Breaking Point

Kael slipped through the back door of the house, his heart still racing from the encounter with Garrick's men. The Vestige in his pocket felt heavy, a constant reminder of the danger he was in. He had two months—two months to harness the Vestige's power, fake an ability, and pass the rank evaluation. If he succeeded, he'd earn the right to attend the Academy—a place where the gifted honed their abilities and secured their futures. If he failed, he'd be banished to the streets, disowned by his parents, and left to fend for himself in a world that showed no mercy to the Rankless. 

The house was quiet, save for the faint murmur of voices from the kitchen. The air smelled faintly of burnt bread and the metallic tang of the city's smog. Kael crept down the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard near the stairs. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence. He could hear his father's sharp, impatient tone and his mother's softer voice, trying to calm him. Lira was likely in her room, oblivious to the tension that had been building in the house for weeks. Kael's stomach churned. They couldn't find out. Not yet. 

He reached his room and closed the door softly behind him. The space was small, barely more than a closet, but it was his sanctuary. A narrow bed, a rickety desk, and a single shelf filled with books he'd scavenged from the trash. Kael sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the Vestige from his pocket. The engravings still glowed faintly, though the light was dimmer now. He turned it over in his hands, his mind racing. 

The Academy was salvation wrapped in chains. A single misstep, a single test he couldn't fake, and he'd be exposed—stripped of his last chance. If he passed, the Academy would be his prison—a place where his lack of ability would be exposed in an instant. But if he failed, he'd lose everything. His parents had made that clear. They wouldn't tolerate a Rankless child under their roof. He'd be thrown out, left to rot in the slums with the other outcasts. Kael clenched his fists. That couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. Not after everything he'd risked. Not after stealing from Garrick. 

A knock at the door made him freeze. "Kael?" It was Lira. "Are you in there?" 

He shoved the Vestige under his pillow and stood, smoothing his expression into one of calm indifference. "Yeah, come in." 

The door creaked open, and Lira peeked inside. Her light blue wristband glowed faintly, a reminder of her rank—38. She was everything Kael wasn't: talented, valued, and full of potential. But there was something else in her eyes, a sharp flicker behind the concern. 

"Where were you?" she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Father's been asking. He's... not happy." 

Kael shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just out. Needed some fresh air." 

Lira frowned. "You know it's not safe. Especially with the evaluation coming up. If something happens to you—" 

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Kael interrupted, sharper than he intended. He softened his tone. "It's fine, Lira. Really." 

Her gaze lingered—too long—on the shadows under his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to clench. She noticed. She always did. But there was something else in her eyes now, a flicker of suspicion behind the concern. Or was it just his paranoia? She didn't press him. Instead, she sat down on the bed and sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt. You know what's at stake." 

The thought crossed his mind: If I fail, we won't even be siblings anymore. 

Kael knew. Better than anyone. He sat down beside her, his mind racing. He had to keep up the act, not just for his parents but for Lira too. If she found out the truth, she might try to help him—or worse, she might expose him. Either way, it would only bring danger. 

"It'll be fine," he said finally. "I just need to focus on the evaluation. If I pass, everything will be okay." 

Lira nodded, though her expression remained troubled. "You'll pass. I know you will." 

Kael forced a smile, but it felt like glass in his throat—fragile, ready to shatter. Lira believed in him. He wished he could do the same. He didn't have the luxury of confidence. He had a stolen Vestige, a ticking clock, and a world that would crush him the moment it saw through his lies. 

After she left, Kael exhaled shakily and pulled the Vestige from under his pillow. He turned it over in his hands, his mind racing. The glow was fading. Weakening. A terrible realization crept in: What if the Vestige could only be used one more time? One more minute of borrowed power, and then nothing. No safety net. No second chances. Just the cold, hard truth waiting to crush him.