Falling.

It took Esen’s mind a moment to catch up to the reality his body had already taken note of. A rush tore through his spine, the tingling feeling gathering in the back of his neck. A gasp tore its way through him as his scrambling mind finally realized what was going on.

He was falling.

His eyes widened in horror as the air rushed up to greet him, shooting past him as gravity continued to drag him down. 

His back was to the chasm that had opened up in the arena, but he felt as though he could see the darkness reaching up towards him, greedy fingers waiting to drag him down into its unseen depths. The world around him turned strangely silent. He couldn’t hear the horrified — or excited — gasps of the crowd his mind had belatedly registered. He couldn’t hear the shouting of the competitors above him as they continued trying to avoid their deaths. All he could hear was the wind, rushing him, not breaking his fall, invading his being. Panic gripped his throat, seized his limbs, turned his blood to ice. 

And then he exploded.

Magical energy surged through his veins, aided by the pounding of his heart. It expanded outward, his mind going painfully blank. The only thing he could think of was not dying. Surviving. There was no thought as to how he was controlling the wind, no strength to his will to keep it in check. No control. 

His body felt like a ragdoll, limbs flailing, breath knocked out of his lungs, as he was blasted upwards by the violent force of the wind. He gritted his teeth, but they still clattered together. He managed to reach out despite the weight pressing down on his limbs from above and grapple onto a rock. Dragging himself onto it, his magic dispelling, he was only able to lay there, gasping, for a moment before it began to crack beneath his weight. 

He pushed himself up on trembling limbs, sweat causing his clothes to cling to him, and lunged forward. His lungs were seizing, and his muscles felt like jelly. He realized with mounting horror that despite the fact that he had only been derailed for a few moments — though they had felt much longer — he was now so far behind everyone else that there was a high likelihood that he would come in last.

And then he would die anyway.

Adrenaline coursed through his body, his panic clenching around his stomach, his chest, his muscles. If he didn’t do anything, he would be dead. He would die. This wasn’t a joke, this wasn’t a game. His life could end today. 

He felt like a cornered animal, eyes rolling wildly this way and that, looking for a way to save himself. He didn’t have time to think. There was only one way he could get ahead of the competitors ahead of him. There was only one way for him to get out of this alive. The magic swelled inside his chest again, oppressive and thick, building larger and larger until it nearly exploded out of him again. He wasn’t in control. He needed to be. He needed— 

He clenched his jaw, and through the panicked tears in his eyes, he felt the wind wrap around his body again, his magic cloaking him, calling the air around him to him until he was once again shot forward. 

He’d hardly even realized that he’d crossed the finish line in a few short moments until he crashed into the ground. He was coated in sweat. His ears rang. The world around him spun. He felt like he was going to be sick. His limbs were unresponsive. His vision was marked by dots steadily encroaching further into his field of view. Someone was talking to him. Who was it? What were they saying? 

Esen’s body heaved, and then shuddered, and then it felt like he was burning. And then there was nothing.

~

When Esen awoke, he was in a bright room. His head ached. He squeezed his eyes shut. The light drifting in through a nearby window was doing nothing but exacerbating the piercing throbbing that rattled around inside his skull. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t draw in enough air. The rest of his body was numb. 

His lips trembled as memories flashed behind his closed eyelids. He wasn’t dead. He hadn’t come in last. Despite the fact that this should have caused relief to swarm through him and melt away the pain in his heart, he couldn’t help but know that someone else had died for him to live. He had been last until the last possible moment. He was alive, but someone else was dead.

How was he supposed to deal with that?

Tears stung his eyes and leaked out, tracking their way down the sides of his face. He pressed his lips even tighter together to muffle the sob trying to force its way up his throat. Crying was doing nothing but making his splitting headache worse, but he couldn’t help himself.

He’d never been much good at controlling his emotions — especially his tears.

The door to the room opened. He heard the sound of hurried footsteps entering the room. 

“Oh, my baby.” That was his mother’s voice. The sound of it only made him want to cry harder as he kept his eyes shut. She wrapped her arms around his prone form and brought him close. He had no choice but to stay in her embrace even when it made his chest tighten considerably. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her in return, so he remained where he was, crying silently into her shoulder, inhaling the scent of jasmine that clung to her. 

He accepted, selfishly, the comfort his mother’s arms brought him, even though he wasn’t sure he deserved it. A part of him — selfish, selfish — was glad that he had not seen the one who had died. Had not seen the manner in which he had been killed. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to cling onto this shred of ignorance that was quite possibly the only thing keeping him from fully breaking down. 

If his mother was here, he knew his father must be, too, but he was uncharacteristically silent. Esen was glad he couldn’t see him. He was glad he didn’t have to look into his father’s eyes and admit that he was too emotional to keep his head, too easily frazzled to control the wind when he most needed to. He didn’t want to look at him and see the disappointment that was surely mingling with his concern. 

He didn’t want to hear what he already knew — that failing to control the wind was as dangerous as not using magic at all.