![]() “You didn’t start it, did you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at her son. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the pounding of his mother’s heart in his head. “Sorry, baby,” his mother muttered as she grasped her son's chin in her hand, cringing at the cut. The older kids were slightly nicer to him, but he saw the way some looked at him. He was some insignificant person in his life who when they found out Fedyor tested as a Corporalki decided he was a perfect target. Fedyor barely knew the kid, vaguely remembering him from his class at school. It stung the sensitive area where the boy had hit him. “Ouch!” Fedyor winced as his mom dabbed at the new cut on his bottom lip. They singled you out even more, called you a demon and a monster, and convinced you would kill them if they didn’t hit you first. Kids were cruel, yeah, but they haven't killed him yet.īut when you’re a Grisha, kids get meaner. Fedyor was small, skinny, and although scrappy, always ended up with more bruises and cuts than the day before. He heard the tales of those who possessed magic and knew he never wanted to be one. He’d heard the stories from his elders, the dramatic tales of the men and women who could set you ablaze with their hands, who could make your eyes and ears bleed without so much of a wink. ![]() Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 159008 Chapters: 48/48 Comments: 483 Kudos: 475 Bookmarks: 62 Hits: 13889įedyor never wanted to be a Grisha. ![]()
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