Morning light filtered through woven reed shutters as Arin raced barefoot down the dusty path toward the village schoolhouse, a half-eaten fruit roll in one hand and his satchel swinging wildly on his shoulder.
"Slow down!" Kael called, grinning as he jogged to catch up. "You'll trip again!"
"I won't!" Arin shouted back. Then immediately tripped on a rock and nearly tumbled.
Kael laughed so hard he had to stop running. "Told you!"
The schoolhouse sat nestled between two large emberwood trees, its curved roof covered in moss tiles and its walls made from a mixture of red clay and riverstone. It was modest, like most buildings in Emberrest, but warm and full of stories. Smoke spiraled gently from the side chimney, hinting that Elder Marn had already lit the learning fire.
Inside, Elder Marn stood with arms crossed as the last few students settled in. The Affinity Crystal now rested under a cloth again, but the memory of its light still shimmered in Arin's mind.
"Today," Marn began, voice steady and clear, "you begin the true work. You are no longer simply children of Emberrest. You are walkers of the Path."
He raised a hand and tapped the air with his fingers. "The Soul Mark is your root. Your Affinity is your soil. Now, we learn how to grow."
A soft murmur passed through the circle.
He began with theory: how natural mana gathered in the air, the earth, the breath of trees. He drew simple diagrams on the sand-covered slate board—rings of circles that showed how mana flowed into the Soul Mark, then how it could be channeled outward through emotion, intent, and will.
Arin tried to focus, but the edges of his thoughts kept drifting. That second light in the crystal… it hadn't faded from his memory. Light was rare, Marn had said—but what about the violet-blue?
Then came the practical work.
Each child received a smooth training stone—palm-sized, carved with a spiral. Their task: infuse it with their element until it glowed faintly.
"Don't force it," Marn warned. "Mana bends to resonance, not rage."
Kael, as always, charged in first. "Earth! Rise!" he shouted, slamming both hands on the stone. It vibrated, then gave a low hum as a soft brown shimmer pulsed along the spiral.
Marn gave a curt nod. "Better."
"Better?" Kael pouted. "That was awesome!"
Mirelle Anwen, seated with her legs tucked neatly beneath her, watched silently. She opened her small notebook and jotted a few notes before placing her fingertips gently on the stone. A thin breeze danced around her braid, and the spiral shimmered with pale blue.
"Good control," Marn said.
Nearby, Daren Voss muttered, "Okay, I got this," and slammed his stone with both hands. A burst of smoke erupted from the cracks. Coughing, he waved it off. "That was fire! Just… not the good kind."
"Stop burning your sleeves, Daren," Mirelle said without looking up.
Silen Veir didn't speak at all. He simply held the stone, closed his eyes, and let a soft sheen of moisture gather around it. The spiral glowed faintly with blue-white threads.
Arin closed his eyes. He remembered the orb of light from yesterday. He remembered the warmth in his hand, like sunlight caught in a jar.
He whispered softly, "Shine."
A gentle pulse lit his training stone—faint but stable. A soft glow danced along the spiral, like golden veins threading through glass.
Elder Marn raised an eyebrow. "Promising."
The rest of the morning passed in practice, laughter, and frustration. A boy named Rell managed to crack his stone in half trying to summon earth. A quiet girl named Fae formed a mist that made everyone sneeze. Another boy, Nilo, spent ten minutes glaring at his stone before sheepishly admitting he hadn't even felt a tingle.
But what surprised Arin most… was how easy it felt. Like the light inside him was eager to play. He felt a pull each time he closed his eyes, a whisper of movement through his fingertips.
At lunch, the children sat on low stone benches, chewing their flatbread and fruit paste. The air was thick with chatter.
"So," Kael asked between bites, "you think we'll all get into the Central Academy?"
Mirelle tucked her braid behind her ear. "Only if we're strong enough. They only take those who show potential beyond the village standard."
"I heard last year they only accepted three from the whole region," Daren said. "And one of them had fire wings!"
"Fire wings?" Arin asked, skeptical.
"Okay, maybe glowing shoulders," Daren admitted. "But still!"
Silen looked up. "It's not just strength. It's control."
Arin looked toward the distant peaks to the east. "I don't know… but I'm going to try."
"You've got that weird glow thing," Kael said. "And that other color—what if it's some secret power?"
Arin shrugged. "Even if it is… I don't think it's awake yet."
Kael leaned back and tossed a pebble into the grass. "Well, if you go to the academy, I'm coming too. We're gonna be the best duo since Korr and Velmaw!"
Arin smiled. "Korr and Velmaw? They were eaten by a mana wyrm."
Kael blinked. "Okay, before that."
They all laughed, even Silen.
Later that day, as class wound down, Elder Marn spoke once more.
"In one week," he said, "you will each undergo the First Test. A simple trial of focus, strength, and will. Pass it, and I will prepare your recommendation scrolls for the academy envoy. Fail… and you will remain here another year."
Silence fell like a blanket.
Arin swallowed. The light inside him still hummed gently. But the thought of a test—of failing—twisted his stomach.
That night, under the stars, Arin lay on the grass behind his home. The Soul Mark on his back glowed faintly in rhythm with his breath. His mother's lantern flickered inside the window.
He stared at the sky.
What was that second color?
Why did it feel like something was waiting?
And why, deep in his chest, did it feel like the stars themselves were whispering to him?