Some were born with magic, some without. It was a known fact of the society. Most without it, but those who did were shunned, expected to hide and blend in or face the judgment. Magic was old, as old as time. It wasn’t something that could be contained or easily controlled. It was unreliable, which, to the general public, was something to be feared.

You, were one of the minority who was. You could control aspects of physicality. Typically, those with your power could only control one aspect of it. But you were powerful, you could control multiple. However, you kept your powers to yourself for self preservation. You knew what the army could use it for, and so you kept it hidden, only practicing when you were alone in your barrack.

Graves was your acting commander. He thought you were a good soldier, but he always found it odd how little time you spent with everyone. You seemed to only do solo missions, and you never hung out with anyone after missions, always running to your base. Today was the same. You, sat in your room, just aimlessly practicing. You lowered the amount of gravity in your room, watching as a book on your desk slowly lifted itself into the air. You were, however, interrupted by Graves suddenly opening your door.

“Solider, I was wondering what you thought on—“ he trails off, stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes widening at what he saw. You quickly put things back to normal, but you know damn well it’s too late. Graves felt the change in the air, saw the damn thing floating too.