Asylum

Final Training

Leo Hernandez

The day didn't start out ominous and doomsday-esque. The weather was nice, with not a cloud in sight. The sun was cutting through the gentle breeze, the cherry blossoms were blooming, even though they're out of season, and there was a sense of unison amongst the dojo. I didn't think anything could go wrong, until a certain set of news travelled here. But I'll get to that part later.

"That's good, Leo," my Sage trainer encourages as I set down one of the cafeteria chairs using my mind. "You've got moving things up and down, but your other directional skills need some work. Try moving the chair next to the others on the observatory deck."

I glance at the chair's destination, where Elektra's thugs swing their legs over the edge of the platform, munching on brunch muffins and sandwiches. I guess they've pledged their allegiance to our Zeus, which means they plan on hanging around. For low class gangsters, they're pretty laid back. Their leader is the man with black hair and foggy brown eyes, who they not-so-cleverly call Ace. "Consider it done," I gloat to my Sage, dramatically cracking my knuckles because, let's face it, everything I do is rather dramatic. What can I say? I live to be the center of attention.

Above, the sorry excuse for gangster laugh. By now, they're used to my big talk but shallow game. "This ought to be good," Ace grouches, eagerly awaiting my failure.

Focusing on the physical particles of a chair is way different from connecting to a person's strings. This time, there's nothing to tie myself to. For this, I have to feel the space around the chair to manipulate and move it, or grasp the materials of the wood to bend or break it. It's nothing like I've experienced, but I'm getting the hang of it. As I bring the chair off the ground, the tips of my fingers tingling with power, I mutter, "Just wait. I'm flinging this thing right at your ugly face."

My concentration is robbed from me when Ace sucks in a breath and yelps, "Ow!"

Eyes darting upwards, I accidentally launch my chair into the sky, out of view. Meanwhile, Ace rubs his head as Sarah appears in the doorway of the dojo, smirking upwards and smoothing down her hair, where she must've yanked it. That's my girl, I think to myself. Now what to do about that chair...

I look to the Sage, who holds a hand over his eyes and tilts his face upwards. "Well..."

"We should clear the pavilion for a bit," I recommend.

"Not a bad idea."

I refresh for the day by snacking on some exotic-looking fruits and a yogurt drink. It's late afternoon around now, but everyone still buzzes with the same amount of energy they did hours ago. It's as if they knew that they'd need to suck up all the careless flouncing around before a certain messenger carried news about an upcoming rival underway.

At my table is the old gang: Zeus, the Dragon, Sarah, and Kya. We all go over mindless chatter, joke around, admit first impressions, and talk about things I imagine normal people do. Then, in comes Ren's main Sage, bursting through the double doors, carrying the scent of the great outdoors with him. "Master Walker," he calls. Though there's only one Ren, everybody looks. "There's someone here with very pertinent news about a possible threat."

"Someone?" Ren repeats, raising a brow.

"Alistair."

Nobody cheers in joy over Alistair's return. I hate him because he stole from me, and he's just got this smug, up-to-no-good-but-don't-mind-me aura. Sarah hates him because I hate him. Kya hates him because, apparently, he's the one who drugged her and gave her to Reaper and Cerberus, which seemed to be enough to make Ren hate him, too. As for Elektra, she seems to hate everyone. Almost.