https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DF3ZYDB2 10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxFxGMiVtvf
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5dYQazEQCw
“I'll start tonight, in my dream kingdom, with Zion.”
“I'm sure you will.”
The day dawned, filtering light through the curtains and illuminating Conor, who was still sound asleep, but it didn't last, for the ringing of his alarm clock rudely awakened him.
He was now fifteen years old.
He barely opened his eyes. When he did, he turned to his alarm clock, a classic black case with the time displayed in red. He grimaced as he pushed back the sheets and sat down on the edge of his bed, thinking with envy and disgust that his classmates were capable of creating an alarm clock, making it to suit their imaginations.
This is the case of Marianne, for example, the most popular girl in class and also the most studious, who has created an enchanting alarm clock that sings her an enchanting but powerful song every morning; or Bryan, the class jock, whose alarm clock is a sort of commentator who comments on an imaginary match in his sonorous, seductive voice; or Josh, the class beau, whose alarm clock is a woman whose way of waking up is censored by the teacher.
Creating an alarm clock was an exercise learned a month earlier, and everyone in the class had mastered it to perfection. All except him.
He also glanced ironically at his room. It could have been mistaken for any “normal” teenager's room, decorated in white and navy blue tones, but with a brown wooden floor, only the necessary furniture, and... a bookshelf occupying half a wall and filled with books containing all sorts of spells... and which were of only theoretical use to him.
It was different from his classmates' room, of which he'd only seen photos, of course, and even then far from it, as none of them would ever invite him into their home, a room whose walls he saw covered with various fantastic moving drawings ranging from magical forests to animated, illuminated cities to video game sets.
This was the dream, a dream forever beyond his reach.
He sighed, as he did every morning, noting that waking up was increasingly difficult.
A soft knock on the door interrupted Conor's reverie. His mother, Marion, entered, her brows furrowed in concern, an expression that had become an everyday occurrence.
“Conor, darling, breakfast is ready. Hurry up or you'll be late...”
Conor couldn't hold back a wry chuckle.
“Late? As if being or not being late was going to change anything!”
“Conor!”
“Oh, please! I know you didn't come just to tell me dinner's ready! You usually send one of your flying stuffed animals! My favorite is my old nanny who, by the way, seems to be getting redder with age.”
Marion looked at her son with bright, indecipherable eyes.
“Baby, I heard about your exam results. Why didn't you tell me you were still having trouble?” Her voice was tinged with melancholy and disappointment. She, too, had gotten used to it, but didn't realize it yet.
Conor, still sitting on the edge of his bed, stared idly at the open textbooks on his desk. The worn pages, adorned with flowing diagrams and intricate runes, mocked him and his inability to put the most basic magic into practice. While his fellow students at the prestigious Ogemos mage school effortlessly manipulated the elements, summoning flames, conjuring gusts of wind and weaving spells with flawless elegance, Conor could only manage to change the color of his pen - a meager and embarrassing demonstration of his magical shortcomings.
Conor looked away, his fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Breakfast's ready, you said...”
Conor smiled cynically.
“And what else?”
“What else?”
“Mom, you never come to tell me breakfast is ready. You send those round, flying creatures that are a little too bright for my taste, to do it. My favorite is still the grumpy indigo and red one that serves as my nanny to this day. Which means there's something else going on, and since it's probably me, it's probably serious.”
Marion hesitated and went to sit next to her son on the bed.
“The director called me personally this morning. About your results.”
“He was slow to do so.”
“Why didn't you tell me you were having problems at school?”
Conor looked at his mother as if she'd lost her mind.
“This is a joke!”
“No, of course not.”
“And I think it is! You think I'm going to tell you I suck at school!”
“Why wouldn't you? I could...”
“Because there's no point. School always informs you, and more importantly, it won't change anything. There's nothing you can do for me.”
“Don't say that!”
“Mom, I'm different! No, let's be even clearer, I'm a loser. And there's nothing you can do about it. There's nothing a school can do.”
“Oh, my darling! You mustn't think like that, you mustn't lose hope!”
“I wonder if sometimes you don't hear yourself, Mom. You really do sound like a broken box that can only repeat the same thing, even if what it's repeating has long since lost all meaning.”
His mother was visibly flabbergasted and hurt by these harsh and somewhat true words, but she didn't let it get her down and tried again to console him.
“My love, you'll get over it, you'll see! You know that, don't you?”
“Of what now?
“That you're not defined by magic.
“And what should I be defined by?”
“You have so many other options! You have so many other talents!”
“Oh yes, like what for example?”
Her mother pondered, but couldn't think of anything to say. And when she realized this and it was reflected in her eyes, her child almost screamed with rage. He wanted to explode in anger, to destroy everything around him. But he couldn't.
“You see? Whether you like it or not, you're the one who's most aware of it. After me, of course,” he added cynically, as if it went without saying.
“Oh, my dear boy. I know how much you'd like your wish to come true. But if it never comes true, you can always do what your grandfather did.”
Conor frowned.
“You mean fisherman?”
“He's the best in his group.”
“Mom, he uses his magic to fish!”
“But humans don't!”
There it was, the long-forbidden word that was no longer forbidden. They were beginning to move beyond that.
ns 15.158.61.16da2
