The morning sun was already high, casting long shadows across the Calloway driveway as Darius stepped outside with Rhea. The air was crisp and cool, but there was a stillness that seemed to carry the weight of what had happened earlier.
Elijah stood on the porch, his usual playful demeanor muted but still present as he handed Darius a wrapped sandwich. “For lunch,” he said with a grin, though his voice held an undertone of concern. “Gotta keep your strength up. Trials aren’t won on an empty stomach.”
“Thanks, Mr. Calloway,” Darius said quietly, accepting the sandwich.
“We’ve been over this, call me Elijah, kid,” he said with a wink, ruffling Darius’s hair. “And remember, you’ve got backup. Anytime.”
Marianne appeared in the doorway, holding a thermos that she pressed into Rhea’s hands. “Take this for the walk. And Darius, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come by, alright?”
“I will,” Darius said, his voice steady despite the gratitude welling in his chest.
Rhea nudged him gently, breaking the moment. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
The two of them set off down the street, the morning light dappling the pavement beneath their feet. For a while, the only sounds were the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps and the occasional chirp of a bird.
“You sure you’re okay?” Rhea asked, breaking the silence.
Darius nodded, though his gaze stayed fixed on the ground ahead. “Yeah. Just... tired, I guess.”
She gave him a sidelong glance, her expression softening. “I know it’s a lot, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. My family meant what they said—you’re not alone.”
Her words lingered in the air, a comforting balm to the unease that still gnawed at him. He managed a small smile. “Thanks, Rhea. Really.”
They walked in companionable silence the rest of the way, the school’s towering gates coming into view as the buzz of student chatter grew louder.
The moment they stepped through the gates, Darius could feel the shift in the air. Conversations faltered, heads turned, and the whispers began.
“That’s him.”
“His dad got arrested this morning.”
“Can you imagine? In front of the whole neighborhood.”
“No wonder he’s so quiet all the time.”
The words weren’t directed at him, but they may as well have been. Darius’s chest tightened, his pace faltering for a split second before he caught himself.
Rhea noticed immediately, her jaw tightening as she shot a glare at a group of students who quickly looked away. “Ignore them,” she said firmly.
Easier said than done, Darius thought, though he didn’t say it out loud.
They pushed through the throng of students, making their way to the classroom. When they entered, Nate was already there, perched on the edge of his desk with his ever-present air of casual indifference. But the moment he saw them, his expression shifted to one of concern.
“Hey,” Nate said, standing as they approached. “You good? What happened this morning?”
Darius hesitated, but before he could answer, a familiar voice cut through the air.
“Well, well,” Zeke Alaric drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Look who finally decided to show up.”
Darius stiffened, his gaze snapping to Zeke, who lounged in his seat near the center of the room. The gravity around him seemed to hum faintly, an ever-present reminder of his power.
“Kaelen,” Zeke continued, leaning back with a smug grin. “I hear you had a pretty eventful morning. Must’ve been fun watching your dad get hauled off by the enforcers.”
The room went silent, every pair of eyes flicking between Darius and Zeke.
“Shut it, Zeke,” Rhea snapped, her voice sharp as a whip.
Zeke ignored her, his grin widening as he focused on Darius. “What’s wrong, Kaelen? Got nothing to say? Guess I’d keep quiet too if my old man was a drunken wreck causing a scene in public.”
Darius’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check.
“Back off, Alaric,” Nate said, stepping forward. His voice was low, but the warning in it was unmistakable.
Zeke raised an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering. “Oh, look. The cavalry’s here. What’s the matter, Carter? Got a soft spot for strays?”
“You’ve got about two seconds to shut up,” Rhea said, the faint crackle of her Lightning Affinity sparking in the air around her.
“Oh, relax, Calloway,” Zeke said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying what everyone’s already thinking. Can’t blame me for being honest.”
Before anyone could respond, the classroom door swung open, and Mr. Darnel entered with his usual air of no-nonsense authority.
“Everyone, take your seats,” Mr. Darnel said sharply, his gaze sweeping the room.
Zeke leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin, giving Darius one last mocking look before turning his attention to the front.
Darius exhaled slowly, his fists unclenching as he dropped into his seat. Nate sat beside him, his expression still tense, while Rhea slid into the seat on his other side.
“You good?” Nate murmured under his breath.
Darius nodded stiffly, though his chest still felt tight. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
But as he stared at his desk, the whispers that had followed him all morning echoed faintly in the back of his mind. The Trials were just around the corner, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were going to be even more difficult than he’d anticipated.
The classroom settled into a tense silence as Mr. Darnel walked to the front of the room. His sharp gaze swept over the students, pausing briefly on Zeke—who had resumed his cocky posture—and then on Darius, who kept his eyes fixed on his notebook.
“Let’s get started,” Mr. Darnel said, his tone clipped and direct. He tapped the blackboard with a thin pointer, and the Etherion diagram he’d drawn before class flickered into view. “Today, we’re reviewing the fundamentals of Etherion flow and manipulation. For those of you planning to coast through the Trials on raw Affinity strength, consider this your wake-up call. Mastery of the basics is non-negotiable.”
The pointer traced a glowing line across the diagram, starting from the central hub labeled Axis.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
“Etherion originates in the Axis,” he began, his voice steady and deliberate. “This is the core organ, unique to each individual. It produces raw energy, which flows into the Channels—think of them as rivers within your body. The primary Channels direct Etherion to key points, such as the brain, heart, and limbs. Secondary Channels handle refinement and precision.”
Darius straightened slightly, focusing on the diagram. He already knew this—it was drilled into them since their first year—but something about seeing it now felt different. Maybe it was because, for all his struggles, understanding Etherion on a technical level was something he could grasp.
“The most common mistake,” Mr. Darnel continued, “is assuming that a strong Affinity will compensate for poor control. That’s wrong. Without calibrated Channels, even the most powerful Affinities will cause Burnout—or worse.”
He gestured to a smaller diagram showing glowing pathways branching out like veins. “Proper control is about balance. Etherion is not infinite. You overextend, you break. You underutilize, you stagnate.”
A student in the middle row raised her hand. “What about Soulmarks, sir? Don’t they bypass a lot of this?”
Mr. Darnel frowned slightly, his expression making it clear he wasn’t fond of interruptions. “Soulmarks are unique abilities tied to an individual’s essence. Yes, they can bypass certain limitations, but they’re not a free pass. Without foundational control, a Soulmark is just another unrefined tool.”
Darius couldn’t help but glance at Zeke, who looked utterly uninterested, leaning back in his chair with a smirk as though the lecture didn’t apply to him. Of course it wouldn’t—Zeke’s Gravity Affinity made his Etherion usage seem effortless, like the world bent to his will without him needing to try.
Darius’s gaze dropped back to his notebook. No Affinity. No Soulmark. Just raw Etherion and careful precision. He scribbled a few notes, his mind wandering to the Trials. Could control and knowledge really carry him through against opponents like Zeke?
“Kaelen!”
Darius jolted, looking up to find Mr. Darnel’s sharp gaze fixed on him.
“Yes, sir?”
“Since you’re so attentive,” Mr. Darnel said, his tone dry, “why don’t you explain to the class the importance of Channel Calibration?”
Darius swallowed, feeling the weight of the room’s attention shift to him. He hesitated for a moment before answering. “It’s about efficiency,” he said, his voice steady despite the nervous energy building in his chest. “If your Channels aren’t calibrated, Etherion flow is uneven. That can lead to energy loss, instability, or... Burnout.”
“Correct,” Mr. Darnel said with a curt nod. “And what’s the primary method for achieving proper calibration?”
“Uh...” Darius glanced down at his notes, searching for the answer he already knew. “Meditative exercises. Focused breathing to stabilize the Axis and strengthen the Channels.”
“Exactly. Everyone, take note.” Mr. Darnel’s gaze shifted back to the class at large. “Meditation isn’t just for novices. It’s a lifelong practice. Without it, even the strongest among you—” his eyes flicked briefly to Zeke, “—will falter in critical moments.”
Darius sat back, exhaling quietly as the class moved on. Rhea shot him a small, encouraging smile from her seat, and even Nate gave him a subtle nod of approval.
As the lesson continued, the whispers that had followed Darius into school lingered at the edges of his awareness. The tension from the morning felt like a weight pressing down on him, but the focus on the Etherion system provided a temporary reprieve.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Trial wasn’t just a test of skill—it was a test of resilience. And after everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure how much more he had left to give.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson. As the students began gathering their things, Rhea leaned over, her voice low. “You handled that really well.”
“Thanks,” Darius said, managing a faint smile.
“Yeah,” Nate added as he stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “If the Trials have a pop quiz section, you’re golden.”
Darius snorted, but the sound was more genuine than he expected.
The three of them made their way out of the classroom together, but the whispers followed them, a constant undercurrent that refused to fade.
“Is it true? His dad got arrested this morning?”
“Yeah, right in front of the Calloway house.”
“Guess that explains a lot.”
Darius gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. He forced himself to keep walking, his friends close on either side. The Trials were looming, and he couldn’t afford to let this break him.
As they made their way through the school’s crowded halls, Rhea nudged Darius lightly with her elbow. “Alright, brooding genius, we’re heading to the vending machines. You coming, or do you want to mope in peace?”
“I’m good,” Darius replied, managing a faint smirk. He reached into his bag and pulled out the neatly wrapped sandwich Elijah had handed him earlier. “Got lunch already. I’ll find a table in the cafeteria.”
“Suit yourself,” Rhea said, her tone breezy but her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
“We’ll meet you in a bit,” Nate added, already jingling the loose change in his pocket as he followed Rhea toward the vending machines.
Darius nodded and veered toward the cafeteria, weaving through the bustling students and the steady hum of chatter. He found a quieter table near the corner, away from the crush of people. Setting down his bag, he unwrapped the sandwich, the familiar scent of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread reminding him of the Calloways’ warm kitchen.
He had just taken a bite when he heard the telltale sound of laughter—low, mean, and deliberate. A shadow fell over his table, and Darius knew before looking up who it was.
“Well, well,” Zeke Alaric drawled, standing on the other side of the table with his ever-present entourage. Troy loomed at Zeke’s right, grinning like a bulldog, while Marcus and Jenna flanked him, their smirks as sharp as knives.
“Kaelen,” Zeke continued, his voice oozing mockery. “Enjoying your little snack? Looks like someone’s moved up in the world—what’s this? Homemade food? Did Rhea pack that for you? Or is that the Calloways’ pity sandwich?”
Darius’s jaw tightened, but he kept his focus on the sandwich, determined not to give Zeke the reaction he was fishing for.
Zeke wasn’t deterred. He leaned closer, his smirk widening. “Bet it feels good, huh? Pretending you’ve got a real family for once. You must love playing house with them. At least someone’s willing to take you in since your real family doesn’t want you.”
That hit home. Darius clenched his fists under the table, his appetite disappearing as his stomach twisted with anger and shame.
Troy snickered, pointing at the sandwich. “Man, I didn’t know freeloading came with gourmet lunch perks. Maybe I should get myself kicked out of my house too.”
Darius finally looked up, his gaze sharp and full of warning. “What do you want, Zeke?”
“Oh, nothing,” Zeke said, feigning innocence. “Just thought I’d say hi. And maybe remind everyone here that you’re the guy whose dad got hauled off this morning for being a drunken mess. How’s that feel, huh? Having the whole school know you’re just a charity case with a deadbeat for a father?”
Laughter rippled through Zeke’s group, and Darius’s vision blurred with white-hot fury. He gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he fought to stay seated.
Zeke noticed the tremor and chuckled darkly. “Aw, look at him. He’s about to cry. Poor little Kaelen, all alone in the big, bad world.”
He reached across the table, snatching the water bottle Darius had set down beside him. “Here, maybe this will cool you off.”
Without waiting for a response, Zeke unscrewed the cap and upended the bottle over Darius’s head. The cold water soaked through his hair and shirt, dripping down his face as gasps and laughter erupted from the surrounding tables.
Darius shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He could feel the water running down his neck, mingling with the heat of humiliation and rage. His hands curled into fists, his entire body trembling with the effort of restraint.
“Enough!” he barked, his voice raw.
“Or what?” Zeke taunted, his grin widening. “Gonna hit me? Do it. Show everyone here that you’re just like your father—pathetic, violent, and worthless.”
The words struck like a hammer. Darius’s fist flew before he even realized he’d moved, his knuckles aimed squarely at Zeke’s smirking face.
“DARIUS!”
The sharp, commanding voice froze him mid-swing.
Mr. Darnel stood in the cafeteria doorway, his expression a storm of disapproval and authority as he marched toward the commotion. The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
“What is going on here?” Mr. Darnel demanded, his gaze darting between Darius, who was still poised to strike, and Zeke, whose smirk had finally faltered.
“Nothing, sir,” Zeke said quickly, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Kaelen here just... lost his temper. Guess it runs in the family.”
Mr. Darnel’s eyes narrowed, and he turned his focus to Darius. “Kaelen. Office. Now.”
Darius dropped his fist, his chest heaving with the effort of reigning in his fury. Without a word, he grabbed his bag and stormed toward the door, the weight of a hundred stares pressing against his back.
As he passed Mr. Darnel, the teacher’s voice dropped low enough for only Darius to hear. “We’ll discuss this. Calmly.”
Darius didn’t trust himself to speak. He gave a stiff nod and kept walking, the sound of the cafeteria door swinging shut behind him echoing in his ears.