Micael arose stiffly from the bed in his lonely chamber in the east wing of the Accademia and stretched, preparing to start another fruitless day learning anew that he would never be able to use magic like other children. He was sullen, and had sunken further into his silence since Cyrus had left. Though he would never admit it, he felt almost as if he had been abandoned, doubly compounded by his mother's death. Times beyond number, he had cried himself to sleep at night, only to wake up again to find everything was the same as before.

It was not that he didn't have the abilities, it was simply that he didn't know how to utilize them. So Master Arturo perpetually tried to tell him. Though the man was kind enough, he certainly did not have the knack of comforting children in distress. The boy could see nothing positive about his situation, and the endless exercises which he attempted day after day failed to reveal even a trace of his supposed powers. He felt disconnected; unable to control anything, trapped forever within the same state.

Spring had arrived in full force. Outside, the flourishing green which spread over the Accademia's grounds seemed a mockery of his own failure to thrive. Micael lamented that his tongue was so stilled. Whenever he spoke, the words always came out jumbled and not at all what he truly wished to say. When would people stop treating him as a child! Caught within his prison of silence, he was bitter towards everyone around him, all of them flaunting their magical skills at him. He vowed to show them that he, too, was capable of such feats. He had redoubled his efforts, but still, nothing availed.

Many people had very little magical talent. Why then was it so important that he possess it? It was of course because of his heredity. In her past, his mother had even trained at the Accademia, before the cruel Kamril had sent her away. He only knew of this from her tales, of course, but he hated him as much as if he had known the man himself. If not for him, she might even be alive today! He wept again at the thought of his poor mother. She had never been very well, since his earliest memories; there was no question in his mind that Kamril had killed her when he sent her away, whether she died then or years later.

In the past, he had always wanted magic just to prove that he was worthwhile. But now he had another reason. Revenge. He had sworn to himself that the wicked mage would suffer for the way they had been destroyed by him. And with this oath had come the desire to be strong, even more vigorous than before. Yet still, nothing.

His mere desire was not enough; there was also the requirement for the base ability upon which training could build. But he had yet to be able to influence the currents of energy in the slightest way. He could not even sense what an energy current was, and the complicated explanations they gave him helped not at all in learning the practice of magic.

Having nothing better to do, he decided to go up and get breakfast as per usual. He sat by himself at the table. The twins had moved up a class, and they were so busy now that they were forced to go to meals at odd hours, leaving Micael all alone in the cafeteria. Of course, he ate in silence, since there was no one to talk to, and even if there had been, there would be nothing to talk about. In his mind, there was no kinship between such folk and people like himself.

Cyrus, in contrast to all the others, had always been like a brother to him. Of all the people he had ever known, only his mother and the older youth had accepted him as he was, and never made fun of his difficulty in using magic. Though he was unable to express his thanks, it now seemed impossible to express, for the boy had left with unexpected suddenness. Just like that, he had been set adrift, his sole support disappearing into the void.

Not knowing quite how to articulate his feelings to anyone, he had merely continued on in his normal pattern of dull despair. Today, just as every day, would be full of despair.

After he finished his morning meal, he walked leadenly towards Master Arturo's chambers. The man had taken personal charge of his training, and had tried time and time again to discover wherein his power lay. As the headmaster had told him, having someone's flower appear outside the Gardens was rare, but not a sign of magical inability, and that everyone who had ever lived possessed some form of magic power. It was, he had claimed, only a matter of time before Micael's powers were discovered. If only he could bring himself to believe it.

Arturo greeted him with a warm smile. Despite the boy's silence, the headmaster had taken him under his wing, and tried as best he could to draw the boy out. But it seemed that he would have none of it, only speaking when directly asked a question. The man was sure beyond any doubt that the boy would be able to express himself in time.

He suspected, though, that this self-expression was prevented by the poor child's feelings of weakness and low self-esteem. His own efforts were futile; the only way that the boy would be able to move on in his own mind was to accomplish some feat of magic to prove that he was just as good as anyone else. And this had yet to materialize. Still, there was no question that the boy had some sort of ability. But what could it be?

"Micael, let's try something a little different today. Come with me to the examination room so I can show you."

They went into the specially strengthened rooms made for the purposes of demonstrations, and the old mage led young Micael over the small bridge. This particular room was rather large, and was composed of a low tower in the center of a small moat, designed for the purpose of utilizing water magic. The boy had been taken for such demonstrations often enough, but they had mostly been conducted by younger magicians who were capable of collecting energy faster than he. In truth, Master Arturo had begun feeling his age, and while his power had not deteriorated, it took quite a bit more effort to use it than it had in his youth. Despite this increased effort, among the academy's scholars, he remained the most powerful, and perhaps putting the effort into it to make a greater show would be of use to the young lad.

"Now, try to feel as I collect water energy. I empty my mind, and merely accept the flow into myself. Don't be shy, come by my side to see if it helps any." He began to concentrate. As the boy walked over to join him in the center, he tripped and began to fall onto Arturo, instinctively grasping at whatever he could reach.

Suddenly, the headmaster felt an influx of power so strong that the waters were whipped into a frenzied cyclone. He almost could not believe his eyes, as the entire room was flooded in an instant by the moat which had somehow flown straight upwards and began to whirl around. He looked at the boy in astonishment, and he tried to stop the flow of energy. Almost as quickly as it had begun, the water lay placid at the bottom of the chamber just as it had before.

"Micael... do you know what you've just done?"

He stared mutely towards the ground. "I'm sorry. When I fell, I made you distracted and --"

"No, no, no, my child! You have just shown me what your magic is!"

His face lit up in delight, but it was soon tempered by the realization that the old man was only trying to comfort him. "I don't have any."

"Your magic, my dear Micael, is changing the strength of other people's magic. When Cyrus and Ignatius were telling me about how you had rescued me, they said that when you had touched them, their power increased more than they could imagine. We all assumed it was just that your faith in them had reassured them, but now I understand that it was much more than that. Don't you see? Your magic is the most powerful of all, for it can either aid your allies immensely or stop your foes in their tracks."

Still disbelieving, the boy said, "But everyone knows that there are only the four types of magic. Besides, what could I do with that kind of magic if it were real?"

"Well, that's as may be, but you are definitely the exception. Can't you see how great a power this is? You are the only one I've ever known with such an ability. It's much greater even than mine. You, my young friend, may be the greatest magician that this school has ever had!"

He hesitated. Master Arturo was not so cruel as to joke like this. But still, he had difficulty in swallowing that he was the only boy in all the world with a special type of power that no one had ever heard of before. But still...

"Is it really true?"

"I'm sure. But if you don't believe me, let's make a test. You decide whether you want me to be able to gather energy or not, then hold on to my arm. Don't tell me what you decided. Now, I will try my hardest to stir up the waters, and whichever you chose will become apparent. Ready to test it?"

The boy nodded. He decided that he would first try to increase the mage's power. After all, if he claimed to be trying but really wasn't, there would be no way to tell.

"Alright, I'm going to start now." He focused, and felt the surge of energy once again, causing the same drastic effect on the water as before.

"Satisfied?"

"Let me try it again." This time, he would keep the mage's level the same at what it was.

The water swirled around in the moat, but did nothing like what it had before. Micael was intrigued, and tried reducing the power slightly and increasing it again. Perfectly in tune with his thoughts, the water responded to exactly the level that he wanted it to. Quite impressed, he let go of the mage's arm. So it was true! He felt elated all of a sudden. His past dejection was quite forgotten, and he looked up at Arturo with bright, cheery eyes, shouting excitedly, "I did it! I did it!"

Master Arturo smiled down towards him with pleasure. The mystery was solved at last. He had a feeling that Micael would be much happier with himself from now on.

Though the pair did not know it, a sinister figure was concealing himself just outside of the building, peering inside with his magically enhanced senses. It was Kamril. He thought idly of how very useful the boy's talents could be, before going away again to return to his hiding place in the woods.

The foolish man, he thought. Had Arturo really been so naive as to believe that he would have left completely? Indeed, it had merely freed him from having to conceal his frequent visits to various other locales in his search for one particularly desirable prize; the conquest of one of his major enemies. But now, he realized that there was another one, and so much closer to being within his grasp. He smiled with the scheme which formulated itself, and stalked off into the concealed dwelling which he had constructed nearby underneath a tree. It pained him to be in such an unrefined abode, but the price was well worth the benefit of being so conveniently near to the Accademia, from which all of his plans might at last come to fruition. He only regretted that he had not paid closer attention to the two brats sooner, when it might have been possible to win both of them to his side, or control them in some other fashion. Yet it mattered not, for his desire would be achieved one way or another.