Three years as a senior. Some people wondered how it was possible. At the start, it didn’t seem like a big deal at all. He just failed a few classes and had to retake them. Nobody treated him any different.

“--- can you help me with my homework? Mom says she doesn’t know it,” his sister held a text book in her hand.

“--- wanna go watch a movie?” his brother asked him, one late night. “I saw the reviews and they were positive.”

Some even encouraged him.

“--- you’ll just pass next year. I think they might even let you graduate at the end of the semester instead,” a person reassured him.

A friendly teacher said, “Come visit my class after school and I’ll be happy to stay and help, ---” 

When did it all go wrong?

“Oh you’re that one guy who failed right,” said someone younger.

“Hey, --- it’s okay. School’s pretty hard,” someone else said with a mocking tone.

When did the people around him stop caring?

“Oh,” his sister shook her head, “You don’t need to take me to practice today. Everyone will stare.”

“I’m sorry --- but I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself,” said his teacher.

When did he stop expecting anything?

“You should just drop out,” said his brother as he stared at his phone, “I’m going to come to the high school soon.”

“We’re going to go on a short trip. Make sure to watch your siblings, okay?” His parents said as he held the letter of his graduation notice in his hands. 

He pictured the event multiple times. The event when he would be called and recognized.

“--- please come forward.”

The moment when things would turn around for him. The moment when he’d overcome the wall that blocked him from moving forward. A wall that sucked the life from him.

He would step up and take the principal’s hand. “Congratulations on graduating. I know you’ve worked hard for this.”

The eyes in the auditorium would turn to him for just a moment and he’d let himself bask in the attention. The rest of the seniors would graduate and after they were done, his family would run to him.

“Let’s all take a picture,” his father would say, 

They would gather around him while his father asked another person to take the picture. He’d be in the middle. They would ask for multiple. Different angles, different poses. His mom would want one for herself, then his brother, his sister, his father. 

“Good job ---” said his father.

“I knew you could do it ---” said his mother.

What was that last part? What was that one word he couldn’t hear? 

Wait.

What was his name?

What did it start with?

He couldn’t even remember what it was anymore. 

He couldn’t focus his thoughts long enough to recall it. It felt like he was floating down a stream. No, it was a raging river. His hands flailed. His feet kicked. He couldn’t reach the ground. He kept bobbing into water. He was drowning.

But each time he fell in, he felt at peace. He felt like he didn’t want to resurface.

Why?

Even though it was so violent.

Even though he was scared.

No, he knew why.

He was just-

“IIII dOOOOOnnnTT WAAAANNNT tO dIEEE…”

The terrifying screech. Something plucked him from the water and sent him sprawling to the ground. Now he was in a forest that was darkening. In front of his eyes was a woman, her face half eaten. She called out to him, reached for him, with her stump of an arm, bone sticking out.

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“II DoooNNtttt WaaaaaNNNNNT tOOO DiiE!”

She crawled toward him. He was on his butt. He kicked against the ground, trying to put distance between him and the maid but something stopped him. A dozen hands came from out from under a bush. The shambling mass of arms and hands started crawling up his body. It pinned his legs and arms. It tightened around his throat. It covered his mouth. It blocked his ears. 

His eyes. His eyes were held open by the hands, forced to watch as the corpse crawled ever closer. He shook his head, he tried to scream, he fought with all he had. Nothing worked. The corpse was now a black, writhing mass with wide, dead eyes. 

Even as his ears were covered, even as they suffocated him, he heard a sweet, airy voice. It swept away his fear and he saw the black masses dissipate. 

“Nahariundvass,” went the voice. “Why are you so sad?”

Suddenly, he was by the river again. He could see no end to it. It just ran and ran, flowing somewhere. Off to the side, he could see a dried up stream.

“Nahariundvass, why must we feel it too?”

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

When Kieran woke up, Teal was humming a song next to him with her eyes closed. The sun had set and the light of a lantern flickered from his desk. It felt like a dream, like he’d woken up from a long nightmare. He tried to sit up and felt pain all over his body.

He was bandaged all around his arms and chest. Smaller wounds like the ones on his sides and hands had closed. Teal heard his shuffling and opened her eyes. She placed her hand on his shoulder, “Don’t move too much, Young Master. Some of your wounds were deeper than we thought and the spell circles couldn’t close them.”

He turned away. “Don’t touch me…”

“Young Master -”

“What happened? Why was Alexandra dragging me out?”

She wore a complicated expression like she wanted to say something else. “When they took you to the healing room, your opponent was prioritized as his wounds were much more severe. It wasn’t until Alexandra and I came that you were placed onto the spell circle. The tournament’s rules state that participants must be between the ages of fifteen and twenty, so they didn’t understand how dire your situation was.”

“...”

Teal continued, “Fifteen is the age of maturity because that is when your Flow and Essence stabilize, allowing more uses of magic. Young Master, since you haven’t made it to your Scaling yet, you reached Essence Exhaustion faster than other participants. Aside from that, the spell circle was also exhibiting signs of failing and also signs of Divergence.”

“...What’s Divergence?” he asked. 

Her brow furrowed when she heard his dejected voice, “The more intricately drawn spell circles are, the more Essence they can provide and the longer they last. They require constant maintenance which is why after our sessions in the Restoration Rooms, servants clean after we finish so the spell circles don’t fail. When spell circles begin to fail, very rarely they will suffer Divergence, meaning polluted Essence comes through. Depending on the intricacy of the spell circle and its intended use, the results could be anything from sickness or something worse…”

“Was it going to be something worse?” he asked. He could feel emotions swirling around inside him. His tone was curt, as if talking that way would calm how he felt.

“Alexandra and I didn’t want to take the risk to yo-”

“You didn’t want to take the risk?” The words came suddenly and harsher than he expected. 

“O-Of course Young Master. We-”

He cut her off again, “Why do you even pretend to care? So you can get me to trust you again? So that it’ll be easier for you to steal from me? So that I won’t out you for the rat that you are?!” His voice was hoarse. “You think I don’t know?” Tears welled in his eyes. Something didn’t feel right. He didn’t want this. “You think I’m so soft that I’ll just forget about it all in a day?” He didn’t want to lash out, but he couldn’t stop himself. Was it the emotional rush of an undeveloped body clashing against his past experiences and personality? Was it too much to handle? Even after 12 years here, he still felt those childish urges of spontaneity. 

Could he only blame his body though?

Either way, it was too late now. He wanted to rein himself in, but he couldn't even think straight anymore. The flood gates had opened.

Teal reached out, “Young Master-”

He bat her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

I don't want this.

Teal recoiled. She pushed the chair away and knelt on the ground. He saw her horn which she had always so proudly kept out despite whomever she was before, slowly retract until it was gone. 

“You...”

“Young Master, my actions were inexcusable. I should have never stolen from you. I should have never taken advantage of your kindness.”

“...Stand up,” he commanded.

I don't want this!

“Even now, you are still so kind to me. Allowing me to work in this palace, allowing me to stay by your side.

“Stand up,” he repeated.

“I will not ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it after what I did. All I want you to know is that I never once thought you were a fool. That I will work for the rest of my life to prove myself to you.”

“I said stand up!”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Young Master.”

“Get out.”

He pointed to he door, unable to look her in the face. Something about her was off. She looked wrong, like he couldn’t fully recognize her.

At the door, with the lantern in her hand, she turned back to him. Her voice shook as she spoke, “Have a good night, Young Master.”

As she bowed, he caught a glimpse of her face. 

She closed the door behind her but he didn’t hear her leave. He threw the covers over his head and after a minute of waiting, he heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway.

Emotions stirred in his chest. Anger, sadness, loneliness, and regret. 

His past life was a hundred times worse than it was now. At least now, he was a prince. He had money, he had some authority, and a future laid out before him. Then how come everything felt so much worse? Teal. Whenever he heard her voice or whenever he saw her, he felt calmer for just a moment before the rage boiled over.

In all his years he’d known Teal, in all the times she stood before demons of higher rank, all the times she met with the king and queen, never once did she hide her horn. So why? Why was it gone now? 

And why, did he hate himself so much?

.

.

.

Weron, the lanky commoner, won the Ashen Wing Tournament. An upset that shook multiple noble houses.

Two week later, Kieran turned thirteen.

Three years later, he went off to war.