The sky was clear. Shining it's bright light over the town.
The sun hung gently above the Aetherborne Valley, its light warm and golden. A soft breeze danced through the air, ruffling robes and fluttering banners. It should've been a happy day. A proud day.
It wasn't.
Not for Zein.
He stood at the center of the Awakening Circle—barefoot, silent, and shaking a little inside. Around him, elders in silver cloaks stood tall and proud. Dozens of young mages his age had already awakened their powers—flames, lightning, wind, healing. Cheers had filled the air for each of them.
But now it was Zein's turn. And everyone had grown quiet.
Too quiet.
His eyes searched the crowd for one face—his father. Elder Rahm stood beside the other council leaders, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked on Zein with nothing but coldness.
Zein swallowed. His hands were clammy. His heart thumped like a war drum.
"Step forward," Elder Miren said, her voice calm but loud enough for all to hear. "Zein of House Rahm. Begin your Awakening."
Zein took a slow breath and stepped into the inner circle. The stone floor glowed faintly beneath his feet, the rune carved into it lighting up as the spell activated.
The Awakening Circle read one thing: Truth.
No lies could hide from it. Not even broken dreams.
Zein pressed his hands together, just like they had practiced. He closed his eyes.
Please… let it work. Just once. Let it work.
The magic inside the circle buzzed.
Light danced from the rune into his body. For a second, a flicker of warmth ran through him. He opened his eyes, hoping to see something… anything.
But there was nothing.
No glow. No symbol. No wind.
No fire.
No magic.
Just silence.
The rune beneath him dimmed again. Cold. Empty.
Gasps whispered through the crowd.
One child laughed.
Another covered their mouth in shock.
Then came the voice he feared most.
"Enough," Elder Rahm said, stepping forward. His footsteps echoed like hammers. "The boy has no gift."
Zein's heart sank.
His throat tightened as Rahm's eyes cut into him.
"You are not my son," Rahm said, voice hard and public. "No son of mine would stand in this sacred place like a fool and waste our time."
The crowd murmured louder.
Zein's feet wouldn't move. He just stood there, staring at his father.
"But I… I trained every day," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I felt it. I know it's in me—"
"There is nothing in you!" Rahm roared. "No spark. No blessing. You bring shame to House Rahm, to the clan, and to yourself."
Elder Miren stepped forward quickly, her face tight with discomfort.
"Perhaps his power is delayed—"
"There is no delay in failure," Rahm snapped.
The other elders stayed quiet.
Zein looked down at his hands. The same hands that had tried to cast spells over and over again. The same hands that had held books for hours late at night, practicing, hoping, dreaming.
Now they just trembled.
"I'm sorry," Zein whispered.
Rahm sneered.
"You should be."
With a motion of his hand, he turned his back on Zein. The other elders followed. The crowd slowly scattered. Some looked away with pity. Some with disgust. A few kids pointed and whispered.
Zein stood alone in the circle. The runes were dead beneath his feet now. No warmth. No light.
Just cold stone.
A Few Hours Later...
Zein sat on the edge of a stone step near the outer wall. He hadn't gone home. He couldn't.
The Awakening Ceremony was over. His name wouldn't be written into the Mage Archive. There would be no record of his bloodline's magic. No crest. No gift.
He was… nothing.
"Zein."
He turned around slowly. A girl stood behind him. Her name was Lyana. She had just awakened the power of fire during the ceremony.
"I'm… sorry about what happened," she said gently.
He nodded but didn't answer.
"I don't think it means you're useless," she added. "Maybe you're just… different."
He almost smiled. Almost. "That's what people say when they don't know what else to say."
Lyana looked down. "Maybe. But I meant it."
He met her eyes, and for a second, he saw the girl he used to play with as kids. Before everything became about magic, and power, and titles.
"I'll be okay," he lied.
She gave a soft smile, then walked away, her fiery red robe trailing behind her.
The night came. Zein still couldn't stop thinking about the shame. He was a disgrace to the entire clan.
The great hall of House Rahm was silent. Zein stepped inside, his feet light as air.
He was hoping, foolishly, that maybe his father would give him a second chance. Maybe there was still love left. Maybe failure didn't erase family.
But when he entered, Rahm was already waiting.
The elder stood near the window, arms folded behind his back.
Zein didn't speak first.
"You should have left with the others," Rahm said. "You embarrass yourself every second you remain here."
"I'm still your son," Zein said softly.
"No." Rahm turned around slowly. "I had a son. A strong one. Born to lead. Born to awaken great power. That boy… died today."
Zein's mouth went dry. "So what now? You throw me out?"
"I don't need to," Rahm said. "The clan has already decided. You're to be stripped of your name, your crest, and your rights. Tomorrow, you leave. You are no longer welcome in the Aetherborne lands."
Zein couldn't breathe. "You can't mean that."
Rahm didn't blink. "Your presence is poison. You are not weak, Zein. You are empty. You were born as a curse."
Tears blurred Zein's eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
"I will prove you wrong," he said.
Rahm raised an eyebrow.
"You'll try," he said, "and fail again. That's what useless people do."
Then he walked past Zein without another word.
And just like that, the boy who dreamed of glory… was gone.