The Weight Of Rejection

The sun rose over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the farm. Karl woke up to the sound of his parents preparing to leave for the market. He rubbed the deep sleep from his eyes, and sat up, trying to gather up his thoughts. He was always the last to wake up, like every single day. Darrel and Lucid usually woke up a bit earlier so that they could help with packing veggies in the carriage. Since Karl was the youngest, he never really got to do anything.

By the time he got out of his room, their parents were already gone. But this meant he was left with his two troublesome brothers. Lucid wasn't that much of a big deal, except that he influenced Karl to do some pretty bad things. How'ver, Karl had a different fear—and that fear was Darrel.

For most of the morning, Karl never really had the chance to see Darrel. He wasn't sure where his older brother was or what he was doing. But he did manage to get the chance to find Lucid. Karl understood why his brother wouldn't be around much, not after what he did last night.

Karl went into the kitchen, climbed on top of a chair and opened the cupboard doors. He managed to draw out a jar of peanut butter, and he opened it in time for him to dig a finger into the paste. He always loved peanut butter, especially when it was still raw. As he ate the butter, the main door burst open and he felt a chill race down his spine—the jar slipped from his grip and exploded into pieces as it landed on the ground.

'What have I done?' Karl was terrified, not only from the sound of the door but from breaking the only jar of peanut butter in the house. If Henry came back and heard about this, Karl would be in trouble.

"Karl!" It was Darrel who called from the doorway, his tone heavy. "Karl!"

Quickly, Karl slipped from the chair and hid beneath the shelves. He could feel his heart already pounding in his chest, his hands trembling lightly. He had to hide, hide from his older brother.

"Karl!!!" Darrel yelled again. "If I find you, I swear you're dead meat!"

Karl held his breath, his eyes fixed on the doorway. He could see Darrel's feet, clad in worn-out boots, as he stepped into the kitchen. Darrel's gaze swept the room, his eyes narrowing as he took in the broken jar of peanut butter.

"Karl, you little pest!" Darrel muttered, his voice low and menacing. "I know you're hiding somewhere. You're going to pay for what you did last night."

Karl's heart skipped a beat as Darrel's eyes scanned the shelves, his gaze lingering on the spot where Karl was hiding. Karl's breath caught in his throat, and he remained perfectly still, hoping that Darrel wouldn't find him.

Just as Darrel was about to move closer to the shelves, Lucid appeared in the doorway, a look of nonchalance on his face. "Hey, Darrel, what's going on?" he asked, his voice casual.

Darrel's gaze snapped to Lucid, his expression darkening. "Mind your own business, Lucid," he growled. "This is between me and Karl."

Lucid shrugged, his eyes flicking to the broken jar of peanut butter. "Looks like someone's in trouble," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Karl's eyes met Lucid's, and he saw a flicker of warning there. Lucid was trying to distract Darrel, to give Karl time to escape. Karl's heart swelled with gratitude, and he slowly began to back away from the shelves, trying not to make a sound.

As he slowly backed away from the shelves, he thought he'd managed to escape Darrel's notice. But just as he turned to make a run for it, Darrel's eyes locked onto him.

"KARL, YOU LITTLE RAT!" Darrel screamed, his face twisted in rage.

But before Darrel could advance, Lucid grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Leave him alone, Darrel!" Lucid warned.

Darrel's face darkened, and with a sudden burst of strength, he threw a hard fist at Lucid. Lucid's head snapped back, and he crashed to the ground, blood splattering on his cheek.

Karl's eyes widened in horror as he watched the scene unfold. Panic set in, and he turned and ran out of the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest.

He sprinted down the hallway, his bare feet pounding the floorboards. He burst into their bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. Without hesitation, Karl ran straight to the window and began to climb out. He hoisted himself up, his fingers scrambling for a grip on the windowsill.

Just as he was about to swing his leg over the sill, a hand clamped down on his ankle, pulling him back. Karl cried out as he was yanked backward, his body tumbling to the floor.

Darrel loomed over him, his eyes blazing with anger. "You think you can escape me, Karl?" he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. "After what you did to me, last night?"

Karl cowered, his heart racing with fear. He knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.

Darrel's face contorted in rage, and he unleashed a flurry of kicks, each one connecting with a sickening thud. Karl's small body crumpled under the assault, his cries ringing off the walls.

"Shut up, Karl!" Darrel bellowed, his foot connecting with Karl's ribs. "You'll never speak up again! You'll never embarrass me like that again!"

Karl's vision blurred, his eyes streaming with tears. He begged, pleaded, and screamed for Darrel to stop, but his brother wouldn't. He was just driven by a primal desire to inflict dominance. The kicks kept coming, each one a fresh wave of agony. Karl felt like he was drowning in pain, unable to escape the torment. If only Henry was here....non of this would be happening.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain that kept building up with each kick. But, he felt an odd sensation that started crawling beneath his skin, rattling his bones and sending shivers down his spine. Before he knew it, he screamed, "STOP!" at the top of his lungs. The sound was raw, he didn't quite understand where he mustered all that strength from.

The air around him seemed to explode, a rough gust of wind blowing Darrel across the room. He crashed into the door, the sound of his body hitting the wood ringing through the room like a crack of thunder.

Karl laid there, stunned, his body still reeling from the pain. He stared at Darrel, who was slowly getting to his feet, a look of shock and fear etched on his face. There was silence in the room, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two brothers. Karl's eyes locked Darrel's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them electric.

Something had just changed. Something had just shifted. And Karl had no idea what it was.

Darrel's eyes switched, anger lighting them up. He took a step closer to Karl. "You're a monster!" he spat, his voice dripping with malice. "A freak, a demon child. You don't belong here with us, with our family. You should have been sold at the market like the rest of your kind."

Karl's eyes widened, the words cutting deep into his soul. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his breath knocked out of him. He knew he was different, but it didn't mean he was a monster. Henry loved him, mother loved him also. He was their brother, the youngest of the Sawyers.

"I'm not a monster!" Karl protested, his voice shaking.

Darrel's face twisted in disgust. "Yes, you are," he sneered. "You're a monster, and I hate you. Stay out of our lives, Karl. You're not welcome here."

The words stung, cutting through Karl like a blade. He felt a deep pain, a sense of rejection and isolation that he couldn't quite understand. He looked up at Darrel, his eyes pleading for understanding, for acceptance.

But Darrel just turned away, his back to Karl. "Just stay away from me," he muttered, his voice cold and hard. "Demon."

Karl's heart sank, his spirit crushed. He felt like he was all alone, like he didn't belong anywhere. Why was Darrel saying all this just now? He looked down at his hands, wondering if he really was a monster, if he really was unwanted. And that was the last proper conversation he ever had with Darrel.

Darrel only had to wait for a year, and when he turned sixteen, that's when he left the farm to start living on his own. He was tired of doing all the farm work, and he wanted to explore the kingdom and start doing something else with his life. Karl wasn't sure how to respond when Darrel left them: not because he hated his brother, but because they had been so distant ever since their last argument.

However, his mother had turned a more dramatic show. She spent a few days crying whenever she had the chance to. Karl could always see the pain that lingered in her eyes, even when she faked her smiles and pretended everything was alright. Henry on the other hand, had been so calm—not backing down from his everyday routine. Maybe this was what it meant to be a father—you had to be tough, and not show emotions.

*

When Karl finally turned fourteen, his mother bought his a unique present—she bought him a book, a book that spoke about fairytales, and the adventures that awaited the outside world. Karl had only been out of their farm for a notable number of times—unlike Lucid who spent most of the time going to town, sometimes going for days when he was with his friends. The book he had been given spoke about magic, spoke about the beauties of their kingdom—Adana.

"What's a mage?" that was the first question Karl asked his mother.

His mother smiled, her eyes sparkling. "A mage is someone with magical powers, Karl. They can do extraordinary things."

Karl's eyes widened, fascinated. He felt an inexplicable connection to the idea of magic, like it was calling to him.

"Like what?" Karl asked, his curiosity piqued.

His mother leaned in, a conspiratorial look on her face. "Well, some mages can cast spells, summon elements, and even heal wounds."

Karl's mind was racing. He had always felt like there was something missing, something he couldn't quite explain. But now, he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, he had a connection to this magical world.

"Can anyone become a mage?" Karl asked, his heart pounding with excitement.

His mother's expression turned serious. "Not everyone, Karl. Magic is a gift, and only a few are born with it."

"If magic is a gift, then why don't you allow me to use mine?" Karl couldn't stop the question. He had always known about his uniqueness—he had always remembered how things would burst into flames when he was still a toddler. But everytime, his parents encouraged him not to.

"Magic always comes with a price." she said, pushing the loose fringes behind her ear. "And besides, you should always understand that the whole world is evil. If bad people find out that you've elven blood, and that you can use magic...."

"They'll make me a slave, and sell me.." Karl finished off for her.

She giggled. "Looks like someone has a sharp memory."

Karl's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "But mother, I don't understand. Why do I have to hide my magic if it's a part of me? And what's wrong with having elven blood?"

His mother's expression turned serious, and she glanced around the room as if ensuring they were alone. "Karl, you need to understand that the world is not always kind to those who are different. Elves have been persecuted for centuries, and it's not safe for you especially when they learn that you have magic. Such elves are turned into slaves, sold at the market to merchants and people of great influence."

Karl's face scrunched up in confusion. "But why? What did we do wrong?"

His mother sighed, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. "It's not what we did, Karl. It's just that some people fear what they don't understand."

"But isn't there someone who can change how the world works?" Karl couldn't hold back the question. His fair eyes met his mother's bright blue ones, and he felt something shift inside of him—like an urge of curiosity to see what she was thinking.

"There isn't..," she said.

Karl's face twisted in frustration, and he growled, gritting his teeth. "When I grow up, I want to become the strongest mage..." he said, his voice low and determined. "...and stop all these shenanigans that are going on in Adana!"

His mother chuckled, a warm smile spreading across her face. "You'd surely make a good Archmage, Karl," she said. "You have a good heart, dear."

Karl cocked a brow, his curiosity piqued. "What's an Archmage?" he asked.

His mother smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "An Archmage is the most powerful mage of all," she said. "He's the only one who can make a mountain explode with just a snap of his fingers."

Karl's eyes widened, unable to believe what was going on in his mind. He could almost picture what it'd be like—having all that power inside of him. He tightened his grip on his book, saying, "I think I want to become an Archmage."