The man that entered the classroom several minutes after the bell had already rang was not the polished Master anyone had expected. His boots were worn and dusty, his jeans were thin at the knees and the hems were caked in mud. His light brown hair was newly trimmed just past his shoulders. And his soft boyish features made him look more like a student than a teacher. It wasn’t until he picked up a piece of chalk and wrote Zec Ackerman across the board that the students in the class stopped talking.
“Wait, like, the Ackerman? The Indian human dude that carved out flat iron?”
“First of all, I am Shoshone. Since we reside within the Temple, I am not Native American. Indigenous is a good term but in honesty, you can just call me Zec. Second, while most of the menial workers are human, those of us who resided on the land before the barrier was created were gifted with abilities. As for the flat iron rumor, it is not true. I, however, am responsible for Flat Top.” Zec grinned a charming yet mischievous smile that made the gold flecks in his eyes glow.
The class roared in pride.
“That being said, it does give me the credentials to teach you what not to do.”
This resulted in a class wide groan.
Zec looked at his class. Fifteen children ranging in age from five to sixteen and then Roarke and his sister Meline, who were still young enough to appear like they belonged. “Okay, raise your hand if you have fire abilities.”
Three people’s hands went up.
“Earth?”
Four hands.
“Air?” Meline’s hand was the only one that went up.
“Okay, Meline, what if I told you that you have earth abilities. Those of you with earth abilities also have water.”
The class was silent.
“The truth is that this Temple runs on elitism and the power to force you to hyperfocus on a single ability to become the best in that ability. It is a way to advance people’s egos, which does nothing for your actual future.” Zec threw his arms into the air. “It takes extra focus.” Circling his arms above his head he whipped up a tornado. Not something wild. None of the paper in the room even fluttered. “It takes purposeful thought.” He snapped the fingers on his left hand and the eye of the tornado was lit on fire. “Control is key at all times.” He pulled sand from his pocket and tossed it up into the fire.
The class watched on with awe.
He clapped his hands above his head and the spectacle ended. The wind was gone. The fire no longer radiated heat and burned out. For a moment, Meline wondered what happened to the sand until an object dropped into her lap. It was still warm to the touch, but the glass rose was unmistakable.
“Do not let anyone corner you into what they want you to be.”
Everyone’s hand shot up and dozens of questions poured out of the students.
Zec smiled. “Each of you knows how your ability works. Your class assignment is to pair up and teach it to someone else.”
Elizabeth Schierschmidt 