People had called Foster a lot of things over the years. Freak. Failure. Feeble.
That was before Foster had found the ancient texts, though, before he’d begun putting himself through some metaphysical home schooling. He imagined himself growing powerful, becoming someone fierce and forceful. Someone people would call something frightening, like the Fiend.

Then he said his potential title out loud.

Once he finished laughing, Foster went back to the books. So he’d been teased. A lot of people had been. He had magic, a power that countless others didn’t. Whatever names people came up for him no longer mattered. He wanted to name himself.
Preferably with something that wouldn’t make him snicker.