My eyes remained glued to the holographic list, the names glowing in elegant script against the pale blue light.
My chest felt tight, as if the world itself had clenched its fist around me. I read through the list again, my fingers twitching at my sides.
There had to be a mistake. Five times. Five times I had failed. But I had trained harder than ever, poured every ounce of myself into the exams. I couldn't have failed again.
I couldn't.
Ignoring the joyous cheers and celebratory shouts echoing around me, I pushed through the crowd.
My boots clicked against the polished stone steps leading to the Academy's grand entrance, their sound swallowed by the murmur of excitement.
The massive glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the gleaming halls of the Hero Academy. Everything about the place radiated authority and excellence, from the pristine marble floors to the towering holo-banners displaying images of legendary heroes.
I felt out of place. Again.
The sound of laughter and chatter drew my attention. I turned toward one of the classrooms, where students, new recruits were already celebrating their acceptance.
My heart sank further. They were exactly what the Academy wanted: confident, radiant, unshakable.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to step inside. The classroom was large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city.
A holographic map of the training grounds floated in the center of the room, its glowing lines tracing out the various obstacle courses and combat arenas.
Among the chatter, one figure stood out a tall man with a commanding presence. He was lean but muscular, his angular face framed by graying black hair slicked neatly back.
His sharp, hawk-like eyes missed nothing, scanning the room with an air of detached superiority.
He wore the Academy's standard teaching uniform: a dark blue coat trimmed with gold, its high collar emphasizing his stern demeanor.
Professor Kael Thornridge. A name I knew all too well.
I hesitated, but then my determination pushed me forward. His back was turned as I approached, his focus on congratulating a cluster of students.
"Professor Thornridge," I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
He turned, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with recognition. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "Ah, Miss Dreadthorn," he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
I ignored the pointed jab and took a deep breath. "There's been a mistake," I said, forcing the words out. "My name isn't on the list. I need to know why."
Kael crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "A mistake, you say? Unlikely. But I suppose I can humor you for a moment."
He tapped a small device on his wrist, and a translucent screen appeared in the air. His fingers danced across the interface as he searched for something. Finally, he stopped, his smirk widening.
"There it is," he said, tilting the screen toward me. "Your results, Miss Dreadthorn. Everything is perfectly in order."
I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting into knots. The evaluation was there in stark black and white. Scores in combat: above average. Strategic thinking: average. Heroic aptitude: failed. My throat tightened as my eyes skimmed the words.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "This doesn't make sense. I worked harder than ever. I—"
"Let me stop you right there," Kael interrupted, his tone cold and cutting. "You've failed five times, Miss Dreadthorn. Five. That's more than most people even bother attempting. And do you know why you've failed every single time?"
I stared at him, unable to speak.
"It's because you're too soft," he said, each word sharp as a blade. "Too kind. Too naive. You lack the edge—the ruthlessness—that defines a true hero. You hesitate when you should strike. You empathize when you should dominate. You're weak."
His words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless.
Kael continued, his eyes narrowing. "You think this world is built on ideals like compassion and mercy? It isn't. Heroes are forged through fire and blood, by making the hard choices that people like you can't stomach. You're not cut out for this life, Dreadthorn. You never were."
Anger flared in my chest, burning against the suffocating weight of his words. "That's not true," I said, my voice trembling. "I've worked just as hard as anyone else. Harder, even. I—"
"And yet, here you are," Kael said, cutting me off again. "Still standing on the outside, begging to be let in. Take a hint, Miss Dreadthorn. This isn't your path. It never will be."
For a moment, the room blurred around me. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
The faces of the other students, the ones celebrating, were a blur of laughter and smiles. I wanted to scream, to cry, to fight, but none of it would change the reality staring me in the face.
Kael turned away, already dismissing me. "You're free to try again next year," he said over his shoulder, his tone dripping with mockery. "Though I'd recommend finding a different dream. Save yourself the embarrassment."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. My throat felt tight, and my chest ached with the weight of his words. I turned and walked out of the classroom, the sound of laughter and congratulations trailing behind me like a cruel reminder of my failure.
By the time I reached my car, my emotions were a tangled mess. Desperation warred with anger, pain clashed with shame. I slammed the door shut behind me and gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles white.
The urge to cry was overwhelming, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not now. Instead, I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, my mind racing as fast as the car.
I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to move, to escape the suffocating weight of the Academy, of Kael's words, of my own failure.
The city blurred around me as I drove aimlessly, my foot pressing harder on the gas pedal with each passing moment. Skyscrapers gave way to rolling hills, the urban sprawl fading into open countryside.
My chest burned with an emotion I couldn't fully name. Was it anger? Despair? Both? All I knew was that it consumed me. My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I fought the urge to scream.
"Too kind," I muttered bitterly, Kael's words echoing in my mind. "Too soft. Too weak."
The fire inside me grew, an uncontrollable blaze fueled by years of rejection, of being told I wasn't enough.
Part of me wanted to turn the car around, to march back to that pristine, self-righteous Academy and burn it to the ground with every ounce of magic I had.
But another part of me wanted to disappear, to let the world swallow me whole and erase the pain clawing at my soul.
The road ahead twisted sharply, but I barely noticed. My vision was blurred, not by tears but by the haze of my own emotions.
And then it happened.
The tires screeched as I turned too late, the edge of the cliff looming far closer than I'd realized.
My heart lurched as the car skidded, the back wheels losing traction. For a moment, everything slowed the world narrowing to the jagged rocks below, the empty sky stretching beyond.
The car tipped, gravity taking hold.
And then, nothing but the sound of rushing air and the distant roar of my own scream.