The silence between them lingered, heavy and expectant. The masked figure’s gaze, though hidden behind the mask, felt piercing as they leaned forward slightly, repeating their earlier question with a sense of finality.

“What’s your affinity?”

Aelric hesitated, his mind racing. He had already revealed more than he wanted to, and yet, there was something about the figure’s presence that made it impossible to hold back any longer. With a resigned sigh, he relented.

“Fire,” Aelric said quietly. “I can control fire.”

The masked figure let out a low chuckle, their tone almost amused. “Yeah, I figured. Fire types tend to have that spark in their aura.” They leaned back, tapping their fingers idly on the table. “Word of advice: don’t summon flames while wearing the ring.”

Aelric raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

The figure tilted their head as if the answer were obvious. “Fire affinity types have a curious feature to them. The resistance to their own flames—it’s a passive feature of their mana. That’s why you never get burned by your own fire… unless you’re wearing something that interferes with the natural flow. The ring dulls that resistance. Without it, well, you’ve already learned the hard way, haven’t you?”

Aelric’s hand instinctively went to the burns that had nearly healed. He grimaced, recalling the pain and the sudden flare of uncontrollable fire. “Yeah, I noticed,” he muttered, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. “Couldn’t you have written that on the note?”

The figure laughed, the sound soft but tinged with mockery. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you’re learning, aren’t you?”

Aelric shook his head, biting back a retort. He glanced around the restaurant, suddenly more aware of the shift in atmosphere. The air felt heavier, and the once-quiet patrons were now gathered near the splintered remains of the door, whispering in hushed tones. The mood had darkened. He spotted a few of the guards near the entrance, Calder among them, speaking to the restaurant owner and inspecting the damage.

The pit in Aelric’s stomach deepened. Calder hadn’t noticed him yet, but it was only a matter of time before those sharp eyes found him.

“We’ve got company,” Aelric muttered, his heart beginning to race.

The figure followed his gaze, their masked face betraying no emotion. They reached into their cloak and pulled out a small, simple mask, sliding it across the table toward Aelric.

“You might want to put that on,” the figure said calmly. “We should leave before they light a fire under you right here and now.”

Aelric hesitated for only a moment before grabbing the mask and slipping it over his face. The material was rough, but it concealed him well enough. He looked back at the guards—Calder was now gesturing angrily, clearly demanding answers from the owner, though he still hadn’t noticed Aelric and the figure in the corner.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Let’s go,” the figure said, standing up smoothly and motioning for Aelric to follow. “Stay close. You don’t want to draw any more attention than necessary.”

Aelric nodded, his pulse quickening as he stood and followed the masked figure toward the side exit. The tension in the air was palpable, and every step felt like it was echoing too loudly, but somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping through the shadows and out of sight.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Aelric glanced back over his shoulder, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Calder would soon realize what had happened, and the council meeting was only hours away. He was running out of time, and the danger was closing in from all sides.

The masked figure moved with quiet confidence, leading Aelric down a narrow alley, their footsteps barely audible against the cobblestones. After a few turns, the streets plunged into deeper darkness. They continued until they were tucked between two old buildings in a shadowed alley, away from prying eyes.

The figure stopped, turning to face Aelric. “Show me,” they said, their voice low and expectant.

“Show you what?” Aelric asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“What you’re capable of,” the figure replied, leaning against the wall. “I want to see your fire.”

Aelric hesitated for a moment, but then he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth that always simmered inside him. He held out his hand, and with a flicker of concentration, a small flame appeared in his palm, glowing faintly in the darkness.

The masked figure observed silently, their head tilting slightly. “Not terrible,” they muttered. “But not great either.”

Aelric frowned, feeling a pang of irritation. “What’s good then?” he asked, glancing down at the flame in his hand. “And how do you even know? All I can see is the result—the small flame in my hand.”

The figure crossed their arms, seemingly amused by Aelric’s confusion. “As you refine your technique, your capabilities will rise. Mana will become easier to wield, more willing to do your bidding. Your flames will grow hotter, stronger.”

Aelric listened intently, but the figure wasn’t done.

“There’s more,” the figure continued. “A refined mage can even use their mana outside their natural affinity. You could cycle it to parts of your body that don’t involve fire.” They paused, chuckling darkly. “But trust me, you don’t want your fire mana touching certain areas… like your eyes, for example. Imagine your eyes catching fire… eugh...”

Aelric winced at the mental image, and the figure laughed again. “Yeah, don’t do that. In fact, I doubt you could even get your magic past your neck at your current level. But seriously… don’t try.”

Aelric couldn’t help but feel a rising frustration. The figure’s constant warnings about the dangers of being a fire mage were beginning to grate on him. “Okay, okay, enough about all the horrible things that can happen. How do I improve, then?”

The figure seemed to relax, their tone shifting slightly. “What you’ve been doing is mostly correct. Circuiting your mana allows your passages to expand, reduces natural resistances, and over time, your sixth sense for magic will become sharper.”

Aelric nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information.

“Keep doing that in your spare time,” the figure added. “Practice until it becomes second nature. You’re on the right path, but don’t rush it. Mastery takes time.”

Aelric took a deep breath, feeling a little more reassured, but there was still a weight hanging over him.

“And remember,” the figure continued, “wear the ring during the trial. You don’t want anyone sensing what’s inside you.”

Aelric nodded. “After the trial… what then?”

The figure’s mask tilted slightly, as if they were smiling beneath it. “I’ll find you.”

Without another word, the masked figure turned and walked away, their footsteps eerily silent as they disappeared into the shadows of the alley. Aelric stood there for a moment, the weight of everything sinking in. The trial was tomorrow, and his fate hung in the balance.

Alone in the darkness, Aelric made his way back home, his mind racing with questions—and fears—about what lay ahead.