Cale rushed inside the house, a wide smile spreading across his face, the small letter gripped tightly in his hand. His heart raced with excitement, but he forced himself to look calm as he approached his mother, who was sitting by the hearth.
Her green eyes lifted to meet his, soft and warm, but there was a quiet, knowing look in them, as if she had sensed something good had happened. She was a young woman with a gentle expression, her slightly blonde hair tied back in a loose knot as she worked on the blouse in her lap. The firelight cast a golden glow on her features, softening the fine lines of her face that spoke of both joy and weariness.
"Why are you so happy, Cale?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she carefully set aside the needle and cloth she had been working on. Her hands, calloused from years of work, rested lightly on her knees as she leaned forward, her full attention on him.
"I walked to the village hall like you told me this morning," Cale began, his voice animated as he eagerly recounted the events of his day. His words tumbled out, and his cheeks were flushed, both from the cold air outside and his bubbling excitement.
His mother smiled, her gaze never leaving him as she listened with a patience that made him feel safe, her hands instinctively reaching for the edges of her apron, fingers brushing against the fabric as if bracing for his news.
"There were a lot of kids, just my age, some even from nearby villages. The mayor was there too, talking to this old, skinny man who had a deep frown on his face. The mayor was really sweet around him for some reason. He smiled all the time," Cale continued, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of the encounter. "Do you know who that man was, Mommy?"
"The man the mayor was talking to was an official from the capital, probably someone very important," she answered, her voice calm, though there was a hint of curiosity too. Her brow furrowed slightly, her fingers gripping her apron a little tighter.
"Are all very important men really grumpy?" Cale asked, the innocence of the question lacing his words, his head tilted slightly as he looked up at her.
"Well, most of them are," his mother replied with a small chuckle, shaking her head as she smiled warmly at him. The sound of her laugh made Cale's heart swell. It was rare for him to see her smile like that, and in that moment, everything felt just right. He vowed silently to make her laugh more often.
"What happened next, Cale?" she asked, her tone eager to hear more, though her eyes reflected a quiet worry that she didn’t voice.
Cale’s excitement grew as he continued. "They lined us up in rows and told us to be quiet. I was all the way in the back, but I could still see two men in robes standing at the front. They took each kid’s hand and closed their eyes for a moment. Then they turned their heads and whispered something to the guard next to them, and then to the kid before them. Some of the kids rushed out, smiling, holding envelopes. Others dragged their feet, their heads low as they left through the door. I was dying to see what was going on."
He paused for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as he relived the tense moment. His voice softened as he spoke of what happened next.
"When the old robed man took my hand, his face twisted into a deep frown. For some reason, he looked so sad, and I couldn't figure out why. But then, despite that frown, he told me, 'Congratulations, Cale. You’re a magician.'"
For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire. Cale’s mother’s face lit up in surprise and joy. She rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight hug, almost lifting him off the ground. Her voice trembled with excitement as she exclaimed, "Cale! My Cale, a magician! Oh, your father will be so proud!"
Her hands cupped his face, her eyes shimmering with tears that reflected the dancing firelight. "Do you know what this means? Your grandfather... he was a fire mage, Cale. It’s in your blood! Oh, I knew it! I knew there was something special about you from the moment you were born."
"I know, Mom," Cale said with a roll of his eyes, though he couldn’t suppress a small smile. "You’ve told me about him a hundred times." He pulled the envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. "The man in the robe told me to give you this."
His mother took the envelope with trembling hands, her smile widening as she recognized it. It was the letter that would reveal Cale’s magical characteristics—his affinity to an element, his mana levels, and more. It was the kind of letter that every child who showed promise as a magician hoped to receive.
She tore open the envelope, her hands moving quickly, eager to see what it held. As she read, her smile slowly began to falter, the color draining from her face. A heavy silence filled the room. Her hands trembled as she continued to read, the words seeming to weigh heavier with each passing second.
Finally, she stopped, the paper crinkling in her grip. Her legs felt weak as she stumbled back, her feet unsteady. She collapsed into a nearby chair, the letter still clutched in her hand.
On the paper, in bold, stark letters, it read:
Cale Durand
Affinity: Metal
The words hung in the air, sharp and cold. Cale stood frozen, the excitement and pride from earlier now melting into a deep confusion.
His mother’s face was pale, her eyes distant as she stared at the letter. For a moment, she said nothing, her breath shallow.
Then, quietly, almost to herself, she whispered, “Metal...” Her voice was lost in the shock. The letter, which had once seemed like a symbol of pride, now felt like an anchor weighing them both down.
Cale had always tried so hard to please her, to make her proud, but now... he wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. His heart sank as he wondered if this letter, this revelation, meant that he wasn’t enough.
"Wait here, Cale," his mother instructed. Her voice wavered, and her fingers gripped the letter tightly. "I need to speak with your father."
She hurried out the door, leaving Cale standing alone. The quiet of the house was deafening, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant sound of footsteps fading into the night. Cale sank onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He tried to distract himself with the small wooden toys his father had made him years ago, but the weight of the silence pressed heavily on him.
Minutes stretched into hours. The sun dipped below the horizon, and shadows crept across the walls. Cale's heart sank further with each passing moment. Finally, as the last traces of daylight disappeared, the door creaked open.
His father entered first, his usual broad smile replaced with a somber expression. His strong, sturdy frame seemed smaller somehow, as though he carried an invisible burden that weighed him down. Without a word, he crossed the room and knelt before Cale, pulling him into a firm embrace. Cale's face was buried against his father’s chest, and he felt the tremors of silent sobs shaking his father’s body.
"Dad, why are you crying?" Cale asked, his voice small and unsure.
His father pulled back just enough to look into Cale’s eyes. "I’m... I’m just so happy to see you," he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the emotion he was trying to suppress. It didn’t sound like happiness at all.
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A moment later, his mother appeared in the doorway, her face pale and drawn. She carried a small cake in her hands, the frosting uneven but lovingly made. Her smile was faint, almost forced, as she stepped inside.
"Did I do something wrong?" Cale asked, his voice trembling. His gaze darted between his parents, searching for reassurance.
"No, dear," his mother said, setting the cake on the table. Her voice was soft but strained. "You didn’t do anything wrong."
She knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around both him and his father. Her voice wavered as she spoke. "What do you say, Cale? Would you like some cake?"
Cale’s face lit up, the heaviness in his chest momentarily lifting. They only ever had cake on special occasions, and he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had one. "Yes! I’d love some... if it’s not too much trouble."
His mother’s smile widened slightly, and she kissed the top of his head. "It’s no trouble at all, my love."
The three of them sat together by the hearth, sharing the cake in quiet companionship. The taste was sweet, but the air was heavy with unspoken words.
After finishing the cake, Cale let out a big yawn, his small body finally succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. His parents exchanged a glance, and his father smiled gently.
“Come on, son,” his father said, his deep voice soothing as he stood and stretched out a hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Cale nodded sleepily, taking his father’s calloused hand as they walked together to his room. The familiar scent of wood and the faint metallic tang of his father’s forge clung to him, comforting and warm. His mother trailed behind, her face shadowed with an expression Cale couldn’t quite read.
Once in his small room, Cale crawled onto the modest bed, pulling the thin quilt over himself. His father sat on the edge of the mattress, the bed creaking slightly under his weight. The warm glow of the lantern lit the room softly, casting long shadows that danced across the walls.
“Would you like me to tell you a story tonight?” his father asked, his voice low and steady.
Cale’s face lit up with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Yes, please! Can you tell me about the Titan again?”
His father chuckled, ruffling Cale’s tousled black hair. “The Titan? You never get tired of that one, do you?”
“Nope,” Cale replied, snuggling deeper into his blanket. “He’s the strongest mage ever! I want to be like him someday.”
The mention of the Titan brought a flicker of something unspoken to his father’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Alright, then. The Titan it is.”
As his father began weaving the tale, Cale listened intently, his wide brown eyes fixed on his father’s face.
“A long time ago,” his father began, “there was a mage like no other. His name was whispered with reverence, for he had mastered the strongest of all affinities: Metal. The Titan’s power was unmatched; he could bend steel with a thought, forge weapons from thin air, and command armies with his strength. But he wasn’t just strong…”
“He was kind,” Cale interrupted eagerly. “You always say he was kind!”
His father laughed softly. “That’s right, son. He was kind. He used his strength to protect the weak, to build instead of destroy. But his path wasn’t an easy one. Many feared his power, and even those he protected often turned against him.”
As his father continued the story, Cale’s eyelids grew heavier. But just as he was about to drift off, a question popped into his mind. He blinked himself awake and asked, “Dad? What was in the letter?”
The room fell silent for a moment. His father’s smile faded slightly, and he glanced over at Cale’s mother, who stood by the doorway, her hands clasped tightly together. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “The letter… it told us something special about you, Cale.”
Cale’s curiosity piqued. He sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. “What did it say?”
His father hesitated, his large hands rubbing together as if searching for the right words. “It said you have an affinity, son. An affinity for Metal.”
For a moment, Cale’s face was blank, the words sinking in. Then, all at once, he jumped up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Metal? Like the Titan? That’s amazing! I’m going to be strong, just like him! I’m going to help everyone!”
His enthusiasm was infectious, but instead of sharing his joy, his mother let out a small, choked sob and rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house.
Cale froze, his smile faltering. “What happened? Did I say something wrong?”
His father’s broad shoulders seemed to slump, and he reached out, pulling Cale into a tight hug. “No, son. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your mother… she’s just happy. She’s overwhelmed, that’s all.”
But the crack in his father’s voice betrayed his words. Cale felt his father’s rough hand move to his own face, rubbing away tears that had begun to spill over.
“Dad?” Cale whispered, his small voice trembling. “Why are you crying? Are you sad?”
His father pulled back just enough to look into Cale’s eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not sad, Cale. I’m just… proud of you. You’re going to do great things, son. I know it.”
Cale’s lip quivered, unsure what to make of the strange mix of emotions in the room. “Do you want to tell me another story, Dad?” he asked, his voice small and hopeful.
His father smiled faintly, though the sadness in his eyes remained. “Of course. How about the story of the brave blacksmith who forged a sword strong enough to slay a dragon?”
Cale nodded eagerly, though a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, something he didn’t fully understand. As his father began the story, Cale leaned against him, comforted by the familiar cadence of his voice and the warmth of his presence. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop wondering why his mother had left, or why his father’s smile no longer reached his eyes.
Outside the room, his mother stood by the doorway, her back pressed against the wall. Silent tears streamed down her face as she clutched the edge of her apron. She wanted so desperately to be strong for Cale, to share in his joy, but the weight of the truth pressed down on her heart. She wiped her tears quickly, steeling herself before stepping back into the room, her voice steady but her heart aching.
“That’s enough stories for tonight,” she said gently, sitting down beside them. She wrapped an arm around both of them, holding them close as they sat in the soft glow of the lantern.
For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
Cale woke up in the middle of the night, clutching his stomach as it churned uncomfortably. Too much cake, he thought, grimacing slightly as he slid out of bed. The room was dark, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the thin curtains, but he didn’t bother to light a lantern. He knew the house well enough to navigate by memory.
He tiptoed down the hall, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that might wake his parents. The quiet of the night seemed louder than usual, every sound amplified in the stillness. His goal was the small bathroom at the back of the house, but as he passed his parents' room, he paused.
A soft glow seeped through the gap beneath their door, and he froze when he heard the sound of muffled sobbing. His mother’s sobbing.
Curiosity and worry mingled in his chest as he leaned closer, his small frame pressing lightly against the wooden door. The voices inside were faint but unmistakable.
"Marge..." his father’s deep voice rumbled softly. "What are we going to do?"
"Why, Ellis?" his mother’s voice cracked, thick with anguish. "Why is this happening to us?"
Cale’s brow furrowed as he strained to hear more.
"Why do they have to take my little boy away?" his mother continued, her words barely audible through her sobs. "Maybe... maybe we can run away. Go somewhere they can’t find us."
A heavy silence followed, one that seemed to stretch endlessly in the dark. Then his father spoke again, his voice quieter but no less firm. "We can’t do it, Marge. You heard the stories. You know what happens to families who run."
Cale’s heart skipped a beat. "Take me away?" he mouthed silently, his young mind racing. Who was going to take him? Why would anyone want to?
The weight of his father’s words hung heavily in the air, but Cale didn’t wait to hear more. Fear prickled at his skin as he stepped back, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. He quickly made his way to the bathroom, though his thoughts were far from his aching stomach now.
When he returned down the hall, the light from his parents’ room was gone, the house once again plunged into darkness. He hesitated briefly outside their door, the earlier sobs echoing in his mind, but no sound came from within. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he hurried back to his room.
Lying in bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts a storm of confusion and unease. His parents’ words replayed over and over in his head, each repetition making him feel smaller and more helpless.
"Why do they have to take my little boy away?" his mother’s voice echoed in his mind.
"Who’s going to take me?" Cale murmured to himself, the question circling endlessly. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, seeking comfort that refused to come.
The night stretched on, but no matter how hard he tried, sleep eluded him. His mind was too full of questions, fears, and the lingering sadness of his mother’s sobs.