Free Twisted Sister of Mine (Overworld Chronicles) by John Corwin

Shelton. He winked, nodded his head. I knew from doing this drill over and over that I didn't need to draw in any aether, since it only took precise focus and concentration to pull off. I was as precise as a bulldozer. I stared at the candle. Drawing upon my well, I pointed my practice wand at the candle and whispered, " Hadouken ."
    A fireball the size and shape of my fist blasted toward the candle. It zipped through the air in a streak of flame, brushing the top of the candle, and splashing against the stone wall behind the table with a whoosh . I clenched my teeth, ready to curse my ineptitude, when I noticed the candle burning despite missing an inch of wax near the top.
    "Hmm," Miles said and made a note on a scrap of parchment. "Now, Justin, blow out the candle."
    I was tempted to use my supernatural lung capacity to do the trick, but figured Miles wouldn't go for it. Narrowing my eyes at the flickering flame, I drew on my well, focused my will, and pointed my wand at the candle while whispering, " Ventus ." A gust of wind knocked the table over and sent the candle flipping end-over-end to land on the floor ten feet away from its original position.
    Again, Miles made a thoughtful sound and marked something down on his parchment. I imagined, at this point, his words described the hopelessness of my magical education.
    Over the next hour, he asked me to do things which, on the surface, seemed simple, but in reality were anything but. Most of them, I flat out didn't know how to do. Shelton and Bella hadn't gotten that far with me, so I only stood there with a constipated look on my face while I tried to levitate a feather and later tried to animate a stick figure made of toothpicks. By the time it was all over, I was sweating like a pregnant yak and ready to run screaming from the room.
    We followed Miles to his office where he ran his wand over me, quirked an eyebrow as a similarly ambiguous readout floated in the air before him as it had for the security guard at the doors to Queens Gate.
    "How odd," he said and made some notes. "You are Daemos?"
    I nodded. "And part human. My mom is an Arcane." I didn't dare tell him the truth of the matter.
    "I see." He stared at the parchment with his notes, most of which probably declared me magically incompetent and of questionable lineage, to boot. After a few minutes, he finally spoke. "Harry was quite right, my boy. You are gifted, but lack control in any sense of the word." He delivered the evaluation without a hint of condescension or derisiveness in his voice. "I suggest remediation for the time being, and we'll check on your progress by the end of the semester." He laid the parchment on the table and looked at Shelton. "Do you agree, Harry?"
    Shelton shrugged. "You hit the nail on the head."
    "Indeed." The professor looked at the parchment again. "His usage is well above ordinary. I would go so far as to say it is extraordinary, but he simply uses far too much for small tasks."
    "What about all the stuff I couldn't do?" I said. "The feather, that stick figure…" I trailed off, not really wanting to review the complete roster of tasks I'd been unable to perform.
    Miles smiled. "Most new students barely complete half the tests unless they attended other academies before coming here."
    His words made me feel somewhat better. At least I wasn't the only failure. "Is everyone here my age and older?"
    He chuckled. "This is an Arcane institution and quite unlike the nom educational equivalent. We admit students as early as age ten, depending on their potential. There are many basic skills students must learn before ever attempting magic, and, in most cases, young Arcanes don't even exhibit talent until age eleven or twelve."
    "They couldn't find him a dorm room, Professor," Shelton said, his tone unusually respectful toward the man. "You wouldn't happen to know of any openings, would you?"
    Miles frowned thoughtfully and pulled a large book from a shelf behind his desk. He set it on