A Low Start

One thing was certain.

He loved magic.

It was so wonderful, the way he could freeze the small water droplets that slide down the windowpane on a rainy day. He'd walk outside uncaring about the growing wet stains on his cotton clothing and scoop them up in his hand to toss them in the air and watch as they fell, hundreds of glittering crystals twinkling in the darkened sky lit by the shining moon.

Or the way he could blow away the summer fruit flies away from the bountiful apples that the maid collected from his expansive garden.

And the way the flames would dance in his hand, flickering joyfully in the wind until he could no longer sustain the strain of magic leaving his Pool.

He wondered when he'd lost that love.

Maybe it was because of his tutor, who had a strict guideline that he must follow or otherwise he'll never be as strong as his mother, his most exemplary student. And no one wants that for the soon-to-be prodigal child.

It could also be his village, who'd sing praises of how amazing he'd be when he grew up. Was he not enough now? Was there something wrong with how he is now?

His father always seemed supportive of his interest in magic, he said it was expected of him after all.

Especially since his mother was a high ranking officer within the Emperor's personal army. Her versatility and skill were known to be beautiful to watch, he knew first hand. Where he could only cup the water in his hands, he watched as his mother could stop the rain, as if time had frozen itself to admire the feat. It was a shame she then commanded the rain to form spears and use it to slice his favourite tree, the one with pleasant memories of shade and falling leaves.

Determination sparked in his soul. Much like any child with high expectations. He wanted to follow in her footsteps and eventually surpass the power shown to him.

But with that determination came a grimy weight sloshing through his chest that filled him with growing inadequacy, the feeling that he wasn't enough, that he doesn't deserve the praises when he finally made progress. These tasks were easy, simple. It shouldn't have taken everything he had when his mother could do it 1000x better. The children should automatically be better than their parents, right?

Children, much like every other organism, can instinctively use magic from a young age. It's relatively safe as their Pools are too small to cause damage with even the most volatile of elements, even their flames can be blown out by the slightest breeze.

Of course, using your Pool more means that it gets used to the drain, and starts increasing in size to account for it, therefore prolonging the amount of time you can use magic for.

But like most muscles, if you overwork it, it starts to have an opposite effect.

This is the tale of Solis, the boy who was a disappointment, a failure.

The boy who found himself.

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Exhausted, he hauled himself up from the ground once again, almost crumpling from the bruises developing on his frail body. Solis tries to reach for the wooden sword that fell out of his grass when he tumbled, but the river water whipped through the air like a snake and crashed into his arm, numbing the flesh and spinning the child away from the weapon.

"Stand and fight! I thought you were of noble blood, that you'd rise to be greater than your mother, but right now that challenge is unfeasible at this pitiful display!"

A fistful of perfect spheres began rising from the dirt, a flaunting display of mastery over their magic.

"You know the results of weakness, boy! No monster will give you a chance to breathe and you'll be killed! I will not risk my reputation for a cursed child, I shall rebuke any claim that I had tutored a coward that has been eradicated from the world despite their prestigious bloodline."

Solis felt another wave of dirt and debris crash down on his back. With each unrelenting barrage came exhaustion, clasping at his aching muscles and dragging him down to the floor.

Thoroughly battered, he succumbs to his will and collapses on the ground, too tired to lift his head away from the muddy floor.

"Another fall, disappointing..."

Solis grit his teeth, but he no longer had the energy to continue. He clawed at the dirt imagining his tutors face in its place.

"Your mother will hear of this, I assure you. The rate of your growth is a travesty that will be remedied before long."

This is ironically what he'd heard for years.

The child flipped on to his back, sick of eating the ground and started watching the leaves falling on a summer day. He was desperate to find an escape from his racing mind that no doubt would whisper degrading thoughts into his ear. They were always the same.

"You have a world-renown tutor for magic, how are you failing so spectacularly."

"Failure."

"Stupid."

"You must be a bastard orphan that your mother picked up from the side of the ro-"

He failed at blocking them out again.

A horribly calloused hand locked on his tired arm, and drug his body across the uprooted earth. His knees scraped upon the attacking foliage and sediment which added to his growing wounds, stinging both his pride and body.

His normal, everyday. Beaten, unworthy.

Useless.

No one ever said the start of something great was glorious.