A Time Skip – Two Years Later
The sun filtered through the narrow windows of the village schoolhouse, casting a soft gold sheen across the stone-tiled floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the morning air as Elder Marn paced before a semicircle of ten children seated on worn floor cushions. Their wooden staves and chalk-inscribed practice scrolls lay scattered around them.
Among the students, Arin Vale sat upright, legs crossed, golden eyes shimmering with determination. At nine, his ash-grey hair had grown longer, often falling into his face as he leaned over spells or scribbled questions into his learning slate. Two years of daily discipline had refined his instincts and deepened his focus. Though still slight of frame, there was a clarity in his presence now—a quiet light that set him apart.
"Again," Elder Marn instructed with calm insistence. "Simple illumination spell. Shape the mana in your soul mark, then direct it to your palm."
Flickers of light sparked and sputtered around the room. Some children grunted in frustration, others cursed under their breath as their spells fizzled. A few managed to produce dim orbs of light that hovered briefly before vanishing.
Arin took a breath.
He closed his eyes. Within, he felt the warmth of his Soul Mark—a pale shard embedded in the fabric of his spirit, no longer a splinter but a smooth-edged prism threaded with light energy. As he willed his inner mana to flow through it, the mark responded like a singing bowstring, resonating with subtle power.
He raised his palm and exhaled slowly. With a soft pulse, a sphere of golden-white light bloomed to life in his hand. It floated gently, steady and bright, casting faint shadows across the floor.
The room fell silent.
Elder Marn watched, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Very good, Arin. That's the Stabilized Glow. Only two of my students in ten years have achieved it this early."
Arin smiled shyly and lowered his hand. The orb dissolved like mist.
But then—something shifted.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible. The chalk lines on the floor shuddered. A scroll fluttered. Several children blinked in confusion. Arin looked up, startled. He had felt it: a second wave of mana, as though an echo had followed behind his spell. Like an afterimage—offbeat, unclaimed, unnatural.
Elder Marn turned slowly. His gaze lingered on Arin a moment longer than usual.
"That will be all for now," he said. "Take your scrolls and review the second rune sequence. We'll resume in the afternoon."
As the other students stood and chattered among themselves, Arin remained still. He wasn't sure what he had done—only that something had happened.
---
That Evening
Elder Marn found Lyra Vale near the herb fields, the moonlight glinting off her forest-green eyes as she packed medicinal roots into clay jars.
"You've trained him well," he said, folding his hands behind his back.
Lyra gave a tired but proud smile. "He's his father's son. And mine, I suppose. Though I wish he'd slow down and act his age."
"Have you ever noticed… anomalies in his spells?" Marn asked, his tone cautious.
She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of anomalies?"
"Ripples. Tremors in space. Minor distortions."
Lyra fell silent. "Once. A dried flower reformed its petals when he infused it with mana. I thought it was just beginner's luck."
Marn nodded slowly. "Perhaps. But I'll keep an eye on him."
---
Later That Night
Arin sat on the steps of their stone cottage, staring up at the stars. In his hand was a small wooden training orb used to practice spell stability. He infused it again with mana.
Light shimmered.
And then—just for a heartbeat—the orb vanished, reappearing a few inches to the left, landing with a soft thud.
He froze.
"...What was that?"
A whisper brushed past his ear, so faint he could barely make out the words.
> "More… feed me more."
He blinked, heart pounding. The air was still. No one was there.
He looked down at the orb, its surface humming with a residual glow. Behind him, unseen and unspoken, his Soul Mark shimmered faintly.
He didn't know it yet, but tonight marked the beginning of something far greater.