Kael didn't remember when he started staring at the floor.
It just… happened.
The wooden boards beneath his feet felt far more interesting than the faces around him. Than the whispers. Than the way the air suddenly felt heavier, thicker, like it was pressing against his chest.
No aptitude.
Not even a little.
The priest's words still echoed in his ears, dull and cruel.
Even those with the weakest talent still produce a flicker.
Kael hadn't.
He was empty.
Anna stood in front of him, small hands clenched into fists, eyes shining with anger and worry. "They don't know anything," she said quickly, as if she could force the truth into existence. "That ball is probably broken. Or the priest made a mistake. You can't just have nothing. It doesn't make sense."
Sophia nodded beside her. "Y-yeah… you're special. I know it."
Kael managed a weak smile. "Thanks… but I think… it's okay."
It wasn't, really. But he didn't know how else to say it.
Around them, the hall slowly returned to motion. Some children were still buzzing about their own results. Others glanced at Kael when they thought he wasn't looking, their expressions mixed with pity, curiosity, and in a few cases, quiet relief that it hadn't been them.
Sister Maren stood near the front with Priest Aldren. They spoke in low voices. Kael couldn't hear what they were saying, only that the priest kept glancing toward Anna and Sophia, his brow furrowed in thought.
Anna followed his gaze and huffed. "I don't like that look," she muttered.
Sophia tilted her head slightly. "It looks… serious."
Kael stayed quiet.
A few minutes later, Sister Maren turned back to the children. "Alright, everyone," she said gently, clapping her hands. "The test is over. You can return to the yard for now."
The tension in the hall broke. Chairs scraped against the floor. Children poured out into the sunlight, talking loudly, laughing, comparing numbers.
Mike and his group were nowhere to be seen.
Anna and Sophia stayed close to Kael as they walked outside.
The sky was bright. Too bright.
It felt wrong that the world could look so normal after what had just happened.
They sat beneath the same old oak tree as before. The bark was rough and warm from the sun. A breeze rustled the leaves above them.
For a while, none of them spoke.
Kael picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Sad, probably. Angry. Embarrassed.
Mostly he just felt… small.
"I'm sorry," Anna suddenly said.
Kael looked up. "What? Why?"
She frowned. "I got excited. And Sophia got excited. And you… you didn't. It's not fair."
Sophia nodded. "We wanted… all of us… to shine."
Kael let out a quiet breath. "It's not your fault," he said honestly. "I'm happy for you. Really. You both deserve it."
Anna's eyes softened. "You're still Kael," she said. "Talent or no talent."
Sophia smiled shyly. "We won't… leave you behind."
Kael felt something in his chest loosen just a little.
From across the yard, Sister Maren called his name.
"Kael?"
He turned.
She stood near the doorway, her expression gentle but worried. "Come here, dear."
Kael hesitated, then stood. "I'll be back," he told Anna and Sophia.
They watched him go.
Sister Maren knelt in front of him once he reached her. Her eyes were warm, but there was sadness in them too. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.
Kael nodded. "I think so."
She brushed his messy dark hair back. "You don't have to be strong all the time."
"I know."
Behind her, Priest Aldren watched Kael closely. Not with pity. With something else.
Curiosity.
As Kael met the priest's gaze, he felt it again—that strange, subtle pressure in the air. Like something unseen was listening.
Waiting.
And far beyond the orphanage walls, deep in places even gods avoided, something stirred… just a little.