  Go to the military base, and tell your mother what you just told me.  I’ll meet you there.”  My father replied, his voice betraying that the man was terrified.

“Did I do something wrong?”  I reply, worried.

“Yes.  You did something very, very wrong.  However, I am completely at fault here.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there, right?”

“Hopefully.”  He goes silent for a beat.  “Oh shit.  I’ll talk to you later.”  The line goes dead.  Putting my phone back in my pocket, I set off for the military base.

About an hour later, I found myself walking through the gates of the Teran military base, accompanied by my mother.  She had a look of sheer confusion on her face.

“Patrick, why are you here?  Did something happen?”  She asked, her voice clearly on edge.

“Dad told me to come here.  I may have done something dumb.”  I replied, feeling guilty.

“What did you do?”  I relayed the story of an hour ago to my mother.  The look of irritation on her face was indescribable.

“Dad said that I did something wrong but that the blame laid with him.”

“Oh yeah, that is entirely his fucking fault.  Patrick, the sins of the father can be a bitch, keep that in mind.”  She said.  Her anger was radiating in intense heat.

“So, how long will it be before I can go home?”  I ask.  My mother lets out a chuckle.

“You can’t go home now.  You’ll stay here with me until you are to go to MDC.”