Chapter 5: The First Spark

The yard lay bathed in soft morning light, the air crisp with promise. Eadric sat upon the grass as bidden, eyes shut, his breath uneven yet steadying with effort. Around him the world stirred with faint life — the whisper of wind, the hum of unseen currents. At first, he felt naught but silence, and then — a ripple, subtle and strange, brushing against his senses like a hidden stream beneath the earth.

A warmth stirred within him, faint yet undeniable, like fire hidden beneath the soil. His eyes snapped open, and he gasped, heart leaping in triumph. “I—I felt it!” he cried, clenching his fists as though to grasp what could not be held. For a fleeting instant, the invisible current answered, humming against his skin, alive, real.

But in his excitement, the thread slipped from him. The hum dulled, the warmth fled, leaving naught but the ordinary morning air. His shoulders fell, and he cursed under his breath, face twisting in dismay. The Guardian’s gaze lingered upon him, calm and unshaken. “Aye,” she said, voice even, “thou didst find it. Yet eagerness unbridled oft breaketh the bond. Still thyself, and it shall return.”

Two moons waxed and waned within the Guardian’s realm, and the days between wove themselves into a strange rhythm. Eadric had grown steadier in drawing forth the unseen current, no longer fumbling each time, but his patience wore thin. Every dawn he rose, every dusk he rested, yet the lesson remained the same—reach, feel, hold. Nothing more. His chest burned with questions, with doubt gnawing like a restless hound.

At last, while they lingered by the garden’s edge, he crossed his arms and spoke, his tone sharp with weariness. “Alright, seriously—what’s the point of this? It’s been two months, and all I’ve learned is how to ‘feel’ the mana. You haven’t taught me how to control it, or cast, or… anything. For all I know, maybe you’re just feeding me your power so I think I’ve got mana. Maybe this is all a joke to you.”

I looked upon him, his words filled with heat, yet his spirit wavering like a candle in a storm. “Thou thinkest I toy with thee?” I asked, voice even, neither angered nor soft. “Nay, Eadric. I seek not thy folly. Magic is no trinket to be bandied at whim. It is a mirror of the soul. Those who wield with haste, they bend it toward their own greed, and from such hearts cometh naught but ruin. Patience is the first gate. Without it, all else falleth to shadow.”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Patience, patience—that’s all you ever say! I didn’t come here to sit around and breathe in the air. I thought you’d teach me something. Spells, incantations, anything! But it’s always the same speech. Maybe you don’t even know what you’re doing.”

For near a fortnight he kept his secret, slipping into the yard when moonlight reigned, whispering to the air, drawing in the unseen threads that clung to all things. At first his hands shook, his breath faltered, yet soon the flow of mana bent to him like water to a carved channel. What once flickered and died now held fast, circling through him with a steady thrum. For a novice who scarce knew what mana was, his rise was swift, a marvel wrought of stubborn will.

One night, as he shaped the energy between his palms, a presence stirred behind him—silent as mist. I crouched low, leaning close, and whispered, “Methinks thou art ready for thy next lesson.”

Eadric jolted so fierce the mana burst like a popped balloon. He spun around, eyes wide, face burning. “Holy shit—are you trying to kill me?! My heart’s about to fucking explode!” He staggered back a step, pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that, especially when they’re holding glowing magic-balls or whatever the hell this is!”

Eadric looked again at me, then at his hand, then back at me like he’d lost his mind. “Wait… what the hell is this in my hand?” He waved it about, the red glow streaking through the dark. Panic rose as he shook it harder. “Nope, nope—what the fuck—it won’t come off! HELP!” He even tried to fling it into the grass, yet the light clung stubbornly to his palm, pulsing with life.

I tilted my head, watching his wild display with quiet bafflement. At last, when his arms drooped and breath came heavy, I spoke. “That which thou wieldest is thine own mana, shaped in a globe most fierce.” The glow shimmered—a bright red, like molten fire contained in glass. I let slip the faintest curl of a smile. “Hmm… curious. Hadst thou been born in elder days, perchance thou wouldst have thrived within a mage’s guild.”

Eadric blinked at the glowing sphere, then laughed nervously, holding it like it might explode. “A guild, huh? So… you’re telling me I’m basically a magical intern now? Should I start charging to be someone’s lighter when they need a smoke? Wait… actually… hmmm… actually… nahh.” He waved his hands dramatically, making the mana swirl and twist.

I regarded him evenly, though the corner of my lips twitched. “Thou may jest, yet there is truth in thy words. Magic doth bind itself to those with patience and resolve. How thou choosest to wield it shall mark the measure of thy heart.”

Eadric let out a long sigh, still holding the globe of red light. “Well… shit. Guess I better not fuck this up.”

I nodded once, firm yet calm. “Aye. The path is long, yet thou hast taken thy first true step.”

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