Years ago, on a different continent, somewhere in the southern hemisphere…

Deep inside an underground cavern the size of a country, through the damp mushroom swamps, cave jungles and old ruins, sat a very special place.

It was an old city, an ancient metropolis long since left to rot by their initial occupants, the capital of an prehistoric empire, predating any written records available by the current era’s scholars.

It was a place of legend, forgotten by all, where the rawest magic and most potent enchantments lay in wait for rediscovery.

Sitting dead-center, amongst temples and palaces in ruin, was the only building lit by flickering lights, not the bioluminescence of the flora or fauna.

The unique, cupola-roofed room it possessed had most of its ground-surface covered by candles of all shapes, sizes and colors. Amongst the hundred of thousand of them, only a few were lit, maybe a hundred, more probably three quarters of that for sure. Some were almost extinguished, the coloured waxy substance almost completely depleted, while most of them were halfway through, only a dozen or so were practically brand new, shining bright.

The vast majority was extinct, either completely spent, cut short or squashed under the rubble that fell off the cupola, covered in sickly purple moss that ate into the masonry, revealing beneath their surface a fleshy filling that oozed a sort of gel that hardened in contact of air, trying vainly to protect itself from the parasite deeply embedded on the outside like vines.

A pearly white candle suddenly lit up, its pale blue flame adding itself to the ambient glow.

As its flickering light emerged from the void, it attracted the attention of a huge pair of reptilian eyes.

They blinked slowly as the pupils zeroed on the small flame, narrowing into slits.

This was new, it thought. It liked new things happening, they were so rare and so far apart. Approaching the candle that lit up, the eyes narrowed.

“Ooh hello… new friend.”

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Alaster loaded his sling with a smooth rock as he approached the firing range, one leather boot on the line traced into the dirt.

After a moment of focus, he put his hand forward, calling to himself the now familiar stream of mana coursing through and around his body, tapping within himself and directing the flow where he wanted, into his eyes and down his arm, permeating the stone nestled in the sling.

Reading from his wax tablet, he muttered the incantation he just thought of, the free hand gesturing, fingers curling and straightening to match the spell’s requirement.

The rest of his body did the same, taking a strange pose for a second, puzzling the archers and making the mages groan a little.

No adventurers really liked using the spell poses, and actively avoided using them all together, favoring the ones with only hand gestures or speech alone.

Poses were not adapted to spellcast in stress conditions like a fight, and you would only use them when you know you’ll be safe. To them, Alaster showed his lack of experience in real condition, if at least well taught.

Focusing on the tingle and tugging sensation of his spell taking effect, he started to swing the sling, the rotation accelerating to a good pace. Taking aim, his mana felt the drain of the spell intensify as he mentally linked his intent to the rock, and his eyes saw a thin thread of mana linking the stone to the center of the dummy’s head.

Finally with a sharp expiration, he took his shot, the leather strap snapping sharply and released the stone inside, which immediately went wide to the left, completely off course.

Alaster eyes, glowing blue from the mana coursing through them, followed the projectile’s trajectory. Quickly asserting his will on the stone with a mental nudge, he increased the mana flow between the target and the smooth rock.

Everyone felt a strange chill in their back as raw mana was sucked around Alaster, his lack of control pulling more mana to himself, and a mage let out an audible gasp in the distance as his mana projectile fizzled out suddenly, disturbed by the sensation.

The stone suddenly curved and veered right, accelerating dramatically toward the dummy’s head, punching into it with a meaty sound, burying itself deep into the hay sack before the spell released, leaving it embedded into its mark.

“Yess !!” he pumped his arm up, giggling a little, looking back at tanya, mouth slightly agape.

He didn’t notice a couple archers and the mages gawking at him awkwardly, how could that kid disturb mana in such a large area?

“What the fuck!?” the mage which had its mana arrow vanish exclaimed, confused.

As Allister was celebrating his bullseye, he suddenly stumbled forward as a weird, awful feeling crawled into his spine and took over any other emotion he felt.

He felt Seen, observed,judged even. Unable to help himself he turned around, head swiveling from side to side, trying to identify that weird, kind of oppressive feeling.

Tanya said something, but he couldn’t hear, his own heart drumming in his head.

That weird sensation vanished as soon as it appeared, Al blinking in surprise, wondering if he imagined that sensation. Could it be just a side effect of his custom spell? Maybe he felt his very first symptom of mana exhaustion?

It went too quickly for him to be sure, what the hell had just happened?

Focusing on himself, he gauged that he didn’t use that much, in fact, he barely used any at all from what he could evaluate with his imperfect Mana Sense.

“...stair, are you okay ?” Tanya repeated, putting a hand on his shoulder and softly shaking him about. “You look like you saw a ghost”

Al shook his head to clear his mind, what was THAT ? As hard as he could, the feeling couldn’t be remembered clearly, but the little he remembered made him shiver. It was already gone.

“I’m okay, I.. I think I overdid it a little and I felt a little weird... but it's over now.”

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In the decrepit temple, amongst the candles:

The eyes couldn’t get enough of this new candle. it burned a bright, pale blue light.

This was definitely new, and It loved it.

Years passed, and the candle burned ever so slightly, droplets of wax forming where the heat caressed it.

Then, one day, as the eyes were focused on another light, it felt it.

A tug, mana. The eyes turned to the candles but it was too late. it couldn’t see clearly where it came from.

The eyes bored through the candle, waiting patiently for another tug.

Finally, as it was about to tend to the other lights, the tug came back, stronger, and lasting longer this time.

The eyes immediately went and took a look directly into the brand new candle’s light.

A contact established and the eyes turned north, and its own mana locked onto the small lizard kid he sensed.

“Oh oh oh ~! Yes, hello hello” it whispered to itself.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As quickly as it found him, It let go. A faint mana stream was left, and the eyes could feel it stretching north, so, so far away. It would know where its friend was anytime, and know what he felt.

“I see you now, little one.” the eyes said to itself, excited to have a new friend to watch over.

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With each subsequent shot, Alaster’s grip on his own spell felt easier and firmer. After the first shot, no more mana ripples. After the third, he was able to control the strength and the spin of the rock.

After half an hour,, he could send the rock anywhere on the dummy provided he focused a little. He also stopped posing to launch the spell, advised by the mages that helpfully provided him with some tips, refining it by making minute adjustments to it.

Most importantly, that weird feeling didn’t come back.

From time to time, between shots, Tanya saw him stare in the same direction as he thought to himself, facing the village’s palisade.

Tanya decided to steer him clear his train of thought and offer a distraction.

“Hey, Al, do you know any other spell ? I mean, it’s impressive and all, but that's not all you can do, right ?” She said, elbowing him on his side to catch his attention.

Al let out a surprised little sound as his friend’s elbow hit a sensitive spot “Yip!”.

Blushing a little and moving away from Tanya’s elbow range he crossed his arms on his chest.

“Well, I know how to heat myself, how to levitate things and move them around.. and i’ve been learning how to throw a fireball” Al listed, counting on his clawed fingers.

“But I'm not really that good with them yet.” he added, looking away.

Tanya excitedly grabbed his sleeve and pushed him toward the range “What are you waiting for, being all boring and stuff, I wanna see you throw a fireball!”

“W…wait !” Al stumbled behind her, reaching the firing line.

“Fireball!” Tanya demanded

“But !”

“Fireball.” She insisted.

“N..now wait a minute I don-”

“Fireball ! "Fireball!” She repeated, along with a couple bystanders, hitting their chest plates in rhythm.

Alaster opened and closed his maw, trying to argue further, but gave up. “Fine… But i just learned it, don’t be surprised if it just fizzles down or i put the shed on fire” He wrung his hands nervously, stretching his wrists a little before putting them forward, ready to cast.

Alasters cleared his throat and closed his eyes, visualizing the spell’s process, his fingers already taking the two poses required: a closed fist and the other hand palm up, fingers pointing to the sky : Orb / Fire. What were the words already ?

Quickly he felt the build up of magic gathering at his finger tip, opening his fist and directing the flux in front of him, toward the target.

To the mage present, it sounded like an odd roundabout way to achieve the result, but they stayed silent as the spell finally took shape, Alister’s hands joining, both indexes extended as he finished his enunciation, his mana flaring …

For a ball of fire a foot in diameter to manifest in front of him, hovering in place for a second before it was propelled toward the dummy, exploding against the hay stuffed bags, the conflagration propelling burning hay around, landing in the ditch.

Alaster and his public stared for a few seconds before he threw his hands in the air “WOOHOO!” he celebrated, wagging his tail and jumping in place.

Someone put out the flames with a spell as they celebrated, giggling.

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With a swing of his snake-sword, Howard decapitated the Dire Ostrich his group had been hunting this afternoon.

The monstrous bird’s body, as big as a horse and twice as heavy, trashed about like the headless chicken it was, its legs carrying it into a mad dash, away from its killer, serrated wings swinging about, carving deep gouges in the trees it crossed.

Howard, taking in his surroundings, took time to take stock on his team. Vermouth, still aiming at the monster down his bow, Cassis, ready to throw her spear in the legs of it and finally Dijeau who stayed back, ready to provide assistance via his healing spells and benedictions.

They approached cautiously, should they kill it now with a blow to the heart? Or should they just wait it out?

They knew the creature would stay “kicking” for a couple minutes, purple blood jutting out in rhythmic sprays as its body hit the trees and rocks, falling down its side, muscular talons still running uselessly.

Finally, it slowed down to a stop, blood pooling under it, its muscles seizing before going limp for good.

The adventurers stared at the dead beast for a moment, Cassis poking it with her spear to make sure.

“... Well, it’s done,” Vermouth sighed, exhausted. “How much did we hunt today ? Four, maybe five of these and three P-wolves ?”

Dijeau spoke up, focused on putting a bandage on Cassis’ arm “That’s concerning, there are more and more of them, we found half of that two days ago, and we still find new traces everyday.”

Howard took some time to address a silent prayer to Icareos, blessed by the bird-god may he be. cleaning his blade. “Yeah, and more and more of them approach the village everyday. They all come from the same direction” he motioned westward, in the direction of the Silent Mounds. “There are the marches that way, but other places would have spotted them before… We need to send more scouts this way.”

Cassis made a face “You mean “We” should go this way. We are the only scouts on this mission for now.”

Dijeau and Vermouth sighed and Howard just shook his head slowly.

“Fine, fine, I know,” she deflated, her hands up in the air in resignation. “When?” she asked.

“Let’s get back to the village, and get our bounties from the hunt first. We will have to speak to the guild and the council.” Howard decided “I think we will go in a couple days, just enough time to get supplies and maybe a carriage or some horses they can spare.”

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At the top of her Wizard’s tower, leaning over her balcony, Andrea Lipswick was grinning to herself.

That little brat, already showing off when he barely began to understand a spell.

Leaning further on the woodwork, she chuckled, her son did show her something good.

My lil boy invented his first spell, gotta celebrate this. She thought, before turning around and entering her “office”.

The last floor of her tower was only accessible via levitation. It was both to keep undesirable people out, and to protect anything precious from ordinary theft.

Wizards and witches had their ways to acquire a rival “advantage”, and she protected her stuff for that too in other arcane means.

But this time, she did not come here to work. Her journal was closed and put aside, leaving her wood desk engraved with self cleaning runes of her making ready to receive a stack of paper, a quill, and an ink pot.

God, she hated writing letters.

She sighed, seizing the quill and dipping the tip into the ink pot before scribbling a little on a scribbling covered piece of parchment, already trying to put into words what she wanted to write down.

Dear …

Hm, that did not feel right. Let’s try again.

Hey you…

Argh. She was so bad with this, already stumbling with the first words. And they wonder why they don’t send letters often.

She sighed and changed strategy, she’ll do it like any of her research papers and she’ll draft it first.

She leaned forward, her face scrunching up and the tip of her tongue coming out as she focused on the rough paper, furiously thinking.

Dear Armand,

I hope my letter will find you well,

Yeah, that's a good start, a bit generic, but at least it was honest. She hoped he was okay, or it would be futile to ask what she was about to do.

Now it was already breaking her heart, but she had to ask.

I’m sending you my Son, Alaster, for his education and your tutelage.

Please take care of him like your father took care of us back in the day.

I’ll send him over after spring comes to where I established my tower.

She stared at the words she wrote, breathing a little faster. It felt unreal, it was too soon.

But hearing outside the sound of another of her son’s fireballs just made it more obvious.

She was no teacher, and as much as she can give him the bases, Al will never learn as much with her than with Armand Lipswick, at their family’s house.

Thank you in advance, best regards

Andrea, your foster sister.

She frowned and her eyes closed critically. Was it good enough?

Ah …

PS: If you don't, I'll kick your ass. I’m serious.

She made a face and waved her hand over the paper, making the ink invisible. No one will know.

She then took another piece of paper and took out a bright blue lead pen, scribbling esoteric looking runes all over its surface before folding it into a letter’s shape. This should protect the content from indiscrete eyes.

From the tower's balcony, a bird made of cold flames took off westward, toward the Silent Mounds and beyond, to Candel, bearing the envelope in its incorporeal talons.