Where is he?
At first, Az asked the question to himself out of concern. Now, nearly three months into returning to Carvolier, he asked himself out of irritation.
More often enough, the excuse was "I was helping Professor Wolve," or "Someone was asking the correct wording of the levitation incantation." Always doing this or that.
At first, he was worried if it would affect his friend's studies. But Nagan proved him wrong. Again. Why would a genius begin to fail in this situation? In fact, he thrived under pressure. The classes now are all practicals after all. Everything his friend is good at.
Everything Az is not.
At almost every waking moment, sparing little breaks, Az had to work hard to be where he was today. He simply wasn't a natural prodigy.
He was an Arcloven no less. One of the top three mage families in all of Norvea. Yet he stood behind the rest due to his magic developing late. The whispers blamed it on his father's genes.
Why did Cilara marry the commoner? Look how incompatible they are.
His family isn't even a family of mages! They are all mediocres!
He is only a potion master. Not even a Dragonmage. Cilara must not take his name.
They named the son after the commoner's father! What a terrible namesake!
Look, the son doesn't have his magic yet! Perhaps he was born a mediocre like his father's family!
Ah, a late bloomer. But who's the other child?
Nageth's child! And a young talent, too! Imagine if Nageth hadn't married a mediocre, then perhaps the child would have been even greater!
So quickly did the Arclovens take him in. They practically treat him like their own!
They're probably itching to adopt him. Perhaps they've already sent search parties to find Nageth's whereabouts.
Maybe once they adopt the other, they can have a proper heir. The Elvars truly missed an opportunity.
Az gripped the quill in his hand. He wouldn't dare.
Or would he...? If he asked...and a few good convincing points...
Nagan was ambitious, confident, determined, and always had something to prove. He was a favorite of nearly everyone. One word and people did as he asked. People listened to him.
All with seemingly no effort.
Of course, even Az knew that was a lie. He knew his friend had his fair share of hardships. Nagan deserved every ounce of respect he got. But what about him? Sure, he wasn't a Time Mage or had his magic developed since he was 4, but he wasn't average either.
Az knew his accomplishments. Top of his class, taking on two challenging courses, and even began sensing and absorbing his affinity. Something that couldn't usually be done until the end of your third year.
Yet none of that seemed to matter when he stood next to Nagan.
...Jealousy?
Az's grip became tighter as he stared blankly at his unfinished self-assessment report.
So he finally admitted to the emotion. He was jealous of Nagan. But why? Why was this happening now? He had always been content standing in his shadow, not liking the attention anyway. When had he started measuring himself next to someone he knew he could never beat? Against someone...someone so obviously better than him. It wasn't as if Nagan was really trying either.
And if he decided to try? That would only make the gap between them even larger.
Why couldn't he be like that!
Snap!
"Augh!" Az released the broken quill from his grasp. The tip rolling across the paper and leaving a trail of ink in its wake.
Ah. Hopefully, Professor Trevelion won't mind, Az thought as he drew his hand closer to himself, it stinging mildly, before another darted forward to stop it.
"How did this happen?" Nagan asked, leaning over his shoulder to inspect his palm. A thin, oozing scratch laid across it.
"Um," Az started dumbly, "muscle cramp. Caused my grip to tighten, and the quill snapped."
"So that's why I heard you shout." Nagan let out a breath of relief. "I thought maybe one of your absorption sessions went wrong again."
Again. Az didn't want to admit how much that word stung. Instead, he focused on Nagan as he pulled his hand closer to himself.
He still had on his book bag and asked what had happened, so that meant he just arrived. Good. Or else his lie wouldn't have sailed as easily as it did.
Az watched as Nagan stared intently at the cut, his lips moving slightly and forming words, but no true word was uttered.
Another difference. Nagan had already succeeded in silent incantations while he still didn't know his affinity.
He couldn't exactly see what was going on at his palm since his hand was raised above eye level, but in a flourish of energy, there was a terrible itching sensation. Nagan let go of his hand.
Not even a scar was left.
"There. Sorry if it was uncomfortable." Nagan grinned. "You should take a break every once in a while with writing. Especially since we're doing sword training now. Your hand and wrist will fall off at this rate."
Az snorted. "Maybe not to that extreme."
He stood from his desk, leaving the mess behind to clean later, and hoisted up his own book bag to his shoulder. "We better get going. I'm sure Kint and Ravi miss us."
Nagan nodded in agreement and headed out the door, trusting Az wouldn't be too far behind.
Yet Az lingered for a moment, glancing back at his palm. A heavy sense of guilt began pooling in his gut.
He was proud of what his friend had accomplished, he truly was. Nagan fought tooth and nail to be where he was today, and it showed with every step he took. Moving forward even when blinded.
He just wished he could feel the same way about himself.
•_____________________________•
Sorry if this chapter feels a bit scattered, but honestly, I nearly forgot to write it in the first place XD
I literally glanced at the calendar and went "OH SHOOT IT'S SUNDAY." Sooooooooo here's the product of an unplanned chapter XD