Brent was definitely going to be late for Combat Theory, mostly because he'd spent thirty extra minutes in the library looking for anything that could help him. He'd found a dusty old book called Forms of Forgotten Power, half-buried under a pile of enchanted tomes that buzzed when touched. It wasn't on the syllabus. It wasn't even supposed to be out of the archives. That made it all the more interesting. It was not about unlocking abilities, but unlocking any type of form would be better than nothing.
He tucked it under his arm and jogged toward the training yard, boots thudding against cobbled stone.
Combat Theory wasn't held in a classroom. It took place in a wide, sun-baked arena where students were encouraged to "spar responsibly"—which usually meant the powered kids got to show off, while the rest ducked, rolled, and hoped not to get scorched.
Brent wasn't surprised to see a crowd already gathered. What did surprise him was who stood at the center.
Rae Ellanor.
Hair like ink, eyes like storm clouds, and a sword strapped across her back even though she could command the wind with a whisper. Rae was everything Brent wasn't—confident, powerful, admired. But that was not why Brent admired her. She came from a tough background as well having lost her family at a young age and still having a successful first year in the academy. She also happened to be the only person Brent had ever had a full conversation with that didn't involve insults or pity.
While in the library, she had asked him where the old cartography texts were. He'd stammered, pointed, and she'd said, "Thanks, brain-boy," with the faintest curve of a smile. That moment had replayed in his head several times already. Wishing he could have been more charming.
Now, though, Rae looked cornered.
Three boys—older, meaner, and fully powered—had her surrounded. They weren't touching her, not yet, but the postures were sharp-edged, the kind that came before trouble.
"She doesn't want to train with you, Kallin," Brent heard another girl mutter from the sidelines.
Kallin was Jalen's family friend—his obsidian skin crackling faintly with electricity—he laughed and raised a hand toward Rae. "Just showing the lady a new move."
Brent's feet moved before his brain could stop them.
"Hey," he said, loud enough that it cracked across the crowd. "Why don't you pick on someone who doesn't think you are a complete idiot?"
Kallin turned, sneering. "And who would that be?"
Rae looked at Brent. Her face was unreadable, but her jaw clenched. "Go away, Brent."
He ignored her. "I don't know. It looks like everyone here thinks you are a complete idiot."
Kallin's grin faded.
Brent had time to drop his book. Time to raise his hands. Not time to dodge.
The punch hit like a bolt of lightning—fitting, since it kind of was. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and he hit the ground hard, teeth rattling.
Someone gasped. A few students laughed. Rae didn't move. She just rolled her eyes at Brent and acted like nothing happened.
Brent coughed, blood in his mouth. He tried to stand. Got halfway before another blow sent him skidding across the dirt.
"Stay down," Kallin growled. "Who is the idiot now?"
"Still you, idiot." Brent muttered, blinking stars from his vision. "Why don't you fight me without that wind cr." Kallin couldn't finish his sentence before..
A sudden gust of wind blasted Kallin backward. Brent flew across the room and into the back wall of the library scattering broken boards and building materials through the area.
Rae stepped between them, eyes cold. "We done here?"
Kallin spat, but backed off. The crowd began to scatter.
Brent sat up, head throbbing, and looked at Rae.
She looked back, arms crossed. "What were you thinking?"
"I—" he winced. "You looked like you needed help."
She scoffed. "I didn't."
Silence stretched between them. Then she added, quieter, "Thanks. I guess."
He smiled through a busted lip. "Anytime."
But as she turned and walked away without another word, Brent realized something painful:
Sometimes, the people you want to save just doesn't want to be saved.
And sometimes, being a hero doesn't look anything like the stories. Wow. I will never fit in here Brent pondered as he bent over to pick up his book before start cleaning up the scattered wood. What is this? A small box was inside the broken wall. Brent opened the small box and found a tiny gem stone. Wow. I wonder if this is worth enough money help with my sisters treatment. Brent quickly grabbed the stone but just as he did, the stone immediately dissolved into his fingers. A burning sensation poured through his body then suddenly everything was stopped. Oh No! What did I do? That gem could have been priceless and I ruined it. Nothing is ever going to work out for me. Brent kicked the floor as he walked back to the entrance of the library. Brent reported the accident to the librarian and thought about skipping class before changing his mind and heading to his combat theory class. During the walk he looked took out the new book he had checked out of the library and started to open the book. A glowing ambiance highlighted a tear just inside the seam of his book. Hmm. I didn't see this here earlier. Brent adjusted the angle of the book and found a small tattered old pamphlet hidden in the seam of the old book. Brent placed the old book in the middle of his form of forgotten power book and continued to class.
Combat Theory class went even worse than his elemental classes. Yes, Brent was in decent shape, and could throw a decent punch. But, in a class full of people that had spent their entire lives learning their families martial arts skills and being able to support those skills with arcane abilities, Brent ended up just being a punching bag for the entire class.