• A story about a girl who made her own destiny.

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    • Chapter One: The Day a Kid Fell Trough the Cieling

      Mysterium is a pretty great place, if you ask me. It's all nice and dark, so you can't really hurt your eyes. All the buildings look the same, so it's hilarious when the nobles take a wrong turn and get lost in the market. The people are great, too. Very funny. 

      Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, wow, whay a great way to put it!'

      Just kidding. I don't. Because I'd have to be a Telepath to know that, and as of right now, I'm talentless. 

      Let me introduce myself. My name is Branwen, and I'm the daughter of two working class elves, both talentless (Obvioulsy). I'm fourteen and a quarter and I like playing with sharp things. Not really. That'd be weird.

      I have two siblings, a brother older than me who's left the house already and is working in the sanctuary now, and a younger brother who won't get off his butt and work at all. 

      We're all talentless. My mom runs a custom crest shop in Mysterium, where I help on the weekends, and my Dad stays at home and tries to finish his manuscript.

      I look like both of my parents, with short red/brown hair and pasty pale skin that does NOT like the sun. My favorite feature are my eyes though. Not because they're pretty, or anything. One is a pale blue, and one is navy. 

      I like staring at the nobles and watching them look away. At least I have some power over them. 

      I do alright in school, but I often wind up in detention for cheating. I find the kids in detention are usually pretty decent to hang around. 

      Yep. That's me.

      Right now, it's a sunday, and I'm moving moxes of material in the back of my Mom's shop. Sometimes I use telekinesis, but i'm just too lazy right now. I walk through the doorway to the main shop, carrying a small shipment of silver gemstones. 

      Silver is very in fasion right now. Not that I care, it's just that when you work at a jewlery shop, you get to know these things. My personal favorite is copper. It's very red.

      I set the box down on top of the glass display case, where my mom is trying to help a customer decide which color ruby will look best in her family crest.

      "Bran, off the glass!" she warns. 

      I take the crate off the display case. "Where do you want these?" I gesture to the box in my hand.

      "Third shelf. There should be an emptey space." she tells me, turning back to her customer, a pretty woman with tight gold curls and round aqua eyes. She wears a sleeveless gold dress, white cape and thick blue bracelets. Like most Nobles, she comes dressed to perfection.

      It's as though they come nicely dressed here just to make us feel depressed that we don't share their status. At least that was how my older brother, Gert used to feel. He was alright.

      I carry the crate back into the store room, knowing that there probaly won't be an emptey space on the third shelf for me to put these. The back room if a bit dark, simply because only one out of four lightbulbs still works and we don't care about replacing the others.

      Rows of boxes, similar to the one I'm holding line the walls on shelves. The third one is in the back, where I used to catch spiders from the webs in the corners. I notice that there is, in fact an space that is free from the boxes, and I head towards it. 

      But just as I'm about to slide the crate into the space, The ceiling gives way, and something crashes through to the floor. 

      Dust swirls and, I hear my Mom shouting. 

      "Bran, what did you do in there?!"

      I cough, dust and dirt in my lungs, and I realize that I've dropped the box, and that a gaping hole, big enough to be a swimming pool is now letting light into the room. Chunks of the cieling are everywhere, and the shelves are completely destroyed. 

      How did I survive that?

      Something is laying in the middle of the room, and as I move closer, I see that it's a person. I ghasp.

      "MOM!" I shout.

      I hear her grumbling, and then the door opens. 

      The look on her face. When she saw that the cieling had colapsed. "Oh my GOD." she shouts.

      "Mom, there's someone onthe floor!" she looks and, her eyes explode. 

      "Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god." she says, rushing to the person who crashed though our ceiling.

      I move closer, my heart still pounding from thes hock of it all. I see that it's a boy, my age, or maybe older. He has blonde hair, long enough to tie back in a ponytail, and a lanky body. My mom hoists him out of the rubble, and looks at me with a sense of urgancy.

      "Go call the medic. He's alive."

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    • It's really good!


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    • I love it!

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    • Chicken tornado wrote:

      I move closer, my heart still pounding from thes hock of it all. I see that it's a boy, my age, or maybe older. He has blonde hair, long enough to tie back in a ponytail, and a lanky body. My mom hoists him out of the rubble, and looks at me with a sense of urgancy.

      "Go call the medic. He's alive."

      Chapter 2: Why I don't trust blondes

      We've been waiting in this room for three hours. Elvin law requires that My mom and I have to stay until someone comes to claim the kid who fell through our ceiling.  The medics have already run the tests, and aparently he's not old enough to be out on his own. He's 15, i think. 

      The waiting room is slightly interesting. We are the only ones in it. The walls are bright yellow, the floor soft and gentle on my feet, like cotton. litte nicknacks are strewn around, no doubt for younger kids to play with. I see a wooden yeti, small enough to fit in my hand. 

      "You'd think his parents would have figured out that he's missing by now." I complain to my mother, who sits in a chair across the room, typing into her imparter, probably messaging my father, telling him that we won't be home for a while.

      She ignores me. I don't blame her. It's been a tough day for us all. 

      The door to the hospital rooms opens, and a pretty woman with gorgious chocolate skin and sparkely braids steps out from behind. "The boy is awake now." She alerts us.  

      My mom nodds, getting up from her chair. Her red hair falling from the messy bun atop her head. "Come, Bran." she tells me.

      I get up, glad to get out of this room, and follow both women into a wide hallway. The medic- I can see that her nametag says 'Livvy, - leads us to the third door on the left. We enter.

      The boy that fell through the roof is sittting on a simple bed, looking confused. It seems that they've cleaned him up a bit. His shoulder length blonde hair is washed and tied beck into a pony tail. His face was clean. I hadn't noticed before, but it had been super dirty when he'd feel through the roof. Now that his eyes were open, I could see that they were sky blue. Actually kind of cute. 

      I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see my mom looking worried. "Bran, I have to go. Your brother is giving dad some trouble at home." 

      "Um, okay?" I say. "So do I have to stay?"

      "It's only for a little while." She tells me. 

      Fine, I think to myself. Better than going home. My mom and the pretty medic leave the room, and I am oficially stuck with the wierd kid. 

      He stares at me. I raise an eyebrow. 

      "Where am I?" He asks. His voice is shaking with confusion. 

      "The hospital. You fell through my roof." 

      "W-what? Who are you?"

      I roll my eyes. "You wouldn't now. We've never met. It's Branwen."

      He's breathing hard, and for a second, I wonder if I should call the medic. "I can't remember anything." He blurts.  ​​​​​​I inch a little closer, trying to read his eyes. Why would he be lying? "What's your name then?" 

      "I don't know."  He shakes his head frantically. 

      The room becomes suddenly very hot. 

      "So... you don't know why you fell through my ceiling?"

      "I don't remember at all." 

      Sweat drips down my forehead, but the boy is still dry. Then, suddenly, his hands erupt into flames. He's a Pyrokinetic, I realize. That's why it was so hot.

      "Medic!" I call, backing away from the boy. He is panting, trying to put out the flames. 

      The door bursts open, and the medic with the sparkly braids enters. "What's going on?!?!" She shouts. 

      But then she sees the flame, and he eyes widen. She reaches into her pocket and I see her throw a cloud of dust at the boy. The flames die out immediately. 

      I rush to look at thw boy, who is coughing in the dust. "What happened?" he shouts, ripping the covers off of his legs and srabling out of the bed, as though he thinks that the sheets were the cause of the fire. 

      ​​​​​​​"You..." I start, feeling shaken. "You're a Pyrokinetic!"

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    • ^^^^ This is by Chicken Tornado btw. Didnt feel like sighning in^^^^^

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    • It's good.




      REALLY GOOD!!!


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    • Chapter 3: Flame Boy


      I'm tired of all this. The ceiling. The fire kid. The fact that no one has come to pick him up yet, so he's stuck with us. Every morning I wake up to the sound of crying, coming from the bedroom across from mine, the one that used to belong to my older brother. 

      It's been a week. 

      A week

      He eats with us, hangs out around the house with my dad, and sometimes we talk to each other. Not often, though. I don't trust him.

      He doesn't go to Foxfire, like I do, and my mom thinks that I should tutor him privatlely, which is pointless, since he can't femember anything from any of the other levels. And since he's a Pyrokinetic, in which case he won't be allowed to attend anyway.

      The lady at the hospital- her name was Livvy, I think- told us to keep his ability a secret. She said to give her a month, and she'd have a safe place for him to stay. 

      I look forward to it. 

      Right now, I'm coming home from school, dragging my feet down the walkway to my house. It's a nice place. A bit like if a castle and a cabin joined forces. It's big, but not so big that space is wasted. Honey colored wood is carved intricately into massive pillars, holding up a very high roof and several towers. The walls are made of cobblestone and rustic wood, and gold desighns are embeded in them. The front door is a massive iron woven slate, almost like a metal basket with windows.

      I push it open. I've always hated how that door doesn't have a lock. The hallway is a tall arch of wood beams, with skelletal iron chanalears every tan feet. As I walk down it, I can hear the sound of laughter and running.

      "Can't catch me!" that's my little brother, Guy. 

      "We'll see about that!"

      And that's... fire boy.

      No. No, no, no, no.

      I run at top speed to where tha sound is coming from, droppong my school things along the way. I turn thr corner, and rush up a sut of grand stairs, panting.

      Then I see them, running and frolicking, chasing each other through the house. 

      "STOP!" I order. My little brother freezes in his tracks, he looks as though he's been caught stealing, his bright blue eyes wide. 

      Fire boy doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Guy and tags him. "Got you."

      Anger rushes through my body. That boy is a danger. "What do you think you're doing?!" I shout at him.

      His eyebrows furrow, and he looks at me with confusion. "We were playing a game."

      "No. NO. just no." I stomp up to him.  He's about a foot taller than me, but I know that I'm more intimidating when angry.  "You are not allowed to go near him, you understand?" I point to Guy, who cowers in the corner.

      "Why not? What else am I going to do? I'm stuck here, in case you forgot." His long arms drop to his sides, exhasperated. 

      I grab one of his arms and begin to pull him away from my brother. "You know what you can do? You can come over here and read a book."



      "Bran, what are you doing?" My father demands. I see him standing in the hallway, a pen in one hand and a mug of cinnicreme in the other. He's a tall guy, and pretty good looking, with messy brown hair and stirring navy eyes. 

      "Protecting my brother." I answer, not releaseing my hold on Fire boy's forearm, although he struggles. 

      "From what? They were playing, I saw them."

      I throw Fire Boy's arm down. "He could go off at any moment!" I argue.

      My dad sighes, and throws his head back in frustration. "You know what? I think You've misjudged Roth."


      "His name for the time being." My dad answers. "You and Roth are going to Mysterium, and Branwen, you're going to make friends."

      I place my hands on my hips, letting him know that this could become very nasty very fast. "There is no way that I will ever 'Make friends' with... that."

      My dad looks at me questioningly. "I wouldn't judge him by his ability, Bran. People are more than how they're identified. You should know that."

      I fume, clenching my fists. "He could hurt someone." I argue.

      "Or... you could give him a chance."

      I don't reply.

      Which was a mistake, as it turns out, becasue five minutes later, without a chance to change out of my Foxfire things, I'm being whisked away to Mysteruim, with Fire boy by my side.

      I have a bad feeling about this.


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    • cool but can you finish it

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    • Ome gosh I love that!

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    • just saw this and i love it!!!

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    • Hi guys i abandoned this fanfic a while ago XD but i might continue

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    • Yay!

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    • This is great! It's so nice to see a story in the kotlc world without using the original characters. And Talentless need more page time, I love what you're writing. Keep writing, please! :)

      - the Real Empath

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    • notif

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    • A FANDOM user
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