Aelric had settled into a routine, though beneath the surface, he knew his life was anything but ordinary. The early mornings had become his time to focus on honing his magic, to control the unpredictable power that simmered within him. The stillness of his home allowed for quiet introspection, and with each passing day, he felt the flicker of fire inside him grow, though true mastery remained elusive.

Aelric had never been taught how to control magic. Everything he knew was from trial and error, learning through mistakes, flares of heat that nearly scorched his surroundings if his focus slipped. His fire magic, though potent, was slow to respond, and the path to refining his abilities was far from clear. It was a slow process, one he had no choice but to figure out on his own.

Today, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, he focused on drawing the magic up from his chest. The warmth spread, moving from his core to his arms, then to his palms. It was a sensation he had grown used to, though controlling the intensity of it was still a challenge. He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands, willing the flame to appear.

A small flicker of fire sparked to life in his palm, barely a whisper of heat. Aelric concentrated, holding it steady. The flame wavered, threatening to go out, but he managed to keep it alive for a few moments before releasing it into the air. It disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving his hand tingling.

His progress was slow. He could summon fire, yes, but it was weak, fleeting. Hardly the power he imagined when he first discovered his magic. Still, he pressed on, knowing that each day brought him closer to control, even if the steps were small.

As Aelric stood, stretching his stiff limbs, his thoughts drifted back to the masked figure who had visited him. The figure’s power had been immense, effortless in the way they wielded it. Aelric had never seen anything like it, and it left him with a gnawing question: How could an inquisitor, even one as powerful as the one who tested him, hope to contend with someone like that?

The masked figure had shown him what true power looked like, and Aelric knew that if he ever faced an inquisitor again, he would be no match. There was something he was missing, something vital about the way magic worked in this world—knowledge that could mean the difference between life and death. He needed to learn more, but where would he find that knowledge?

He stepped outside, feeling the cool breeze against his skin. The town of Delsworth had returned to its normal pace, with people bustling through the streets, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. Aelric walked aimlessly, his mind turning over the masked figure’s words.

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He realized that his journey would likely take him far from Delsworth one day. The small town, while peaceful, offered little in the way of opportunity for someone like him, but leaving wasn’t something he needed to rush. He had a few weeks' savings to get by, and if need be, he was sure Rurik would let him work extra days again. There was no urgency to abandon Delsworth just yet.

...

A week passed, and with it came progress, though not as much as Aelric had hoped. His control over his fire magic had improved noticeably, but now he had hit a plateau. The once small, candle-tip flame he could summon had grown into a palm-sized flare, but no matter how much he concentrated, the fire wouldn’t grow hotter. The heat was there, but it lacked intensity, as though something were holding it back.

Worse, the larger flame consumed more of his mana, draining him faster than before. The first time he tried to hold the flame for more than a few minutes, the fatigue hit him like a wave. He remembered how his vision blurred, his muscles weakening as though the fire had drawn the strength right out of him. By the time the flame had vanished, he was exhausted, his body demanding rest, and he collapsed into sleep almost immediately afterward.

Now, the nights had become more frustrating. Aelric knew he was improving, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to push further, to break through whatever wall was stopping him from progressing. But every time he tried, he felt his energy slip away, leaving him with nothing but the same results—a flame that wouldn’t burn any brighter.

It was on one of these quiet nights, as Aelric walked back from a modest dinner at a small restaurant, that his thoughts spiraled into frustration. The streets were empty, the moon barely visible behind a thick layer of clouds. Aelric pulled his cloak tighter around him, lost in thought about his stagnant progress. The cool air stung his skin, a reminder of the growing chill in the evenings.

As he neared a bend in the road leading to his small home, a loud voice broke through the quiet. Aelric turned his head, spotting a figure stumbling toward him—drunk, from the looks of it. The man’s steps were uneven, his body swaying with every movement. As the distance between them shrank, the man’s slurred words became clearer.

“There you are… you cursed thing,” the drunk spat, his eyes wild with hatred. “I know… what you are. Your kind… should burn.”

Aelric tensed, his instincts flaring with a rush of adrenaline. He hadn’t heard accusations like this in over a week, and though the townsfolk had left him alone, clearly not everyone had forgotten. He took a step back, his mind racing, but the man kept advancing, his speech growing more erratic.

“You think… think you’re safe, don’t you?” the drunk continued, his words dripping with venom. “But we know… we know the truth.”

Aelric stood his ground, his pulse quickening as the man staggered closer. The shadows seemed to close in around them as the man’s ramblings filled the night, leaving Aelric with a sense of unease that made his magic stir, the warmth inside him ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

The drunk man lurched toward Aelric, pointing a trembling finger at him. “You… shouldn’t be here.”

Aelric’s mind raced, the tension building in his chest as he faced the man. The fire in his veins felt dangerously close to igniting, but he held it back, unsure of what would happen next.