Aelric sat up in bed, his mind still clouded with the remnants of the dream. His body felt sore, but the sharpness of the pain had dulled, replaced with a strange, lingering warmth in his chest. It had only been a day since the tavern scuffle, but his bruises were already fading. He had expected to be bedridden for days, but as he ran his fingers over his ribs, the pain was nearly gone.

He glanced down at his hands, turning them over slowly. They looked unblemished, though the memory of the dream lingered—the fire, the heat, the way his magic had surged from his hands like an uncontrollable force. It had been years since he’d felt that kind of power, that overwhelming, dangerous sensation of losing control. And now, after last night, it was becoming harder to suppress.

The door to the infirmary creaked open, and Aelric looked up to see Elda stepping in, her usual calm expression giving way to something more guarded. She carried a tray of herbs and ointments, her movements quiet and deliberate as she set it down beside the bed.

“You’re healing quickly,” she said, her voice measured, but there was a note of suspicion beneath it. “Too quickly.”

Aelric shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Guess I’m just lucky.”

Elda’s eyes narrowed slightly, though she didn’t press further. She busied herself with checking his bandages, but Aelric could feel her watching him, studying him as if trying to piece together a puzzle. The silence between them was heavy, and Aelric knew that the events at the tavern had not gone unnoticed. The whispers, the stares—he had been the subject of town gossip long before the fight, but now, it was worse.

He winced as she removed one of the bandages, revealing a dark bruise along his side that had already begun to fade. Elda stared at it for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“Most men would be in bed for days after what you went through,” she said carefully. “But here you are, almost as if nothing happened.”

Aelric forced a smile. “Maybe I’m tougher than I look.”

Elda didn’t return the smile. She finished her work in silence, her hands deft and practiced as she reapplied the ointments. But when she spoke again, her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

“There are others in the town,” she began, her tone cautious, “who are starting to ask questions. People saw what happened at the tavern—saw the way you fought back. And now they’re wondering…”

Aelric’s stomach tightened. He had known this was coming, had felt the suspicion growing around him for weeks, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel all the more real.

“Wondering what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Elda met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Wondering if the rumors are true. About magic. About you.”

Aelric clenched his fists, his pulse quickening. He had been so careful, had done everything he could to keep his secret hidden. But it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, the magic inside him was becoming impossible to conceal.

“I’m no witch,” Aelric said, his voice harder than he intended. “I don’t have magic.”

Elda’s brow furrowed, her eyes searching his face for something—truth, perhaps, or a lie. “I don’t think you’re a witch,” she said after a long pause. “But you need to be careful. People are scared. And when they’re scared, they look for someone to blame.”

Aelric nodded, though his mind was racing. He knew what Elda meant—knew that the town’s fear of magic was growing stronger by the day. The witch hunts in the neighboring villages, the constant rumors of sorcery—it was only a matter of time before the people of Delsworth turned their attention to him.

“You should rest,” Elda said, standing up and gathering her things. “But be mindful, Aelric. The town council is planning to meet soon. And Calder… he’s been watching you.”

Aelric’s heart pounded in his chest. Calder had always been a problem, ever since the rumors of magic had started spreading through the town. The guard had never liked him, had always been too eager to believe the worst about him. And now, with the town council involved, things were about to get worse.

“I’ll keep my head down,” Aelric muttered, though he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay hidden.

Elda gave him a brief nod, her expression softening. “Just… be careful. You’ve been through enough already.”

Aelric watched her leave, the door closing softly behind her. He let out a slow breath, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. The dream, the fight, the whispers—it was all coming to a head, and Aelric knew that the magic inside him was no longer something he could suppress with simple denial.

He looked down at his hands again, the memory of the fire in the forest flickering in his mind. He had tested his magic before, in secret, when he thought no one was watching. He had felt the heat rise within him, had seen the flames dance on his fingertips. But it had never been like this—never so uncontrollable, so dangerous.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His fear had kept the magic at bay for years, but now, with the powers within him growing stronger, it was becoming harder to hide. The unconscious abilities that all magic users had—resilience, intuition, the strange sense of influence over the world around him—had been easy to dismiss when he was younger. But now, they were undeniable.

He had experimented with his magic in the forests, far from prying eyes. The first time he had felt the warmth in his chest, he hadn’t known what to do with it. He had concentrated, willing the energy down to his hands, and to his shock, they had burst into weak flames. The fire had nearly gotten out of control, threatening to consume the trees around him, but he had managed to stop it just in time.

The memory of the fire, the way the flames had flickered and surged, sent a shiver down his spine. It had been a mistake to test his powers, but at the time, he had needed to understand what was happening to him.

But now, as he lay in the infirmary, the weight of that knowledge felt like a burden he couldn’t escape. The magic inside him wasn’t just a gift—it was a curse, one that threatened to consume him if he let it.

Aelric closed his eyes, but the exhaustion pulling at him felt strange—unnatural, even. His mind was clear from the rest, but his body was weary, as though it had been working for days. He realized it was his magic—the constant warmth that usually pulsed through him now felt weaker, as if it had spent the past two days mending him. The strain of healing had taken its toll, leaving him drained in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.

But despite the heaviness in his body, Aelric couldn’t sleep. His mind was too active, too burdened by thoughts of the town’s growing suspicion. The tavern brawl had only fanned the flames of doubt, and he knew that if things continued as they were, it was only a matter of time before the town turned fully against him.

Should he leave?

The thought gnawed at him. If he left now, before the council met or Calder decided to act, he might be able to escape. But leaving would only confirm their suspicions, and there would be a witch hunt. He had no illusions about what would follow: the church would send an inquisitor after him, someone trained to hunt down those accused of magic. The church had long held power in the region, and their views on magic were clear—it was not divine, but satanic, a perversion of the natural order.

Aelric shuddered at the thought. He had heard the stories, seen the executions. The church’s reach was long, and its judgment swift. If he ran, they would come for him, and there would be no escaping the fire.

But could he really stay and try to convince the people of his innocence? The bruises on his body were evidence of what his pleas had gotten him so far. The townsfolk were too scared, too suspicious of him already. His reclusive nature had always set him apart, and now it was working against him. They didn’t know him, and that made it easier for them to believe the worst.

He could try to fight for his innocence, but what would change? The people saw what they wanted to see.

Aelric sighed, running a hand over his face. The only path forward was learning to control his magic, to master the power growing inside him. If he could understand it, wield it without fear of losing control, maybe—just maybe—he could protect himself. His plea for innocence would mean nothing without power to back it up.

He glanced down at his hands again, thinking about the fire, the warmth. Lying in bed, his body still recovering, he closed his eyes and began to focus, concentrating on the magic within him. He felt it stir, faint and distant, but still there. The warmth was weaker than before, but it was present, like a small flame waiting to be kindled.

Learning more about his magic while he had the chance was his best option. He couldn’t afford to let it go wild again, and he couldn’t afford to leave Delsworth. The town was suspicious, but leaving would only guarantee his condemnation. No, he needed to stay, to learn more, and to control his growing power.

Aelric focused on the warmth within him, letting his mind settle into the rhythm of his breath. He hadn’t tried to truly control his magic since that incident in the forest, when the flames had almost consumed him. But now, in the quiet of the infirmary, with the town’s suspicion hanging over him like a dark cloud, he knew he had no other choice.

He closed his eyes and willed the warmth to gather, to pool within his chest. Slowly, cautiously, he directed it down to his hands, as he had done in the forest. At first, there was nothing—just a faint flicker of warmth, like a dying ember. But as he concentrated, the heat began to grow, faint at first but steady, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

His hands began to tingle, a sensation he remembered from before. He tried to remain calm, to stay in control. This time, there were no trees to burn, no forest to threaten. He was alone, in a place of safety. The flames would come if he let them, but he wasn’t going to lose control again.

The warmth flowed through him, growing stronger. His fingers twitched, and for a moment, he saw a faint, orange glow beneath his skin, like the embers of a long-extinguished fire rekindling. Aelric’s heart quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. This was his power, and he needed to understand it.

He held the warmth in his hands, feeling the pulse of energy within him, then slowly, gently, he let it fade. The glow dimmed, the heat subsided, and his hands returned to normal. He let out a slow breath, feeling both relief and disappointment. He had been able to control it—barely—but it had been weaker than before, more restrained. The power was there, but it was still elusive.

Still, it was a start.

Aelric lay back against the pillow, his mind racing with thoughts of what he had just done. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give him hope. He could control the magic, at least for now, and if he kept practicing, maybe he could master it. Maybe he could stay in Delsworth without drawing more suspicion, without letting the town turn against him completely.

But even as he tried to find solace in that thought, a new one crept into his mind—a darker, more dangerous idea. If he could learn to control his magic, if he could harness its power, what else could he do with it? Could he use it to defend himself, to fight back if it came to that? Could he use it to make people believe in his innocence, to force them to see the truth?

The thought sent a chill through him, and he shook his head, trying to dispel it. No, that wasn’t the path he wanted to take. He wasn’t going to become the thing they feared. He wasn’t going to let the magic consume him.

But still, the idea lingered, just at the edges of his mind.

Aelric’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion finally catching up to him. His body was still recovering, and the strain of using his magic, however briefly, had drained him further. Sleep came slowly, but this time, it wasn’t filled with dreams of fire and chaos. Instead, it was a deep, dreamless sleep, the kind that left him with the faintest sense of peace.

For now, at least, the magic was quiet.