Chapter 2: Destiny

The graduation ceremony was flush with color. Bright reds and greens, violets, oranges and the rarer silver. Each vocation had a unique color: the greens for example were the healers—strong in the prann and its control, weak (but not stunted) in stamina. The reds were the enforcers, the violets the shapers, orange the breakers, and the silver—oh the silvers—were the warriors, the truest & noblest of them all.

I stopped wishing for what I was not, and tried not to limp as I marched through the grounds as part of this glorious parade. The 1912th class of the Academy. I looked for my parents, but of course they were too far away to make out. I wonder what they’ll think of me at the end of the day.

I was the only one wearing a white robe—the one a novice was assigned—because I hadn’t chosen a vocation. I couldn’t choose a vocation. Even the greens required more stamina, although Teacher Karthi had been very sympathetic. If only you had a sliver more, she said, but I knew that was out of pity. When a warrior lay bleeding out, it was the greens who pumped the prann into their veins, and restarted a wounded heart. I knew it was a noble profession, even if most of the academy students scoffed at the greens, but it required a subjective stamina of at least seven. I barely managed a three—three seconds of hold over the prann—on the best of days, and even that would leave me winded and gasping.

I couldn’t choose a vocation, and so I hadn’t. But it was in the laws that nobody could graduate without having chosen one. I hadn’t even attempted any of the complete qualifying exams for any color, instead picking and choosing between them wherever I found control to be emphasized over stamina. If they had assigned clear round numbers to a measure for control like they had for stamina, mine would be off the scale. Mine had been off the scale, for in every exam I picked, I broke academy records, and earned the title of the deacon five times over. The same library records were silent on a student who had done this before. Many had managed to break two, some had managed to break three. I was five times deacon.

In my dream world, I would have earned praise, perhaps even from our King. Any vocation I chose would have opened themselves to me. Instead, teachers had tried their best to cancel my scores, and get me thrown out. It is said though that in the land of Chera, only two things ruled absolute: prann (of course), and then the rule of law and custom. There was no lawful reason to ban me, and so I could attend the graduation today.

Of course the same law barred me from graduating today, for I had no vocation.

When I was young & still innocent of my shame, I had a few friends who use to eagerly devour the stories of Ranni, a famous prann warrior of the earlier Chera kingdom, a favorite of the Emperor himself, and defender of the Nine Star throne. The stories were written for children, with colorful illustrations that my friends use to pore over, and then re-enact in our mock battles. They had a common trope: Ranni would find out a plot against the Emperor or the empire, encounter numerous hardships, but arrive in the nick of time to save the Emperor from his enemies, or kill the numerous misshapen villains.