Aldir Ashburn POV:

The tracing breeze, my crawling skin, the light that gently seeped through the sordid pane faintly growing into the dusky conservative perimeter of the room shining on one direct spot with its might. 

I remember it all. It was after all, Elias's birth. The sole existence of the care me and Veronica dedicated towards him and the symbol of our love. The symbol that I strove towards after denying every other expectation ever put forward and attached to my name by the fiercest and firmest manacles that chained my existence, freedom and hope that I could ever hoped to have had. It was a special moment, for both me and Ronny of course, but it felt more meaningful to me, at least I'd like to think. I finally had something I wished to put all effort towards developing, something that would be made from my own free choice and I wouldn't pose any unesssecary aspirations or targets for him to achieve, just for him to be what he wants.

 Maybe I hoped for mediocrity...something that fell upon me and put me under constant oppression and cultivated this deep inner-hatred I bore for myself. Now that I think about it, I just did what my dad did, instead I hoped the outcome would be reversed. 

I originally came from a noble bloodline in the capital, applauded for their outstanding battle mages and constant developing curve upwards that seemed to scale to grander heights with each new passing generation. I was born to the head of the household, so naturally the expectations on me where set with a bar favouring the results of the former years and expanding to broader horizons. Upon my eventual birth, the family erupted in a dazzling, long drawn out and laboured party that encapsulated the family with unsurmountable joy and expectations. Expectations that the soon to Mr mediocre, would never be able to meet. 

From the very first steps I took, from the very first sounds I uttered, everything I did was surrounded in applause and cheer commending the most insignificant accomplishments I would fulfil. My original view was a coloured world painted in the illustrious pigments that would sprout from my imagination, everything being controlled by my grace and touch that would sprinkle golden dust, leaving everyone to scramble to the floor to pick up the slightest trace. I alone felt king in the world that brought itself to its knees upon my gestures and orders. 

A sense of superiority bred in the depths of my psyche and my character making me an unpleasant brat to everyone and anyone. Even when I offended someone in a higher position, because of the destined potential I was promised to reach, all let it slide merely asking for a favour once the conditions of my growth have been completed. This led to a further delusion that was fuelled by the uncontained thought that spoke to me. 

"You stand above all. Everyone else's existence was originated to service your life." A lustful and dark tone would silently slip the words through my ear and make me digest those words like they were the most exquisite dishes made by the chefs of the gods. My family set up an environment that would be pleasant for any child to grow up in, but they failed to establish a gap between my limits and others. They instilled a false sense of hope that they expected me to cling to whilst they ruthlessly tugged me up the jagged mountain with its leveraging spikes that would leave painful scars no matter how carefully they ambled. The effects would all remain, if not maximise the overall potential pain. And soon the crumble would arrive.

"UGHHHHH! WHY CAN'T YOU GRASP A SIMPLE CONCEPT LIKE THIS, YOU IDIOT!!" The insulting screams that would ramble on, drilling in that I was an idiot and completely useless in an unesssecary tone of delivery, thoroughly searching through their vocabulary to put across how stupid and disappointing I was. My reality warped completely, shattering upon the slightest insult and opprobrious comment that further smashed the already irreversible damage that pounded away like an iron hammer falling on one glass jar in an infinite amount of time until it reshaped. The final product? A destroyed sense of superiority that replaced and sealed the former void with the idea of uselessness. 

Failure isn't painful when others expectations aren't fulfilled of you, but when you pictured yourself as the one above all in terms of value, talent, proficiency, glory. A king born amongst peasants. That's when the doom settles in. The bottom of the well were you where trapped in, or I in this case, had finally been unveiled to what's past the small patch of sky within the view. And at the bottom alongside the trash voyaging pointlessly, your place established, glued to the waste that holds onto your ankles with their unkept and acute nails which scraped away at you. A reminder that you are nothing and can be nothing. 

From the age of six when I began training, all of this was confirmed and established. By eight, this became a normal occurrence that no longer felt unusual, instead suffocating. I was hailed in the capital as the failed prodigy, though technically I was just a product that was overhyped and when actually tested by the consumer was I deemed worthless by their expectations. I was never deserving of the title prodigy and didn't want it, however now the name stuck to me in a negative connotation. 

That's probably why I ran away. I began sneaking out of our families expansive manor and unexpectedly in moments of sorrow met someone who accepted a failure. A common girl from a common family, endowed with beauty and a prickly smile that could be described as teasing, cocky and menacing. The dimples pronounced in her face flowed to the colour of her naturally scarlet eyes and the humming of her flowing locks in the sky night, shot an arrow straight through my heart. A tear shed for my story graced her cheek. The first kindness I received since my first fall. I met Veronica when we were roughly fourteen. It was a first love filled with everything that you'd expect. It felt so sweet and refreshing, wishing that every moment extended for an impossible amount. It was the first manacle that slowly unlocked its pressing grasp around my wrist.