When the boys in the clan play sikoh, it is the only time that they ever bare their true feelings about their peers, amongst themselves. The weekly combat assessment was also very useful for cementing the unofficial rankings amongst them.

Every day, every single morning and then till sundown, the sounds of their solemn and important activity always carried far and wide, bodies smacking against bodies and the occasional grunts of pain escaping up into the wind.

There was shouting too, boisterous laughter and anger as the young ones slowly began to follow the ideals of the older generation. But the adults never spent time coming down here to the arena, nor did they care what it was that happened here. In fact, it was frowned on by the clan generally if you were a certain age and never spent the time fighting and learning to fight and master the use of your gifts with the rest of all the young.

Today again, as usual, Denn was bulwark. A fancy term for punch bag or pincushion. Whatever it was that his cousins, clan mates decided to throw at him as their form of attack, he had to take. It didn't matter whether it was an earth enforced blow or a sharp spear strike sent his way from three meters away, blasting against him so that he was sent flying away each time. He always returned the next day with bigger bruises.

And usually, it would be just like any other day. One more day for Denn to get beat up. For him to hold up that awfully big shield with his skinny frame and take the blows from the other boys in the family. Because he wasn't like the others.

The Lumi clan was the largest and the royal clan of Belfosi, and so it made sense why they absolutely loathed him, in all honesty. This world didn't care for weakness. There was absolutely no reason why this weak ungifted hadn't been smothered to death at his birth chambers. If one were to listen in certain quarters and at the right times, they would hear in, quiet-but measured- tones, how many still thought he rid of, or sent far away to the border lands at any rate. The family, and maybe the Kingdom too, needed to be rid of the disgrace to what was the most powerful of lineages to ever exist.

Not that it mattered anyway. The Kingdom was in shambles, and they had been banished from the oceans for generations now.

The charging of Denn's cousin had snapped him out of his daydreams of the sea, but it was too late. That blast of sonic waves had thrown him straight against the rock, tearing his back. It was always the sea.

He hoped no one had noticed, or they would be rougher than usual tomorrow. As it was, he had enough bruises and cracked bones to show for standing his ground in these sessions. And while it would sound stupid, Denn was grateful to finally be included in the sparring sessions. Yes, he couldn't use any gift, and he was basically useless to the point that he didn't even have the build his cousins and fourth cousins enjoyed just from being passed down to them, but at least they had found a use for him, and that in turn had reduced the needless beatings he'd recieved over te years.

They still called him names, insulted him too, but needless to say, there was some grudging respect in their eyes each day now, when he dragged his battered body back to the healer's for some recovery medicine. At least now, they knew his limits and tailored their strengths accordingly-he'd nearly died the first couple of times.

Today was no different. As he walked back toward the village proper, making a beeline for the small apothecary where Mailene could be found during the day, it took all he had to keep his gasping inaudible as he left the sand pits. The sand pits were not exactly pits, but because they were separated from the village by a range of rolling hills and meadows, they sat in a depression, much like a collissuem. Many a day had been spent watching the sand pits from the safety of a copse of trees on the hills, wincin at the blows and strikes he saw being traded, silently dreading and yet still, eager for the day he would be allowed in. For when his gifts would manifest.

"You know I can't stop going there, Mailene. It'll get worse again."

"Aye, you're right, on that one."

"And I might never have it this good again."

Mailene's famous temper flared at this. "You think this is having it good? No, boy! Having it good is you being born with gifts, and the ability to train your core."

But since both abilities were inextricably exclusive and linked to each other, Denn had drawn the short end of the straw on these too, as with his physique.

"You should go home."

"Maybe."

"Maybe..." She agreed, silently looking up at him, where his eyes were fixed on her lips.

Mailene scoffed. "Somehow, you're never beat up enough to not think about making out..."

Denn chortled.

They were both sixteen, and they both knew they were not supposed to be doing any of the things they did together when the village was asleep or they were alone, but neither Mailene nor Denn had ever considered themselves to be normal. Knowing they were the only one the other had, in this cruel world, it had only been two moons back when Mailene had kissed him, and he kissed her back. Since then, they'd only grown even closer.

Of course, it didn't progress past that, the fooling, but they had both decided they would ask to take the vows together in one year's time, once he was seventeen and his gifts still hadn't come. By that time, there would be no need to bother. Denn just wouldn't be fated to travel the oceans, unlike that man...