Demund looked at the sky and watched as the birds flew by.

School had ended and he was biking home by himself.

Tomorrow would be the day when his results came out, along with everyone else’s. It would determine whether he would go to the Preliminary Islands. Or not.

He was pretty sure his friend Jothan would make it. His potential score throughout the year had been consistently high. No, he would definitely make it. He would join the realm of superheroes and the gifted. He would make a name for himself, learning more about his power and fighting crime while spreading justice. Even if he didn’t become a hero, a meaningful life would be waiting ahead of him.

That was what going to the Preliminary Islands meant.

He arrived home and sat on his sofa, thinking nervously about his results. Would he make it? Would he be ranked high enough?

His father looked at him worryingly from a distance. He knew how much tomorrow meant for Demund. Demund had constantly been talking about it since the beginning of the year, but this week he had been strangely silent. As if he expected the worst.

Dinner was served. The family ate in relative monotony as Demund’s parents occasionally chatted about work and family. Demund silently finished his meal and headed upstairs.

His parents looked at his back with worry. They were empty, meaning that their bodies held no potential at all. Most of the time, a child’s potential was similar to that of his parents. Demund’s potential score wasn’t zero, but…it had still been very low. There was only a slight chance that he would be ranked high enough for the Selection.

Demund lay on his bed, not wanting to do anything. He was too nervous. He wished that it would be tomorrow, but at the same time hoped that tomorrow would never come. He lay there mindlessly for what seemed like hours.

He still had a final assignment to do. ‘What he wanted to become when he grew up’. He sat up and stared at the piece of paper blankly.

What did he want to do?

He wanted to go to the Islands with Jothan.

He wrote down whatever he thought would be the best for him if he managed to enter the Selection. He wrote down his dreams and his hopes for the future. He wrote down the things he knew he would never be able to achieve.

He slid the paper into his bag. What would he actually become?

After taking a shower and dressing in his pajamas, he turned off the lights and lay in bed, thinking. He thought about his life. He thought about his friend. He thought about the world and all of its talented people.

He thought about himself.

Finally, after a long time, he stopped thinking.

He dreamed of nothing that night.

He was only a dark, senseless, blob of something.