After a grueling day in which every bone in his body ached, Kael opened his eyes at the first light of dawn. The pain from his wounds had not yet subsided. As dawn slowly settled over the village, traces of the smoke that had burned all night were still visible. But there was something else that eased Kael's pain. Warm. Soft.
The scent of herbal tea wafting from the kitchen. That familiar, soothing aroma of fresh tea was enough to dispel the dark clouds in his mind. This scent always made him feel safe.
Kael slowly sat up. In the light filtering through the crack in the door, he saw Nerya. Though her slender shoulders were slightly slumped from fatigue, her movements were still calm; she was pouring tea into cups and carefully setting aside the shards of a plate that had broken the night before. Nerya looked at her son and smiled tenderly. "Good morning, son. I see you're up early. "Sit down, the tea will soothe your pain a little."
"Good morning, Mom," said Kael as he sank into the chair. He rubbed his aching arm while watching his mother's every move with close attention.
When he sat down at the table, Nerya placed a warm cup in front of him.
"Drink it. Your body is still healing itself."
Kael wrapped both hands around the cup. Its warmth spread through his palms.
"Mom… we're starting today, aren't we?"
Nerya pulled up the chair next to her and sat down. Her gaze grew deep.
"Magic isn't just a simple tool of power, Kael; it's a reflection of the soul onto the outside world. Don't rush, because any structure without a solid foundation is doomed to collapse. Let me first explain how the world of magic works."
Nerya began to explain, tracing imaginary circles on the table with her finger:
"In our world, magical power is measured in rings. The highest rank a person can reach is 10 rings. As far as I know, there are no 10-ringed mages alive today, but ancient records and legends speak of a 10-ringed hero who saved the kingdom from a massive catastrophe. Among the people, this is now told as a fairy tale."
She paused and continued:
"The types of magic are divided into Elemental, Light, Dark, and Special Classes. We humans mostly control the elements of nature. Light magic, however, is extremely rare; it is found only in the children of certain noble aristocratic families in the central kingdoms or among high-ranking clergy. But regardless of the type, the only and absolute way to practice magic is to first learn to master the Mana within your body."
Nerya went into the room and headed toward an old, intricately carved chest. As she unlocked the ancient latch, the wood groaned softly from within. She pulled out a small, velvet-lined box. When she opened it, there was a smooth, glass-like sphere inside. It seemed as though a misty haze was swirling within it. She placed the sphere on the table, in front of Kael. Kael leaned in curiously.
"What… is this?"
"This is a test sphere that reveals which type of magic a disciple is suited for, my son. Let me show you an example."
Nerya slowly placed her hand on the sphere.
In that instant, a brilliant green light rising from within the sphere filled the entire house in a matter of seconds. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly; a fresh, calm, and airy scent spread as if the walls had vanished and thousands of flowers had bloomed simultaneously within the house. Kael felt more at peace than ever before within his mother's green energy. The serenity in the air seemed to seep into his very soul.
"As you can see, Kael, my type of magic is a special class of wind magic rooted in nature. Elves use a similar power, but they don't cast spells like we do; they can hear and feel nature itself. Ours, however, is more based on formulas and practice."
Nerya withdrew her hand, and the green light slowly faded, retreating back into the sphere.
"Now it's your turn. Place your hand on the sphere and try to sense the energy within it."
Kael swallowed hard and, with great excitement, touched the crystal sphere with his hand. In that instant, the delicate green light enveloping the house suddenly shifted direction. The energy emanating from the sphere took on shades of purple and black, wrapping around the entire house like a vine.
It was as if the sky had suddenly turned to night, and a gloomy heaviness had settled over the room. The cheerful chirping of birds in the morning had ceased, replaced by the jarring screeches of crows outside.
Nerya, in a panic, pulled Kael's hand away from the sphere. The dark energy around them vanished, but Kael was still in a daze.
"Mom, what happened? Why isn't my magic green like yours? Or do I not have that 'mana' you keep talking about?"
Nerya's face paled for a moment. When she looked at the orb, she noticed small, stubborn sparks of fire sprouting around the darkness. She didn't want to tell Kael about dark magic; she was afraid of scaring him or of him knowing what was to come.
"No, my son, it's your aptitude…" she lied, trying not to let her voice tremble.
"Fire... Kael. You possess a very intense and raw fire power."
"The intensity of those colors you just saw comes from the power of your fire." When Kael heard this, he jumped out of his seat. "So I can learn magic too, right?"
"Yes, my son, you can. But first, you must feel the mana flowing through your body. That is the foundation of magic; the better we can control it, the further we'll go."
Nerya drew a small dot on Kael's palm with a pen. "Keep this in mind. Now close your eyes and imagine the energy flowing through your entire body gathering at this point.
"Don't force it—just guide it."
Kael closed his eyes. At first, there was only darkness. Then he felt a spark. A warm energy flowing from his chest down his arm… Just as his mother had said, he imagined all that warmth in his body flowing like a river toward the point in his palm. He felt a warmth in his hand. When he opened his eyes, a small, flickering ball of fire was burning on his palm. 1. He had succeeded in casting a simple fire spell on his first try.
Nerya was surprised by his speed but didn't show it. He's his father's son… Of course he'd pick it up quickly, she thought.
Over the next few days, Nerya taught him the art of Wordless Magic.
"Spells are far more destructive when cast with words,"
his mother said, "but in a real battle, a quick hand movement is worth more than a thousand words. If controlled properly, even the simplest spell can be deadlier than the sharpest sword."
Kael spent hours practicing gathering mana in his hand and shaping the fire. His mother constantly warned him:
"Control is everything, Kael. Uncontrolled power harms both you and those around you. And never completely deplete your mana; a mage who runs out of mana becomes exhausted, loses consciousness, and may even die."
Kael practiced until his head spun. He had learned the hard way that mana was a limited resource. For a week, Kael went into the forest every day and made targets out of logs. His fireballs were now more accurate. One day while practicing, he thought of what Ashael had called "the voice of the forest." He crouched down and placed his hands on the ground. He combined Ashael's advice on sensing with his mother's lessons on focus.
When he closed his eyes, he began to sense the energy beneath the earth at a much deeper level. He merged the mana in his hand with the earth and attempted the Fire Wall, a second-circle spell his mother had spoken of. The moment Kael opened his eyes, he saw a massive pillar of fire roaring upward from the ground before him. The heat was so intense that the leaves of the trees above were instantly scorched. Kael collapsed to the ground, feeling as if his lungs were on fire. His mana was nearly completely depleted.
"Too much…" he muttered, his heart pounding violently. "I need to control this… or this power will consume me."
He closed his eyes again, trying to clear his mind as his mother had taught him and redirect his mana back into the ground. Finally, he managed to dispel the spell. When he collapsed to the ground, he was gasping for breath.
"Control…" he murmured. "I must learn control first."
The second circle was far more destructive than he'd anticipated. "I need to be more careful," Kael thought as he sat down on the ground, exhausted.
"I shouldn't attempt such high levels until I've fully mastered the basic spells," he thought.
Kael spent the following week in a cycle of exhaustion and discovery. He couldn't cast the healing spell he'd imagined, but the fire grew sharper, faster, and more obedient with each passing day.
Though he returned home exhausted every day as his mana dwindled, Kael was happy. He might not be able to cast those healing spells he'd imagined yet, but his faith was unwavering that he could protect his village and loved ones with this fire in his hands.
In the afternoon, Kael went outside to stretch his legs and check on the situation in the village. The village center looked like a battlefield, but everyone was working together.
When Kael reached the village center, he saw Boran, with his massive frame, single-handedly lifting debris amidst the rubble. Boran was a former soldier; after retiring, he had taken on the roles of the village blacksmith and security guard. Upon seeing Kael, he stopped what he was doing, wiped the sweat from his brow, and walked over to him with heavy steps.
"Kael! Hold on a second,"
he said, his voice booming like thunder. As Kael approached, Boran slapped him on the shoulder with his calloused, massive hand so hard that Kael nearly stumbled to the ground.
"I saw that move you made last night, son. I know what those creatures are… If it weren't for you, all that would be left of this village today would be bones. In all my years as a guard, I've seen very few young men as brave as you."
Boran's wife came up from behind at that moment and handed Kael a fresh loaf of bread still steaming.
Others stopped him along the way as well. Some thanked him, while others shook his hand gratefully for protecting their children. Though Kael felt a bit embarrassed by all the attention, his protective instinct grew even stronger.
After parting ways with Boran, Kael walked toward Ulu Çınar Han, the heart of the village. The inn's sign had been blown askew by last night's wind, and its chains creaked with every sway. Upon entering, he was greeted by a thick scent of yeast and spices mingled with the smell of burnt wood.
The inn's owner, Grog—a portly man who was always sweating—was straightening the disheveled shelves behind the counter. Upon seeing Kael, he set down the cloth he was holding and called out with a heartfelt smile:
"Well, well, well! Look who's here! Yesterday's little boy, today's big-hearted young man!"
A few villagers inside the inn turned their heads to look at Kael. Old Sulu Göz Silas, sitting in the corner, raised the wooden cup in his hand.
"Grog! Forget the shelves and pour this young man a Red Apple Elixir. It's on me! If he hadn't stood his ground against those wolves last night and woken us up, none of us would be here having a drink right now."
Knowing Kael was still young, Grog poured him a non-alcoholic but slightly throat-burning, ice-cold drink made from mountain berries. He slammed the cup down on the wooden table in front of Kael.
Kael sat down at the table with a sheepish expression.
"I just did what I had to do, Uncle Silas," he said, his voice a bit hesitant.
"What you had to do?" Silas asked, leaning slightly toward the table.
"Son, we're farmers, we're shopkeepers... When danger is at the door, the first thing that comes to most of us is to run. But you didn't run. What you did last night didn't just buy us time—it reminded us that we can protect ourselves."
Kael took a big gulp of the ice-cold apple cider. The sharp yet sweet liquid sliding down his throat had momentarily washed away the day's fatigue. Still, he felt like a stranger amidst the cheerful atmosphere in the inn. While he appreciated the villagers' grateful glances, deep down he believed it was just a matter of luck. Moreover, that strange warmth he felt in his body for the first time, and the tingling in his hands as if they might catch fire at any moment, seemed to whisper silently to him that nothing would ever be the same again.
Kael took a deep breath as he stepped out of the inn's noisy, smoky air into the evening coolness. The sky was slowly darkening, and stars were beginning to appear one by one. As he walked toward home, the tingling in his palms hadn't subsided; it felt as though he were carrying a small flame trapped at the tips of his fingers.
When he pushed open the door, he found Nerya sitting at the table, examining an old book by the light of a candle that was nearly burned out. Hearing Kael enter, she looked up, her weary yet watchful eyes scanning her son.
"You're late," Nerya said softly. "It seems the villagers didn't want to let you go."
Kael sat down across from his mother.
"They just wanted to thank me. But Mom... that thing I felt today... The moment I created the wall of fire, it was as if I wasn't in control—it felt like it was pulling me somewhere. Is that normal?"
Nerya reached out and squeezed her son's hand on the table. Her fingers were ice-cold, but she could feel the strange warmth radiating from Kael's skin.
"Power sometimes wants to test its master, Kael. You're still very much at the beginning of your journey. Today you've only sparked a flame, but it will be your will that turns that spark into a torch. Rest a little now; tomorrow we'll continue your training where we left off."
Kael nodded and headed to his room. As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he thought about his mother's words. "My will…" he murmured.
When he closed his eyes, he could still feel that vivid warmth coursing through his hands and arms; it was as if it weren't blood but a warm energy flowing through his veins.
The deep exhaustion that came from using every last drop of the day's weight and meaning finally took hold. The questions in his mind slowly faded, and Kael surrendered to a heavy sleep, despite the strange, relentless heat in his hands.