Hearing Aurus's words, William's face froze. A cold sweat ran down his back as his mind plunged into a storm of possibilities. Had he been discovered? Was he in danger? Was this a trap? His brain worked at full speed, evaluating escape routes, plausible lies—any way to distance himself from the threat.
But then the professor's voice spoke again, calm and without a trace of nace.
"Relax. I have no intention of harming you. But we must be honest with each other."
The tension in William's body didn't vanish, but it changed. Still wary, he watched him in silence, waiting.
Aurus sighed and took another sip of tea before speaking.
"I co from the Magical Continent," he said casually, as if recounting a simple anecdote. "Many years ago, during a dispute over an extrely rare plant—the Crimson Midnight Flower—I was gravely wounded. That injury stalled my advancent, and I was demoted from Level 2 Mage to Level 1."
His gaze drifted for a mont into the steam rising from his cup.
"Since then, my progress has been stagnant. No technique, no ditation, no catalyst worked. I tried everything... until eventually, I was expelled from the elite circle of my hotown. Later, I got into another conflict with a powerful organization. I won't go into details now, but... it was serious enough that I had to flee again."
He fell silent for a few seconds. William didn't interrupt.
"I wandered for years across the Magical Continent," he continued, "until I found refuge as a teacher in a minor academy. That was my salvation, for a ti. But sooner or later, everything shifts, even alliances.
There's a network of magical academies that governs this region of the world—a coalition that maintains a certain control over magical education. Every hundred years, one of us must be sent to oversee this remote area, crossing the Sea of Death. Right now, that supervisor is ."
Aurus looked up and t his gaze with calm eyes.
"Originally, there were three of us. But a complicated situation caused the others to abandon their posts. For the past few years, I've been the only one left."
The story stunned him. William hadn't expected to find ties to a magical organization so soon. He had his suspicions, yes, but he thought he'd only make contact with them once he beca a high-ranking knight—or at least part of the noble inner circle.
He cleared his throat, lowered his head slightly, and decided to speak.
"My family... also ca from the Magical Continent," he said in a low voice. "We were hunted. One by one, my ancestors died, until only I remained. A few days ago... the last branch of my bloodline was wiped out."
Aurus didn't interrupt. He simply listened, with a serene expression.
"My grandfather taught so ancient languages," William went on. "He didn't have original books or scrolls—just handwritten notes of his own. He wasn't a scholar, and what little he knew was fragnted, incomplete. But I cherished it. It was all I had left."
When he finished, Aurus smiled. A faint, almost paternal smile.
"Thank you for sharing that. Your story is valuable. More than you know."
He paused again, then set his cup down and leaned back slightly in his chair.
"What happened yesterday was a test. One of the oldest we use in the academy. It's usually perford during the initiation ceremony of magic apprentices. When that incantation is spoken, each listener falls into a trance, where they experience personal visions. They're reflections of hidden talents, of dormant potential. It's a tool to determine whether soone is suited for the magical path."
William frowned.
"Then why did it hurt so much?"
Aurus nodded, as if he'd expected the question.
"Good observation. That spell shouldn't cause pain. It requires an almost negligible amount of mana—sothing any aspirant can withstand. But here..." he looked out the window toward the clear sky, "here there is no mana. Not a trace. This place is magically dead. That's why the spell causes fatigue. Headaches. In severe cases, like yours... collapse."
William rembered the sensation of his mind burning from within. The bleeding. The darkness.
"That's why the tea," Aurus added. "The leaves I used are called Dew of Calm. They're rare, cultivated in fields of eternal mist. They don't just soothe the soul and heal minor wounds—they also contain a tiny amount of mana. Just enough to ease the fatigue without harming a common human body."
William looked at his empty cup. The pain was gone. So was the pressure in the back of his neck. Only a strange clarity remained... and a new suspicion.
Aurus rose slowly and walked to a bookshelf filled with old, dust-covered tos. He ran his hand over one thoughtfully, then returned to his seat.
"There are still a couple of things I should explain," he said, lifting his cup again. "For example... what you saw when you woke up."
William blinked, surprised by the contents of the book.
"Each person who goes through that test sees sothing different. So see fire dancing in the air. Others feel an ocean breeze whispering secrets. So even see food descending from the sky. These aren't random hallucinations. Each of those visions has aning—a resonance with their magical essence."
He paused to study William's reaction, but the boy remained silent, focused.
"Those who see food," Aurus continued, "tend to have a special sensitivity to the elents found in plants and animals. They often excel in alchemy, in handling natural ingredients. So even beco what we call 'magical chefs.' Believe , their art goes far beyond preparing a tasty stew."
A faint smile crossed William's face at that, but he said nothing.
"Those who witness natural elents—fire, water, wind—often have a remarkable aptitude for elental combat. They can wield those powers more easily, even without formal training."
He paused again, then fixed his gaze on him.
"In my case... I saw a book descending from the sky. Do you know what that ans?"
William shook his head, eyes full of concentration.
Aurus narrowed his eyes, as if searching for the right words.
"If the book was open and its pages blank... it symbolizes an inscriptionist. A rune master. Soone whose soul is ant to write new paths, to draw symbols that shape magic. But..."
He raised a finger.
"If the book was full—overflowing with words you couldn't understand—then it ans sothing else: a soul with an affinity for absorbing arcane knowledge, for learning spells at an unnatural speed. I'll let you guess which one I am... in ti."
Aurus leaned in, his voice softer now.
"No one can claim to know all the secrets hidden beneath the sky," he murmured. "But sotis... we get to glimpse a fragnt of them."
He settled back into his seat, took another sip of the now-lukewarm tea, and then looked at him intently, as if casting a spell older than words.
"Now tell , William... what did you see?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)