Aelric sat frozen at the table, staring across at the hooded figure. The muffled voice that had just asked about the ring seemed to carry with it a weight of knowing—a sense that whoever this person was, they knew far more about Aelric than they should.

“How’s the ring?” the voice repeated, softer this time but with an undeniable edge.

Aelric instinctively reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the cool metal band he had hastily removed earlier. He studied the figure across from him, their face completely obscured by the mask, their identity hidden in the dim light of the restaurant.

“The ring,” Aelric began slowly, “it doesn’t block magic, but it… changes how it works. Alters it.”

The figure chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “Not quite,” the voice replied. “The ring isn’t meant to stop you from using magic. It’s meant to conceal it.”

Aelric frowned. “Conceal it? What do you mean?”

The figure leaned in slightly, their voice dropping to a near whisper. “The ring hides the unconscious abilities magic users possess. You’ve probably noticed—magic makes you stronger, more resilient, gives you those gut instincts that keep you ahead of everyone else. The ring dulls those abilities, makes it harder for others to sense what you are.”

Aelric’s heart skipped a beat. The idea made sense, but it was unsettling. He had never considered that his magic might be giving him those subtle advantages. “So… it hides me,” Aelric muttered, his thoughts spinning. “Why would you give me something like that?”

The hooded figure paused for a moment before answering, their voice softer, almost thoughtful. “Consider it an act of kindness. You’re not exactly in a friendly town right now, and let’s just say… there aren’t many of you left.”

Aelric’s eyes narrowed. “Many of us?”

“Mages,” the figure clarified. “Magic is dying, Aelric. The ‘Church of Valisar’—they convinced the royal family that magic was a threat. It didn’t take much to scare them into action, and now mages are hunted down, one by one, until… well, until there aren’t any left.”

Aelric felt a chill run down his spine. The hooded figure’s words echoed what he already knew, but hearing it spoken so plainly, so casually, made it feel all the more real. The church’s reach extended far beyond Delsworth, and its influence was suffocating the very existence of magic.

“Why are you telling me this?” Aelric asked, his voice tense. “What do you want from me?”

The figure tilted their head slightly, as if considering the question. “I’m curious, that’s all. I’ve been watching you. Your magic is… raw, unrefined. But there’s potential there. I want to know what kind of mage you are.”

Aelric tensed, feeling the weight of the figure’s gaze even through the mask. “What kind?” he repeated.

The figure leaned back slightly, their posture more relaxed. “What’s your affinity? You know, your connection to mana.”

Aelric blinked, confused. “Mana?” he echoed. The term was unfamiliar, and he had never thought about magic in terms of affinities or types. It had always just been something inside him—something he had struggled to control, but never truly understood.

The figure seemed to sense his confusion and let out a soft laugh. “Ah, I see. You’ve never heard of it. Mana is the source of all magic, and every mage has an affinity—a type of magic they’re naturally attuned to. Fire, water, earth, air… it’s the core of who you are.”

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Aelric’s heart raced. He had never considered that there might be different kinds of magic, different ways to use it. But now, the figure’s words planted seeds of doubt in his mind. What was his magic? Was he tied to fire, as the small embers that constantly threatened to flare from his hands suggested? Or was there something more?

But he couldn’t trust this figure—not yet. There were too many unknowns, too many dangers lurking in the shadows. He wasn’t about to reveal anything to this stranger, not when his life hung in the balance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aelric said coolly, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest.

The figure made a slight hand movement, so subtle Aelric almost missed it. And then, suddenly, the noise of the tavern died out. The low murmur of voices, the clatter of dishes—it all disappeared, leaving the two of them sitting in a bubble of silence. Aelric’s pulse quickened, his eyes darting around the room, but none of the other patrons seemed to notice.

The hooded figure laughed again, the sound eerie in the unnatural quiet. “Don’t worry,” they said lightly. “We can’t hear them, and they can’t hear us. I’m just curious. Don’t worry, Aelric. If something happens here, it’s my fault. I’ll protect you.”

Aelric’s muscles tensed, his mind racing. Who was this person? How were they able to silence the world around them so effortlessly? And why did they care about him?

He didn’t trust the figure—not for a second. But there was something undeniably powerful about them, something that made Aelric feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss he didn’t understand.

“What do you want from me?” Aelric asked again, his voice low, laced with suspicion.

The figure leaned forward, their masked face just inches from Aelric’s. “I want to see what kind of mage you’ll become.”

Aelric held his silence, refusing to answer again. He could feel the tension between them building, like a taut rope about to snap.

The figure sighed, irritation clear in the way their shoulders stiffened. “Fine,” they said coldly. “Let me show you what you could become—if you survive tomorrow and refine your magic.”

Without warning, the figure clenched their fist. In an instant, an unseen force tore through the restaurant. The door to the bar, heavy and solid, ripped from its hinges and shot outside, splintering into pieces as it crashed against the street.

At the same time, Aelric felt another force, more insidious, running through his veins. His body shuddered involuntarily, a deep, primal fear washing over him. It was as though something ancient and powerful had reached into his very core, demanding submission. The urge to bow, to bend under the weight of this unseen power, was overwhelming.

The figure didn’t break eye contact, their presence exuding a kingly force—something Aelric had never experienced before.

“My affinity lies in the air around us,” the figure said, their voice calm but commanding. “And you feel my king’s force. It’s probably quite strong since your own is so… underdeveloped.”

Aelric struggled to keep himself composed, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just witnessed. The power this figure wielded was far beyond anything he had encountered, and the ease with which they had demonstrated it left him shaken.

The silence lingered for another beat, and Aelric felt his mouth dry as he blurted out, “Are you crazy? How am I supposed to explain to the council that I was just sitting here eating when the door to the restaurant got torn off and shot into the street?”

The figure chuckled, though there was an edge of impatience in their voice. “Do you think these people even remember what real magic looks like?” they said, their tone darkening. “They’ve been living under the church’s boot for fifty years. Most of them wouldn’t recognize true magic if it was burning in front of their faces. Instead, they fawn over the church’s inquisitors and their so-called magic armor and weapons. False powers, given to them by named villains to control the masses.”

Aelric’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the information. “But why aren’t you afraid to use magic out in the open? You’re not exactly hiding it.”

The figure leaned back, their posture more relaxed now. “Because they’ve been chasing me for years. The inquisitors are dangerous, yes, but they’re not invincible. I’ve killed many of them. They’ll never stop hunting me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll cower in the shadows.”

Aelric felt a cold shiver run down his spine. “And what about you?” he asked quietly. “What are you?”

The figure’s voice softened, though there was an unmistakable strength in their words. “I’m part of something larger than you know, Aelric. A mage society, fighting back against the church. I’m a scout—sent to find new talent, new mages who can be trained and join the cause. I saw potential in you, and I wanted to see for myself if you were worth saving.”

Aelric stared at the figure, his mind spinning with the revelation. A mage society? Fighting back against the church? He had spent so long hiding his powers, afraid of being discovered, and now here was someone openly defying everything he had feared.