The days in Thalindra passed in a rhythm of warmth and wonder, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile existence I had known before. My father, Eldrin Veylen, was a scholar of magic, a man whose passion for the arcane was matched only by his patience as a teacher. Though I was still a child, my mind—sharpened by the memories and intellect of my past life—was eager to learn.

It began one evening, just after sunset. The golden light of the day had faded into a soft, blue twilight, and the air was filled with the faint hum of my core’s energy. Eldrin sat by the fireplace, a thick tome open on his lap. I toddled over to him, my small legs wobbling with each step, and tugged at the hem of his robe.

“Papa,” I said, my voice still high and childish, “can you teach me magic?”

Eldrin looked down at me, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. For a moment, he seemed surprised, but then a wide grin spread across his face. “Of course, my little mage. Sit here with me.”

He lifted me onto the chair beside him, and I peered at the book in his lap. The pages were filled with intricate diagrams and symbols, each one pulsing faintly with magical energy. Eldrin pointed to one of the diagrams—a circle with lines radiating outward like the rays of the sun.

“This,” he said, “is your core. It’s the source of all magic within you. Every spell, every potion, every enchanted artifact draws its power from the core. To be a mage, you must first learn to feel its energy.”

He placed a hand on my chest, just above my heart. “Close your eyes, Kaelith. Focus on your breathing. Can you feel it? The pulse of your core, like a second heartbeat?”

I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and slowing my breathing. At first, I felt nothing but the warmth of the fire and the soft fabric of my clothes. But then, slowly, I began to sense it—a faint, rhythmic pulse, steady and unyielding. It was as if the world itself was alive, its energy flowing through me like blood through veins.

“I feel it,” I whispered, my voice filled with awe.

Eldrin smiled. “Good. That’s the first step. Now, let’s try something simple.”

He held out his hand, palm up, and a small orb of light appeared above it. The orb glowed softly, casting a warm light across the room.

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“This is a Light Orb,” he explained. “It’s one of the most basic spells, but it’s a good way to practice controlling your mana. Try it.”

I held out my own hand, mimicking his gesture. At first, nothing happened. I frowned, concentrating harder, but still, the orb refused to appear.

“Don’t force it,” Eldrin said gently. “Magic isn’t about strength; it’s about balance. Feel your core’s energy, and let it flow through you. Imagine the light forming in your hand.”

I closed my eyes again, focusing on the pulse of my core. This time, I didn’t try to force the energy; instead, I let it guide me. Slowly, I felt a warmth in my palm, and when I opened my eyes, a tiny orb of light hovered above my hand.

“I did it!” I exclaimed, my voice filled with excitement.

Eldrin chuckled, ruffling my hair. “Well done, Kaelith. You’re a natural.”

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Over the next few weeks, Eldrin’s lessons became a regular part of my day. We would sit in his study, surrounded by shelves of books and jars of strange ingredients, and he would teach me the principles of magic.

One afternoon, he showed me how to inscribe runes. He handed me a piece of parchment and a quill, then drew a simple rune in the air. The rune glowed faintly, its lines pulsing with energy.

“Runes are the language of magic,” he explained. “Each one has a specific meaning and function. This one, for example, is the rune for ‘light.’ When you inscribe it and channel your mana through it, it creates a Light Orb.”

I studied the rune carefully, committing its shape to memory. Then, I dipped the quill in ink and began to draw it on the parchment. My hand was unsteady at first, but with Eldrin’s guidance, I soon mastered the basic strokes.

“Now, channel your mana through the rune,” he instructed.

I placed my hand over the rune and focused, feeling my core’s energy flow through me. The rune began to glow, and a small orb of light appeared above the parchment.

“Excellent,” Eldrin said, his voice filled with pride. “You’re learning quickly, Kaelith.”

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As the days passed, I grew more confident in my abilities. But with that confidence came a growing sense of unease. My core’s energy pulsed within me, steady and unyielding, and I could feel its power growing stronger with each passing day.

One evening, as we sat by the fireplace, Eldrin noticed my quiet demeanor. “What’s on your mind, Kaelith?” he asked.

I hesitated, then said, “Papa, what happens if I can’t control it? My core’s energy, I mean.”

Eldrin’s expression softened. He placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Magic is a tool, Kaelith. It’s not something to be feared, but something to be understood. Your core’s energy is vast, but it’s also a part of you. As long as you respect it and learn to balance it, you’ll be fine.”

His words were comforting, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. My core’s energy was vast, yes, but it was also ancient and mysterious. And I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets it held—and what role I was meant to play in unlocking them.