The stale air of Mr. Thorne's history class hung heavy,thick with the scent of old textbooks and teenage apathy.
Elias Vance slumped in his chair,trying to make himself as small as possible, a skill he'd perfected since the accident.
Outside, the midday sun beat down on the Academy's sprawling,mana-infused gardens, but inside, a dull, familiar ache settled in his chest.
He was mana-less. In a world that vibrated with elemental energy, he was a flat note, an empty vessel.
"As I was saying ,"
Mr. Thorne droned, his voice rattling like dry bones.
"The great Sundering marked a turning point.Before, magic was wild, chaotic. After… the demon armies, the monstrous incursions. Humanity learned to channel mana, to build the wards, the defenses we see today.Without mana, we'd be prey."
He paused, scanning the room, his gaze briefly flicking over Elias as if he were a particularly uninteresting dust bunny.
Elias felt his cheeks flush.
His best friend, Lena, nudged him under the desk.
She had a mischievous glint in her eyes,her own fiery red mana signature usually a soft glow around her fingers whenever she was bored.
Elias often wondered what it felt like, to have that power, that connection to the world.
He'd tried, countless times, focusing on his hands, his breath, anything, but there was always nothing.Just the silence.
Mr. Thorne moved on, projecting images of ancient, jagged-toothed beasts and shadowy, winged demons onto the wall.
"These creatures, born of the Void, still scratch at the edges of our reality. It's our mana that pushes them back. It's our vigilance that keeps them at bay."
A tremor ran through the room, not from the projector, but from somewhere deeper. The fluorescent lights flickered.
A couple of mana-users in the front row flinched, their hands instinctively glowing.
"Just a power surge,"
Mr. Thorne muttered, but his eyes darted nervously to the window.
Elias felt it too,But differently.Not the usual surge of panic that came with talk of monsters.
This was... a pressure behind his eyes, a sudden, inexplicable warmth coiling in his gut.
It was a familiar sensation, one he often felt when he was stressed or angry, like a phantom limb of power that wasn't supposed to be there.
His hands, resting on his worn textbook, felt oddly tingly, almost hot.
He glanced down, half-expecting to see some faint light, a spark, anything. But there was nothing.
Still, the sensation intensified, a prickle along his arms, like tiny, invisible sparks dancing beneath his skin.
He shifted uncomfortably, forcing himself to breathe slowly, trying to push the feeling away. He always did. It was just nerves. Just his imagination.
Mr. Thorne, seemingly satisfied the "surge" was over, cleared his throat.
"Now, for your homework. I want a two-page essay on the strategic importance of mana in fending off the last major demonic incursion seventy years ago.Elias, you'll need to focus on the historical accounts and societal impact, given..."
He trailed off, but the unspoken.
"your unfortunate condition" hung in the air.Lena's jaw tightened.
"That's unfair, Mr. Thorne," she started, but Elias quickly elbowed her.
"It's fine, Lena," he murmured,forcing a smile. He was used to it.
He was always the exception, the kid who didn't fit, the one who had to find different ways to get by.
As the bell shrieked, signaling the end of class, Elias gathered his books, the strange warmth in his hands finally receding.
He still didn't understand what it was, that peculiar inner flicker.
He'd always dismissed it as his body playing tricks on him, a cruel reminder of the mana he lacked.
He was just Elias, the orphan, the mana-less kid. And that was all he'd ever be.