The training fields were quiet that morning—almost unnaturally so. Fog clung low to the earth, muting the usual chatter of students preparing for the day's exercises. Overhead, clouds rolled heavy and slow, like a storm waiting for permission to descend.
Alex stood at the edge of the sparring ring, his robe damp with dew, his boots caked in the dried mud of yesterday's drills. Around him, the others formed loose circles—pairs whispering, some stretching, some idly tossing magical sparks into the air in anticipation.
"Form up!" barked Instructor Nareth, his voice cutting through the mist. "Today we test magical resilience and channeling. You will be paired and placed against arcane resistance. No exceptions."
The students groaned as they gathered. These exercises were intense—designed to push magical thresholds. For someone like Alex, who struggled to properly light a torch without singing his sleeves, the words felt like a death sentence.
Brinn appeared beside him, always reliable. "Stick close. If they partner us, I'll take the hits. Just deflect."
"I don't need a bodyguard," Alex muttered.
Brinn gave him a crooked grin. "You do when you can't conjure a spark without lighting your ears on fire."
Alex tried not to smile, but failed. Brinn's jokes had a way of settling the nerves.
Instructor Nareth's assistant, a tall woman with a silver armband denoting her as an Upper Tier graduate, stepped forward with a list.
"First up—Group Eight. Alex Valea and Corwin Thorne."
Brinn turned instantly. "Wait, what? No—he was supposed to be—"
"No changes," the assistant snapped. "Valea and Thorne, into the circle."
Corwin Thorne strutted forward with an expression halfway between smug and malicious. He had the arrogance of someone born to old magic and never let Alex forget it.
"You're going to be easy," Corwin whispered as they took their stances. "Try not to wet yourself when I start."
Alex tensed. The ring lit with sigils along its perimeter, glowing blue. Containment spells. Safety measures, supposedly.
"Begin!" shouted Nareth.
Corwin wasted no time. He hurled a bolt of pressurized wind, sharp as a blade, and Alex barely managed to throw up a shaky shield. The wind fractured against his barrier with a thrum that shook Alex's bones.
Another wave came, this time fire-tipped. Alex twisted away and skidded through the dirt. The shield flickered.
"Focus, Alex!" Nareth called. "Control, not panic!"
Easy for him to say.
He tried to summon a deflection spell. Words in his head blurred. Nothing happened.
Corwin laughed. "Going to cry, dragon boy?"
The word hit him like a strike. Dragon boy.
Why did that word sting?
A strange pressure built behind Alex's eyes—behind his chest. The ground trembled beneath his feet, subtle but present. No one else seemed to notice.
Corwin launched another spell, this one laced with elemental shrapnel.
Something snapped.
A roar—low, guttural—seemed to echo inside Alex's skull. His vision blurred at the edges, and for a moment, the world was soaked in red and gold. Fire. Hunger. Rage.
Then his hands moved without conscious command. Magic surged—not trickling or stuttering like it usually did, but exploding.
A sphere of fire engulfed the ring.
But it wasn't normal fire. It shimmered with violet and gold. The flames didn't burn the grass—they warped it. Banners turned to ash in midair. The sigils around the ring shattered with a sound like glass cracking under pressure. Students screamed and stumbled back.
Corwin was flung against the barrier, hitting it with enough force to leave a dent before collapsing unconscious.
Alex stood at the center, fire curling from his fingertips like smoke from a just-lit matchstick. His robe was torn. His eyes… glowed.
Brinn was the first to reach him. "Alex!"
Alex blinked rapidly, swaying on his feet. "What... what did I do?"
The containment ring was gone. The warding stones had fractured. Half the arena was scorched and twisted, the earth blackened.
Fenrik Vale approached slowly, eyes wide and unreadable. "Everyone back. Give him space."
"But he—" a student began.
"Now," Fenrik snapped.
Two healers rushed to Corwin. Instructor Nareth stood frozen, mouth slightly ajar. Nothing he'd seen in decades of training students compared to this.
Alex's knees gave out. Brinn caught him.
Fenrik stepped closer. "Alex, can you hear me?"
"I… didn't mean to," Alex whispered. "It just happened."
"What were you thinking before it happened?" Fenrik's tone was calm. Too calm.
Alex looked up. "He called me dragon boy."
The words hung in the air.
Fenrik's jaw clenched.
---
Later that evening, the whispers began.
The "breach," they were calling it. No one had seen a spell like that before—not from a first-year. Not from any student, really. The upper floors of the academy pulsed with energy. A protective ward had to be reset across the west wing.
Alex sat on his cot in the infirmary, hand bandaged where the surge had blistered his skin. Brinn sat nearby, arms crossed, watching like a sentry.
"You scared the Void out of everyone," Brinn finally said.
"I didn't mean to," Alex murmured.
"I know. But it wasn't normal magic. I've seen a lot, Alex, and that wasn't in any textbook."
Alex looked at him. "Do you think I'm cursed?"
Brinn didn't answer.
The door creaked.
Elya Runehart stepped inside, holding a satchel of salves and scrolls. She didn't speak until the door clicked shut behind her.
"I brought this from the eastern archives," she said softly, pulling out a thin, red-stitched book. "It mentioned something about draconic resonance."
Brinn sat up. "That's banned material."
"Half the truth around here is banned," Elya said without flinching. "Fenrik helped me find it."
A silence fell between them.
"I saw what you did," Elya continued. "The fire. It wasn't destructive—it was protective. That surge came out when you were cornered. Like something woke up to protect you."
Elya reached into her satchel and withdrew a charm—small, obsidian, shaped like a dragon's eye. "This reacted when you lost control. It glowed. It's been dormant for centuries."
Alex touched it. It pulsed—warm, faintly alive.
Brinn stood. "So what now? Do we tell someone?"
"No," Elya said quickly. "Not yet. If the council finds out... they'll do more than expel him. That kind of power terrifies them."
Alex looked from Brinn to Elya. "What do I do?"
Elya's eyes were steady. "Learn. Train. Control it before someone tries to control you."
Alex exhaled slowly. For the first time since the fire, the shaking in his fingers began to still.
Outside, the academy towers stood tall, but one spire's tip flickered—like a signal catching in the storm.