At the top of a hill, where the excessively trampled grass was no longer able to grow, two boys were engaged in a friendly swordfight that they engaged in as often as the opportunity arose.

Nyto, the shorter of the two, aged seventeen, with short black hair and cerulean-blue eyes, was cornered by the relentless attacks of his tenacious opponent, who sensed that the fateful moment of his total and absolute victory was approaching. Nyto stepped back, deflecting the repeated offensives until he felt the wooden sword graze his leather breastplate. He knew he was weakening. The duel would soon be over and he would be defeated.

As soon as he succeeded in dispossessing Nyto of his weapon, the taller boy, a year his junior, raised his arms to the sky and shouted in exultation: 

“Victory! You're going to have to train harder, Messire Nyto Sirey.”

Luka threw down his weapon in triumph and brushed back his chestnut hair in a single movement, while Nyto had to accept his defeat and bow to the man who had defeated him, before looking at his wooden weapon, which bore the marks of long, hard-fought battles.

“It's been months since I've been able to defeat you, Luka, I have no talent for the sword and you know it very well,” said Nyto, gazing up at the morning sky.

As soon as Nyto had said those words, he sat down heavily at the top of the hill where they had been fighting until then.

“You know, I can let you win next time.,” Luka said.

“Don't even think about it, I wouldn't forgive you, I don't care about the result, all I want is to enjoy our duels and give it everything I've got.”

Luka watched his friend, whose gaze was lost somewhere in the rare clouds that covered the plains of Fhang. Nyto, for his part, looked more downcast than usual, yet his eyes seemed content, almost serene.

The second sun began to rise, immediately increasing warmth and luminosity while lulling the two boys with a warm wind from the south.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class, right now?" Nyto asked, as he watched the star named Li appear in the distance.

“I'm as good with magic as you are with a sword, so I'll go to Fay-Ilis later, or tomorrow, or never, it doesn't matter.

Fay-Ilis was built in the center of the continent of Faÿrum, home to Nyto and Luka, a huge university where children with this rare aptitude were taught magic from the age of four. Joining the university was a privilege as rare as it was prestigious, yet it was not impossible for a student with insufficient skills or inadequate attendance to be excluded. Nyto knew that his friend was waiting for the day when he would be released from his obligation to study at Fay-Ilis. He also knew that this outcome would be painful for him. Others before him had been excluded, some by choice. All had suffered.

A larger cloud appeared in the sky, hiding the first sun, Lo, making its presence almost imperceptible, heralding a bad omen.

Luka reflexively straightened up and observed with renewed intensity this phenomenon, which rarely occurred on the plains of Fhang, which enjoyed a radiant climate most of the time. A wave of dread swept through him and forced him to leap to his feet, looking around him for what had given him that strange feeling, when his gaze met that of an imposing colossus, nearly seven feet tall, with a hard face and heavy step.

“Nyto..." he said, taking a step back.

Snapping out of his self-reflection upon hearing his name, he looked at his friend, who was sweating profusely, his brown eyes narrowed in their sockets, terror-stricken, he began to back away at an almost imperceptible speed, before standing up in turn and directing his gaze towards the man who was approaching in long strides. Nyto recognized him at a glance and hesitated between amusement and terror. Luka's guardian had just appeared and he was furious.

“Logical, considering his offspring isn't where he should be.” 

A young girl followed the colossus in his shadow; she might have gone unnoticed if Nyto hadn't been struck by the sun's reflection on her long blond curled hair.

“I don't think you'll be able to escape him, Luka, this man is the fastest in Mystria, and I guarantee you he wouldn't appreciate having to chase you across the plains.”

Luka knew how unthinkable it was to hope to escape the giant of Mystria, the man with whom he had lived since he had landed in Faÿrum and joined the village of Mystria at its center, when he was just three years old. His short black hair and unkempt beard gave him the air of a dangerous bandit, but Jey was a man as powerful as he was kind, tolerant and patient, up to a point, who worked as the village carpenter, building and renovating houses, stables and even furniture.

Jey also showed considerable patience in his role as Luka's adoptive father; he had never shouted at or hit the boy for any reason and was proud of it, having often found that others failed to control their children, adopted or otherwise, without resorting to some form of violence. That day was different. Jey was angry, and he wouldn't hesitate to show it.

The man shouted as he approached the two boys, who were holding their wooden swords tightly, trying to convince themselves that they would protect them from the colossus' fury: 

“LUKA!”

Jey, unperturbed, continued his approach, those twigs representing no obstacle for him who had decided to severely admonish the boy in front of him.

When he reached the top of the hill, Jey looked Luka up and down without saying a word, his dark eyes like those of a predator ready to pounce on his prey, his clenched fists testifying to his anger, while his resolutely clenched square jaw made Luka fear that this time he had abused the carpenter's kindness.

“Nyto, it's imperative that we get home as soon as possible, mom has asked me to come and fetch you,” said a gentle voice from behind the giant, who was still glaring at the boy in his charge.

Nyto's little sister Fleur bore little resemblance to him, her long curly blond hair and emerald green eyes giving her the look of a princess, while her brother had the appearance of a mischievous thug ready to do anything to get his way. 

Despite her fifteen years, she was more mature than her brother or their friends.

“Sorry Luka, I've got to go and... good luck,” murmured Nyto, before slipping away with his sister, taking care to step around Jey so as not to incur his wrath by getting too close.

The next moment, Jey and Luka were the only ones left on the hill, watching each other like a wild beast and its prey. Each considering how best to proceed in order to emerge victorious from the silent confrontation. Out of the corner of his eye, Luka saw his friend and sister disappear into the distance, allowing Jey to loosen his teeth.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Luka, Fay-Ilis is still to the NORTH of Mystria, so why do I find you to the SOUTH of our village at a time when you should be at the University of Magic?”

“I was planning to go later... or maybe tomorrow? It doesn't matter anyway.”

“It doesn't matter?” thundered the man. “You're not talented enough to never show up for class, nor are you weak enough to exclude yourself from that place. Gather your things and follow me, we're going home.”

Luka hadn't had the chance to protest, the human colossus had started walking straight away and had no intention of wasting any time. It was more than preferable not to force him to turn around, and he knew it. 

He picked up his gray shirt, which he had taken off for his duel with Nyto, and set off with long strides in the hope of keeping up with him.

Both headed north to the village of Mystria, where they lived, and it would take them just over an hour to get there, Luka, having made a habit of going to the hill where he fought Nyto before Jey arrived, in order to observe the infamous Ti-Tam forest, a cursed place from which there was no return if you ever ventured too deep. 

Less than a year before, a group of children Luka didn't know had disappeared inside these woods, and all had been warned not to go near them under any circumstances. As he followed Jey, he also found himself observing the Dragon King's mountains to the west - the considerable distance meant he could only make out their outlines, yet observing them often soothed him. He had never approached them as he did Ti-Tam, aware that most places outside the human villages were dangerous, often attacked by hordes of savage creatures whose characteristics oscillated between devious stealth and blood-curdling barbarity.

Luka had never crossed paths with any of those beings, who didn't venture so close to the University of Magic or Mystria; he knew them only from the culture he had managed to accumulate in the various libraries of Fay-Ilis.

Faÿrum's flora and fauna no longer held any secrets for him, nor did the creatures that once littered the continent; dragons were known to all, yet almost everyone was unaware of their deadly battles against the scourges of yesteryear that had brought relative peace to the continent. Luka, on the other hand, was fascinated by those legends, and although he couldn't conceive of the appearance of a scourge due to the descriptions being wildly contradictory, he was able to say that they had been some of the most powerful creatures to ever exist.

“Stop daydreaming Luka, I'm in a hurry, and so are you,” snapped Jey, without turning around.

Hastening his pace, he began to see the village of Mystria appear in the distance, it would still be some time before they reached it, however, the plains of Fhang were as vast as they were flat, offering a real difference in level only on the rarest of occasions, which was one of the attractions of the hill from which the two men had come. The vegetation was no more exciting, with tall grass as far as the eye could see and a handful of trees serving as haunts for those unfamiliar with the area. There were also rare copses to the north and more open clearings to the east, places Luka almost never visited.

Luka's gaze then wandered eastwards, into a vastness even more frightening than the Dragon King's mountains, beyond the plains of Fhang, a hostile natural labyrinth devoid of the slightest escape: the plains of Asara also stretched as far as the eye could see, linking hills and valleys which, according to his meager knowledge, repeated themselves over several hundreds of miles. 

No one had ventured into the plains of Asara for a long time, or, to be more precise, no one had returned to tell its story. As with the forest of Ti-Tam or the mountains of the Dragon King, there were many tales of individuals, more or less powerful, more or less unaware, who had the bad idea of venturing there, never to return.

The surrounding lands were hostile, yet Luka often found himself dreaming of traveling there.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Jey's deep voice reminded him of the situation he was in.

“We're going home, you're putting down your piece of wood, getting your things and heading for Fay-Ilis,” ordered Jey as he entered the village of Mystria, greeting two guards to whom he paid no attention.

“There's no point, it's several hours' walk and I'll be far too late…”

“Just do as I say and don't bother me with the details.”

Mystria was a village of around two hundred dwellings, most of which looked the same because they had been created by Jey and the few apprentices he had trained over the years, each with a subtle unique aspect that set it apart from its neighbors, a facet of Jey's creativity and soul that went into every single one of his creations, no matter how minor.

The houses were all composed of a main room, with two to four smaller rooms at the back to provide all residents with personal bedrooms. 

Apart from the two main alleys, the houses were spaced out and positioned without any real logic, some were almost glued together while others were isolated. 

Jey also hated parallelism and had proved it time and again. 

Three buildings, however, differed from the traditional format: the inn, right in the center of the village, the stables to the north, and the watchtowers located at the four cardinal points, where two soldiers, also loyal to Fay-Ilis, stood at all times. None of these buildings had been built by Jey, nor any of those belonging to the two main alleys, although he carried out maintenance on them on a daily basis, except for the stables, for which he never found the time. He didn’t care for horses.

Jey's house was located on the main road that cut through the village from north to south, between the inn and the stables. They entered and Jey sat down heavily on a chair that was, in all likelihood, unique and suited to the build of this man of phenomenal power.

As Luka sheepishly made his way to the exit, he heard Jey say in a weary voice: 

“You're almost an adult now, and I'm tired of chasing you to more and more remote places just to give you access to your potential. Today will probably be the last time I treat you like a child, so listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you: it's been several years now since you gave up, and I've been trying to give you an ounce of motivation for almost as long. I'm almost certain I've failed in my role, and it pains me more than you can imagine. This is my final lesson as the adoptive father of a little mage who was considered a prodigy when he was entrusted to my care; you are at the crossroads of your future, on the one hand you can continue to practice, learn and improve your magic, on the other you can let this rare gift wither and disappear forever. If you choose the first option, there will always be time to change your mind later, whereas if you give up, you'll never be able to go back, and you'll lose access to unsuspected flavors and visions forever.”

“I already know all that…” replied Luka, his eyes fixed on the ground, shrugging his shoulders.

“And yet, despite this knowledge, you stubbornly remain stagnant. Which do you think is worse, continuing your mage education or giving up on the idea of becoming one?”

“Giving up, I suppose?”

“WRONG! The worst choice you can make is to do none at all, to sporadically attend classes that don't excite you while pretending to be incompetent. The worst choice you can make is the one of inaction, the one you've been locked into for almost two years now. This will be my final warning before I let you live your life as you wish without ever again judging your choices and desires, so try not to forget: inaction, Luka, is the most corrosive thing in this world. Success and failure both allow you to move forward and find your way, but inaction will condemn you day after day to an even worse fate.”

“It's not so simple, Jey…”

“I don't remember ever lying to you.”

“I've never said otherwise, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not the talented mage you all see in me, I've got a decent level in a few schools of magic, that's about it, it's been years since I've made any progress, no matter how hard I tried, I didn't start stagnating because it felt good, I've reached my limit, that's all.”

“If you really believe what you’re saying, you're even more lost than I imagined," said Jey with a sad look on his face.

Luka, tired of being criticized at every turn, wanted to leave the premises as soon as possible, but just as he was thinking of a clever strategy to get away, someone started knocking on the door, using the guards' code. After questioning Jey with his eyes, he received permission to open the door and saw a Fay-Ilis captain in immaculate silver armor, equipped with a three-peaked helmet he didn't recognize. The face protected by the helmet, on the other hand, he recognized immediately. In front of him was one of his oldest friends

“Tim?” asked Luka, surprised.

“Are you ready? Hurry up,”

Captain Tim Arleon was, like Luka, a sixteen-year-old boy. The similarities ended there: Tim was a teenager with an imposing build, his short-cropped blond hair betrayed that he belonged to the soldiers, while his dark green eyes gave the illusion that he was capable of piercing all the secrets of his interlocutors, and he had no magical abilities whatsoever.

“One of the Fay-Ilis magi has asked me to come and get you, and you're summoned to accompany me as soon as possible,” said the captain, stamping his foot on the ground.

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Luka heaved a long, weary sigh and followed him without delay, aware of how little choice he had.

Under Jey's worried gaze, Tim and Luka left the house and made their way to the somewhat dilapidated stables to the north of the village to mount the horses Tim had chosen to take them to Fay-Ilis as quickly as possible.

The two friends trotted along the cobbled, pine-lined road leading to Fay-Ilis without exchanging a word. Luka was pensive; Jey's words had touched him more than he cared to admit, and he replayed them over and over before recalling a time so long ago that he had to clear the fog from his mind to remember it; his arrival in Faÿrum was his first vivid memory, and as he disembarked from the dragon-headed boat, he saw Jey the colossus glaring at him as he had done on the hill earlier in the day. From that moment on, Luka had feared the man who was to become his most loyal protector, yet it would take him many years to succeed in conversing with him.

“This is the first time they've sent me after a recalcitrant child, Luka,” said Tim.

On the horizon, the high towers of the university were beginning to come into view behind the trees lining the road they were trotting along, the objective towering before them, Luka pouted as he thought of the welcome he would receive there.

“Where should I go?” asked Luka .

“To Fay-Ilis.”

“I know... Where exactly? If they sent you, surely they want me to go somewhere specific? The dean? The general?”

“No idea, he asked me to drag you to Fay-Ilis. By force if necessary.”

An evil smile appeared on Tim's face, almost as if he wished it had come to this.

“Who, Tim?”

“You'll find out soon enough.”

The massive walls of the university were only a few yards away when Tim forced his horse to stop, watching Luka who did the same and he took a deep breath.

“If the professor asked me to come and get you, it's because he still believes in you, and if I have to come and get you again, I won't be quite so pleasant.”

Without giving Luka a chance to reply, Tim had already begun riding his horse towards the west gate.

Luka reluctantly forced himself to make his way to the southern entrance of Fay-Ilis University of Magic. He didn't know what the rest of his day would be like; the only thing he knew for sure was that it wouldn't be enjoyable.

He set off again, heading without further ado for the building's massive twenty-six feet entrance gates, guarded by two soldiers in full bluish armor whose sole purpose was to protect the mages studying inside.

With a wave, he greeted the guards, whose names he didn't know. They immediately recognized him, accustomed as they were to seeing him at unlikely hours, and he gave the bridle of his horse to one of them, who was going to take care of housing it in the stables next to the university. He saw the soldiers smiling mockingly, but they quickly lost their smiles and looked serious again, remembering that he was a mage from the university. Although he was undoubtedly late, they still owed him respect, for according to the hierarchical scale, a student of Fay-Ilis was already of a higher rank than a simple soldier. No matter their rank. With one exception: the general.

Luka didn't get too indignant; he didn't waste his time feeling superior to anyone, and he knew deep down that he was going to have enough problems without getting into any more trouble with the university guards.

He passed through the gates of the first perimeter wall into the inner garden, which stretched around the main building and was accessible only to novice mages and soldiers of the University of Fay-Ilis. Every flower, every plant, every tree had been created and grown to maturity using specific magical formulas and concepts. None of the plants had been given the opportunity to grow naturally, which is why the colors varied and gave a strange impression to strangers, but Luka was used to it, and loved these plants with their improbable hues, mixed with others that actually seemed to belong in this immense patchwork of vegetation as absurd as it was improbable. For him, it was the most beautiful part of Fay-Ilis, but also the one where he spent the least time. Only apprentice mages of the lowest rank, ‘beginners,’ used the gardens to improve their skills and find out if they had any affinity with that type of magic. This was not at all the case for Luka, who recalled his rare attempts with shame. “It really wasn't for me...” he remembered with a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he lowered his eyes.

He then proceeded to enter the heart of the main building, which lay behind the second perimeter wall and heralded a place that was now covered, protected forever from the rare rains that visited the university over the years.

The seventy feet high stone walls were dazzlingly white, while the heavy oak doors were adorned with an obsidian black that hypnotized whoever looked at it for too long, bearing various motifs that Luka couldn't decipher, depending on their location; like almost everything else in the University of Fay-Ilis, the structures had been, for the most part, fashioned or improved using magic and were absolutely resistant to it, as well as to most traditional siege weapons.

The hierarchy was strict. The more advanced a mage's rank was, the deeper he could penetrate into the university. There were seven ranks in total, and Luka was a mage who belonged only to the second category: ‘initiates,’ he was therefore entitled to enter the first two walls, the first giving access to the gardens and the second allowing access to the first covered area, but was denied access inside the third wall and beyond.

There were situations in which students could enter areas to which they had no access, but until then, Luka had never benefited from a special dispensation, and he had never seen what the university looked like beyond the third wall.

Each sector of Fay-Ilis had buildings reserved for certain activities; the first three all included a personal library, dormitories for magi and a training room. There were also buildings reserved for university guards, also accessible according to their respective ranks. 

Luka wasn't a very curious boy, he didn’t feel the need to learn powerful magics just to venture into the secret rooms of the university he didn't like very much... which contributed to his growing disinterest in the lessons.

He then made his way to a door on his right, which gave access to the library. He knew that there were more libraries for higher ranked magi but had never been allowed to consult them.

Luka headed for one of the main lecture halls of the University of Fay-Ilis and as soon as he entered the library, Luka felt the tension building around him. All eyes were on him, all but two. Those of his current teacher. The memorable professor Naalthin Ka.

The man in his fifties sported long white hair and a longer immaculate beard, giving him the appearance of a traditional mage wherever he went and whatever he wore. His pointed blue hat and long, impeccable sky-blue robe completed the appearance of a man who had given his all to the study and taming of magic. He had reached the fourth rank in the order of mages: ‘advanced.’ He was one of the most experienced teachers and was considered a luminary who wasted his time teaching, whereas he could improve his own knowledge and perhaps compete for the post of dean if he tried harder.

After a long, annoyed sigh, indicating that he had been interrupted at a critical moment, the man in his fifties took off his hat and turned it towards the student who had just appeared, giving off the impression that even the interruption was expected. 

Luka, who was still standing in the doorway, was surprised by this development, but listened attentively as his teacher addressed him:

“Tell me Luka, do you intend to spend the rest of the day frozen like this, or do you wish, for once, to join your classmates and engorge yourself with knowledge dispensed by an erudite teacher?”

Luka quietly made his way to a vacant table in the corner of the library that served as a classroom at certain times of the day. He didn't answer the professor, who seemed irritated and rubbed his hands together as if preparing to pronounce an irrevocable sentence.

“Well, now that everyone's present, let's get back to business. As I've just told you, magic is the art of creating or modifying from your personal magical potential, which among other things influences your affinities, this potential is present in all things present in the world, those who are able to manipulate it using their mana, your main resource whenever you’re casting a spell, to a high level are called magi, those who can only use it to a lesser degree are called magicians and the ones who can't use it at all are simply called humans. The different ways of manipulating mana are by thought, through an incantation or by using specific objects. You all know this already. Now,” continued Naalthin, “what some of you may not yet know is why we sometimes use tools such as staves, rings or special clothing. Luka, since you arrived late, you must already know the answer. Would you please share it with your young comrades?”

Naalthin's eyes were riveted on Luka, who knew the answer and wondered why the basics were being revisited, he then proceeded to answer:

“The magical potential of certain objects allows us, with their assistance, to manipulate the mana around us more intensely and more quickly, using less personal concentration, which in turn allows us to achieve better results with less effort,” he said, convinced that he hadn't forgotten anything.

“Even though that is mostly correct, it's not entirely accurate either: objects certainly catalyze magic with greater intensity and celerity, but wavering concentration on the part of the caster will almost always have a detrimental effect. At best, it won't work. But if things go wrong, the mage is likely to lose his life. Concentration is always paramount when practicing the arts of magic, and weak magicians are no exception to this rule either.”

“I knew that, why didn’t I say it?”

Luka cowered a little more, realizing that he was no longer even capable of giving a correct answer to a question dealing with the basics of magic. It was rare for a mage's rank to be lowered, but he felt it was now hanging over his head. He gave a frustrated chuckle and remembered Jey’s words, things weren't always going to go his way and he'd better redouble his efforts if he didn't want to be left by the wayside of life and magic.

The class continued without further interruption, Naalthin being a pleasant and patient teacher who enjoyed chatting profusely with his students and answering their every question, he even gave a few demonstrations, making the students promise to keep it a secret as magic was never to be used inside the library. There were training rooms for that. Absolute order of the Dean.

Once the lesson was over, the students were asked to practice what they'd learned on their own in the designated areas, a date was given for the next lesson and they were given free rein until then. Luka, however, was unable to leave his chair and stared longingly at the table that had kept him company for the previous hours. It didn’t escape Naalthin’s gaze and he chose to leave him to reflect in peace.

More than an hour passed and Naalthin, weary of waiting, closed the heavy book he had undertaken to read once his class was over with a loud noise, startling several students in the library. Classes may have been over, but the mages' library was never empty. It was teeming with people at all hours. The thirst for knowledge was too great. Luka remained impassive, but Naalthin grew weary of that spectacle and chose to ask him a question he hadn't expected:

“Tell me, Luka, do you know why I asked the young captain to fetch you knowing full well you’d only arrive in time to attend a beginners' course despite the fact that you're an initiate ranked mage capable of casting rather complex spells and that your theoretical knowledge is sufficient to take you to the next level?”

Luka blinked several times as if to wake himself up before repeating, in a broken voice: 

“Beginners?”

Naalthin replied in a now playful voice:

“Did you really think you were in the right place, given the subject I was teaching? I may have granted them special dispensation to enter this library as beginners, but I didn't think you'd be unable to tell them apart from the students who usually share your classes. Maybe it's more serious than I thought. Follow me, please.” ordered the professor, now heading for the exit of the massive library where chairs, tables, shelves, books and students piled up everywhere you looked.

“Where are we going, professor?” inquired Luka, who had to quicken his pace to keep up with Naalthin.

No answer came, and Naalthin left the library towards the south hall where Luka had entered a few hours earlier, accompanied by his student, heading straight ahead. Luka now knew where he and his teacher would end up: in the training hall where initiate magi learn to develop and control their spells.

“We seem to be alone, excellent!” asserted professor Naalthin.

The training hall gave a strange impression of gigantism; in fact, it was the same size as the library, but for some reason Luka couldn’t explain, the room felt much bigger than it looked like from the outside and it wasn't the absence of furniture that gave such an impression, everything seemed more imposing, more spaced out. The ceiling was higher, the massive white stone walls were farther apart, as if space itself were being manipulated. He'd never read anything about it, but he was certain that powerful magics had been used to bring this place into existence.

“Tell me, Luka, which spell do you master best?”

“Rain of fire,” he answered without hesitation. 

He knew that it was a spell of intermediate rank, the rank immediately after his and right below Naalthin’s, and learned it a long time ago to get promoted faster, however, he gave up on his studies not long after having been proficient with it.

“Take my staff and summon the most powerful rain of fire at your disposal. Don't limit yourself, unleash all the power you can.”

Luka's eyes widened for two reasons: firstly, a mage never lent his personal weapon, it was neither taboo nor forbidden, it was just something that wasn't done for practical reasons and perhaps also out of habit. Secondly, it was very rare for a student to be allowed to use the full extent of his abilities, even in the training rooms. Although the floor and walls were capable of absorbing spells, there was always a danger not only to the caster, but also to those in the vicinity.

As he received Naalthin's long, twisted staff without a chance to protest, he saw Naalthin protect himself with a shell spell he didn't recognize. He was unable to use such spells himself, but he trusted Naalthin and concentrated on launching his rain of fire.

Luka never chanted his incantations, as he felt it hampered his concentration; he was used to seeing the spell he wanted to perform in his head and letting it explode as soon as he managed to get an image he felt was adequate, so he concentrated for a while, after a couple of minutes he knew he was ready and aimed the staff towards the ceiling as he summoned a great number of fireballs that began raining down. Over a period of ten seconds, more than a hundred small fireballs burst within a radius of five or six yards in front of the two men.

Naalthin nodded slowly, watching as drops of sweat beaded on the boy as he concentrated to end his spell before he was exhausted.

Naalthin asked Luka to give him back his staff, which he gladly did, it had been a strange experience. His spell was undoubtedly more powerful than usual, but the staff felt as if it had drained him of all his mana reserves.

“You know, Luka, my personal affinity is earth magic, I can create shields and quagmires with ease, fire magic has never suited my personality, but I've tried it all the same, for years when I was younger, I wanted to master them all, you see? Alas, our limited lifespan makes such a feat impossible due to the fact that some magics suit us, while others forever remain beyond our control, and there's nothing we can do about it. I think you'll understand, eventually, or you already have, who knows?”

Naalthin’s face became serious and he said:

“Now please take three steps back.”

He didn't answer and obeyed without a second thought; as soon as he had taken three steps, he was surrounded by an imposing, shiny carapace, the same one that had protected Naalthin a few moments before, but it was undoubtedly more compact, more intense, more solid and more... shiny too.

“Professor Naalthin?” asked Luka in a wavering voice, unsure of what question to ask.

“Shush!” inveighed the man whose gaze had become serious and whose voice was sharper than usual.

“From the highest skies to the deepest seas, the flames of hell encompass the world and survey the universe, to each season its rain, listen to my oration and rain down until nothing is left. RAIN OF FIRE.”

Luka knew the chant, it was the incantation of the spell he had just cast, he had immediately understood what Naalthin was trying to do; he wanted to show him the difference in skill between the two of them, but the result was beyond anything he could have imagined. The old man had rained down thousands of fireballs over a radius three times as large. The heat generated was superior and Naalthin wasn't even tired. He had been obliterated by a man who had just confessed to him his lack of affinity with the magic that was his pride and joy.

“I didn't do this to discourage you or to make you gaze at me in awe, I did it to show you that you still have a long way to go and even if you have the impression that you're not being taught anything here, you're wrong. I've seen plenty of talented young magi such as yourself who were considered gifted in their early days and never managed to progress beyond the rank of initiate. The surrounding villages are full of them. They often act as foster parents to children like you. The man looking after you may even have been one of them.”

“Jey knows nothing about magic... He's told me that several times,” retorted Luka, who didn't like anyone criticizing the man he liked and respected.

“Maybe you're right and I'm mistaken. Maybe I'm not. It doesn't matter. What matters now is that you question yourself and go back to your studies with more assiduity. Your magic is excellent; I expected less than half of what I saw when you launched your rain of fire, given your recent lack of… enthusiasm. It's compact but controlled. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and you shouldn't stop there. We'll have class together again in five days, so try to come on time, reflect on the situation and tell me what you think then, alright? I'll now ask you to excuse me, I have to take my leave. Have a nice day.” said Naalthin to Luka without giving him a chance to reply.

As soon as he had finished his sentence, he left the gigantic training room, which was still emitting an intense heat despite the flames having disappeared several minutes earlier.

“Perhaps I could have cast a better spell if I hadn't had to use his staff…” he grumbled, aware that he could never have done better, as he himself was impressed by the quality of his spell.

With no real purpose in mind, Luka returned to the library reserved for initiates and set about reading a few books. The place was as full as before, he hadn't been gone long, after all, half the library consisted of tables and chairs where students and more experienced magi studied, while the other half was filled with five long rows of shelves full of books and parchments. Each section had its own theme. And as he adored stories he considered fictional and loved to lose himself in the tales of the world, he headed unthinkingly for the fourth aisle. The world was a vast place and he knew it, as a toddler, he'd lived on another continent: Mÿhr, a place known for its scorching deserts and its murderous denizens who didn’t care about human lives. He had no memory left of Mÿhr, but he enjoyed knowing where he came from and reading stories about it. Although they had the unfortunate tendency to end in massacres that were a little too graphic for his taste.

There were five known continents and all of them sent their magically gifted children to the Fay-Ilis University of Magic, where he had been learning since he was four years old. Children were trained and sent home once they reached the desired rank. Some, however, preferred to stay on, either as a mage or to take up a position of some kind in the surrounding villages, a risk all parents knew and were willing to take, for a mage child was a rare treasure that could change the value of a family, or even a country, if properly educated and returned to his homeland.

In reality, most children exiled to magical lands had no memory of their original families and ended up remaining attached to their new home, as was the case with Luka, although some returned to take part in the various wars of succession or invasions of neighboring countries. History doesn't tell us much about it, but magi were often eliminated once their role was over, for they were feared and despised at least as much as they were adored and praised.

Once he had remembered what he had come for, he left the section reserved for what he considered to be fictitious histories of the world and made his way to the first row of books on various magical subjects. He then set about studying the various classifications again, so as never again to lose face if asked a question of a lower rank than his own. Finally, he searched for works relating to fire magic, in an attempt to understand why he had been beaten so one-sidedly by a man whose specialty was earth magic, even though it was theoretically his affinity. To no avail.

It was getting late by the time Luka decided to leave the university, he had a few brief conversations with other students he knew little or nothing about, as well as some of his professors, and even caught a glimpse of the dean who was the only man allowed to wear white. White had no special value, but all the deans of the university before him had chosen a color only they were allowed to wear in the building; during the tenure of the current absolute leader of the magi: Alphonse Flinch, the forbidden color was white and his robe was dazzlingly white. Luka hated white, so it didn't affect him too much. He felt that it was a color that left no room for error, and he'd always believed that men who claimed never to fail were people who couldn’t be trusted. He quietly avoided the dean for no other reason than his choice of clothing, which he considered dubious, and took the path leading him back to Mystria.