Eldan stared at the bush in front of him, and it stared back.

Screams of triumph followed by the familiar groan of wooden branches crawling and leaves rustling. Heavy footsteps pattered behind him, stopping when a pool of shadow blocked the rays of sunlight flaying his back.

"Looks like the dud is having trouble," a grating voice rasped behind Eldan, making him retreat deeper into himself. Not this again.

He looked around, gaze flicking from one face to the next, searching for the only person who could help him. A snicker tore his attention back to its owner. A tall boy loomed over him, almost matching the thick trunks towering over them. Jari Krisarys, Eldan's long-time tormentor.

"What's wrong?" Jari said, hands propped on his hips. His tunic remained pressed and without creases, showing Eldan how easy the boy had it with this session. "You won't find the Scholar here. I made sure she's busy with serodi. You can't snitch like you did last time."

Eldan lowered his head, swallowing what was left of his resistance. If he said anything, it would just make it worse.

The grass crinkled when Jari's feet shifted in Eldan's periphery. The boy's face got too close, invading Eldan's personal space. "Krou's got your tongue?" Jari sneered. "Come on. You used to be so chatty."

"Go away." Eldan's voice was nothing but a whisper. If not for Jari's face inches from his hair, it wouldn't have reached the right ears. The other children started gaining interest in them, judging from the growing mass of silence enveloping the clearing.

Jari scoffed. "I'm just trying to help," he said, waving a hand at the untouched bush in front of Eldan. "It's been half an hour already. Come on. Make it grow."

A weight bore on Eldan's shoulders, reminding him again why he was out here, why he couldn't be at home with his brothers and sister. With them awakening their synnavaimis the first hour after their naming, they could be part of the family. They could proudly call themselves a Rovalen.

But Eldan...

Not only was he named later than his siblings, he was a disgrace to the Rovalen name. As one of the most prominent kaviste keijuis in Telsbury, his father never let him forget how much they couldn't afford to include a failure in their ranks. And Eldan was the worst failure they ever came across.

He didn't have a synnavaim.

Which was not unheard of. There were tons of cases of children growing up without access to magic, unable to bend the natural energy around them. It wouldn't be as easy as breathing and could take years and years just to get the level to that of a flower-child. But Eldan didn't have years. He didn't even have a month.

That's why he's out here, under Scholar Kedove's guidance, along with the other kids his age who belong to other noble families serving the Grand Regal. It wasn't even Acosa, the capital, and yet, these people already acted as if filial reputation was more important than everything else. Eldan's task here was to master his kaviste synnavaim as quickly as possible, in time for his passage. Another unnecessary tradition, in Eldan's opinion, but all of the noble families used this tradition to strengthen ties with each other and tear people down. For them, it's a race to the Grand Monarch's side, and apparently, having a child who couldn't make plants grow was not going to help.

A force slammed at the back of Eldan's head. Jari's hand flitted out of his periphery after it hit him. "Hey, I'm talking to you," Jari said. "I'm being nice, and you think you can ignore me?"

"I can't," Eldan said, his voice a bit louder now. The tone he could work on, though. Jari wouldn't like how clipped it was.

The boy frowned. "You can't what?"

Eldan's hands on his lap curled. Tight. "I can't do it," he admitted. "Just...leave me alone."

The pile of children thickened around them, bringing more shame to Eldan's gut. Must they watch him get humiliated too? He's had enough of that at home.

Jari, meanwhile, wasn't done. "I can't do that! Scholar Kedove will be back soon, and she's going to be so sad you're the only one making progress. She'll think it's her problem. Maybe it'll be too late before she knows it's you."

A chorus of jeers erupted from their audience. The noise grated Eldan's ears and made his temples pound. His fists balled tighter; his arms itched to whirl and punch someone. But it wouldn't reflect well on the Rovalen image, and if he wanted to prove himself worthy of it, he wouldn't lose his cool.

He wouldn't do anything.

"Go away," Eldan said again. "Please."

"Oh, go away, please," Jari mocked. "Come on. Make it grow."

Something snapped inside Eldan. Within a few seconds, Jari was on his rear and a few inches away. As Eldan needed him to. And he should stay that way. Instead, a scowl twisted the boy's features. "You hit me," Jari hissed, brushing the shoulder of his pristine vest. He turned to the rest of their class. "Can you believe it? He hit me!"

Eldan opened his mouth to defend himself. He merely shoved Jari away after he got too close and started picking on him. It was harmless.

Or so he thought.

Jari lunged at him, pinning him to the ground. The boy's claw-like grip dug on Eldan's shoulders, making him wince in pain. His legs flailed, attempting to squirm the rest of his form out. He got nowhere. The children around them started egging Jari on. Yeah, show him! Go, Jari! Don't let him treat you that way!

It went into the boy's head, judging from the wide grin spreading across his lips. "You should know better than to cross a Krisarys," Jari rasped. "Because you're nothing."

Eldan would have yelled I'm a Rovalen, and therefore, we're the same rank, but was he really? He couldn't even make a damned seed sprout. So, he wrapped his hands around Jari's wrists and pushed with the last of his strength. "Get off!" He yelled.

With the boy's weight heavy on his arms, Eldan's force upsetted his balance, sending him sprawling backward. That's the second time in a row. It's not good.

Anger warped Jari's face. It's the last thing Eldan saw as a blur of beige and green slammed into him. They crashed into the bush Eldan was supposed to help flourish, and it came back with a revenge. Thorns nicked his cheeks and neck, poking his arms through the thin fabric of his rumpled tunic. They would have poked his eyes if not for Jari hauling him away from there and gripping him by the collar.

Jari drew an arm back, fingers tucked into a fist. It's going to hurt. By instinct, Eldan threw himself back into the thorny bush, dragging the boy with him. Not wanting his precious skin to be hurt, Jari jumped back, loosening his grip on Eldan.

That's his chance. Before any of his classmates knew what was going on, Eldan slapped Jari's hand away and dove into the thorns. It didn't matter if he came home covered in cuts. They healed faster than bruises, anyway. And maybe his father could see him actually trying.

Fabric ripped, but he didn't dare look back to see the fuss. With his throat as tight as the knots in his stomach were, his focus was only to get out of the clearing. Get out of the forest, and get out of danger before they kill him with shame. It's disappointing, sure. His father stressed the importance of standing one's ground—a Rovalen never runs!—but Kristem Rovalen wasn't the one at the rear end of the browbeating. Eldan was.

And in times like these, it was easier to run.

The forest blurred in the corner of his vision, his legs absorbed in getting him out of that wretched place. Blobs of colors flickered in and out, striving to steal his attention yet failing. Various calls from forest critters and larger animals muffled in the blasts of his breathing and the ringing in his ears. At some point, his shins numbed.

In one last burst of strength, Eldan lurched for a trunk. His palms slammed against a rock. Only it wasn't a rock. It's...

His breaths came in huge gasps, only taking in but never exhaling. Air filtered into his head, making white spots dance in his eyes. The sunlight was bright and dim at the same time. What's...

He clutched his head, resting his trembling form against the rock. His other hand ran down the rough surface, noting the etches and grooves. Brittle. It was brittle, with the splinters clinging to his fingertips. It wasn't a rock. It's a tree.

A cool breeze blew from the canopies, rustling the leaves and making the dappled shadows dance across the grass-covered floor. It's cold. Bright. He's in a forest next to a tree. Safe. Eldan was safe.

That was, until a loud yowl rippled across the expanse. Eldan flattened himself against the trunk, wide-eyed gaze flicking towards the source. A quilderfen burst past the web of branches and leaves, its colorful feathers perked up. It's a sign of aggression, and it's making towards a blob of white fur in the neighboring tree.

Eldan's heart jumped to his throat as he watched the giant bird spread its hooked talons, screeching its presence. An equally ear-splitting hiss answered. His head snapped towards the receiving end of the attack to find a krou with its ears back and spin arched. Claws scratched against the floor of its huge nest. Feathery wings spread wide, giving Eldan a quick glimpse of what lay underneath.

Four kittens, mewling at the chaos around them.

The quilderfen reached the nest, eager to get some food for itself. It wasn't picky. A fluffy krou and her kittens would do. It was met with a wide slash, the mother krou's claws ready to tear off some feathers and flesh off. Eldan didn't dare move—he didn't want the giant predatory bird to turn to him—but he had to help the krou. She's got her kittens to protect. It wasn't fair for her family to be picked on.

The krou's claws screeched against the quilderfen's beak, eliciting visible sparks. A distressed caw ripped off the quilderfen's throat. The time it took for the bird to recoil was the only thing the mother krou needed. She whirled to her kittens, swiping them with her tail, paws, and snout. A strong gust of wind whooshed across the forest floor when she leaped off her nest, spread her wings, and punched through the canopies. It drove Eldan's hair off his forehead and plastered him harder against the trunk.

Claws clacked against the branches as the startled bird perched and shook its head. Then, it started preening. Having lost its prey, the bird opened its wings and flew off not a full minute later. Eldan exhaled, his chest expanding after a moment of staying stationary. It's fine. He should be fine.

He was about to stalk off and find his way back home or back to the class when a weak mewl rang from the forest floor. His spine straightened, then he shook his head. No. He would not check if there was a kitten left behind. It was nature's way. Those who couldn't adhere to it would be eliminated. The mother krou should have been more attentive to her children. And the one left behind...

Well, it has to survive on its own from here on out.

Eldan shouldn't have anything to do with it. He has enough problems. Dried leaves crunched against his boot. That's right. One step at a time. Forward.

Another mew. It sounded like it's from pain.

Oh, Rudik's breeches. Eldan abandoned his resolute path and trudged to where the sound came from. Pushing away the fronds and branches out of the way, he glimpsed a ball of white fur curled at the base of one bush. It yowled, its voice too weak to reach its mother who was probably fortweres away.

He clenched his jaw, sticking his hand into the interlocking branches. As soon as his fingers brushed the krou's fur, it unfurled and bared its fangs at him. It hissed. Tch. What if he left it there, then?

"I'm not going to harm you," Eldan muttered under his breath as he reached deeper, standing on his tiptoes and forcing the bush's topmost fronds to bend further down. "Come on."

Something flickered across the krou's black slits for eyes. Soon, it ducked its head, showing Eldan its scruff. It may be a sign of trust or something, but it gave him easier access. With a gentle grip, he pinched the krou's neck and lifted it off the bush's influence.

When the extraction was done, Eldan patted himself for any spare fabric he could wrap it with. He left his cloak in the clearing, and his tunic was torn and muddied beyond usability. He probably looked worse too. The krou hissing at him was almost forgivable.

With not much of a choice, he cradled the quivering krou in his hands and kept it close to him. How was he supposed to take care of it now? Was it even going to be allowed home?

"You know what?" Eldan said aloud, even though no one could hear him within a fortwere and the krou couldn't understand a word. "I'll figure it out."

He was Eldan Rovalen. It shouldn't be that hard.