Children's hospitals are designed to be a place of hope and joy, where the harsh realities of illness are softened by the smiles of dedicated nurses and doctors. Despite the grim truth that often lies beneath the crack of reality, they worked tirelessly to create an environment where laughter and play can flourish.
In one such hospital, the air filled with the sounds of children’s laughter and footsteps running around, their happiness seeming boundless as they played and chatted with friends.
But amidst the lively scene, a boy stood apart, isolated in a shadowed corner. His face seemed dulled as light that warmed the other never warmed him.
Behind a one-way mirror, the boy's parents watched in concern. Their faces were filled with worrying feelings. “Why are the others avoiding their son? Is something wrong?”. As they thought to themselves.
“Why are they avoiding him?” The mother whispered. Her voice trembled with concern. “Has he done something wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Oat,” the doctor broke the silence, his voice soft yet burdened with the weight of what he was about to say. “The other students are not avoiding him because he did something wrong.” He paused, contemplating the next right words to say. “It’s because they could not sense his presence.”
“What do you mean?” The mother questioned with uncertainty, her voice barely above whisper.
“Children are the most sensitive to a person's signature energy,” the doctor explained slowly. “They connect with it instinctively as they begin to develop their communication skills. But your son……He isn’t emitting any energy at all.”
The doctor hesitated for a moment before he delivered a news that will soon crush their hearts. “It looks like he is without magic.”
The words struck the pair like a physical blow to their chests. A deafening silence filled the room, each one of them tried to process the news. The mother’s hand quickly covered her mouth as it began to release a silent cry against the father’s shoulder. The wife already felt defeated, he tried to bare the bone that was crushing his shoulder.
“Is there anything we can do? Any form of treatment?" Mr. Oat pleaded.
“I’m truly sorry.” The doctor shook his head, a slow, sorrowful motion. “I’m afraid not. Magic does not exist inside the boy to begin with, so there is nothing we can do to rekindle the light.”
Mr. Oat just stared blankly at the floor, his hopes being shattered as he thought of a way to help his son.
The doctor averted his gaze from the grieving couple, chose to give them some time and space to let everything sink in, a moment to grieve.
As he moved to the door, he hesitated, turning back to the grieving couple. “I’m truly sorry, if there is anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask.”
***
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
A lean arm reached for the alarm clock, shutting it off. Glad he didn't break the alarm clock this time.
At six in the morning on a school day laid a boy who wishes to sleep a little longer.
"Jack~ Wake up. You're going to be late for school." A soothing voice called from downstairs.
“Coming, mother," the boy got out of the bed with a lazy stretch of a cat, as he paced slowly to the bathroom, getting ready for the start of the day.
The reflection of a young, lean-built body can be seen standing in front of the mirror. His dark raven locks almost covered his dark, russet-coloured eyes, making his appearance on the generic side of the crowd. "Yup, same as always."
Walking into the kitchen, Jack’s eyes began wandering, looking for a certain figure. "Where's father?" Jack asked. "He's at the dam, just received a call asking for his expertise." Mother answered nonchalantly.
"Huh. Of course he is." The boy said in a semi-sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes as he started eating his breakfast.
His raven hair still shined obsidian under the sunlight beaming through the window as he ate his boring breakfast. He put his utensils down and sighed. "I'll be going now, mother." Jack took his leave to the front door and shut it without waiting for a response. A guilty sigh could be heard from the kitchen.
"I’m sorry, my son. I knew you tried to hide it, but as a mother, I can see that you are punishing yourself. God, I wish you had given him a light on his trouble.”
The city of Davern stood as one of the thriving metropolises in the country of Deva. The air hummed with the energy of magic, which flowed through the veins of the country like lifeblood. Fueling everything from the towering spires of the arcane academics to a busy marketplace where merchants trade with rare and unique goods.
In Deva, magic is more than just a natural resource, it’s a craft that requires precision and skill. The mages drew upon a fusion between elemental forces and personal energy to cast the spells, a process that demands both mental focus and physical endurance. It’s not enough to simply possess magic. They need a balance of raw power and the inner reserves of energy that fuel the caster’s abilities.
Although those like Jack, being born without any hint of magic, are cast aside as the unfortunate one.
Every step he took, whispers and mummers followed him like a shadow following its host. A constant reminder of his predicament.
Stepping his foot on to the schoolground, his eyes already lie on the familiar female at the school gate.
"You're late. It’s the first day of your final year, and you're late." The girl puts her hand on the side of her hips and raises an eyebrow sarcastically.
With an enthusiastic groan, Jack replies. "Hey, cut me some slack. Estenia, there's no point for a magic-less kid to curry favors from this school. It's not like they'll acknowledge me."
"Don't say it like that, Jack. Even without magic, you managed to get into this school with the level of your intelligence." Estenia encouraged him, “I'll see you after school." She added before she walked ahead into the school building, leaving Jack alone by the gate.
He grumbled while ruffling his hair with his fingers, not so-thrilled about the upcoming school year. His gaze wandered up to the building in front of him.
A heavy sigh escaped from his mouth as he stared at the school building, the large-scaled stained glass windows, pointed arches, long winding hallways, and tall spires reaching the morning sky, it was clear that the building was heavily influenced by the Gothic era. An architectural marvel that deserved to be the centre of knowledge for magic.
"Only a year left in this hell hole. Let’s get this over with quickly," he muttered to himself as he continued to walk into the school building.
As soon as he saw the class sign carved with the infamous;
Class 3-2.
The class where the worst of class 3-1 and the best of class 3-3 will be placed. This class is a warzone of magic.
"God- of all the classes, why am I being placed in this disaster pit? Could they not just continue to look down on me and leave me in class 3-3?" He thought to himself as he gripped his schoolbag tighter in his fist.
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Jack gripped the doorknob firmly as he took a deep breath, before twisting the knob to open the door. As soon as he opened the door, he is quickly greeted by an annoying, snarky voice. He then raised his gaze, only to be met by the familiar bright emerald eyes of Christopher Aiden.
Christopher and his gang were notorious, born into a wealthy and powerful family, his fate was sealed the moment they discovered his limitless energy. He knows he was destined to become the strongest person who ever walked in the country of Davern.
But the constant praise has corrupted him to the very core.
Every time he went, a legion of protectors followed, shielding him from the consequences. Making him untouchable.
And of course, Jack is the main target. Even though they were from different classes last year, Christopher will always find a way to drag Jack to the deepest depth of hell.
Seeing Jack at the door, Christopher began to emit a loud, overbearing voice to gain the whole class's attention. "Oi! What the fuck are you doing here? This class is for magic users ONLY." His snarky remark was followed by a bunch of laughter from other students as some of them started to call Jack with childish nicknames, trying to make his blood boil.
Ignoring the snide remarks, Jack kept a straight face as he walked past Christopher, straight to his assigned seat at the back of the class, trying not to acknowledge Christopher's existence. Unsurprisingly, his actions caused Christopher to be even more hostile toward him.
But before Christopher could do anything, his vile intentions were cut short as the classroom door opened; revealing their professor.
There stood by the door frame, a large figure with multiple scars on his hands; a loud thumbing noise echoed throughout the classroom with each step he took.
The teacher cleared his throat before placing his belongings on the table.
A few whispers can be heard from their classmates, who know who their homeroom teacher is.
"Listen up," his raspy voice showed that he had seen a lot. "My name is Gabriel Bharf; I will be your homeroom for this year.”
“First of all, I would like to congratulate some of you for moving to the upper class, and for those who are unlucky, let this be a lesson and wake up call to bounce back from last year's mistake." The teacher fixed his ties. "Now before Miss Sielkska comes for your first period, I will allow some questions to be thrown from the students."
A few students raised their hands to ask some questions, Mr. Gabriel was pondering which student to choose. "Ok, you there, Miss Emer."
"Thank you, sir. When you say that your name is Gabriel Bharf, does that mean that you are related to Adrian Bharf? Plus, this is our final year, do we have any final assignments to do before our graduation?"
The class began to rupture in words; some of them were in disbelief while the others began to draw the resemblance. The teacher raised his hand, silencing the crowd.
“I'm surprised you catch it with only my name. Yes, we are brothers, but it's been years since I talked to him. We have a disagreement about certain things regarding the family business. After reconsidering, it's better for me to move on with my own adventure.”
Whispers and murmurs were heard among the students.
“As for your second question, I will be the one to assess your performance during the first half of the year, after that, each one of you will be brief about your own performance, using that information, you should know where your future will be.”
The questions kept coming at him; some of them are related to his life before teaching, while some of them aren't related at all.
After a short while, the bell rang, signalling the end of the homeroom.
"Alright, that is all the time we have, I will see you at the end of the day." Professor Gabriel collected all his belongings, ready to leave the class. But he was interrupted by a slap on a table.
“Oi Bharf! Do you even care about my question? My hand had been up for so long that my shoulder hurt," Christopher barked, disrespecting the teacher like it was Tuesday.
He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Why the fuck was I placed in this dumb class? I should be with the best of the best.” His voice rose as he stretched his arm wide, bragging to himself. “I’m not some nobody.”
But his arrogance vanished the moment Professor Gabriel’s gaze fell on him. The atmosphere in the room shrank in an instant as the tension thickened.
“Listen here, Christopher.” The professor’s voice was low, and sharp that any insult could have thrown in his life.
“You’re exactly where you belong after what you pulled last year. If not for your father, you will be expelled in an instant.”
“Listen here, young man.” His voice dropped even further. You’re skating on thin ice, if you don’t get your act together, the ice will fall, and so will your future, regardless of what your family can pull.”
Christopher froze, his bravado drained, as the professor’s words hit harder than anyone could have expected. Gabriel gave him one last look as a final warning before he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the tense classroom.
A few minutes later, Ms. Sielkska made an appearance and went about with the first period.
The Advance Magic Theory. Thirty minutes had passed, and half of the class began to lose interest in the lesson. Jack, on the other side, was focussing on every single moment.
The Advance Magic theory is the class that students looked after, but to the students like Jack, this class is like untapped gold. waiting to be mine. The magic knowledge in Deva is nothing new, but few students manage to make a breakthrough during their studies.
The unlimited combination of elements and the endless possibilities for new theories are like a blank canvas, waiting to become the next masterpiece.
As the class drew on, Jack's hunger grew as well as his excitement, his hands shot into the sky, questioning Mrs. Sielska at every turn.
Seeing Jack absorbed in the lesson, Christopher couldn’t resist the urge to disrupt it. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was watching the irritation spread across people’s faces.
“Hey, Scales!” He bellowed, cutting through the lecture. His voice commanded attention from the entire class. He leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, showing off his complete disinterest in the material. Magic theory bored him, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
“Why the fuck do we need to learn about the magic theory? It's fucking stupid. Everybody knows that magic is only limited by your own energy.” He sneered. A small spark of magic flickered at his thumb. A display of power.
Across the room, Jack clenched his jaw, tapping his finger and shaking his leg. He knows that Christopher is a spoiled brat all because of his natural talent. But, to interrupt all class with his nonsense. He let out an exasperated sigh, just loud enough for Christopher to hear.
“Even the dumbest first year knows you need to know the theory part of magic." Jack mumbled under his breath.
Christopher’s face went dark, his cocky grin twisted into something menacingly as he snapped his head toward Jack.
"Ohh, So you can speak; I thought you had gone deaf after last year," Christopher said, his gaze perceiving Jack. “Also, who asked for a second opinion from a non-magic freak? If not, then shut up."
Christopher stood up and aimed his palm at Jack, a twisted grin formed on his already twisted face.
“You want to test that theory, bitch? Well, then be the guinea pig.” Christopher's fingertips glowed a bright red, ready to attack. But the charge died down after all the lines were connected.
"Settle down, Mr. Christopher," Mr. Seilska’s voice cut through the tension, calm yet commanding. “Like it or not, Jack is correct. Magic theory has been the foundation of our progress for the last century. Without it, engineers wouldn’t have been able to create half of the tools we use on a daily basis. Perhaps you need to More time reading, Mr. Christopher."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Cristopher's face darkened. His fist clenched as he threw a venomous glare toward Jack.
"You motherfucker.” He hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ll make sure you pay for this shit."
“I'm not done here, Christopher." Mr Sielska gaze continues on him. Her voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority. She placed both hands firmly on the edge of the table, learning slightly forward. “Do I need to remind you that usage of magic other than in practical lessons is strictly prohibited?”
Christopher’s eyes darted to her, his ego unwavering.
“One more outburst like that,” she continued, her tone ice-cold. “I can assure you that your future at this school will be cut short. Regardless of what your family said.”
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as the weight of her words sank in. Mr. Sielska adjusted her glasses, the sternness never leaving her face. She waved her hand, a hologram projection onto the board.
“All right , let’s get back to where we left off.” She said, her tone returning to a neutral, focused cadence, as if nothing had happened.
***
The last bell has been rung, indicating the end of the day. Students packed their belongings as the teacher gave them some needed homework.
Jack hastily gathered his belongings, putting them all in his bag. Just as he finished zipping his bag close, he heard his name being called by the teacher.
"Jack Oat.”
He looked up, eyebrows scrunched up together. Confused as to why his name was called.
“The principal wants to see you." Stated the teacher.
Still in a dazed state, Jack reluctantly left his bag on the tables and started to walk to the principal's office.
As he walked sluggishly to the principal's office, his mind was on overdrive. What has he done to gain the attention of the principal? His worries amplified with each step he took.
As he arrived at the door, he heard someone talking from the inside.
“It looks like there is someone else inside," Jack thought to himself.
Jack took a deep breath, as he prepared himself .His hand hovers over the wooden door frame. Before he could even knock, the door swung open, revealing a young man in his late 30s in a white tuxedo with a black inline.
"Good evening, Jack. I believe we have something to discuss. Come in." The principal said giving a calm and welcoming smile.
Upon entering the room, Jack noticed that Estenia was sitting on the couch.
"Now, I believe we have to reach a conclusion about your future, Miss Estenia."
"Thank you for your advice, Principal. Now I have a better vision." Her determination can be heard in her voice.
"And what is that?" The principal asked.
"I will attend the holy church of Davern. It will be a challenge, but once I’m done, people will suffer no more," Estenia replied with a bright smile.
"Indeed, you have a high level of magic, especially in the healing area. For that, I wish you all the best." The principal ended the conversation with a simple hand gesture.
Estenia thanked the principal with a slight bow, before leaving the room.
With the sound of the door shut, the principal focused his eyes on Jack.
"Now then, shall we start our conversation, Jack?" The principal crossed his legs.