I see you boy, at morning you trudge in hands covered with bandages as you start your daily ritual. Attempting to cast magic so easy that even the younglings have mastered it, and yet even as you near manhood you cannot correctly preform. I see how you do it; your form perfect, your motions perfect, your grasp of the language unrivaled by any other. And yet still you cannot control it. The fire you bring forth burns your hands, scalding your skin and sometimes even boiling your bones to refuse. And then you keep going. You have the will boy there is no doubt and if this were all you did i’d be fine keeping you around as a message to others of how blessed they are to not be you. But then you waste the time of that girl, she's a prodigy and will always be ahead of others and most certainly far above you. But she wastes time she could be using to master the world to tend to your wounds, willing the life back into your melted fingers with her magic. And then you go back and break them again! The cycle repeating until the day is done when she does what she can and you go back home licking your wounds, bandaging your hands to hide your failure. You are willful boy but you have no talent, you cannot guide the mana that flows through your veins and as such I cannot allow you to stay here and waste everyones time any longer. You are dismissed from the school and you shall never return, for you have no control over your power.

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