The sun rose over Sector 7. The day of the mandatory military draft had arrived.
Giant hover-transports lined the tarmac of the central testing grounds. Thousands of sixteen-year-old cadets stood in uniform rows, awaiting the biometric power scanner.
Quinn stood under the shaded canopy, pulling his peaked cap down to shield his eyes. Even with tinted glasses, the bright morning rays made his skin prickle with dull pain.
"Next! Quinn Talen!" the drill sergeant barked through the megaphone.
Quinn stepped up to the crystal pillar. The testing sergeant placed a sensor against his temple.
"Channel your ability into the plate. Fire, water, telekinesis—give it everything you've got."
Quinn focused. Inside his core, a shadowy violet current pulsed. But before he could push it forward, the system chimed inside his mind:
[Warning: External scanner detected. Masking true signature as Level 1 Earth Ability.]
The testing crystal flickered with a faint, pitiful brown glow. The sergeant sneered. "Level 1 Earth. Rating: F-Grade. Report to Transport 8 for cannon fodder."