It had been several months since the young boy, Jasper, first met the Master, his mysterious and wise teacher. As spring blossomed about them, so too did Jasper's mind, blooming with newfound knowledge of letters, writing, and geography. With each day came a new opportunity for him to practice his ward, and every moment was filled with wonder as he dove deeper into the mysteries of spellcasting, fuelled by determination and curiosity.
Jasper eased himself out of bed, avoiding waking the Master. As he stepped outside, a soft light bathed his face in a gentle pink glow that felt like an embrace. He quietly dressed and made his way to the fireplace, not noticing the old man hunched over his desk with a quill in hand, concentrating intently as he drew symbols and maps on its surface.
He noticed the old man, engrossed in his map work. "What are you doing?" Jasper asked.
The old man looked up, a smile creasing his eyes. "Studying," he said mysteriously. "The world is vast and contains hidden secrets waiting to be discovered. These maps might lead me to what I'm seeking."
He grabbed a newspaper from the desk and rapidly scanned through it with an expression of both interest and worry. "I'm noticing some strange happenings lately," he explained. "My maps may show if there's any kind of pattern."
Jasper couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "I used to make a couple of coppers from delivering these newspapers. How could they possibly be so up to date with the current events?"
The old man leaned forward in his worn armchair, gesturing with his gnarled hands at the stack of newspapers and piled haphazardly next to him. He nodded approvingly as he explained,
"The underground network of information brokers convened in an exclusive meeting every week, delivering their most secrets and information mostly to the wealthiest few but they sell others type of information for the poor. If one had sharp enough eyes, they might catch a glimpse of the truth hidden between the lines that could provide invaluable information.
Jasper's heart raced as he read the news. "Large Beast Run in Catina" held implications far beyond what he could comprehend. He quickly turned to the Master, hoping to gain a sense of clarity. But his teacher merely regarded him with an enigmatic look.
"Ah, lad, you must learn to be wary of everything you see of this world," the old man began. "It is ever-changing and full of secrets. The incident the article talks about could mean many things," he paused, a glint in his eye. "Maybe it is a creature, powerful enough to disrupt the natural order of the region, or perhaps there has been a surge of energy that caused beasts to act strange. You must learn to observe your surroundings carefully if you wish to get closer to the truth."
The Master's words lingered in Jasper's mind like a puzzle waiting to be solved. As much as he wanted to understand what was going on, he also felt wary of what this event signified.
Confusion clouded the boy's features and he cocked his head to the side, peering intently at the old man. He glanced around hesitantly before settling back on the man’s face, which was illuminated by a rising sun. “What…exactly are you looking for, sir?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously. The old man opened his mouth to respond but paused as if weighing his words carefully. He leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper: "Red Sorcerer."
Jasper blinked rapidly, disbelief clear on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he recalled the nursery rhyme from childhood; parents used it to threaten misbehaving children with an ominous figure called 'the Red Sorcerer'. “You mean the character from the nursery rhyme?” he asked, disbelievingly. The old man nodded in agreement. Jasper was surprised by this answer.
His mouth hung open a little, and his eyes widened in disbelief. He smiled weakly and chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on now, that’s just something they tell little kids, right?” The wrinkled skin around the old man's eyes tightened as his face sank into a solemn expression. "How does the saying go?"
The boy's voice was gentle as he sang the familiar nursery rhyme,
Beneath the moon's dark gleam so bright,
Walks a sorcerer in the quiet night.
He snatches kids who've been unkind,
Leaving only fear behind.
Listen, children, to the tale's song,
Be good, don't do what's mean or wrong.
When nighttime falls, stay safe in bed,
Or he might come for you, it's said.
Be kind, be good, both day and night,
And you'll be safe from his frightful plight.
The red sorcerer will then pass by,
Leaving happy kids, oh so spry.
The old man meticulously suggested, "You have left out a couple of lines. Allow me to fill in the blanks for you."
With hands like claws and a cloak of night,
He prowls the streets, out of sight,
Snatching the children who stray too far,
Leaving behind a world in scar.
Parents tell their little ones, hush and sleep,
Pray the sorcerer their dreams won't keep,
For once a century, his dreadful spree,
Takes the souls of the naughty, lost they'll be
The old man's voice was filled with both age and determination as he spoke, "Once every century, the sorcerer appears from the shadows, causing chaos. I swear to you that it is no fanciful children's fable – it is a harsh truth." The boy's eyes widened in shock, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the man's words.
The old man's tone shifted into something softer yet still unwavering, "I devote my life to finding clues about this red-hooded figure. I desperately desire to stop him, but he leaves almost no trace behind. This has become my mission in life – an effort to keep those who are innocent from his malicious grasp."
The boy was both intimidated and excited as he asked, "How do you know he's real?". The old man took a moment to answer, his aged eyes carrying with them an untold story. He spoke slowly, his voice filled with wisdom far beyond the boy's understanding. ”I had fought him before, the last time he appeared on this world. Too many people had died by his cruel hand, and there are many stories written about him that prove what I'm saying is true.”
The boy's eyes widened with curiosity as the old man's face hardened. The tension in the air was palpable and the old man cleared his throat. "We can talk about the fight another time," he said softly, averting the boy's gaze.
The boy's face revealed a deep curiosity, and he questioned further, "But why don't more people know of him?"
The old man released a sigh, full of sorrow and understanding. "Your average person won't live long enough to ever see him appear in their lifetime. But some families have survived for centuries, and they are all too aware of how dangerous he can be. That's why they pass down the knowledge so that others may be protected."
The boy trembled slightly as he asked, "So when will he be back again?" The old man's eyes held a far off stare, and he replied with a heavy sigh,"It's a cycle that's been going on for centuries. 20 to 30 years is what I've estimated, but I don't know if I'll still be here by then. He could be anywhere, so my mission is to find him and put an end to his terror.” Despite the fear in his eyes, the old man was determined, and this strength scared the boy even more.
The old man looked at the boy, his eyes showing a lifetime's worth of wisdom. “This is my mission, not yours,” he said in a kind but steady tone. “You wouldn't be able to help anyway. Instead, concentrate on learning and getting stronger. You can't afford to be weighed down by outside problems.” The boy nodded in agreement. He knew there was much to learn and many obstacles to overcome before he'd be ready to confront the red sorcerer.
The old man’s thick, calloused finger brushed gently over an ancient map lying on the desk, tracing invisible lines of concern before his hands paused and pressed firmly against the wood. He silently stood and retrieved a hammer from its hook by the door, then proceeded to hang the old parchment onto the wall. Taking a step back, he turned to the boy standing behind him with an unreadable expression, though a hint of expectation shimmered in his voice. “Alright, show me how your training is going.”
The old man stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, squinting against the light as he motioned for the boy to follow. The young lad hesitated for only a moment before hurrying forward, staff clutched tightly in hand and eagerness coursing through his veins. He followed closely behind, arriving at a small patch of grass where a practice dummy stood tall amidst forgotten memories. With a gesture from the old man, the boy took several steps back until reaching what felt was his furthest distance. Steeling himself for what was to come, he raised his arms outwards—staff held high—and closed his eyes in concentration as he channeled energy into a powerful ward around the dummy, determined to show just how far he had progressed.
The old man watched as a powerful ward raced around the practice dummy, sparking with energy. "Good. Now cast it on yourself too," his voice rumbled.
The boy's brow furrowed in concentration and an aura of power enshrouded him - flickering like lightning before finally settling into shape. He smiled triumphantly.
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The old man's eyes gleamed with pride but his face remained stern. "Not bad, but you must increase your focus to perfect it." His words echoed around them like thunder. "Splitting and controlling the flow of essence is difficult, but if you can fully strengthen your core you will be able to protect your entire team."
The boy grimaced, by saying the feeling was as though he was trying to rip a branch from a tree and turn it into something new.
The old man nodded sagely. "This is true, but don't forget that patience and practice can lead to anything being possible. With time, even the most stubborn branch can become beautiful."
The boy fidgeted with his fraying shoe, his excitement bubbling up. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at the old man. "Am I ready for the next core?" he asked, his voice quavering with anticipation.
The old man stroked his grey beard thoughtfully, allowing the tension to linger in the air. He then slowly raised his hand into the air and gave the slightest of nods, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he said with assurance. "I think you are ready. Come." He gestured towards the entrance, and the boy felt like he was walking on air as he stepped inside.
The boy nervously wrung his hands on the cool, smooth floor, his mind racing with questions. The elder's voice was calm yet stern as he spoke. "The ability of selecting a new gate is important because it will determine where the core will reside and choose what spell to cast. When a core is already in the gate, that gives us an anchor – it's like you can see your way clearly. Like having a guide through a labyrinth instead of fumbling around in the dark." The elder's gnarled hands gesticulated gracefully and quickly, as if weaving an intricate pattern in the air. "But without one," he continued,"it’s like walking through a dark tunnel. It takes skill and practice to find your way." The boy felt overwhelmed but nodded in agreement all the same.
The old man spoke softly, the creases of his face deepening as he smiled encouragingly at the boy. His long fingers moved in a graceful pattern as if they were tracing something invisible in thin air. "Imagine," he said, "The gates arranged like a clock, with different hours representing one of five different gates – Mind, Body, Soul, Emotion, and Spirit Gate."
He watched as the boy closed his eyes, visualizing this image. Then he continued: “Remember that the gates will always have the same order; when you draw essence from any gate it'll move towards the center.” He paused to let this sink in before adding “You'll need to know this order for your spells.” The boy nodded solemnly and seemed to be taking in every word without missing a beat.
The boy stared intently at the old man, with his curiosity and determination coming through in his gaze. "How will I know which way to go?"
The delight on the young face was unmistakable as he awaited the answer, eyes brimming with anticipation. Master’s face illuminated the boy’s hope of solving this puzzle.
Master nodded, a look of understanding crossing his weathered face. "Again, think of it like a clock," he said slowly, "A clock only moves in one direction, and so your spellwork will too. When you're first starting out, it can be difficult to quickly align your essence with the desired gate, because you have to cycle through all the other gates in order to find it the gate you want. But if you practice enough, you'll quickly master the technique and be able to cast spells more faster and accurately."
"Close your eyes," the old man said calmly, a comforting gust of air with each word. "Now, slowly draw the essence to your core," he directed. The boy obeyed, his young face strained in intense concentration. The old man continued to guide him, saying, "Think of it like pulling a rope - steady and measured. As you pull, make an imaginary waving movement, like moving your arm back and forth."
The child focused even harder and pictured the invisible thread responding to his movements with each thought-pull he made. He could sense the subtle flow of energy that followed him.
The elderly man nodded, his eyes firmly fixed on the boy. "I need you to yank it to the side as hard as you are able," he commanded in a steady voice. The young lad inhaled a deep breath and grabbed the rope of essence with strong will. He tugged it harshly to the right and felt a sharp pain stab through his chest. It hurt enough for him to grimace, yet he stood firm, fully aware of how important this exercise was. The old man kept close watch on the boy's movements and attitude.
The old man's voice was like a calming balm, and the young boy followed his instructions carefully. He imagined the invisible rope in his hands as he slowly developed better control over its movements. Then, with every swing of the imaginary line, he felt a surge of power run through him. His mentor spoke again: "Now when you are ready, pull hard to the right again." Taking a deep breath, the child gripped onto the invisible rope and yanked it with all his might. A rush of energy ran through him as if something had been released in that moment; he opened his eyes wide in shock and stared at the old man.
The old man slowly nodded and surveyed the boy with a scrutinizing gaze. "What do you feel?" he asked. The boy struggled to catch his breath, his eyes darting around as if they were looking for answers from the shadows of the nearby walls. “I was pulling on a rope before,” he stammered, “but now it feels like I am reaching for something that isn't there.” The old man continued to nod thoughtfully and then smiled knowingly. “Good," he said in a low raspy voice. “You just transitioned to your second gate. We must stop here because your gate needed is the body gate — some people go through this two more times, but thankfully for you, you don't have to." He gave the boy a wink before turning away.
The old man pushed himself up from his chair, gesturing for the boy to do the same. "Take a break," he said kindly. "Grab a snack, stretch your legs." The boy looked confused and kept his feet rooted in place, swaying slightly. The old man reached out and put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder.
The old man explained, "Right now, your body isn't accustomed to not having essence flowing through it because the gate is empty. Normally, even when you're not casting spells, your body draws a tiny amount of essence from your core to function. This lack of flow can make your mind feel cloudy. Just take a few minutes to acclimate to this sensation."
He continued, "Many people opt for a passive core as their second one to avoid constantly switching spells at the beginning . With only two cores, it's challenging. A passive core helps because as you get older this will have less effect on you. By the time you have three cores, your body will be more attuned to it, and this won't be as much of an issue."
The boy reluctantly finished his meal, though he wished to rush off and continue his training. The old man, however, had firmly instructed that he take a thirty minute break before continuing on. He felt slightly confused at the old man's words; why did talk about throwing up? Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the boy found himself back in position and ready to start again - though he still had doubts about the importance of the old man's warning.
Approaching the boy, the old man pulled out a core, small as a marble, and handed it to him. He instructed, "Listen carefully. What you're about to learn is called reverse essence flow. When you draw essence from your core, it usually moves in one direction, like a river flowing downstream. Now, you need to pull all the essence from this core and forcefully direct it into the empty gate. Imagine it like trying to walk upstream against a strong current. Push all of it into the gate; it will require a lot of force."
He continued, "Once all the essence is inside the gate, switch to the next gate. This time, the switch will be easier, and you won't need to draw essence out. As the last bit of essence enters the gate, pull hard to the right."
The boy hung on his every word as the old man talked. He picked up the round stone from his hand and observed it carefully. It was a stunning shade of blue and he could sense a subtle energy radiating from it. He closed his eyes and tried to envision the sensation of his essence streaming out of him like a stream.
He took a deep breath and began to extract the energy from within its source. An uncomfortable sensation of energy flowing the opposite way than it should ran through his body, giving him goosebumps and making his stomach churn. He concentrated intensely, pushing all the essence into an empty gate. It was challenging and he could feel the strain on himself, but he kept going. Finally, all the energy had gone into the gate and he shifted his gate to the next one. This time, it was simpler.
The boy's face turned a pale, ashy color, and his body shook with a combination of nausea and fear. A sickening gurgle bubbled up from his throat, followed by a round of deep retching until the sour-smelling vomit splattered on the ground. The old man barely even glanced up. "It happens," he said in an uninterested tone. He gestured to the rows of gates beyond them. “Now keep switching gates until you get back to the mind gate. Then you can take a break."
The boy clenched his jaw, determined to continue despite the pain. He kept taking turns, following the old man's directions carefully. Eventually, he felt a wave of warmth surge through him - like a balloon being filled. His breathing slowed and he felt a sense of accomplishment and clarity that made it all worth it.
The old man beamed at me. "Well done! Now, take some time to relax. But remember, don't switch gates right now! If you do, all our work will have been for nothing. The essence trapped in your spell gate needs enough time to settle and create a core. It might take a few weeks. That's why when someone adds a new core, they stay inside until it forms correctly. If the spell is switched too soon, some of the essence will be released and unable to form a proper core.
The boy nodded, understanding the gravity of the task that had been accomplished. His body was sore, and his head swirled from hours of intense concentration. The old man pointed at the scattered items around them, "Take it easy for the rest of the day; no more training. Grab a bite to eat, and oh, make sure you clean this up."
The boy could feel his exhaustion taking over as he reluctantly got up off of the floor. He slowly moved around, picking up pieces and returning them to their rightful spot. Even after he had finished clearing away the mess, he could still feel the powerful energy surrounding him from earlier. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed something to eat in an effort to regain some strength and balance.
As he ate, memories flooded his mind. The old man had taught him so much over the months, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to learn from him. He had learned how to harness his own essence and control it in ways he never thought were possible. The boy remembered the countless hours he had spent in this house, mastering his technique until he was as skilled as he was today.
After completing his meal, the boy stood up feeling revived. He glanced around the small living space that felt like home to him after months of training in there. The old man's words were ringing in his head: "Take it easy for the rest of the day." Try as he might, he couldn't get rid of the feeling of restlessness. After all, he had achieved a lot already but knew this was just the start of something bigger. He would need to keep practicing if he wanted to master the ward spell and stay motivated and driven towards success.
As he stepped out into the warm light, a sense of peace and satisfaction covered him like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. All worries about tomorrow or next week or even next year faded away – all that mattered was living this current moment!