Day 14: The True Face of the Mage
Jade woke up before dawn, the fire core he had harvested from the magical beast pulsing with a faint, almost menacing light beside him. The power it held was undeniable, but with each passing day, Jade became more aware of the dangers that came with it—both from the energy itself and from the mage who had been guiding him.
The mage, a member of a species known as the Drevans, was a creature Jade had grown to despise. The Drevans were a long-lived, power-hungry race with a natural affinity for manipulating the world’s energies. They were known for their cunning, ruthlessness, and complete lack of empathy—a perfect description of the mage who now held sway over Jade’s training.
Physically, the mage was tall and wiry, his skin a sickly grayish hue, with dark, angular features that seemed permanently etched with disdain. His eyes, a piercing yellow, gleamed with a cold, calculating intelligence. His voice was harsh, often dripping with contempt, and his every action seemed motivated by a desire to assert dominance over those he considered beneath him—like Jade.
Morning Contempt
As Jade approached the mage’s camp that morning, he was greeted not with instruction but with a sneer. The mage looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the fire core Jade carried.
“So, you survived,” the mage said, his tone flat, almost bored. “I suppose I should congratulate you, but I won’t. You merely proved you’re not as weak as I initially thought. Though, that’s not saying much.”
Jade gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain calm. He knew better than to rise to the bait. The mage enjoyed belittling him, enjoyed watching for any sign of defiance or weakness that he could exploit.
“Let’s get on with it,” Jade replied, keeping his voice steady. He had no interest in engaging in the mage’s games, but he needed the knowledge the Drevan possessed—at least for now.
The mage’s lip curled in a sneer. “Eager to play with fire again, are we? Pathetic. But I suppose that’s what passes for ambition in a being like you.”
Jade’s patience was wearing thin. The mage’s arrogance was infuriating, but Jade knew he couldn’t afford to act on his anger. Not yet.
The Lesson in Cruelty
The mage led Jade to a desolate part of the forest, where the trees were twisted and barren, and the ground was cracked and dry. It was a place that radiated despair, much like the Drevan themselves. The mage began drawing symbols in the dirt, his movements quick and precise, while Jade watched closely, trying to absorb as much as he could.
“These symbols will help you channel the fire core’s energy,” the mage explained, though his tone made it clear he thought Jade too dim to fully grasp the knowledge. “If you can manage not to incinerate yourself in the process, that is.”
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Jade didn’t respond, focusing instead on the symbols. He had learned to block out the mage’s taunts, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The Drevan’s condescending attitude grated on him more each day.
“Do you even understand what you’re working with?” the mage continued, his voice laced with scorn. “The power of that core could turn you to ash in an instant if you misstep. But I suppose that’s the risk you take when you pretend to be something you’re not.”
Jade bit back a retort, knowing it would only encourage more insults. He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, determined to prove the mage wrong by mastering the core’s energy.
As Jade began to work with the symbols, drawing on the fire core’s power, the mage watched with a look of disdain. “Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath. “You struggle with the simplest tasks. I don’t know why I bother.”
The Drevans' Malice
What made the mage even more loathsome was his utter lack of empathy or moral compass. The Drevans were notorious for their willingness to sacrifice anything—and anyone—for power. The mage had made it clear that he viewed Jade as little more than a tool, a means to an end. If Jade failed or outlived his usefulness, the mage wouldn’t hesitate to discard him—or worse.
Jade had overheard the mage speaking to himself on more than one occasion, muttering about how he could use Jade’s core to enhance his own power or perhaps gift it to a more “worthy” student. The casual cruelty of the idea made Jade’s blood boil, but he kept his rage in check. The mage’s time would come, but not yet.
For now, Jade needed the Drevan’s knowledge, no matter how much he despised the creature. He would learn everything he could, and when the time was right, he would turn the tables.
The Brewing Storm
That evening, after a grueling day of training, Jade returned to his shelter, exhausted but resolute. The mage’s taunts and disdain had pushed him to his limits, but they had also fueled his determination. Jade knew he was growing stronger, more capable, and more dangerous. The fire core pulsed with potential, and Jade was determined to unlock its full power.
But as he lay in the darkness, the mage’s words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the treacherous ground he walked. The Drevan was a formidable enemy, one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Jade knew he had to be prepared for the inevitable clash, for the day when their tenuous alliance would shatter, and only one of them would emerge victorious.
As sleep finally claimed him, Jade’s dreams were filled with visions of fire and blood, of a future where he stood over the mage’s broken body, the fire core blazing in his hand. The path to that future was fraught with danger, but Jade was ready for whatever lay ahead. He had to be. His life—and his chance to return home—depended on it.