Kazh stood in the courtyard, gripping the wooden sword tight. The midday glow bathed the marble beneath his feet in gold, but the warmth did nothing to ease the cold weight settling in his chest. Around him, the other recruits lingered, their whispers sharp as blades.


    “Why does he even bother?”


    “His power is useless, he should just quit.”


    A soldier stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, spinning his sword in fluid, effortless motions. His golden armor gleamed, catching the light like a weapon itself. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. Just like everyone else.


    He smirked. "Come on, Kazh," he taunted, slamming his sword into the ground with a sharp crack. "Make me heavy. Let’s see if that actually does anything."


    Laughter rippled through the others. Kazh kept his face still, hiding the heat rising in his throat. He’d been here before. Too many times.


    He exhaled. Steadied his stance. Power alone wasn’t going to win this fight.


    He reached outward, fingers barely shifting, but the air around his opponent trembled. A shimmer, a pulse, subtle, but precise. The soldier''s weapon wavered, dipping lower, his muscles tightening under the unseen weight pressing down.


    A flicker of uncertainty crossed the soldier’s face. It was small, but Kazh caught it.


    It was enough.


    Before hesitation could turn into regained confidence, Kazh moved. Fast, low, weaving into his opponent’s space. He didn’t need to overpower him. He just needed an opening.


    For a moment Kazh thought he had him.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    But then the soldier''s grin widened, and in a flash he lunged. Kazh didn’t have time to react fully, he barely raised his arms before the full force of the strike hit him in the ribs. His breath was knocked from his chest, and he crashed to the ground, gasping.


    They all laughed.


    “You see?” The soldier stood over him, turning to the others. His voice was full of mockery. “What good is making something heavy when you can''t even stand your ground?”


    Kazh’s teeth ground together, pain searing through him, but he didn’t stay down. Struggling against the ache in his chest, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, refusing to let the laughter take root inside him.


    His power never came quickly enough. Never strong enough. It was always a slow build, a strain on his body that left him exposed when he needed it most.


    The others? They conjured blinding spears of light, weaving shields of pure radiance or moved with the grace of wind. And Kazh?


    He made things heavy.


    “Enough” a voice thunderous, sharp and commanding.


    Captain Seraph’s presence cut through the crowd, his golden eyes glowing, silencing the laughter and whispers in an instant. He stepped forward observing the scene with an unsettling calmness before reaching Kazh.


    The recruits chest tightened, expecting the usual reprimands. But instead there was a shift in the captain''s demeanor. His gaze was harder, colder, not out of anger but something else.


    Kazh got up, despite the pain gnawing on his ribs. He was quick on his feet, skilled amongst the most disciplined. Yet, despite his discipline, he always fell behind, his fellow soldiers had gifts that helped them in combat.


    He looked up, the captain’s eye laying over his, “You fight well, Kazh” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Better than most who rely too much on their gifts.” For a moment, Kazh thought he was getting praised, but Seraph continued.


    “But fighting well isn’t enough. You can train as hard as you want, but at the end of the day you''re just a soldier with nothing to tip the scales in your favor.” Seraph shook his head. “ And in war that’s the difference between a leader and a body in the dirt.”


    The words struck deep. Kazh had spent years refining his technique, making up for what he lacked in raw celestial power. He had told himself that skill could make up for it. That discipline and effort would close the gap.


    But to them, it never would.


    Kazh exhaled, steadying himself. The pain in his ribs was nothing compared to the weight pressing on his chest.


    Later that day, their first mission was given.