The sun's gentle rays spilled into Kellan's room, painting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards and highlighting the worn edges of the furniture. His bed creaked faintly as he shifted, groaning and stretching, his limbs aching from the previous day's journey. The familiar scent of home—woodsmoke, herbs drying on the window ledge, and the faint trace of lavender his mother always kept in the corners—was both comforting and bittersweet.

On the windowsill, Ignisara perched like a living ember, its sparrow-like form flickering faintly, as though the bird contained a forge within its tiny body. The phoenix seemed almost serene, its glowing eyes fixed on the horizon. Kellan couldn't help but marvel at the otherworldly beauty of his companion, but the awe quickly gave way to a groan of dread as Ignisara turned its head toward him.

Finally awake. Good, the phoenix said, its voice a soft chime in his mind, crisp and commanding. We have much to do today.

Kellan ran a hand down his face, his fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his jaw. "Morning to you too," he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.

Magic cannot wait for your comfort, Ignisara replied, its feathers flaring briefly before settling back into their ember-like glow. Your soul is still tethered to another timeline. Until we resolve this, your presence here will remain fragile. If you do not learn to channel the magic of this world soon, you may lose yourself entirely.

Kellan swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. "I'm starting to think you enjoy being the bearer of bad news," he said, stifling a yawn as he stood.

The phoenix let out a sound that was almost a chuckle. I only enjoy progress. Which, so far, has been... limited.

Kellan threw on his boots and shrugged into his cloak, its familiar weight settling on his shoulders. "All right, all right. Let's get this over with. But I'm warning you—if this ends with me accidentally setting something on fire, that's on you."

The clearing behind Kellan's house was alive with the hum of nature. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, their leaves shifting gently in the breeze. Dew clung to the grass, sparkling like tiny gemstones in the morning light. Birds flitted from branch to branch, their songs weaving into a symphony that filled the air with life.

Kellan stood in the center of the clearing, his boots damp from the dew. Ignisara hovered nearby, its tiny wings spread as it floated midair. The phoenix's glow seemed to pulse in time with the rhythm of the world around them.

Close your eyes, Ignisara instructed, its voice calm yet firm.

Kellan obeyed, inhaling deeply. The scents of earth and greenery filled his lungs, grounding him.

Magic flows through all things in this world, Ignisara continued. It is in the wind that brushes against your skin, the soil beneath your feet, the life coursing through the trees. But your soul is an outsider here. You cannot simply take this magic—you must attune yourself to it, let it welcome you.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Kellan furrowed his brow, focusing on the sounds and sensations around him. At first, there was nothing. Just the faint rustle of leaves, the soft chirping of birds, the occasional creak of a branch. But then, as he reached deeper, he felt it—a subtle hum, like the resonance of a distant chord.

He extended his senses toward it, but the moment he did, the hum recoiled, slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers. His chest tightened, and a sharp headache flared behind his eyes. He stumbled, his breath hitching.

You are forcing it, Ignisara said, its voice sharp. Magic is not a tool to be seized. It is a partner to be understood.

"Easy for you to say," Kellan muttered, clutching his head. "You're a magical bird. I'm just a guy who doesn't even belong here."

Ignisara's glow softened, and its voice carried a note of reassurance. Which is precisely why you must persevere. If your soul remains untethered, you will fade. But you have strength, Kellan. I chose you for a reason.

Kellan looked at the phoenix, its ember-like feathers shimmering in the dappled sunlight. There was something comforting in its presence, despite its often-harsh demeanor. He nodded, inhaling deeply as he prepared to try again.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher into the sky. Sweat dripped from Kellan's brow, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt. Every time he thought he was close to grasping the magic, it slipped away, leaving him drained and disoriented.

"I need a break," he said finally, his voice strained. "I'm going to lose my mind if I keep this up."

Ignisara tilted its head, its glow dimming slightly. Very well. But do not wander far. We still have much to accomplish.

Kellan nodded, wiping his face with the sleeve of his cloak. He trudged back toward the village, his steps heavy.

The village was alive with its usual midday bustle. Vendors called out to passersby, their carts laden with fresh produce, baked goods, and trinkets. Children darted through the streets, their laughter ringing through the air. It was a stark contrast to the solitude of Kellan's lessons, and he felt a small sense of relief as he blended into the crowd.

Turning a corner, he nearly collided with someone.

"Watch where you're going!" a sharp voice snapped.

Kellan stepped back, his eyes falling on a girl his age. Her fiery red hair caught the sunlight, glowing like a halo of flames. Her piercing green eyes glared at him, but there was a guardedness in her expression, as though she were prepared for the world to turn against her at any moment.

"Sorry," Kellan said quickly. "I didn't see you."

The girl crossed her arms, her gaze scrutinizing him. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Kellan hesitated. "Not... exactly."

She snorted. "Figures. You've got that lost-puppy look."

Despite her sharp tone, Kellan detected a hint of curiosity. "I'm Kellan," he said, extending a hand.

She eyed him warily before shaking it. "Selona."

They walked through the winding paths of the village, Selona leading the way toward quieter streets. Kellan noticed how villagers avoided her, their eyes darting away or narrowing in subtle suspicion.

"Why is everyone acting weird around you?" he asked, frowning.

Selona glanced over her shoulder, her voice flat. "It's the hair."

"The hair?"

She stopped, turning to face him. "People think red hair is bad luck. Some ancient superstition about curses or whatever."

Kellan stared at her. "That's ridiculous."

"Tell that to my parents," Selona said bitterly. "They abandoned me when I was four. Said I was a 'bad omen.'"

Kellan's chest tightened. "That's awful."

She shrugged, though the pain in her eyes was clear. "It is what it is."

Despite her guarded nature, Kellan found himself drawn to Selona's sharp wit and resilience. They talked as they wandered, Kellan learning bits and pieces about her life and the world around them.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets, Kellan realized he'd found something rare—a connection.

"You know," he said as they walked back toward his house, "you're the first person here who hasn't treated me like some kind of outsider."

Selona smirked. "Maybe that's because I know what it's like to be one."

Kellan smiled, a warmth blooming in his chest. For the first time in years, he felt understood.