James discovered telepathy by accident while trying to cheat on a history exam.
Not because he didn't know the answers, he'd memorized the entire textbook in three days, but because the girl sitting next to him, Miranda Hollis, very annoying by the way, clearly didn't know the answers and her obvious panic was distracting him from his own test.
Treaty of... something. Started with V? No, B? Gods, I'm going to fail.
James's pen stopped mid-word. He looked at Miranda, who was staring at her paper with the desperate intensity of someone trying to set it on fire with her mind. Her lips weren't moving and she wasn't whispering.
But he'd just heard her thoughts.
I see, James thought.
—maybe if I just skip this one and come back—
Miranda's internal monologue continued, loud and clear in his head like someone had turned on a radio he couldn't switch off. James pressed his hands against his temples, trying to block it out.
—question seven looks easier, at least I know what a legislative assembly is—
"Shut up," James muttered under his breath.
The teacher, Mr. Wendell, looked up sharply. "Mr. Aldric? Is there a problem?"
"No sir. Just... thinking out loud. Sorry."
James Aldric is so weird, Miranda thought loudly. Talks to himself and everything.
James gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on his own exam. The Treaty of Blackwater, signed in the year 2847 Post-Schism, establishing the current borders of the Neutral Territories. He wrote the answer easily while Miranda's thoughts continued their assault on his consciousness.
—if I fail this, Father will make me join the clergy and I'll have to wear those horrible robes—
By the time the exam ended, James had a splitting headache and a new appreciation for why telepaths in stories were usually portrayed as tortured, antisocial hermits. If this was what reading minds was like, no wonder they avoided crowds.
He waited until everyone had left, then approached Mr. Wendell's desk.
"Sir? I'm not feeling well. May I be excused for the rest of the day?"
Mr. Wendell studied him with concern. "You do look pale. Head to the nurse's office, have her send a note to your parents."
James nodded gratefully and fled, but he didn't go to the nurse. Instead, he found an empty classroom and locked himself inside.
"Okay," he said to the silence. "Let's figure out what just happened."
He'd read about telepathy in his father's books. It was one of the three primary Eldritch abilities—telekinesis, telepathy, and teleportation. If he already had telekinetic ability manifesting, it made sense that telepathy might be developing too.
What didn't make sense was how to control it.
James closed his eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like. There had been a moment right before he'd heard Miranda's thoughts when he'd been frustrated with her obvious distress. He'd wanted to know what she was thinking, and then suddenly he did.
Intent. Like telekinesis, it responded to will.
Alright, James thought. If I can turn it on, I should be able to turn it off.
He focused inward, trying to sense the same mana flow he used for telekinesis. But telepathy felt different. Less like pushing energy outward and more like... opening a door? Creating a connection between his mind and the space around him.
James experimented for some minutes, trying to replicate the sensation. Finally, he felt something, a subtle shift in awareness, like suddenly noticing a sound that had been there all along.
And then—
—why do we even need to learn long division, it's not like I'm going to—
—if Sarah thinks I didn't notice her looking at Thomas during—
—forgot to feed the cat this morning, Mom's going to kill me—
James's eyes snapped open. Dozens of voices, overlapping, chattering, thinking at him all at once. Students in nearby classrooms, teachers in the hallway, even someone in the administrative office worrying about budget reports.
"Too much!" James gasped, clutching his head. "Off! Turn off!"
He slammed the mental door shut, or tried to. The voices reduced to a murmur but didn't completely disappear. It was like trying to un-hear something after you'd noticed it. His awareness had expanded, and closing it again required conscious effort.
James spent the next hour practicing. Opening the connection deliberately and then closing it. Learning to filter the noise, to focus on individual thoughts instead of being overwhelmed by the collective consciousness of everyone in range.
It was exhausting.
By the time he stumbled home that afternoon, he felt like his brain had been put through a meat grinder. Eliza took one look at him and immediately went into concerned-mama mode.
"School called. Said you were ill. James, sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"Headache," James said, which was perfectly true. "Really bad one. Can I just... go lie down?"
"Of course. I'll bring you some tea."
James collapsed onto his bed and immediately regretted it. Because lying down meant relaxing, and relaxing meant his mental shields weakened, and suddenly he could hear his parents' thoughts from downstairs.
—never seen him look so pale, maybe we should call the physician—
That was his mother, worry radiating through every thought.
—probably just pushed himself too hard studying again, the boy needs to learn limits—
And his father, concerned but pragmatic.
—what if it's something serious? What if we're missing something important? He's been so secretive lately—
James pressed a pillow over his face and concentrated on building walls in his mind. Stone walls so thick and impenetrable, between his consciousness and everyone else's. It took ten minutes of intense focus, but gradually the voices faded to nothing.
Silence. Blessed, perfect silence.
He kept the walls up all evening, through dinner and homework and his parents' continued concerned hovering. By bedtime, maintaining the mental barriers felt almost natural, like a muscle he was learning to flex.
That night, he documented everything in his journal.
Telepathy manifested today. Uncontrolled activation during history exam. Range: approximately 100 feet. Initially overwhelming. Received ALL thoughts within range simultaneously. Required significant practice to filter and control.
Key discovery: Telepathy is passive reception by default. I'm not projecting into people's minds, I'm opening myself to receive their projections. Thoughts radiate outward naturally; telepathy is learning to perceive that radiation.
Current limitations: Requires active concentration to maintain shields. Passive reception gives me everyone within range. Need to develop selective targeting. Choosing whose thoughts to hear while blocking others.
Ethical concerns: Reading minds without consent is violation of privacy.
Counter point: James does not concern himself with ethics.
Decision: Use telepathy defensively and for information gathering only. No casual mind-reading. No invasion of privacy for entertainment or curiosity. This is a tool, not a toy.
James closed his journal and tried to sleep, but his mind kept spinning.
If he had telekinesis and telepathy already manifesting at age eight, the Affinity Test at twelve would definitely detect his Eldritch abilities. But what about his other affinities? Could he sense those too?
He focused inward, trying to feel the mana in his body. The Eldritch energy was there, familiar now, but underneath it... was that something else? Another signature, a different flavor of energy?
James concentrated harder, trying to isolate the sensation. And then, just for a moment, he felt it. Multiple currents of mana, flowing through him simultaneously. Not just Eldritch. Others. Distinct and separate but all present.
"Multiple affinities," he whispered into the darkness. "No surprise there. I am me after all."
However, the implications were staggering and terrifying. Because according to his father, people with multiple affinities either died young from the internal conflict or were executed as dangerous anomalies.
Neither option was acceptable.
Which meant he needed a plan. Four years to figure out how to game the Affinity Test, how to hide what he really was.
Then a brilliant but horrible thought occurred to him.
He could test his telepathy on his parents. See if it worked through walls, through distance. Understand its limitations.
It would be a massive invasion of their privacy.
It would also be invaluable data.
James lay there for five full minutes, wrestling with his conscience. Finally, he very carefully lowered his mental shields and extended his awareness toward his parents' bedroom.
—should we tell him?—
His mother's thought, heavy with something James couldn't identify.
—not yet. He's too young. Let him have a normal childhood while he can.—
His father's response was equally weighted.
James pondered what that could mean. They were hiding something. But knowing them, it was probably nothing, something innocent.
He should probe deeper though, should listen more and find out exactly what secrets his parents were keeping.
Instead, he slammed his shields back up and rolled over, heart pounding.
"Strategic information gathering only," he muttered.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
But when it finally did, James dreamt of walls... mental walls, physical walls, the walls people built to protect themselves from uncomfortable truths.
And in his dreams, he was standing on both sides simultaneously, never quite sure which version of himself was real and which was the reflection.