Chapter 2: The Seeker of Flames

The streets were loud and restless, filled with the hum of machines and the murmur of countless voices. In this age of steel and glass, few took notice of the world beyond their devices, blinded to the magic that still lingered in the shadows. But I could feel it—faint and hidden, yet undeniable. Among the neon lights and towering screens, a flicker of the old magic called to me. I followed the trail through the winding streets, where I found myself at the threshold of a strange place—a theater, its doors adorned with glowing signs. Inside, the crowd’s cheers echoed, and there upon the stage, he stood.

Eadric.

I had sensed his power before I saw him, though now it seemed concealed, distorted. He wore strange garments—black with glittering silver trim—and in his hands, he held not the tools of a mage but props that seemed to hold no power at all. As the audience gasped and applauded, he pulled a white dove from his sleeve, and with a wave of his hand, it vanished into thin air.

This... this was the magic of old?

I watched, perplexed, as he continued his performance—cards that appeared from nowhere, flames conjured from thin air, then extinguished just as quickly. The crowd roared in delight, but something felt wrong. The energy was there, though it was twisted into these mere tricks. It was not the ancient art I knew but a spectacle for amusement. Did this boy even know the power he toyed with?

At the show’s end, as the crowd dispersed, I approached him. He was wiping sweat from his brow, his confident stage persona faded. “Well, well, a fan coming to meet the great Eadric, eh?” he said, flashing a grin. But his eyes widened when he saw the ancient robes I wore, the staff at my side.

“Thou art no mere entertainer,” I said, frowning. “Thou dost wield magic, and yet... thou playest with it as though 'twere naught but a jest.”

He looked at me in confusion, then laughed nervously. “Magic? Oh, come on, it’s all just tricks! Sleight of hand, illusions—people love it, but it’s not real.”

“Not real?” I echoed, my voice growing firm. “Dost thou not feel the power in thy veins? Dost thou not know the flame thou carriest within thee?”

Backstage, Eadric stormed ahead, his face flushed with frustration. The narrow hallway echoed with the clatter of props and hurried footsteps as he shoved aside a curtain, leading me into a cramped dressing room littered with playing cards, fake wands, and a half-eaten sandwich. He spun around, his hands on his hips, glaring at me.

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that? What was that stunt out there? You can’t just barge in and start talking like... like you’re straight out of some fantasy book!” His voice rose with each word. “That was my first real performance! Months of planning, gone, because you wanted to... what? Play along with the act?”

I stared at him, bewildered. “This is no act. Thou art gifted with the power of the old magic, yet thou usest it as if 'twere naught but a child’s game.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Old magic? Are you serious right now? Look, I don’t know what Renaissance fair you crawled out of, but this is the real world. There’s no magic, okay? It’s all illusions, tricks! That’s what people pay to see.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in my robes and staff. “You’re one of those cosplayers, aren’t you? Really leaning into this mage character, huh? Well, here’s a tip—you’re overdoing it.”

I furrowed my brow. “Cosplayer? I am the guardian of magic, descended from the sky to rekindle what thou hast forgotten. Magic is not a mere illusion. It courses through thee, even now.”

He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Yeah, well, tell that to the world. Everyone knows magic’s just a fairytale. Tricks, sleight of hand, that’s all it’s ever been. And people love it that way. No one believes in real magic anymore.”

I stepped toward him, my voice calm and unshaken, though I sensed his rising frustration. “Thou must understand, Eadric, magic did exist. It still does. The power within thee is real, and I am not here to deceive—”

He interrupted me, his laughter sharp and bitter. “Yeah, maybe if you’d told me this when I was a kid, I’d have bought it. Back then, I’d have believed anything—heck, I’d have believed pigs could fly! But guess what? You grow up, and life kicks the fairytales out of you.” He shook his head, pacing as his words tumbled out faster. “The world isn’t about magic or wizards saving the day. It’s about surviving. If you don’t have money, the world doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is getting by.”

I watched him quietly, not entirely understanding the depth of his frustration. His words felt distant to me, as though they held weight I could not grasp. He spoke of hardship, of a world shaped by coin rather than power, yet I could not fully comprehend why these things mattered so greatly to him. “But why would thou concern thyself with these trivialities? Magic—true magic—is far beyond these things.”

Eadric turned away, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. Magic doesn’t pay the bills. Tricks do. And if I’m lucky, maybe someday I’ll make enough not to live in this hole.”

As Eadric grabbed his things, ready to storm out, I reached out with a thought, and in an instant, we were no longer in that cluttered room. The air shifted around us, and the world below blurred into a haze as we floated high above the city.

Eadric’s eyes widened, his voice rising in panic. “What the fuck! I’m going to die!”

I glanced at him, my tone as calm as ever. “Thou art not.”

Before he could react, we descended gently, landing in a vast field of grass, far removed from the city’s chaos. Eadric staggered as his feet touched the ground, eyes wide with disbelief. “Where... where are we?” he stammered, spinning around to take in the rolling hills and the clear skies, so different from the world he knew.

“This is my dimension,” I said plainly. “A place I have created beyond thy realm. Here, thou wilt be my student, and I shall teach thee the ways of true magic.”

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