October 15, 2009
I, came into a family that's basically legendary. My dad? He's a fire master. And my mom? She's got ice and water powers and she's totally immune to magic, which is pretty rare even among the top-tier folks. In our family, being the second-born is something special. We don't just get our parents' abilities; we often tap into cool powers from our ancestors, going way back to the first superhumans.
When I arrived, the expectations were seriously sky-high. But as I lay there in my crib, things were a little different. The room was quiet. No powers. Not even a flicker of anything. I glanced at my family, and they looked back with worry slowly creeping in.
"Quick, call the doctor!" my grandma said, urgency in her voice. "He'll know what's up."
The doctor came. He looked me over, then my parents, then back at me. His silence just hung in the air, heavy like a storm cloud.
"Well?" Grandma pressed. "Are you gonna say anything, or do I need to pull the words out of you?"
He flinched. "Uh, I don't really know, ma'am. Maybe he's just a late bloomer. Give it five years. His powers might kick in by then."
The celebration wrapped up not with cheers but with awkward glances and a tense hope. Hope that I wouldn't let them down.
So, five years went by. Five really rough years. And still, nothing.
No fiery blaze. No watery wave. Not even a glimmer of light. I sat in the backyard of our family home, watching the sky shimmer with the lights from my cousins soaring around. My cousin, who was only ten, could control air like it was his pet. The wind played around him, eager to please.
And me? The wind acted like I wasn't even there.
Inside, I could hear the low murmur of conversations. Whispers. Talks that weren't meant for my ears but about me.
"Still nothing?" "It's been five years." "Do you think he's… broken?" "Maybe cursed?"
Cursed. That word hit harder than the others.
I shuffled off to my room, hoping the walls wouldn't hear me. Above my bed, portraits of my ancestors watched me closely. Warriors. Stormcallers. Elemental masters. My grandpa, in a fit of rage, once froze a whole mountain range in an instant. My great-aunt turned a dry desert into a lush paradise during a drought.
And here I was, unable to even warm a cup of water.
That night, I couldn't sleep, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if the stars ever looked back at me.
Then I dreamed.
Not the usual kid's dream—where you just daydream and drift off—but more like I was floating in space among the stars. There was this dark, cosmic field stretching forever, sprinkled with stars that seemed to blink like ancient eyes. In the center was this being—neither one thing nor another. It moved and flowed, like it was made of pure thought and memory, not real stuff.
It looked at me, and I could feel it seeing me.
"You're not broken," it whispered, in a voice that felt like both mine and something else. "You're just unshaped."
I reached out for it.
But I woke up just before I could touch that light.
My heart raced like it was sending me a message. My hands shook—and for just a second, my fingertips sparkled. Not with fire or ice, but something different. Like frost and starlight mixed together.
Then it vanished. Just like the dream. Just like everything else.
I never told anyone. Not because I didn't trust my parents—they still had faith in me deep down. More because I didn't trust myself.
What if it was just my imagination? What if that sparkle was just my desperation showing?
But still… it didn't seem like just a dream. It felt like a warning. Or maybe a promise. Or perhaps… the beginning.