It has been a few weeks since I left the school without much of a direction in mind. To be truthful I didn't have a place to go back to. I couldn't bear the thought of returning empty-handed to my village, to burden those phew I considered friends with pity. So I decided to go nowhere, to only wonder, perhaps doing so would develop my magic, after all, magic is born partially out of wisdom. And the forest and roads aren't unfamiliar environments to me, while saving to pay for my enrollment in the school, I often avoided paying for shelter or food, by camping and fishing or gathering I must say that these few weeks have been considerably less stressful than the academic environment I previously found myself in, of course, there were few to no luxuries, like the silky beds, or warm showers, but there was no harassment, no constantly being pushed around by the staff either. It felt... peaceful... In this stillness, my love for magic has been stooked.

No longer having teachers didn't diminish my wish to study at all, in fact, it only increased it, my mind now felt clearer and I was more motivated than ever in this solitude. While in the previous year, I had focused my time only on gaining a great understanding of pyromancy. Now there wasn't a test to get ready to, so I turned my attention towards a more frowned upon type of spell, as it's more akin to Artiicers than mages. "Sigils" are much like runes but differ in that they are more malleable, and easier to produce, while runes tend to be more like powerful imprints of magical intent, Sigils are similar to writing with mana, niche in their uses, they are usually outclassed by Runic encantation, the preferred method used by enchanter smiths. In other words, to add a flaming touch to a sword it's easier to just imprint a rune and a source of magic onto the object, rather than write on it with a surface-level enchantment. But even though they aren't perfect, they will serve me very well, recently I have been using them to create "fire starters", small pieces of wood imprinted with a sigil of fire, their combustive properties are just enough to make a campfire easily if paired with dried sticks and fiber, or to prevent any unwanted critters from getting too close.

It's been fun. Being able to do something useful with my magic is nothing short of amazing. It brings me hope that perhaps someday, they will call me a proper mage. But until then I will wonder, learn, and grow, for however long it takes.

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I finally come back to reality, as I see I have arrived at another village, I ran into a few small ones, no different than this, in the weeks I traveled. I often avoid going inside, my robe would have people swarm me with questions and commonly, even requests, and my heart breaks. For I cannot attend them, but the woods that surround them tend to be a safer place than the further wild. So I decided to set up camp nearby, I spent the remaining morning gathering some fruits and roots that seemed safe for consumption, I usually have a good eye for those, but in any case, if they are close to a village, that points to them not being poisonous, as residents tend to kill plants dangerous to their young or that don't serve a use. I spend the afternoon practicing my sigils, infusing as much mana as I can in the writing of the symbol while I create another useful combustible trinket. As the sun dawns on the horizon my mind wanders to beautiful places. I was always a bit of a dreamer, and alone I often get lost in my mind. It used to bother me, back when I was still enrolled. But no longer, these trips down memory lane have become cherished times, where I can revisit old memories, and relive them with the sobriety of someone who has moved passed them. They may no longer hurt me. Not only memories run through my head, but questions, and wonders, about magic, dreams, and the world, I know so little but want to know so much... I hug my book to my chest, the vessel contains so many secrets and knowledge I have yet to unlock, my lack of natural talent might be a curse in almost every aspect. But at least being forced to slow down has made me see the beauty in every little bit of progress I make.

I feel a shiver, it's cold, time to light the campfire, I take one of the fire starters and throw it on the ground, then I gather a few sticks and dry foliage. Upon covering it completely, I point two fingers at the center of the pile, my preferred way of focusing on a singular point, and take a deep breath, concentrating, imagining the sigil beneath the contents, envisioning sparks, flames, and combustion, creating a path from my finger to the encantation, and letting the energy flow, after not long, a bright sizzle takes place. With a little bit of tempering, I have myself a promising campfire. I get up and stretch, ready to cook the rest of the forage I had not yet nibbled on throughout the day, but before I can proceed further I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me.