"We have decided, you shall be delayed one year."

Fifteen-year-old Cypur blinked as his vision tunneled. Adjusting his cape, he stood extra tall, trying to make up for his genetic shortness, but most of all, trying to comprehend. Did the principal just delay him? Again? Another year?

"Cypur Cromlight," the principal's thin, scratchy voice filled the silence. "You have demonstrated great intelligence and performance. It is fairly rare for a student to be so versatile in what he does at your age. Truly you have much to offer."

"But you have not developed your Faud," He went on with a cold tone, "As you well know, the academy committee and I, cannot advance a Sorcerer who still has yet to develop his Faud. Having a Faud means you have control over your magick. No manifestation of your magick? Well, you must not have full control, despite your performance."

Swallowing with nerves, Cypur glanced back at his Student Guidance teacher. He had hoped she pulled the threads she said she would pull. He had hoped she would do her utmost best to advance him, at last, from Apprentice to Junior! But she didn't meet his eyes and practically hid under her massive gray curly locks.

"Mister," Cypur addressed the principal, putting as much sense of respect as he could in his words, "I may not have a Faud, but you have seen my performances. I even surpass my peers who have gone before me now by two years. And I have passed the written exams and I understand, very well, the rules of magick and all things which are forbidden. You have seen that."

Principal Trigonatus squared his jaw and looked down at the papers on his desk. Cypur's papers had full marks on them, and the numbers said he could advance. What was this shame they were putting on him? All that was missing was a manifestation of his magick. He had everything else.

"You are right. You have done beautifully." The principal glanced at the other committee members that stood behind his chair. "Exceptional, yes?" The five committee members nodded in unison.

"A great, great talent and mastery at your young age," he went on. But Cypur was not enjoying the praise like he normally did as the true Sorcerer he was. This was the praise before the blow, he knew it.

The tall, skinny, stick-like man that was Principal Trigonatus stood from his seat. Cypur held back his tears, knowing what would come was the same as last year. It was standard procedure to punish a student they felt was underperforming. He had to force himself to be grateful of their harsh discipline that was a Sorcerer's aesthetic. It was beautiful punishment.

They are taking time out of their day for me. He reminded himself. Just take it.

"Ignita." A small burst of flames sprung from the principal's hands. The papers were burned and Cypur's grueling hours of work were gone. He stood stiff as the head of the committee and his comrades came around the desk to stand before him in an orderly line. Cypur rolled up his sleeve and held out his bare wrist in obedience.

"I have failed yet again. I deserve the punishment," he recited the procedural words and kept a straight, calm face as each member slapped his wrist with a small whip, or their own hand. The pain would quickly disappear, and any wound would instantly heal because of his magick, but even knowing that, this was not something he found easy to bear.

The chair groaned in complaint as the principal sat back down. "Oh, be quiet you," He slapped it and it fell silent, "I'm dealing with things now. Now," He looked up and his glasses emerged on the tip of his nose, "Cromlight."

"One more year. If nothing happens, you will be expelled."

Cypur was gutted, though he knew that was coming eventually. He had avoided it for two years.

"An Apprentice can still secure a job as a cleaner if he wished, or relocate outside the Fourth Ring and go to another Ring more suitable for his..." The principal tapped his thin chin with a long bony finger, "his level."

His level. He's calling me stupid. You're the stupid one, Thincipal. Cypur refrained from glaring at the thin principal and instead clenched a fist under his cape, keeping a cool, calm face. One lock of his golden hair fell out of place from the neatly combed rest of it. He had the urge to slap it away and show how angry he was at the school. Humans on the screen often said school was awful and, although a different race, Cypur related to that to a tee as a Sorcerer.

But his anger must have translated in different ways, making those around him nervous. The committee members glanced at each other in worry. The Student Guidance swallowed so loud that the principal glared at her, so she hunched her shoulders to such an extent she nearly looked like a turtle.

In a moment of distraction, Cypur's mind whirred with ideas for his drawings. Next victim would be Mrs. Kelplind as a turtle. It had to happen. At least something good was coming out of this dreadful day.

"Most likely," the principal began again, "staying will do you no good. Out-of-control magick can be harmful to us and to yourself. You could pose a threat to us if you stay, yes, actually, I think if you don't develop your Faud, you should leave altogether."

You imbecile! That's exile! Unheard of! Exile only happened if a murderous crime was committed! Cypur wanted to unleash his rage right there and then, but that would get him expelled here and now. It took all his energy to keep it contained.

"I believe that to be the utmost best decision too, Mister," Cypur answered in aesthetic language, looking the small-eyed principal straight in the eye. Principal Trigonatus' second nickname was Princi-no-pupil because of his teeny eyes.

Teeny eyes I wish I could poke out. Cypur dug his nails into his palm, holding in the urge to explode in anger. It sizzled in his veins.

"Well, I'm looking forward to your advancement, Cromlight," he said with a sneer, "This is your last chance." He extended his hand and Cypur shook it in a tight grip.

The principal tugged him forward and whispered, "Consider yourself privileged and lucky I have delayed you yet another pathetic year instead of expelling you right now. The gentlemen behind me believe you are a danger to the Fourth Ring. Do think about that very well, Cromlight."

When Cypur stood back and gave a bow, Principal Trigonatus waved his hand and began to fade, but it was Cypur and Mrs. Kelplind who were fading. The principal was transporting them out of his office.

Once outside, Student Guidance Mrs. Kelplind straightened her cape which needed no straightening. She began in a forced, gleeful voice, "Well, there are late bloom—"

"It's too late." He cut her off, tired of her fake optimism. They both knew there was no way to force a Faud to come out. It had never happened in the history of Sorcerers that an Apprentice couldn't advance because he had no Faud. And the history of Sorcerers went back centuries since the dawn of time on Elgana when Humans first invaded this six-ringed planet.

I must be such a special anomaly. He scowled.

"Well, another year couldn't be so bad? Just have more time to focus on other things, yes?" Mrs. Kelplind gave him a smile and tentatively patted his arm. "Now, you still have class after break, don't you? Why don't you go and find your friends, hmm?" She nudged him and hobbled away in such a hurry as if she were glad to be away from him.

"And she should be." He glowered at her bent back and her swishing Leovra tail behind. The yellow tail didn't have a brown tuft at the tip like usual lion-like Halfhuman, but a gray tuft. She wasn't old, he knew. Just stressed out from dealing with his situation all year long, trying to get him to doctors, or scientists to figure out why he wasn't developing a Faud.

Bastard, bastard, bastard! Cypur took a deep breath and clenched his fists. Last year when he still didn't advance, the Student Guidance Board tried to help him. This year, only Mrs. Kelplind stuck by his side but all because she was getting paid. Sorcerers never helped to be kind. Only when a good string was attached.

But why must I have a Faud to advance? I can do just about anything without one. Why must we have Fauds, anyway? Strangely enough, there was only little information on Fauds in the library. They had been around as long as magick had existed and that was said to have been before Elgana's Human invasion when anthropormorphics ruled the world.

Or colonization, as Humans claim the history to be. Cypur knew all his history front to back, back to front. That was what a year of frustrated boredom did.

He checked his watch. Still time before class, he headed off to the forest that surrounded the school to let out some steam to his friends. But before that, he ran to his locker to take out some omnias. With the money heavy in his pocket and his heart weighing in his chest, he hurried down the hall and slammed himself into the double doors at the end of corridor.

Why are these stone doors? He groaned, pushing them open with gasping effort. Maybe the school was built centuries ago, but it could use an update.

And why another year? I'm so tired of all those idiots! Cypur sighed under the bright sun. He really needed to vent to a friend.

Outside in the crisp air, he found two Sorcerers sitting by the large pine tree. Gallen was on the ground, leaning against the trunk with his girlfriend, Rachelle, on his lap. They seemed to be asleep, but when Cypur approached them, they flung their eyes open.

"Oh, it's you. Well? What is it this time, Cromlight?" Gallen held out his hand and Cypur gave him all fifty omnias—his entire monthly allowance and some from his mother's purse.

"A friend to be angry with me about Thincipal and a friend to go home together." Cypur bit his lip as Gallen and Rachelle exchanged glances.

"That's pretty important. Twenty more omnias tomorrow. You're a Cromlight. You can afford it. Now close your eyes."

At Gallen's stern instruction, Cypur closed his eyes and waited for the cue, all the while wishing he had real friends. His family was rich and that meant high social status that others wanted to use. Cypur's parents ran a textile and apparel company that was ranked number two in the entire Fourth Ring.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him flinch and he opened his eyes. Gallen had a look of concern, and his tone was less sharp. "Hey, Cy, everything alright? How'd it go? Why don't you tell your old friend?"

Cypur vented, releasing his pent-up anger. He went on to tell his two best friends what happened in Thincipal's office.

"I can't believe it!" Gallen shouted the moment Cypur finished his story. "Those imbeciles!" He took out his iron knife and began chopping away at the tree until a branch came down and swatted the weapon out of his hand. Cypur watched as he picked it up and repeated the same thing over again.

"They treated me with such appalling disrespect!" Cypur combed his hand through his hair and sighed. "I can't force my Faud to come out, so what am I supposed to do? Aren't they high ranking Sorcerers? They could at least help!"

Gallen muttered a spell and turned a stone into a frog and threw it across the field watching it disappear deeper into the forest. The roar of a giant bull frog blew warm air into their faces. "Thincipal wouldn't make a satisfying meal for Giant Bull." He smirked.

Cypur recalled the last time they tricked the principal into going into the deepest forest parts and get swallowed by Giant Bull. But he healed fast so there was no harm done and apparently, the principal enjoyed the experience.

"Darling," Rachelle said, looking up from petting her furry Faud that had stuck it's head out from her chest, "we've tried everything. Maybe you're just a late boomer."

"Bloomer." Cypur corrected her with a smirk. She stuck out her tongue.

"You know what I mean," she said in a joking tone, but her Ropardia cat-eye pupils shrunk to slits in annoyance. The golden fur on her face was ruffled, making the diamond-shaped spots on her arms and legs look scattered. Gallen patted her head, avoiding her pointed cat-like ears and her fur lay flat.

"You're good at ruffling people up, bastard." Gallen said with a sneer. "Take your Human claws and go elsewhere, freak of nature."

Cypur, momentarily hurt, shoved his feelings away like any Sorcerer would in this situation. "Humans don't have claws, bastard," he said as Rachelle fluffed up again, glaring at her boyfriend, "Look what you've gone and done, scoundrel brain," he bit back.

Rachelle glared up at Gallen who gave a sheepish smile.

"I like your fire, darling sweet," he said with a grin. Then he bent down and kissed her. Cypur looked away, uncomfortable. A blush climbed onto his face and sat there, unwilling to cool. Turning up his collar, he tried to hide his red cheeks which his friends would often tease him about. Once they got the whole school calling him 'Rosie Buns' for a week.

"So," Rachelle began, "what are you going to do this entire year?"

Gallen was sitting down by the trunk again. "Didn't you say there were some archives about your adoption? That your bio parents, if you could find them, might have the answer?"

"Yeah. But they're not disclosed to the public." Cypur sighed. Unlike Gallen or Rachelle who were born from Sorcerer parents, Cypur had long been told he was a Sorcerer born into a Human family. He just had a recessive gene that gave him magick in his veins, making him a Sorcerer. So, just like all Human-born Sorcerers, he was adopted into a Sorcerer family who wanted a child.

"You really think they're to blame?" Gallen put his knife away as the bell rang for the next class. "I mean, they don't even have magick so how could they affect your magick?"

Cypur shook his head. He had no idea, but he felt like there was something there. Even just the tiniest hope of finding his biological parents meant that some tests could be run to determine what could have caused his Faud from not developing. The reason Humans could birth Sorcerers was still in the dark in terms of science.

What if it is their fault? Could I advance then?

Gallen lay a hand on his shoulder. "We should get going. Think you can handle debate? I'm counting on you to pull us through." He lifted a bushy eyebrow when Cypur didn't answer. "You alright with that, right?"

"Yeah, I'm calm." Cypur kept his voice even, forcing all the anger to the back of his mind. Venting to fake friends really didn't do much.

"You got the project?"

Cypur nodded. "In my locker."

Rachelle linked her arms into Gallen's and Cypur's. "Win it for me, darlings," she said with a giggle. Gallen gave her paw a squeeze only to yell out in surprise as one of her claws pricked his skin. Rachelle ran off ahead calling for them to hurry up. Her laughter bounced off the trees and careened up into the evening sky.

"So, next week's Carnival," Gallen said in a quiet voice, "I'm gonna get her something special. You know anything that she might like? Remember anything she might've looked at for a little longer than usual last week?"

"Uhm, well, I do have one. Remember we passed a jeweler selling these galaxy necklaces?"

"Can't say I do. Will they sell those at Carnival?" Gallen's eyes flicked from Cypur to Rachelle whose tail was the only thing visible through the brush of trees obscuring the school doors. When Cypur nodded Gallen grinned ear to ear and hurried off. Sometimes he wondered why a thin, beautiful Halfhuman race, sub-specie Ropardia, liked the chubby, heavy-built Gallen with bushy eyebrows and slicked-back hair—something he claimed was done using frog slime.

I'm fine. I'm calm. Cypur stretched his arms and took out his trusty mirror. He checked his hair, his teeth, and straightened the collar on his cape. He thought he looked pretty smart and fashionable, a Sorcerer male for a female to fall in love with. But he was single. At fifteen, most Sorcerers were dating someone.

Left behind in schooling and left behind in romance and there's probably more. Welcome to my damn life. He frowned as he headed inside. He knew why he was single.

"Here comes Little Princess Goldilocks!" came a howling call from the auditorium. The male holding the door open, closed it in Cypur's face. Nicknames like this were the reason for his singleness.

"Cromlight, take your seat," came Professor Falendé's voice from behind. Cypur ducked into the room, scurrying up the stairs and slipped into his seat. He set the project on the table. Gallen was picking his teeth, looking smug. Soon, the bells echoed throughout the building and overhead lights flickered on with a dust of orange magick flowing around them.

The professor stepped up on the stage, flicking her fox-like ears as the room quieted. "If you remember, this is our final debate of the season and it will start once you have all decided to behave," she said in warning.

Cypur sat up straight. The season's final! He had forgotten they weren't having any more this season. Now, the pressure was on. If he won the debate against the last contender's leader, his group would have won the whole season. At the thought, he held his head high feeling pride in himself. Several students snickered, calling him names. 'Little One' because he was short, 'Goldilocks' because he was the only Sorcerer with naturally golden hair, and 'Sissy Princess' because he was often mistaken for a girl.

He pretended not to hear them. Sorcerers always warded off bad nicknames with an invisible armor of will-power and pride. He could do it, too. Besides, there were more important things to deal with right now.