Hey everybodeeeeeee...

Had a close call this morning! Almost got my sketchbook taken by my teacher, but don't worry! I still got it!

Anyways, hope you enjoy Becomings Day!

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You look at the front of the lineup, a mere two kids ahead of you. You grit your teeth, trying your best to prevent yourself from shaking. After all, everyone is watching.

Today is the day. The day you find out what possessing red eyes truly meant. You are at your district's learning center, Learning Center #41 (what a creative naming system the Council came up with), a massive Endstone complex made up of many indoor and outdoor classrooms. The huge structure takes up most of the small island it is housed on.

Currently, you are in the large, open room in the center of the building. The Announcement Chamber, reserved for center-wide meetings and the yearly Becomings Day ceremony, where all the Enderkids who have turned or are turning twelve this year will begin their magic training. They celebrate this monumental moment in every Enderman's life with a ceremony, where friends and family watch as they use magic for the first time. You parents are out there too...

"What do you think?" You hear someone whisper behind you. The voice of one of your instructors. He is more than likely conferring with a colleague. You know it's wrong to eavesdrop, but it is hard not to do it all the time, since you have no one to talk to at the center. No one wants to be friends with the short weirdo with red eyes.

"Who knows what the Little Oddity might be capable of. I think it would be safer." Another instructor whispers back, just as you suspected. You inwardly scowl at the name your instructors use to refer to you, "Little Oddity". Of course, the other students call you worse things. Shorty, Spider-eyes, Halfy, and the most popular, Endermite. No one seems to realize you already had a name.

Distracted by this train of thought, you jump when you are lightly tapped on the shoulder.

You turn. It is the first instructor who had spoken, the other is standing behind him. The first kneels down to your level, which requires a considerable amount of effort considering he is nearly three times your height, and whispers softly in your ear. "A decision has been made to make your Ceremony private, Y/N. Your parents will be informed as well, and will join you shortly." The instructor strains to stand up again. He subtly nods his head in the direction of the back door leading off of the platform. "Come with us."

A mixture of anxiety and relief flood through your mind. Do they think you are dangerous? At least you won't have to stand in front of that huge crowd. You try to stamp out any other concerning thoughts, instead focusing on where you are going.

You are walking down the main hall, towards the Advanced classrooms. If all goes well, you will soon be spending your learning days in these rooms, with the others who are learning magic. All required studies other than magic end when you become an Advanced student, but you still plan to take a few optional standard studies as well as magic classes.

Lost in thought, you don't realize when the instructors in front of you stop, and nearly run into them. You blink back into reality, and realize you're standing before the doors of one of the largest outdoor classrooms, the one reserved for Blue-eyed telekinetics to target practice. The walls are reinforced in case they threw an object with a little too much mental force.

They really do think you might be dangerous. It's a possibility you have considered. What if you just blow into smithereens like a creeper?

Your instructors open the doors, to reveal your parents already standing within the massive walled stone yard, with another Enderwoman you don't recognize. They more than likely had just teleported. They both have standard purple eyes, so teleporting is their specialty. It also makes your oddness more baffling. They have purple eyes, your grandparents have purple eyes, all your great-grandparents have purple eyes. In fact, the only Enderman in your family who doesn't have purple eyes is one of your fifth cousins who lives in the Nether. His eyes are pink.

No one knows what happened to you, but it is very embarrassing for the family reputation.

The young enderwoman you don't recognize approaches you as soon as you enter. She smiles down at you, and announces herself, "Greetings Y/N, my name is Inst. Tkeerah. I have volunteered to be your personal magic tutor."

You return the smile, and dip your head in the customary respectful nod, "Thank you, Inst. Tkeerah." But inside you are quite surprised. Someone actually wants to tutor the weird kid? Volunteered? You can't help but be a little suspicious. Most don't want to be associated with you, for the sake of their reputation.

"Alright then let's get started. This will be just like the standard ceremony, so try to relax" She informs you, leading you toward the center of the training room. Unfortunately, you can not obey her latter instruction, you have been trembling with stress since you woke up this morning.

In the center of the large, open-ceilinged room, you stopped and face your "private tutor". You can no longer hide you shaking, nerves taking over your senses. Inst. Tkeerah gives you a small, encouraging smile. "You're going to do great, Y/N." She murmurs softly. "Close your eyes."

You do as she says, trying to keep your breathing steady. You aren't standing in front of a huge crowd. It's just your parents and a few instructors. It's fine. No one's going to laugh or tease you. These thoughts don't help.

"Now, I want you to put your hand on your chest." Her voice is steady, quiet, tranquil. It helps a little. You lay your hand over the center of your rib cage, you feel a rapid, but steady pulsing. Your inner eye, pumping blood into your veins and feeding magic into your soul.

"Focus on the beat, tune out everything else. Wait until it slows down, and let me know." You try your best. It's hard not to overthink everything, but you do your best to quiet your thoughts. Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out slowly. Again. Again. Again.

Finally, the beat slows down, calm and peaceful. "I'm ready." Your voice comes out in a barely audible whisper.

"Do you feel the power contained within it?" She asks. You focus, hard. After a minute, you can feel it, a warm, tingly sensation, tightly contained in the small space. Like a thousand tiny starbursts compacted together.

"Yes" You answer softly, feeling awe at this new sensation. How have you never felt it before?

"Let it out." Inst. Tkeerah says, such a simple command.

You think it will be hard, but it isn't. It feels as simple as turning a knob and opening a door. Your body instantly floods with that same hot, tingly sensation. You gasp. You had no idea just how amazing magic would feel. You keep your eyes shut, lost in this new euphoria.

Finally, you feel the feeling fade, but not going away entirely. You can feel it flowing though your veins with each pulse of your eye. Once let out, magic can never be contained again. You finally open your outward eyes, and see everyone staring at you, shell-shocked. You look down at yourself self-consciously, panicking and wondering what is wrong.

Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

You are on fire.

Red flames lick at your skin, clothes, and hair. It feels warm, but not hot. The base of the flames are white hot, with a purple tint. How are you not burning? Your clothes aren't even affected. Despite the lack of unpleasant symptoms, your pulse still sky-rockets, and the danger-detecting side of your brain goes hay-wire. You are on fire.

Yet you don't scream. Some other part of your brain quickly intervenes, telling you that everything is fine. There is no danger. Nothing to worry about. This is normal. Not just normal, good. Your pulse slows, and you are once again overwelled with a sense of calm and awe. You are on fire!

"Dragon breath..." One of the onlooking instructors finally manages to gasp out, breaking your sense of serene wonder, and bringing your focus back to the both awe-struck and terrified Endermen surrounding you.

"I never seen anything..." The other babbles, unable to take her eyes off you.

"Y/N?" Your mother calls out to get your attention, though it sounds like a question. As if she doubts it is even you anymore. You kind of doubt it's you too. It all feels surreal, dreamlike. Is this another daydream? How is this possible? What does it mean?

You look over at your flabbergasted parents helplessly, wanting to go over to them, but you are still on fire, and you doubt they're as immune as you are. Wait. How do you make it stop?

Before you completely lose it in utter horror at the fact that you might be on fire, forever, Inst. Tkeerah regains her lost composure, and informs you, "This is normal, well, not exactly, but, anyways. It's normal for students to not be able to stop or control their flow of magic immediately. I should have told you that first." She pauses, blinking rapidly, regaining her train of thought, "Anyways, the first step in your case would be... to... maybe... think of something cold?" She guesses.

So, she really doesn't know.

That's reassuring.

After several different experimental exercises, you are finally able to... un-set-on-fire... yourself, by counting the void-stars above you. You still aren't sure what to think about your newfound power. There has never been an Enderman in the history of time to have magical abilities unrelated to teleportation. You aren't sure whether to feel special or terrified.

Looking at your flustered "private tutor", you wonder whether she is regretting her commitment. You suppose there is nothing preventing her from walking away from it though, especially after that.

The other two instructors who had accompanied you are long gone, informing everyone in the center and more than likely the Council itself of this recent development. What if they decide you were too dangerous? What if they even go so far to declare you aren't even an Enderman? What if they banish you? Anxiety from all the possibilities begins to overwhelm you.

Then you remember what Hkeriih had told you the day before. You are different for a purpose...

You hope it's true.
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"Steve, are you ok?" A red-head boy of around thirteen asked his slightly older companion, who seemed to completely zone out of their conversation. It was unlike him to simply stop mid-sentence. It wasn't like the topic had been anything heavy. Which cook made the best stew was hardly a reason to become suddenly lost in deep thought.

They were walking through the colorful and fragrant gardens, bees-buzzing all around and the sweet smell of spring filling the air, going towards the training yard, where they spared for fun. It was sunny, but not glaring, warm, but not hot. Perfect weather really. Tutoring sessions were finished for the day. They had until the annual spring feast tonight to do whatever they wanted. Really, Nilan couldn't find anything wrong with the situation.

Unless...

But that was weeks ago...

Surely, Steve wasn't still thinking about...

...him...

Nilan's face wrinkled in agitation, but he quickly smoothed his features, hiding his annoyance. It was not proper when accompanied by a royal. "Prince Steve?" He asked again, hoping to regain his colleague's attention.

The richly garbed brunette shook his head, his short royal-blue cape flapping in the slight breeze. His deep ocean-blue eyes finally clearing. "Yes? What were we talking about?"

Nilan sighed a muffled sigh, "Cook Harold's stew. Tonight's the Spring Feast remember?"

The prince's lip curled in disgust. "Of course, I remember. How could I not be thinking about..." Steve trailed of, casting his eyes downwards, kicking a pebble from his path with his gold-lined boot as the pair neared the end of the cobbled walkway.

Nilan let the silence reign for a moment. Trying to think of the right words to console his best friend and future king. "I know that it is difficult, but you must stop dwelling on the past Steve."

Anger flashed across the heir's face, "How can I simply forget? With the feast coming up, all I can think of is that he won't be there. But no one else seems to even notice!" He yelled out his frustration, entering the packed-dirt training yard, and viciously yanking a wooden sword from the rack, causing several others to fall off their hooks.

Nilan huffed, wishing this didn't come up in almost every conversation he had with his friend. He knelt and re-hung all of the fallen swords except for one, which he took with him as he jogged to catch up with Steve, who had stomped off towards one of the wooden dummies littering the yard.

Nilan ran in front of him to cut off his path. "Steve, you can't keep doing this. Hitting that armor stand is not going to solve your problems. Stop running away from me and listen to what I'm saying." Very improper of him. His father, the Head General, would be very displeased if he were here. But he's not, so that's irrelevant.

For a second, Steve looked like he would plow right over top of Nilan, but instead, he dropped his sword and fell into a sitting position on the dusty ground. "Fine." He said dejectedly. It was Steve's way of saying, "you're right".

"I know that its painful to lose someone you love, but you can't grieve forever. You have to pick yourself up and move on. You're the crown prince, people are counting on you to be their king one day."

"Some king I'll make. I couldn't even save my..."

"Don't start that again Steve."

"But it was my fault!!!!"

"No Steve it wasn't. There was nothing you could have done." Steve's eyes only narrowed at this; he knew it wasn't true. He could've prevented everything...

"It's not just that!!! You don't even know about..." Steve's voice faded, heavy guilt weighing down his features.

"I knew him well Steve. I know some of the things that caused the divide between you, but you were both young. He held grudges too long."

"Even so, why does everyone, even the King himself, just act like he never even existed!!!" Steve's face shriveled in internal agony, tears welling in his eyes as he hung his head. The gold, diamond encrusted circlet, on his forehead tumbled off, rolled on the ground, then fell with a poof of dust.

Nilan paused, selecting the best way to answer. Telling the truth, that he had in fact been rather easy to overlook to begin with, wouldn't help the situation. "Life must go on, Prince. Everyone has a different way of coping."

Steve was silent after that, simply sitting in the dirt, staring with blurry eyes at a patch of dead grass below them, getting his expensive clothes filthy. While he understood some of what Nilan was saying, it didn't make the heir feel any better. Nilan didn't know everything, couldn't know everything. Steve himself hadn't been able to fully comprehend it.

Until it was too late to fix it.

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Oh no! No Hero boy in this chapter! Don't worry, he gets the majority of the next chapter!

Bruh, this sketch took soooooooo long...

Edgy out!