Chronicles of Destiny

The inn was dimly lit by candlelight, long shadows cast against the stained wooden walls. The smell of ale and stew mixed with damp earth clung to the air, a combination of smells Kaelem had grown all too familiar with. They sat at the corner table, away from prying ears. Kaelem's navy scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck, covering up the fact that the little hairs on the nape of his neck were still standing on end due to the shock of what had just happened. His fingers playing with the frayed edges of the scarf - his only remaining link to his parents.

Across the table was the outsider who called himself Selkor, he sat watching him curiously. His orange eyes seemed to glow faintly in the gloom, giving him an unearthly vibe. His scraggly beard twitched as he smiled, as his eyes seemed to catch every flicker of the dim light. His hair was long and unkept, matted from his travels. The outsider looked like he had been on the road for years, yet there was a sharpness to him - an unexplainable power lying beneath his ragged exterior.

Kaelem could still feel the unusual energy in his hand, his palm occasionally tingled as if to gently remind him that he had done something extraordinary only hours before. If what Selkor had said, then the magic wasn't just from the scroll - but he was sure of it now, something had stirred inside his being. He could tell it was powerful, but it was equally as terrifying.

Selkor tapped on the table, breaking the silence. "You can feel it, can't you? It's like a tingly warmth. Magic isn't a simple trick, boy. It's alive. A force of nature that runs through the bones of the world, it ties everything together. And those who are able to feel it… well, they can change the course of history."

Kaelem didn't speak, but he couldn't help the curiosity that continued to burn in his chest. Magic was a myth in Ashbarrow, nobody with the power to change the world would loiter here. He had heard stories, told in the markets and whispered close to last call in the inns. He had heard of powerful mages who could topple castles with a single spell. But now it was hard to separate fact from fiction, if it was really that powerful - was that same power inside of him?

"In the right hands" Selkor continued between mouthfuls of potato stew, "magic can turn the tide of war. The strongest wizards can shape reality itself. Bend the world to their will. A good wizard could lay waste to an army, turn the skies black and the ground red…but," he paused, his eyes glowing like embers "if left unchecked, it will twist you, consume you."

Kaelem felt a shiver run down his spine. The thought of losing yourself to power, the temptation to become magic itself. He barely had a taste, but he could understand the appeal. How many times had he embraced that feeling in his palm while they sat there, urging it to be more. He quickly moved away from that thought.

"Each spell is separated into a school," Selkor said, his voice taking on the tone of a teacher "Elemental, psionic, summoning - to name a few, they each have their own rules, their own paths. And of course the more complicated a spell is, the more powerful it is. A simple novice spell might produce a spark, but a master's spell could produce a lightning bolt."

Kaelem nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Selkor's inflection implied that the spell earlier was a mere spark, but to Kaelem it had felt like he was a God of Thunder. The gravity of the sheer scope of power took his breath away. It seemed like he was being given a crash course on magic, and he was eager to take it all in.

"You see," Selkor resumed his lecture "Every mage has a natural affinity - a pull towards a certain type of magic, based on their nature. Someone easy to anger may be drawn to Fire magic, while those more grounded and stoic may find themselves resonating with Earth magic. The magic in each of us is as much a reflection of who we are, as it is a tool to be wielded."

Kaelem frowned, still thinking about the spark he produced earlier from his hand. "So, what does that make me?"

Selkor gave out a soft chuckle before swigging his tankard of ale "That remains to be seen. Affinity isn't always obvious at first. It takes time to manifest, it's not unheard of that it changes as you grow, as your nature changes."

Kaelem shifted in his seat, the weight of the conversation had kept him pinned to his seat. "So what happens now, do I become your… apprentice?"

The wizard's smile widened, his beard twitching again. "Yes, for a year. I'll teach you the basics - how to not blow yourself up, so you can learn some control. You've awoken later than kids normally do, so you're definitely not ready for Eldritch Academy just yet."

Kaelem's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the academy "An academy? For magic? Why have I never heard of it before?"

"Hah! I imagine you'll be one of the first students from out here in the wilds." Selkor replied, leaning back slightly on his chair as he finished his meal. "It's where the most powerful wizards of each generation are trained, though they usually come from noble families. So it's a place of politics, games of power. You're not ready for that. Not yet."

"So what will you teach me?" Kaelem asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Selkor's eyes seemed to glow again with the candlelight. "I'll teach you how to survive magic. The old ways - ways that have been forgotten and are no longer taught. You see boy, magic is addictive. It can give you everything, but it will just as easily take everything from you. If you don't control it, it will control you."

Kaelem gulped, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He wasn't sure if he was ready for any of this. But he felt it, something inside of him yearned for it - a flicker of ambition - a lust for knowledge. He wanted to learn more about the power his body kept reminding him of.

"And what will happen after that?" Kaelem asked.

"I'll arrange for you to attend the Academy," Selkor replied simply. "But first, you'll need to prove you can survive the training."

Kaelem stared at the warlock, torn between curiosity and imposter syndrome. This was his chance, his way out of Ashbarrow. But he was about to enter a world he knew nothing about, a child's tale that he could have only dreamed of until today.

With a deep breath, he nodded. "I'll do it, I'll survive your training."

Selkor's smile stretched wider still, scratching his beard. "Good," he said, standing from his chair. "Then I suppose we better get ourselves started, while the night is still young."