Novels2Search
The Path of Magic
Chapter 16: Quiet Reflection

Chapter 16: Quiet Reflection

For the first time in days, Aelric felt something like peace. The tension that had gripped him since the trial was slowly loosening, and though the memories of the inquisitor’s test still haunted his thoughts, they no longer weighed him down. The inquisitor had cleared his name, and the town, for the most part, had accepted the ruling. Life in Delsworth had returned to a familiar rhythm, and Aelric moved through it with a newfound sense of calm.

He felt lighter now, walking through the streets with less weight on his shoulders. The usual stares of suspicion had faded, replaced by the occasional nod of acknowledgment or a quick greeting from those he passed. The town was no longer watching him closely. They believed him to be innocent, and in their eyes, the matter was settled.

Back at his small home, Aelric focused on his growing magic without the crutch of the ring. Each morning, he woke early, the quiet hours before dawn perfect for his practice. He’d sit in his small room, close his eyes, and concentrate on the warmth that always simmered within his chest. It started as a faint hum, barely noticeable unless he focused. But as Aelric willed the energy to move, it spread through his limbs, circulating like a second pulse.

His control had improved since the trial. There were fewer flare-ups, fewer mistakes, though every now and then, the fire affinity within him would flare in unpredictable ways. He could feel the magic resisting him sometimes, especially when he tried to push it too far, too quickly. But Aelric was patient. He worked slowly, honing his control bit by bit, day by day.

The absence of the ring was unsettling at first, like missing a shield that had once kept him safe. Without it, there was nothing to hide behind, no crutch to lean on if his magic slipped. But over time, Aelric realized it was also freeing. Without the ring’s dampening effect, he could feel his magic more clearly, as if it were a living thing, responding to his thoughts and emotions with greater intensity.

Each morning, he refined his techniques, testing his limits. He would begin by cycling the magic slowly from his core to his arms, then back again, ensuring each movement was deliberate and controlled. His fire affinity remained strong, and though he still feared the potential destruction it could cause, he was starting to trust himself more. There were moments during his practice when he would allow a flicker of flame to spark at his fingertips, a controlled burst that dissipated quickly into the air.

He was starting to understand that magic wasn’t just a tool or a force to be wielded. It was more than that. It was part of him, tied to his emotions, his thoughts, and his will. Magic responded to intent, and the more Aelric practiced, the more he realized it required a balance between control and release. Too much control, and the magic would stagnate, resisting his commands. Too little control, and it would flare unpredictably, like a fire without direction.

On some mornings, Aelric would sit for hours, simply feeling the ebb and flow of the magic inside him, learning how to guide it rather than force it. The more he practiced, the more he became aware of the intricacies of his own body’s relationship with magic. His fire affinity wasn’t just about creating flames—it was about harnessing heat, energy, and passion, all of which coursed through him like a second heartbeat.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

In the afternoons, Aelric would take quiet walks through Delsworth. The town had returned to its usual rhythm, with merchants calling out their wares, farmers driving their carts, and children running through the streets with laughter. Aelric moved among them, feeling more like an observer than a participant, his thoughts often drifting back to his magic and the masked figure’s words.

There were still moments when he felt uneasy. The inquisitor’s test had been brutal but effective, and Aelric knew that the town’s acceptance of his innocence rested solely on that man’s judgment. If another inquisitor were to come, or if someone else in the town grew suspicious again, things might not go as smoothly. But for now, the town had moved on, and Aelric was content to let them forget.

One quiet afternoon, after finishing his daily practice, Aelric decided to take a longer walk through the outskirts of town. The fresh air and the open fields helped clear his mind, and he found himself reflecting on the theories he had begun to develop about magic. There was so much he still didn’t understand—so much about the world beyond Delsworth, where magic users were hunted, where the masked figure’s society operated in secret.

He wondered if there were others like him, hiding in plain sight, learning to control their abilities in secret. What kinds of magic existed beyond his own fire affinity? He had heard rumors of water and earth affinities, of mages who could control the winds or bend metal to their will. The thought both excited and terrified him.

As Aelric made his way back toward town, he rounded a familiar corner near the marketplace and spotted Elda walking toward him. She carried a basket of herbs, her expression focused but relaxed. When she noticed Aelric, she gave him a small smile and nodded in greeting.

“Elda,” Aelric said, stopping her with a raised hand. “How is Calder?”

Elda’s expression shifted slightly, and she let out a quiet sigh. “His arm is ruined,” she said bluntly. “The inquisitor didn’t just cut him—he made sure Calder would never be able to use that arm again.”

Aelric felt a pang of guilt at her words, though he kept his expression neutral. He had witnessed the maiming firsthand, but hearing the full extent of the damage brought it home in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“And his mind?” Aelric asked carefully.

Elda shook her head, her voice quieter now. “Not much better. Calder wasn’t exactly the most balanced person before the trial, and this... well, it’s taken its toll. He’s not the same. Losing his arm has affected him deeply. He was always so determined, so focused on being the best guard he could be. But now...” She trailed off, her voice filled with quiet sympathy.

Aelric nodded, unsure of what to say. He felt sorry for Calder, despite everything. The man had been wrong in his methods, but he hadn’t been entirely wrong in his suspicions. Aelric’s fast recovery and his reclusive nature had painted a target on his back, and Calder had pursued that target relentlessly. But now, with his arm ruined and his psyche shattered, Calder was no longer a threat.

“He won’t be returning to his post, then?” Aelric asked, more out of politeness than genuine curiosity.

“No,” Elda confirmed. “The council is already looking for a replacement. Calder’s days as a guard are over. He’s... not in a good place.”

Aelric nodded again, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. Calder was out of the picture, and the town had seemingly moved on. For the first time in a long while, Aelric felt like he could breathe without the constant fear of being watched.

“Thank you,” Aelric said, offering Elda a small smile. “I appreciate you telling me.”

Elda returned his smile, though hers was tinged with sadness. “Take care, Aelric. Things may be calm now, but... just be careful.”

She left him with those words, continuing on her way through the market. Aelric watched her go before turning back toward his home.

For now, things were quiet, and Aelric intended to make the most of it.