Evoker

A week had passed since Leon and his mother had arrived at Highfield Manor. Each day had been a gruelling routine of lessons and training, from morning to night. Etiquette with Madam Aldwin, physical training with Captain Loren, and long stretches of academic studies in between. It felt relentless. The farm work he was used to seemed like a distant, simpler life now.

At first, he had thought the physical training would be the hardest part. But Captain Loren had been right—strength alone wouldn’t get him far. Balance, precision, and control were what really mattered, and Leon had struggled to keep up. The soreness in his muscles never quite went away, and each new day brought a fresh set of challenges.

Academics were... better. Madam Aldwin was strict, but he’d surprised himself by keeping pace with her lessons. She drilled him on history, geography, and the laws of the Empire. It was a lot to take in, but he found himself able to recall things more easily than he expected. Sometimes, almost too easily.

Leon didn’t dwell on it. He was just trying to keep his head down and survive each day.

Today was different, though. Today, Madam Aldwin had announced that she would be giving him his first real test—an examination of everything he’d learned over the past week. Leon had felt a knot of anxiety form in his stomach when she told him, but he couldn’t let himself fail. Not now.

As he entered the study room that morning, Madam Aldwin was already seated, her hands folded neatly on the desk in front of her. The room felt colder than usual, the weight of the upcoming test pressing down on him like an invisible hand.

"Good morning, Leon," she said without looking up from the papers in front of her. "Are you ready?"

Leon swallowed, his throat dry. "I think so."

Madam Aldwin’s sharp eyes finally flicked up to meet his. "You either are, or you aren’t, young man. There is no room for hesitation here."

He nodded quickly, moving to his seat. The desk felt too large, the room too quiet. The only sound was the soft shuffle of papers as Madam Aldwin slid them across the desk toward him.

"This will cover everything you’ve been taught so far. I expect you to take your time and think through each answer carefully," she instructed, her tone even but firm. "Begin."

Leon stared down at the paper, his heart thudding in his chest. The first few questions were straightforward—basic facts about the Empire’s geography and its noble families. He answered them easily, but his hand shook slightly as he wrote.

Then the questions grew harder. Complex matters of law and history, dates and figures he wasn’t sure he’d remembered right. The knot in his stomach tightened. His mind raced, searching for the answers, but some of them just wouldn’t come.

He froze when he reached a question about an ancient treaty. The details slipped through his fingers like sand, and panic started to rise in his chest. He’d read about it just days ago, but now, with Madam Aldwin watching him, everything seemed to blur together.

Why can’t I remember?

His heart pounded, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. The words on the page swam in front of him, and his breath quickened. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to block out the pressure, the weight of expectation. If he couldn’t answer this, if he failed—

Suddenly, a strange clarity washed over him. As if from nowhere, the answer appeared in his mind, perfectly clear and detailed. Leon’s hand moved almost on its own, writing out the response word for word.

When he finished, he blinked, staring down at the answer he had written. It was right. He knew it was right. But... how? He hadn’t been sure of it just a moment ago.

Leon didn’t have time to dwell on it. The rest of the test continued, and though some questions were easier than others, that strange clarity hit him again. Twice more, he found himself writing answers he didn’t fully understand—answers he hadn’t been certain of just moments before, but now seemed to flow onto the page.

Madam Aldwin’s eyes never left him, and though she said nothing, Leon could feel her gaze on him, sharp and assessing. His heart raced as he continued writing, the pressure mounting with each question.

Finally, he reached the last one.

It was a question on Imperial history, something about a forgotten line of rulers from centuries ago. Leon’s mind went blank. No matter how hard he tried to recall the lesson, the information wasn’t there. He stared at the paper, his hand trembling.

Come on. Think. Just think.

He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to focus. A deep, intense pressure built inside him, pushing against the fog in his mind. For a moment, he felt something—like the edge of a memory, just out of reach.

Then it hit him.

The answer surged forward with perfect clarity, as though it had always been there, waiting. His hand moved quickly, scribbling down the details in sharp, clean strokes. It was so vivid, so precise.

But as soon as he finished writing, a sharp pain exploded behind his eyes. Leon gasped, clutching his head as the room spun around him. His vision blurred, and the paper in front of him seemed to stretch and warp.

"Leon?" Madam Aldwin’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and concerned.

Leon’s heart pounded in his ears, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain behind his eyes grew worse, spreading down to his temples and into the base of his skull. It felt like his head was going to split open.

"I—I don’t..." Leon managed to stammer before the world tilted sideways.

The last thing he heard was Madam Aldwin’s voice calling his name as everything went black.

When Leon woke up, the room was dim. His head still throbbed, but the sharp pain from before had dulled to a low ache. He blinked, trying to gather his bearings, and realised he was lying in his bed. The soft light from the fire flickered on the walls.

Mira was sitting beside him, her hands resting on the edge of the bed. The moment she saw his eyes flutter open, she leaned forward, brushing his hair back gently.

"Leon, thank the Goddess," she whispered, relief clear in her voice.

The sight of his mother, her familiar presence, broke something inside him. Everything came crashing down at once—weeks of pressure, of confusion, of fear—and before he could stop himself, his chest tightened, and tears filled his eyes.

"I—" Leon tried to speak, but his voice cracked. His breath hitched as the dam finally broke. "Mum, I can’t—I can’t do this!"

The sobs came out of nowhere, racking his body with force as he curled into her. Mira’s arms wrapped around him instantly, holding him close as the floodgates opened.

"It’s too much!" Leon choked out between sobs, his words barely audible. "I don’t know what I’m doing—I’m going to fail—I don’t belong here!"

Mira shushed him softly, her hand gently stroking his hair as she held him tight. "It’s alright, Leon," she murmured, her voice soothing. "I know, love. I know it’s hard."

"I don’t—" Leon gasped for air, his whole body shaking. "I don’t even know what my power is—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I’m just... scared. So scared."

Mira didn’t say anything for a while. She just let him cry, her gentle touch grounding him as the storm of emotions poured out. Leon’s sobs echoed in the quiet room, raw and desperate. It felt like everything was crashing down on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

After what felt like forever, his sobs finally subsided into shaky breaths, and the tears began to slow. Mira pulled back slightly, brushing the damp hair from his forehead as she looked at him with soft, knowing eyes.

"It’s alright to be scared, Leon," she whispered, her voice calm and steady. "You’re allowed to be scared. But you’re stronger than you think."

Leon shook his head weakly, the weight of his doubts still heavy in his chest. "I... I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m falling apart."

Mira smiled softly, though her eyes were filled with sympathy. "I felt the same way... after your father died."

Leon’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked up at her, surprised.

Mira’s gaze softened, distant memories flickering behind her eyes. "When Doran died, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was so scared. I had you to think about, the farm... everything. It felt like the world was crashing down, and I didn’t know how to stop it."

Leon swallowed, his throat tight as he listened.

"But I realised something," Mira continued, her voice calm and gentle. "I realised that I had a choice. I could let it break me, or I could keep going. Not just for you, but for myself." She smiled softly, her hand still resting on his cheek. "It wasn’t easy. But I made that choice every day. And you’ll have to make that choice too."

Leon looked at her, his heart still heavy, but something in her words resonated with him. "I don’t know if I can."

"You can," Mira said firmly, her gaze steady. "And you will. It won’t be easy, Leon. But you’re not alone. You’ve got people here who want to help you. And you’ve got me." She smiled softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But you have to keep going."

Leon sniffed, wiping at his eyes as he let her words sink in. "I... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do," he whispered.

Mira smiled gently. "You don’t have to know yet. You’re still learning, love. One step at a time. You’ll figure it out. Just keep trying. That’s all you can do."

Leon nodded slowly, though his heart still felt heavy. But Mira’s presence, her calm and steady reassurance, made the weight feel a little less crushing.

Leon sat quietly beside his mother for a while longer, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. His chest still ached from the sobs that had wracked his body, but the worst of it had passed. He wasn’t sure if he felt better—maybe lighter, somehow—but the fear and confusion still lingered, just beneath the surface.

Mira’s words echoed in his mind. You have to keep going. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.

He wanted to believe her. He really did. But everything still felt so overwhelming. There was a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been there before—an expectation, a burden. Being an Evoker wasn’t just about having power. It was about living up to something bigger, something he didn’t fully understand yet.

But... he couldn’t break like this every time things got hard. He couldn’t afford to.

Leon wiped his eyes and straightened his posture, sitting up a little taller. He felt raw, exposed—like he’d peeled back something inside of himself and wasn’t quite sure what to do with what he’d found. But one thing was clear: crying and panicking wouldn’t change anything. If he wanted to succeed, if he wanted to live up to all the expectations everyone seemed to have for him, then he couldn’t keep acting like the scared farm boy who didn’t belong here. He had to become something more.

Something stronger.

He looked down at his hands, still trembling slightly from the emotional outburst. For a moment, they looked small. Weak. But he forced that thought away. These were the hands of an Evoker now. He had a power, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet, and that meant he had a responsibility.

Mira’s voice broke the silence. “Leon?”

He turned to look at her, and the worry etched into her features tugged at his heart. She had always been strong for him, always put on a brave face, even when things were hard. He couldn’t keep breaking down in front of her like this. She needed to see that he could handle it—that he could grow.

“I’ll keep going, Mum,” he said quietly, but there was a firmness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I... I’m going to figure this out.”

Mira’s smile was small but full of warmth. “That’s my boy,” she said softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Leon nodded, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He couldn’t keep taking things one step at a time forever. He had to set a goal—something to work towards. Something to drive him forward. He stared into the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance. He didn’t know what his power was, and he didn’t know if he was one of the Chosen or just another ordinary Evoker. But he did know one thing: he had to succeed. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not now. Not with everything on the line.

I'm not going to be the weak link. The thought burned in his mind, fierce and determined. He’d already made it this far—he wasn’t about to fall behind. He couldn’t be the boy everyone pitied, the one everyone expected to falter.

No. He was going to be something more. The farm boy, the kid who had been terrified of what came next—he had to go. He had to be shut away. The Leon sitting here now needed to be someone else. Someone stronger, more focused. A boy who wasn’t afraid to face the unknown.

I have to grow up.

Leon clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms still sore from training, but the pain helped him focus. His resolve hardened. He didn’t have all the answers, but he could figure them out. If he worked hard enough, if he pushed himself, then maybe—just maybe—he could carve out a place for himself in this new world.

He had to. There was no other choice.

Mira watched him quietly, her expression softening. She didn’t say anything, but Leon could tell that she saw the shift in him, the resolve that had settled in his eyes. He wasn’t the same boy who had sat down beside her in tears just moments ago. For the first time since his awakening, Leon felt like he had some control. It was a small flame, flickering uncertainly in the dark, but it was there.

He turned to his mother, giving her a small nod. “I’m going to get stronger, Mum. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

Mira’s smile widened, and she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know you will, Leon,” she said softly. “I’ve always known.”