There was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a girl with purple and black hair, her wings a solid purple behind her.

"I'm Zara," she waved. "I wanted to know what weapons you have."

I looked at this girl, a few years older than myself. "I don't have any."

"Would you like a weapon?" she grinned.

"I would like daggers," I grinned maliciously.

"I'll help you enchant a set of daggers," she nodded. "Come with me, we'll go pick them out."

I followed Zara down the stairs. She lead me through the confusing halls to a new room, filled with metal and tools. There were shelves of spell books lining the walls. 

"Now that you're sixteen," Zara moved to a black book. "You're allowed to begin training with weapons. Are there any weapons you're good with?"

"I'm good at throwing knives," I offered.

"Hmm," she started scratching her pencil across the page. "How about we enchant you a set of knives? We could design some to hold elemental powers, that way when you throw them, the spells would be cast over your being. I know your spell grades are passable, but they're not great," her yellow eyes met mine. "that way you'd get the benefit of spells without them failing you."

"Sounds good with me," I leaned over, finding her drawings of an arsenal of knives with the basic design being a standard throwing knife with a sturdier blade.

"You'll have to do some research on how you'd like them charmed," she looked me over. "Do you like wearing boots?"

"It seems to be the standard," I was confused by her question. "But yeah, I like them."

"I'll ask my friend Tayla to make a pair of boots you can store the knives in. I'll leave it up to her. Tayla!" Zara called.

A girl appeared, very excited. She dashed over to me, kneeling to the floor. A ruler flew over my measurements so fast, I couldn't keep up with them. 

"I've got it boss," she saluted Zara, disappearing as fast as she had appeared. 

"Go do some research," Zara waved me off.

I poured myself over spell books that night. I came back to Zara with three ideas. Within two weeks I had nine. In a month, I came up with twenty-seven. Zara continued to craft my knives, getting one of the gifted spell teachers to charm them. She'd then stamp them with a color and a symbol so I'd know which were which. I wasn't allowed to keep them on me while in classes aside from the one combat class I had. Tayla made me a case for them that held all the knives in a fan shaped board covered in leather. 

I become very adept at my weapon. I could hit a target from thirty feet away, the entire length of the classroom. My teacher was delighted with my skill, finding myself intrigued at Zara's. She had made a weapon perfect for me. 

"Now, Caius," Mr. Listless pulled me aside one day. "You can throw knives like a pro but isn't it boring?"

I shrugged. I didn't find it boring. I found one thing I was finally good at.

"How about we blend magic into your lessons?" Mr. Listless pondered. "What if we could use a floating and commanding spell to control your knives rather than your hands?"

I thought it over. "Something like this?" 

I commanded my knives to float out of my boots, circling them in the air in front of me. I was only good at this spell, the single spell Analeise had taught me. It had grown on me, grown with me. It was part of me now. 

"Yes, yes!" Mr. Listless smiled. "Now we could work on honing your ability to hit targets while moving and while they're floating."

I advanced along smoothly, under the guidance of my teachers. While my school was dull, I was a shining star to my teachers but never bright enough to let my peers see. By the time I was seventeen, my skills were adept, easily beating out everyone of my classmates, much to Titus' disappointment.

"Come on Caius," he squared me up before combat class. "Let's have a fight, right here, right now."

"There's no teacher, dumbass," I shot at him. "That's against school rules."

"Come on," he slammed his hammer to the ground. "Let's go."

He swung it in front of my face, narrowly dodging my nose. I stepped back, commanding the knives from my boots. I had six of them on me at that moment: my fire, lightning, psychic, blood, water, and sacred fire daggers. 

"I'm warning you, Titus," I stated firmly.

"I'm hitting you!" he thrust his hammer upon me. 

I took a swift step to the side. He forgot that I was fast, faster than feasible. That was my skill. I was cunning and swift. My wings lifted me off the ground, my daggers seeking their target. Titus' hammer clattered to the ground. 

Titus was pinned to the ground, my daggers snagging onto the edges of his clothes, keeping him there. I held the last one, the sixth dagger in my hand. I knelt over Titus' chest, holding the dagger to his throat.

"You can't say I didn't warn you," I pressed the blade into his skin.

A drop of blood slid across his white as snow skin. It dripped to the floor. Things came flooding back like a tidal wave. My father my father my father my father my father. My blood, my own blood, stained into the floor, the walls, every surface in that small stairwell. 

"Caius!" Mr. Listless threw me off of Titus. I laid on the mat, not moving. My mind was a flood, my body was hurt. 

"What did you do to him?" Mr. Listless helped Titus up.

I didn't move, didn't respond. I closed my mouth, staring at the light as it blurred. Those fucking tears, once again. I hated them. I'd wish they'd died, like I had a long time ago. I rolled over to my side, seeing those damn boots fly down in front of my face.

I screamed, my daggers flying about me, skittering along the floor. Books fell from the shelves, glass broke. I heaved, trying to breathe with the heavy weight on my chest. My father my father my father my father my father. 

"Caius!" Mr. Listless was on my chest. 

I struggled to breath as he held me down with his body weight. I blinked tears out of my eyes, the hallucination of the boots fading but the destruction remaining the same. My classmates were ducked to the floor, some hiding beneath any available table in the room.

"I'm taking him to the correction office," Mr. Listless stood up, grabbing me by my sweatshirt sleeve like I was nothing. "You children stay here."

"Mister," I whispered.

"Keep quiet," Mr. Listless sighed. "I know you probably didn't instigate the fight but you're beginning to become a threat. I thought you were better than this Caius. You have to show me you are."

I fell asleep in the corrections office, against the desk. I was awoken by the slamming of papers beside my head. It was the following day, I felt my chest heave back into action. 

"Caius Scartunt," the officer sat back in his chair. "You've been causing quite a stir while you've been here. An incident in the boys room, the incident last night in your class. You're starting to lose control. Tell me why."

"I'm haunted," I answered.

"By what?"

"The ghosts of the past," I didn't remove my eyes from his.

He laughed, as serious as I was. "I doubt it boy. Find a new outlet for your aggression or you'll be forcibly removed from this school."

Pain flashed through my stomach. I had nowhere to go if I left. Even if Sister Claire welcomed me back with open arms, the father and bishop certainly wouldn't. 

"I'll clean up my act sir," I lowered my head. 

"Good. Now get out," he stood.

I removed myself from the room. Titus was sitting on the bench outside, waiting for his turn I supposed. I shot him a hard glare before continuing upstairs to my room. One of my knives served as the weapon that night, showing my skin that I was a horrid human being. I needed more control.