The attic was thick with the chill that seeped through the cracks and crevices of the old wooden building. Despite the extra blankets Viktor and Arelos had managed to scrounge up, the cold was relentless, settling into their bones and keeping them on the edge of comfort. The attic offered shelter from the cutting winter wind, but the draft slipping through the warped wooden slats whispered of the harsher days they were yet to face.
Arelos stood by the window, his gaze lost in the pastel wash of the snow-blanketed landscape outside. A worn blanket was draped tightly around his shoulders, providing a meager barrier against the chill that had robbed them of sleep on so many bleak nights.
Viktor was perched against the opposite wall, the cold air biting at his cheeks. Distant sounds of the city were muted, wrapped tightly in the folds of a snowy embrace, and the usual bustle felt a million miles away. It was cold enough to discourage another fruitless search for work today, and they both knew the low returns weren’t worth braving the winter chill.
The quiet of the attic was heavy, filled with thoughts unsaid, allowing each boy refuge within his carefully guarded walls. Viktor fidgeted idly with a copper coin, letting it roll over his knuckles before grasping it with his fingers. Despite the contemplative calm, his mind drifted back to memories of the cave—a time when he had found the first glimpses of something more within himself, a whisper of magic. He scarcely dared to believe it hadn’t all been a grief-fueled delusion.
His heart hammered quietly within his chest as his eyes fixed on the coin lying flat upon the floorboards. His curiosity piqued, a gentle yet deliberate resolve surged—an urge to connect with the elusive power he had once touched. Drawing a deep breath, Viktor focused, reaching out with his mind towards the small copper disk.
For a fleeting second, it felt like nothing; a mere imagining. But he persevered, allowing everything else to slip away—the chill, the quiet, the looming shadows of fear and doubt. Wrapped within his concentration, Viktor found the thread of magic that had whispered to him so long ago.
The air around him seemed to vibrate subtly, and unease blossomed into potential. Minutes passed, stretching into something beyond time, and as Viktor held the thread taut within his mind, the coin began to tremble. A shiver of excitement ran through him, feeding back into his focus, and with determination that forgot everything but the moment, he willed the coin upwards.
It lifted lightly, a feather's width at first, before hovering slightly higher, suspended as though unsure where to rest. The sight of it teetering upon the cusp of gravity unleashed a surge of inexplicable joy within Viktor—a triumph woven in breathless disbelief.
A sudden gasp broke the silence, shattering Viktor’s concentration and sending the coin plummeting back to the floorboards with a soft clink. He jerked back, blinking at Arelos who had turned from the window with eyes widened in incredulity.
"How did you do that?" Arelos demanded, his voice a hushed mix of astonishment and curiosity. His usually steady countenance was replaced by an expression of sheer wonder.
Viktor hesitated, words catching in his throat as he grappled with the desire to explain the inexplicable. His pulse raced, the exhilaration of success mingled with the terror of revealing this fragment of himself.
Arelos stepped forward, gaze bouncing between Viktor and the copper, excitement flooding his voice as he pressed for an answer. "Viktor, you moved it! How did you make it...float?"
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Arelos continued to scrutinize Viktor, eyes bright with uncontained curiosity. "Are you a mage, Viktor? Why haven’t you told me that you could do magic?" His questions came in rapid succession, laden with excitement and a hunger for understanding. "What else can you do?"
Viktor held up his hands in a gesture of caution, attempting to rein in Arelos’ enthusiasm. Despite his own astonishment, Viktor felt the weight of expectation pressing down on him—the realization that there was far more to this newfound ability than he understood.
“I’m not really sure I am a full mage,” Viktor confessed, his voice a mix of humility and uncertainty. "I suppose I have some magical potential, yes, but it’s a pathetic amount if you ask me. You saw what I just did—that’s pretty much all there is. I wasn’t even sure if I could do that until just now." He paused, absorbing the gravity of his own admission. "Before, I was led to believe that I didn’t possess the gift at all. So, even I'm surprised."
Arelos nodded, processing Viktor’s words with a thoughtful expression. "I’ve never seen actual magic in real life before," he admitted, the wonder in his voice unmasked. "Even if it’s a small amount, it’s still incredible to witness."
Viktor met his gaze, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "I don’t know how much it really matters," he said quietly, his tone laced with doubt. "And as for what else I can do, well… what you saw is essentially it. Just lifting that coin, nothing more."
"But," Arelos interjected, his eyes glinting with a hopeful gleam, "is it an ability you can somehow grow? I mean, can you get better at it?"
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Viktor pondered the question, realization dawning slowly as he reflected on the instinctive pull he felt during that brief moment of connection. "I guess it could be," Viktor conceded, his voice thoughtful. "Initially, I couldn’t even do what you saw me do just now. So, maybe it can be grown, but…" Viktor hesitated, doubting the potential of such growth. "I doubt you could do much with it."
Before Viktor could continue, Arelos’ eagerness cut through the air like a beacon in the fog. "We should develop this talent," Arelos suggested earnestly, his enthusiasm infectious. "Who knows what you might be able to accomplish given time and practice?"
Viktor looked at Arelos, seeing the spark of unyielding determination and belief shining in his friend’s eyes. It rekindled something within him—a whisper of hope, however overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. Together, they shared a moment of clarity, a quiet resolve formed between them.
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Arelos, eyes alight with eagerness, encouraged Viktor to display more of his newfound ability. Seizing upon the palpable sense of fascination that hung in the air, Viktor attempted to repeat his earlier success with a certain nervous energy. Arelos perched himself nearby, observing with intense curiosity.
Viktor returned his attention to the coin, trying to replicate the sensation he had previously touched upon. He focused his mind, drawing on the mysterious thread that connected him to the coin. It was a subtle, elusive thing, but with steady concentration, he felt the now-familiar ripple of power within him.
The coin began to tremble again, lifting slowly off the floor. Arelos’ eyes widened with each inch it hovered, suspended in the air by Viktor’s will alone. Though the feat was modest, it was heralded as remarkable by Arelos, who knew the ability required something unique.
“Do it again!” Arelos urged, the excitement in his voice palpable, as though each repetition might unfurl another layer of Viktor’s latent potential.
Viktor drew in a deep breath, focusing once more. Each time the coin lifted, suspended mid-air by his force of will, a novel glow of pride resonated within him—evidence that there might indeed be more to his abilities than he had dared to dream.
After several demonstrations, the coin’s fluttering entrechats inducing an infectious energy within the attic, Arelos turned toward Viktor, an idea brewing in his mind. In his pragmatic manner, he suggested, “We need structure. Without any resources or insight that a mage might have, we must rely on ingenuity.”
Viktor’s interest peaked at this concept, a passion unleashed by exploration, and murmured, “What do you propose?”
Arelos considered the question thoughtfully, the gears of his analytical mind turning swiftly. “Data and progression tracking will be essential,” Arelos expounded, his voice steady with conviction. “Just like your old tutor, Barath, would tell you, right?
Viktor let the mention of Barath draw out an element of nostalgia, infusing him with a new wave of determination. “Yes, measuring everything sounds like something Barath might suggest. We could use chalk to mark distances and track heights, measure how far and how high I can lift things.” Viktor grew animated, the idea sparking a latent sense of excitement within him. “We could source objects of varying weight, test out what the heaviest thing I can lift is.”
Arelos, invigorated with the shared endeavor, suggested, “We should also track how long you can keep each object in the air. Duration, height, weight—it all helps us explore the boundaries of your ability.”
Together, they formed a plan, one forged by collaboration and bound by an eagerness to push the limits of what lay hidden in Viktor’s potential.
“Let’s do it!” Viktor exclaimed with enthusiasm, buoyed by the newfound direction.
Arelos nodded, a flicker of determination lighting his gaze. “I’ll head to the market to get chalk.”
“Great idea,” Viktor agreed. “And I’ll look for some rocks of different weights.”
Arelos set off toward the market in search of chalk, determined to support Viktor’s growing exploration of magic. Meanwhile, Viktor scoured the area around their hideout, searching for a variety of stones with varied weights—a task both mundane yet integral to the grand scheme of their experimentation.
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Back in the attic after their respective expeditions, the allocated corner space was bustling with energy and excitement. Viktor gathered the stones he had found, placing them near a marked area where the aged wood had been dusted off and few lines had been etched with a piece of sharp stone. His heart thudded with anticipation.
Arelos arrived, a small pouch of chalk powder clutched tightly in his hand. He greeted Viktor with his characteristic reserved nod, which carried within it the weight of accomplishment that only Arelos could convey.
“Found what you were looking for?” Viktor asked, pointing to the pouch.
Arelos opened his hand, revealing the contents for Viktor to see. “Got lucky,” Arelos remarked evenly, “Lady at a stall was happy to part with these for next to nothing since they’re usually used to mark vendor stalls.”
Viktor grinned, grateful for Arelos’s resourcefulness. “Great,” he replied, his voice tinged with the same zest that consumed his thoughts. “Let’s get started then.”
Focused on their task, the boys set to work, Viktor drawing lines on the attic floor with the chalk to measure the distance and height from the ground for every object. Each rock found a specific position in their setup, carefully placed to maximize the training plan's efficiency. Arelos, overseeing the arrangement with his usual practical eye, noted every detail diligently.
An eager excitement coursed through Viktor as he settled into his first focused attempt. The knot of uncertainty that had bubbled inside him was now replaced by an unwavering determination—a velvet shadow pinned by hopeful potential. The boys worked as a team, the air around them vibrating with a mix of trepidation laced anticipation.
Attempt after attempt, Viktor used the techniques Arelos and he had agreed upon. The attic, usually cast in muted shadows, became alive with the rustle of their shared endeavor. The first few trials were met with shakiness; each object quivered hesitantly before succumbing to gravity’s unrelenting tether. But Viktor persisted energetically, buoyed by the support of his friend.
Their nascent training routine settled into their day-to-day lives with comforting fluidity. The attic, formerly nothing but a refuge, turned into a sanctuary of innovation and exploration, their laughter mingling with hushed exclamations punctuating success.
Between shifts at the Outrider’s Den and other odd jobs, Viktor and Arelos invested any spare minute into fine-tuning the minutiae of Viktor’s newfound talent.
Progress was slow, initially marked by cautious optimism and cautious divine disbelief, but steadily, the hurdles of each attempt became ladders. With steadfast practice, the levitations grew more assured; heights once thought insurmountable whispered encouragement, and duration stretched from fleeting moments into seconds that bathed victoriously in cosmic welcome.