Favored by God

Maya Pov

The morning sun beat down mercilessly as Vera led us behind her house to a small grass field. I had to squint against the glare, the brightness feeling almost mocking against my dark thoughts. The grass swayed beneath our feet, still wet with dew, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called out in a cheerful song that felt painfully out of place.

"Today will be the start of your many magic lessons during your time here," Vera announced, turning to face us with an expression that held both warmth and scrutiny. The corner of her mouth lifted in a slight smile. "First off, do either of you know what class magic you're currently at?"

I glanced at Rowan, catching his equally confused look. His eyebrows were scrunched together in that familiar way they always did when he was puzzled.

"Class?" we echoed in unison, the word falling awkwardly from our lips.

Vera's face transformed into an almost comical expression of disbelief. "You guys have never been taught about classes?" Her eyes widened further. "Who trained you?"

Another shared look with Rowan, but this time it carried the weight of shared memories – of Ms. Clementine's gentle hands guiding us through basic exercises, of her frustrated sighs when she couldn't explain things properly, of her determined persistence despite her limitations.

"Nobody trained us," I answered, my voice smaller than I intended. "Ms. Clementine taught us what she could, but she wasn't a mage, so that wasn't much." The mention of her name sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest, but I pushed it down, locked it away with all the other feelings I couldn't afford to face right now.

Vera's sigh carried years of experience and perhaps a touch of resignation. "OK, well, listen up."

What followed was a comprehensive explanation of the magical classification system. She described how every mage was evaluated by the guild and assigned a class based on their strength, using a letter grade system from F to S. Most people, she explained, fell under Class F, barely able to light a candle with their magic. E class and above marked the beginning of real potential – those with enough mana and control to develop their abilities further.

As she spoke, I found myself unconsciously playing with a blade of grass, tearing it into tiny strips. A week ago, I would have been hanging on every word, interrupting with countless questions. Now, I just listened silently, letting the information wash over me like cold water.

"While I may not be as adept at reading mana levels as the guild," Vera continued, "I can get a relative reading on you two, so let's start with that." She gestured for us to turn around.

I watched as she placed her hand on Rowan's back first, a soft green aura emanating from her palm. The gentle light cast strange shadows on the ground, and for a moment, I was lost in their dancing patterns.

"It looks like you're a high E class mage, Rowan," Vera announced with a gentle smile. "That's a very normal rating for a kid your age with a bright future in magic."

Rowan's face lit up, and something in my chest tightened. I remembered when his smile used to be contagious, when his joy would automatically trigger my own. Now it felt like I was watching him from behind a thick pane of glass.

Then it was my turn. Vera's hand pressed against my back, warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. The seconds stretched out like honey, thick and slow, until suddenly her hand jerked away with a sharp gasp.

"M-maya, you're truly something special, girl," she stammered, her eyes wide with wonder. "You're a high D class at only twelve years old, and with no proper training either. That's truly amazing."

Once, those words would have sent me spinning with excitement. I would have danced around Rowan, teasing him mercilessly about being stronger. I would have peppered Vera with questions about what it meant, about how strong I could become, about all the things I could learn to do.

Instead, I felt... nothing. The words registered as facts, nothing more. I stood up straight, my face a mask of politeness. "Thank you, Miss Vera."

The words came out hollow, mechanical. I saw concern flash across both their faces, saw Rowan's hand twitch as if he wanted to reach out to me. But they didn't understand. How could they? The girl who would have celebrated this news died back in that burning village. The Maya who could smile without thinking, who could laugh without remembering, who could feel joy without guilt – she was gone.

And I wasn't sure she was ever coming back.