Numb. And excited. But mostly numb. That was how Daehyun felt when he closed the door to his room and crumpled into his wooden desk chair. Staring out the window, on an unfairly beautiful day, he mulled over what he was feeling. Excitement. Fear. Anxiousness. Betrayal. Honor. It was confusing. His blank expression eventually shifted into one of consternation and he glared up at an unseen figure in the sky.

                “Really?” he scowled, trying to find something to focus on. Irritatingly, there wasn’t even a cloud in sight and staring at the sun wasn’t something he was going to do.

                Huffing again, because yelling also wasn’t a good option, Daehyun slouched back in the chair and let his arms hand loose at his side. Part of his too light bangs swung into his eyes but he couldn’t be bothered to move them out of the way. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway.

                Why him, of all the Sensitives – and Sunyoung, but he was worried about his being chosen? It really didn’t make sense. Even if luck was supposedly at play, he still didn’t see why random chance would somehow work its magic to choose him out of all the possible Sensitives in the city. There had to be several dozen in the whole city after all.

                “Really?” he scowled again, crossing his arms over his chest with a confused expression.

                Downstairs, he could hear his parents and younger brother talking quietly. They were trying to keep their voices low but it was clear they were equally conflicted. It was a great honor for their son to have been chosen in the Lottery. But that honor came with a price he knew they didn’t want to pay. No parent did. Usually anyway.

                Leaning forward over the cluttered desk, he distractedly peered out the window and figured Sunyoung’s parents were probably having a similar discussion. “At least she’s okay,” he shrugged, trying to console himself with the knowledge that she wasn’t from one of those high bred Sensitive families. Granted, she did come from a long line of Sensitives, but they weren’t… intolerable.

                On the other hand, Daehyun was a bit of an oddity in his family. One of his great grandparents had been a Sensitive, several generations ago, and it had seemed almost random that he was born as one. Generally, it ran in the family, mostly on the mother’s side. Only one out of every five Sensitives, give or take, were men. No one had figured that part out either. And when it didn’t run in the family, it just seemed to be random.

                Regardless, he had never figured that he’d be chosen in the Lottery either. Then again, it didn’t help he was pretty sure the most well off Sensitive families could probably bribe their way out of names being in the pot. And there were age restrictions for a reason… though why older Sensitives weren’t chosen always baffled him.

                “Dust shards,” he grumbled, letting his elbows slide out on the parchment paper under them so he could rest his head on his hands.

                Forcefully, Daehyun closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Maybe he could wake up and this would be a dream? Losing consciousness was much easier in theory, however. When someone knocked on his door, he pretended not to hear them, and eventually they went away. But this wasn’t working. Restless and annoyed, Daehyun exhaled noisily and sat upright in a huff. He his full lips and stared around the room that was the same one he’d always lived in, and yet, it now felt inexplicably different.

                Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls and where there weren’t shelves, there were drawings and models that he had made or that had been given to him. His parents were ordinary business folk in the city, but his aunt and uncle were well known Surveyors. It wasn’t a glamorous job and they had to be normal (as in not Sensitive) to be one, but they made regular trips to Old Lyndfell to survey any changes or not the city was experiencing. With it being abandoned, one would think that nothing would happen, but that wasn’t entirely true.

                Roughing his hair with one hand, Daehyun stood up and wandered over to the closed box on his nearest bookshelf. With careful hands, he peeled the lid open and peered inside. Within the confines of the padded container was a peculiar but menacing, curved black claw about the size of his palm – a gift for his twentieth year passing. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before and none of them knew what kind of creature it might have come from. But his Uncle had explained they’d found it in Lyndfell after the last five year festival. Nor was it the only thing that had been found over the years.

                A glance to the wall at his right showed a drawing of a peculiar box. Well, part of what he presumed was a box. It was only a partial drawing since they had only found part of it – whatever it was. Small enough to fit in the hand, there were strange markings on the sides and no longer functioning buttons. They never could imagine what the purpose would be. And Daehyun knew these were only some of the things they’d found. No matter how much he begged, they refused to show him everything so he knew there was more. But it was also more than just what they found…

                “Hmm.” Daehyun snatched a book from the shelf, slammed it on his desk, and strode out of his room.

                As soon as he made it downstairs, he heard his mother’s voice, “Daehyun! Are you alright?”

                “Can’t talk, mother! Thinking!” he waved her off hurriedly, heading straight for the pantry.

                “About what?” she persisted, coming into the kitchen to hover behind him.

                “The Festival,” he explained distractedly.

                “I don’t want you to go to the Festival,” his brother pouted, hiding behind their mother.

                Daehyun paused and grimaced without looking back. “You can sleep in my bed and I’ll tell you a story tonight if you let me have the day to myself, alright?” he offered, plastering a reassuring smile on his face as he turned to face his younger brother. They could have been twins except they were nearly twelve years apart.

                He could see Soohyun wanted to argue, the look in his eyes promising a fight. But their mother managed a pained smile and caressed the back of his head encouragingly. “That sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it? He hasn’t let you sleep in his bed for years now,” she reasoned, hugging him to her side.

                “Fine…” he pouted, staring at Daehyun for a moment longer before he turned and trudged away, shoulders bowed and head down.

                “Thanks,” Daehyun murmured awkwardly, one hand holding loaf of bread.

                “Let me know if you need anything,” she nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears he knew she wouldn’t shed. She was supposed to be happy. Her son being chosen was supposed to be an honor. It just didn’t feel like it right now.

                “Of course,” he agreed, turning around to continue foraging in the pantry.

                Arms full with a hunk of dried cheese in his mouth, Daehyun retreated to his room and unloaded his find onto his bed. Nibbling on the cheese, he snatched the book – a copy of a journal from one of the previous Surveyors – and plopped down on his bed. He nearly sent the bread loaf flying and had to scramble to catch it with his hastily freed hand. Like a greedy dragon from legends, he dragged everything closer to him, made sure it was settled, and then cracked open the journal.

                Marks later, as the day was coming to an end and his stash of food was nearly depleted, Daehyun closed the journal and slumped back on his cushy bed. “That’s what I thought…” he mused, dark eyes narrowed and his tongue sticking between his lips.

                Everyone celebrated the Banishing Festival but no one really knew or remembered what had been banished. Well, the theory was that magic itself had been banished, which was why there were people like him – Sensitives – but the claw and some of the other things that had been found made Daehyun think otherwise. And yet, no one else seemed to think about it at all.

                “What are we not supposed to think about?” he questioned aloud, brow furrowed as if he had just forgotten something. “Oh!” he yelped, sitting up with a snap of his fingers. “The Banishing Festival! What about it? Why is it called that?” With a groan, he slapped his face with both hands and plopped back onto the bed.

                He didn’t know if he’d had this conversation with himself before, but he suspected that might have been the case. For some reason, the Banishing Festival just was and everyone accepted it. Whenever he tried to think about the cause – or anyone else for that matter – they might be able to talk and discuss for a bit, but eventually, they would start to forget or lose track of thought. Like now. And no one was even aware of it. And trying to remember it longer was like trying to keep the ocean from washing away the sand: generally impossible.

                With a sigh, he let his hands slide from his face and stared up at the darkening ceiling. He would need to light the wall sconces soon, or he wouldn’t be able to see much before too long. Looking to his side, he saw the journal on his bed and frowned. “Maybe I should take a look at you again,” he mused, blinking when a dancing mote of glittering light appeared on the book cover. Annoyed and done, he pushed the book away, convinced the light was part of being a Sensitive again. “Oh! Soohyun’s probably wondering where I am,” he cringed, bounding up to hurry out of his room.

                He was getting hungry again anyway and it would be good to talk with his family about the upcoming Festival. And all that it entailed…