Kerrigan

The grandeur of the academy’s spires stretched high above, scraping the sky. It was said each brick held tales of ancient magic and centuries past, though they were weathered by time now. The windows were adorned with intricate etchings that glimmered in the sunlight.

It certainly was a place leagues from anything he’d ever known. Only those who were Gifted had the privilege of attending Aurelius Academy, a prestigious school dedicated to training individuals for military service. Each faction within the military focused on different areas, but during the first year, all students received foundational training in combat, strategy and history before branching off to specialize in their chosen field based on their interests and strengths.

Eighteen year old Kerrigan stood at the bottom of the ivory steps gazing up, feeling a raw stitch in his heart as he adjusted the black school cloak, trying fruitlessly to hide the jagged burnt mark that snaked its way up his arm to the top of his neck. Even though he had been blessed with a Gift, a blessing that felt far from it, he didn't feel like he belonged here, nor did he truly want to be here.

The majority of the Gifted were from the elite or high class of society. He, however, was basically an Undercity citizen that was lucky enough to be born in the Uppercity. Kerrigan sighed and started walking forward. As he ascended the steps, he could feel the stares of people on him, each one heavy with unspoken questions. The familiar sound of whispers filled the air. The prophecy was well known, especially among the Gifted. Had he been a fool for waking up this morning hoping he would find acceptance in this place?

Either way, there was no turning back for him. Two years ago, the council had passed a law that everyone with a Gift now mandatorily had to enroll in the Academy. If you were blessed, it was proof that you had been chosen to serve the community with your Gift, and to not do so was going against the Divine.

Sadly, that meant Kerrigan’s plans of living a normal life and forgetting he had a Gift were ruined. So now his mother was working hard every day to fund his education. Despite making it mandatory, the council barely sent any support funds, which Kerrigan found appalling. But at least graduating with even a low rank position from the Academy would guarantee a secure future for him and his mother. He continued onward, stepping through the towering oak doors that welcomed him into the academy’s corridors.

Kerrigan made his way down a long corridor, looking at the map he had received in the mail. He already knew where he was going, as he had been studying it until he had it memorized. But it was something to focus his eyes on, a helpful distraction from having to look up at the judging expressions of fellow students. The directions instructed him to turn right at the final door of the corridor, which would lead him down another corridor to his classroom. It would be labeled with a star and located on the left side.

“Hey, if it isn't the Disaster Artist himself,” a familiar voice called out from behind him. Kerrigan froze in his steps. Of course he would be here. Kerrigan turned and Darrow Montgomery was standing there, with his little group of followers around him, as usual. Montgomery walked forward and the other students scrambled away as if he were royalty. Though considering his family social status, he almost was.

“Did you get lost on your way to the freak show?” Montgomery chuckled, the smile on his lips didn't quite reach his eyes.

A familiar unease gnawed at Kerrigan’s insides. He fought to keep the tone of his voice calm, “Just looking for my first class, Montgomery.”

“I'd offer to help, but I wouldn't want any of my stuff getting burnt up.” He glanced meaningfully at Kerrigan’s neck, and a few chuckles broke from his little group.

“Leave it, Montgomery,” Kerrigan muttered, turning to leave, but Darrow stepped in front of him, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Where is the fun in that?” he sneered. “Besides, I'm sure you're dying to show off. Come on, give us a little taste.”

The challenge hung in the air, an invitation to prove them right—to be the monster they expected. Kerrigan felt the stirrings of his unwanted Gift beneath his skin. But his mother’s words echoed in his mind, working as a calming anchor. He would stay true to who he was.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not here for your entertainment,” Kerrigan replied, walking past Darrow.

“Whatever you say… just watch your back, Blackwood,” Darrow yelled after him and Kerrigan felt a gust of wind push against him, threatening to make him fall over. But he stood on his feet, quickening his pace down the hall, leaving the sound of laughter behind him. So, Montgomery had been blessed with the Gift of Aer. Good to know.

Ever since the day they had met as nine-year-olds, Darrow Montgomery had been a constant thorn in his side. Somehow, they had always ended up in the same class every year. If he had any luck at all, maybe the three years at Aurelius would be different.

“You alright?” A soft voice broke through his thoughts, and Kerrigan turned once more, but this time his gaze fell on a girl standing a few feet away from him next to some lockers. Her warm brown eyes held a mixture of concern and curiosity, but her smile was genuine.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Kerrigan replied, a bit startled. He had not expected anyone to talk to him directly. And especially not on the first day.

"Darrow is like a nagging itch you can't scratch. Just try your best to ignore him," she said, opening the locker she stood in front.

Kerrigan could not help but smile. “I unfortunately have realized that, after being his classmate for years.”

The girl pulled out some books, closed the locker and turned to Kerrigan. “You poor thing. I can't imagine being around him every day. I've only had the pleasure of dealing with his company during the monthly events.”

“Once a month is already once too much,” he said, while shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He knew about the high society events, but of course he had never attended one himself. He had heard it was a ball, where people made connections while enjoying the luxurious food the Uppercity had to offer. It wasn't meant for someone of his status.

She laughed. "You're right. I thought I would finally escape the events coming to live here but, Aurelius has their own mandatory ones.”

Kerrigan frowned. He didn’t read anything about that in the information letter. “They host balls as well?”

The girl shook her head, and gestured for him to walk with her as they made their way down the hallway. “The school schedules certain activities that involve our Gifts. It's supposed to be a way for us to practice and improve our control. It's honestly just a competition, but for some reason they refuse to call it what it is. At the end of the year there is a ball hosted, and it's revealed whoever has the most points. They receive honorable mentions and are way ahead of other students on the path of becoming a member of the Guardians.”

Again with the points. In the information letter, there had been a section from the headmaster that explained how important they were for your assessment. At the end of your third year, it would determine which position you would begin your career in.

“That doesn't sound like my kind of thing,” he muttered. He barely had any control of his own ability, and using it in front of others, let alone against others, was a recipe for disaster. And from what he had heard, the Guardians bore the weight of crucial missions for the Queen herself, so mediocre was not acceptable.

“Well, you don't have to worry too much about it. It doesn't start before in three months. Gives us some time to prepare.”

“I suppose that something, at least,” he said, though he doubted three months was enough time for him to get his Gift under control.

“I am Isah, by the way,” she said, smiling warmly as she extended her hand.

Kerrigan hesitated a moment before shaking her hand. “Kerrigan.”

“Oh! You should probably be heading to your class,” she said, her eyes on the watch on her outstretched arm. “I have a meeting to attend but maybe i’ll see you in the next class?”

Again, Kerrigan was taken by surprise. “Most likely so, yes.”

“Goodbye for now then,” she said, waving as she disappeared around the corner.

Kerrigan took a deep breath and started looking for the door marked by a star. Isah seemed nice. But so had others in the past, and it had never led to anything good. He knew his mother would want him to keep an open mind though. Kerrigan stopped outside his assigned classroom. If past experiences had taught him anything, it was to bide your time and let people reveal their true colors themselves.

As he entered the classroom, he was met with a wave of voices. The classroom was filled up with students, chatting eagerly about their Gifts and the classes they would be attending. They all wore the same outfit as him, a black cloak and the school uniform under. Thankfully, he spotted an empty seat near the back and went to sit down.

The classroom was grand, with a high ceiling and large windows that let in streams of golden sunlight. The desks were arranged in neat rows, and he noticed that they all were equipped with an inkwell and quill.

The door opened and the room buzzed with anticipation as the professor strode in, a towering figure with medium length hair that was colored dark with streaks of silver. As he turned to face them, Kerrigan’s eyes were drawn to the emblem on his chest—two silver spears crossed over each other. If he remembered correctly, that was the emblem for a Major.

“Welcome novices, to your first class of Aspectology and Elemental control,” he said, echoing through the room. “You may address me as Professor Heirshel.” At his introduction, Kerrigan noticed several students straightening their backs instinctively.

“Now before we begin reaching into our core, we will start today's lesson with the lore of our Divines and their bestowed Gifts.” A ripple of whispers washed over the room, some tinged with disappointment and sighs.

“Remember,” he added sternly, “a comprehensive understanding of our past is not limited to war and politics but extends to our spiritual heritage too. It is important you understand your Gift before using it. But if some of you already feel you have enough expertise on this subject, how about one of you come down here and explain?”

Kerrigan silently prayed that no one would answer, so they would have to go through the history of the Gifts, hopefully using up the entire hour of the class. He had not mentally prepared himself to use his own Gift today.

Luckily, the room had fallen silent. To his relief, it appeared no one wanted to step up to the challenge.

“No takers?” Professor Heirshel’s piercing gaze scanned the sea of faces before him. “Very well then, let's get started.”

Turning towards the whiteboard behind him, he began sketching out symbols with brisk strokes. When he finally moved aside, there were six distinct elemental emblems etched out on the board. Kerrigan could recognize five of them from his mother’s teachings. The first was Aer, governed by Aerion the Windwalker, symbolized by a delicate circle outlined with wispy lines that seemed to fade at the edges. Second was Terra, ruled by Tlalli the Earth Mother, depicted by two peaks standing side by side. Third, Kerrigan grimaced, was Ignis, governed by Igneus the Smith of Flames, represented by a lone flame reaching towards the sky. Fourth, Aqua, ruled by Nerida the Oceanic one, symbolized by an arched wave. And then the fifth, Solis which was portrayed as a shining sun with rays beaming outward. The last emblem was unfamiliar to Kerrigan.

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Professor Heirshel pointed to it and said, "Umbra. The shadow element is under the rule of Nocturna, known as the Shadow weaver." Its symbol was a mysterious swirl spiraling inward towards an eye at its core.

“Each of these elemental symbols represents a connection to our Divines and the unique Gifts they bestow upon us," he continued. “Now can anyone tell me how each of these Gifts affects us?”

Several people raised their hands in the air. Professor Heirshel nodded towards a girl with dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail. “Those blessed with the Gift of Aer can control the wind and manipulate air currents. It also enhances their agility and speed.”

The Major nodded in approval before turning to another student.

“Tlalli the Earth Mother bestows the Gift of Terra. They can commune with nature and shape the land. They are known for their resilience.”

“What about Ignis?” Professor Heirshel asked. “It has been forty years since we last saw someone with this Gift. Making it–”

“Extremely rare,” interrupted another student, his hair a tousled mess of brown locks. “Ignis is notorious for its destructive and consuming power. It also grants those blessed with heat resistance.”

“And a fiery temper,” someone added in and several laughed.

Professor Heirshel raised a hand, making them fall quiet once more. “The Ignis Gift was once held in high regard, before the war wreaked havoc on its reputation. I myself hope to see the damage caused by Uorsar mended one day.”

A conversation held in whispers from the students ahead of Kerrigan caught his attention. “Can’t see that happening soon though, not with Urosar’s death prophecy…”

He felt his own scar prickle again. Why did people care so much about what a lunatic had prophesied? Kerrigan felt annoyance building up in him at the thought of it. Sure, a lot of prophecies had been right in the past but… did no one truly think it was unfair that one man could ruin the reputation of the futures of many?

“Now if everyone could steer their attention forward once more.”

Kerrigan clenched his jaw, trying to keep the anger at bay he put all his focus on the Professor.

It was Nerida's gift next. “Her Gift enables her chosen ones to command water and breathe beneath waves. Legend even says they can converse with sea dwellers.”

“And Solis?” the Professor asked.

“Solis bestows the power of light; they are revered as skilled healers and Oracles, but also seers who can craft illusions,” the student finished.

“Excellent responses,” Professor Heirshel commended them all warmly. "Now let's discuss Umbra." An uncertain hush blanketed the classroom once more as people hesitated. "It's not surprising you have not heard of it, given that this Gift is more elusive than even Ignis'. What we understand about Nocturna’s Gift is that it grants you control of shadows and darkness while offering clear vision in pitch blackness."

In short, the perfect toolkit for a spy, Kerrigan thought. Someone with an Umbra Gift would be a priceless asset to the military. Perhaps that’s why the Gift wasn't spoken about much beyond the other five.

“Now, it seems we have twenty minutes left,” Professor Heirshel spoke. Kerrigan froze as students excitedly perked up.

“Control,” Professor Heirshel started, “is not about suppressing your power. It is about understanding it, shaping it.” Swiftly, he swept his left index finger over his right one in a circular motion, and light beamed above his left finger, slowly forming into a circle. The circle hovered above, and then with a flick, the circle expanded and flew through the classroom, then stopping beside Professor Heirshels shoulder.

Kerrigan’s eyes widened in amazement. He had made it look so easy, so effortlessly.

“Control requires discipline and practice. You must learn to reach into your core and harness the power so that you can use it effectively without letting it drain you completely.” The professor paced back and forth. “I trust many of you have grown up practicing the meditations for this.”

Kerrigan felt his palms sweating. He had not.

“Now, I want each of you to try this for yourselves,” Professor Heirshel said, gesturing towards the circle of light that was still hovering beside him. “Reach for the power of your Gift and shape it.”

Around him, students had closed their eyes. As he watched them, he felt his heart pounding and his hands had started shaking again. Some were already creating all kinds of shapes in their element. One girl was pulling on water from her bottle, making it swirl in the air then forming into circles, while another student was molding a piece of rock into a square.

Kerrigan’s Gift came from within him. He didn’t need a source of fire, because the fire lived inside him. And he could feel it stir now. Kerrigan clasped his hands together, trying to calm himself. He would just wait out the last twenty minutes of the class. He didn’t have to pull on his Gift now. Yes, he would wait. Practice at home, alone.

“Would you show me your progress?” Professor Heirshel's voice snapped Kerrigan out of his thoughts. Kerrigan stared at him, unsure of what to answer. Would it be better to just be honest? Tell him he wasn't ready?

“I am unsure of the meditation practice,” he decided on answering, looking down at his shaking hands. Please, leave me alone, Kerrigan thought.

“I see,” Professor Heirshel said. “Well, nothing to be ashamed of. I will guide you through it.”

Panic clawed at Kerrigan’s insides. He felt like he was going to be sick. “That is really not–”

“But of course, it is vital that you understand this. Control of your Gift is fundamental for future classes; without it, you will not gain the points needed for your assessment.”

Kerrigan swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling weirdly dry. “Alright then.”

“Close your eyes, and breathe deeply,” the professor instructed, and Kerrigan closed his eyes reluctantly.

“Draw your focus to your stomach, to your core. Can you feel the power of your Gift?”

He did. The fire was a blaze within him, a raging inferno, and he already felt the warmth spread through his body with each breath.

“Visualize this power circling through your body, traveling up to your arm and downwards into your hand.”

Kerrigan furrowed his brow. He saw red lines forming themselves in his mind, weaving internally around one another and spreading through his body. But it was too much. His breathing had become rapid and uneven. The fire was consuming him. He felt a wave of warmth rush through his hand, and a flame bursted out of it.

Shouts of surprise echoed around him, and he saw the professor's eyes widen in shock as the flame licked hungrily towards the ceiling.

He couldn't control it. Desperately he tried to pull on it, to force it back. But he couldn't stop the power that welled up inside him, eager to be let out. His hands were shaking even more, the flames moving intact. His heart pounded deafeningly in his ears, his chest hurting. He was swallowing air, yet he couldn't breathe. Another wave of fire was flowing through him, building up, threatening to explode—he felt a hand on his wrist. Professor Heirshel twisted it forcefully and the flames subdued. It felt like he had been splashed with a bucket of water.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Kerrigan stammered, feeling humiliated and scared. All around him students were staring at him, murmuring to each other. Now everyone knew the face of the one who was prophesied. Kerrigan heard the screaming voice of Uorsar in his mind; the child born in flames will wield ever consuming fire. They shall be the harbinger of Death.

“Extra lessons beginning Friday,” Professor Heirshels stated, his lips forming a tight line.

Kerrigan nodded, his hands still trembling.

"That's all for today's lesson. For the next class, I expect you to write a paper on the utilization of Gifts in our society and practice molding," Professor Heirshel announced, dismissing the students.

As they gathered their belongings and left the classroom, Kerrigan could sense their stares on him. He waited until everyone was gone before he finally got up and exited as well. He felt lightheaded and sluggish, definitely not ready for the upcoming class.

With heavy steps, he made his way through the corridors. He needed to go outside to make it to the Academy's gym. The halls were thankfully empty; he wasn't sure if he could handle a crowd right now. He needed space to breathe and collect himself. Though his hands had stopped shaking, he still felt sick.

Stepping outside, Kerrigan found himself on the opposite side of the school entrance, greeted by light rain. The air was crisp and refreshing. Instead of running through, he walked slowly, savoring the feeling of raindrops on his face. The rain had always managed to calm him. He took a deep breath. It would be alright. No one got hurt, and he would continue to work on controlling his Gift. What others thought of him didn't matter; they didn't truly know who he was.

* * *

“Your combat training starts today,” Instructor Renard announced, his voice firm and commanding. “In this class, you will forget about your Gifts. Your focus should be on the rhythm of your body and the dance of the blade.” He pulled out his sword from its scabbard in a swift motion. “What happens when you can't use your Gift? How will you react? Will you freeze or keep on fighting?” Renard’s eyes darted across each student’s face. “Pair up in two.”

Kerrigan felt surprisingly calm after his walk through the rain. He watched as everyone around him quickly sought out familiar faces to partner with. Some avoided making eye contact with him, while others deliberately kept their distance. With a sigh, he realized he would have to somehow learn by himself.

Suddenly, he felt a gentle tap on his back. He turned around to see Isah standing behind him. “Want to be my sparring partner?” she offered with a friendly smile.

She had mentioned earlier that she would be in this class, but Kerrigan hadn't noticed her coming in.

“Sure,” Kerrigan replied but then he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was for people to start giving Isah the cold shoulder just because they were seen together. “Maybe it's not the best idea for you to hang out with me.”

She ignored him and walked over to one of the racks nearby, selecting two wooden swords. “I really couldn't care less what people think or say. I am a pretty good character judge and can look after myself, so don't worry about it,” she retorted, passing him one of the wooden swords.

A wave of relief washed over Kerrigan. “I don't have any past training though.”

“It's alright, that's what we are here for,” she reassured him with a smile. “Let's begin with some basics.” She stood beside him, demonstrating the correct stance. “Your left foot is the leading foot, your right foot in the back. Bend your knees so you lower your center of gravity and maintain balance.”

Kerrigan followed her instructions, mimicking her stance and bending his knees slightly.

Isah nodded in approval. “Good. Though, keep your feet a bit more apart. A good rule to remember is that they should be shoulder width apart,” she instructed, adjusting his position ever so slightly.

Kerrigan nodded and shifted his feet, finding a comfortable stance. “Now your grip,” Isah continued, her eyes scanning his hands on the wooden sword. “You're holding onto it too tightly. You should be firm, but relaxed.” She laid her hand on his, slacking his grip. Her hands felt soft, and he felt a strange feeling tugging at him.

“Let's move on to attacking,” Isah continued, moving to stand in front of him. “Step forward with your right foot while simultaneously moving slightly to the right to avoid any possible counter attacks.” She brought up her own wooden sword and nodded towards him. He did as she said, feeling slightly stiff. Their swords clashed together.

"You're a natural,” Isah said, lowering her wooden sword.

“I don't know about that, I definitely don't move as fluidly as you do,” he responded, but smiling nonetheless at the compliment.

“Don't worry, that will come with practice. You seem to have a good sense of timing, and the strength needed.”

Kerrigan felt a warmth spread through him at her words. He had been working out four times a week since he was fourteen. It felt rewarding to know that his efforts hadn’t been for nothing.

They continued practicing basic techniques and forms, and Kerrigan could not help but marvel at how comfortable and easy it was to talk to Isah. It was something he hadn’t realized he had been missing.

A loud clap sounded through the clashing of wood on wood, drawing everyone’s attention towards Renard who stood in the middle of the room. “Well done, everyone,” he began. “I have observed you all enough to arrange matches. It will take place in one week, on Monday.”

Excited whispers filled the room as students exchanged glances. For most of them, this was a thrilling challenge and a way to prove yourself. But for Kerrigan, it was nerve-wracking. He had just started and already they wanted to throw them into duels?

“This will be a chance for you to test yourselves and understand what areas you need to improve on. Points will also be awarded based on your performance. That's all,” Renard finished, dismissing them from class.

As they filed out of the room, Kerrigan felt a sense of dread creep over him once more. He knew he would have to get better quickly if he didn't want to lag behind everyone else. The earlier incident resurfaced in his mind, adding to the already mounting pressure. He had known it would be tough, and that there were many areas in which he needed to improve, but he hadn't anticipated it all hitting him on the same day.

"Hey, you're as pale as a ghost,” Isah commented beside him. He had been walking in a trance towards the cafeteria.

“I'm fine, just nervous about the duals next week,” he admitted.

“I understand. If you want more practice, I don't mind sparring with you,” she suggested.

Kerrigan stopped in his tracks. “You would do that?” he asked, surprised.

“Sure, it’s beneficial for me too,” she answered. “Mastering the basics is the first step to becoming a proficient swordsman.”

“Thank you,” he replied sincerely.