Mages are categorized into four circles. These circles, starting with the first, ascend in power and rarity. Every mage will make the first circle, most will make it to the second, and very few will see the third. The histories we have of fourth-circle mages are sparse and disconnected. However, some of the deeds mentioned across several differing accounts around the time of the Fall all indicate that several were alive at that time. And available evidence suggests they might have been the reason for the Fall. Still, the existence of a fourth circle begs the question: Might there be a fifth? - Royal College of Lucendia, Lecture On The History Of Magic. Professor Laris Lakin

Darian's heart was pounding in his chest as he gasped great lung fulls of air. A slight breeze cooled his sweat-soaked skin.

"Push!" Lys's command spurred Darian on. He'd wavered once the house came into view. Despite Darian being covered in sweat, Lys looked utterly unbothered. The old man had kept up with Darian with minimal effort. He wanted to shout back to tell the old man to shut up, but breathing was more important.

Darian was exhausted. Two weeks of brutal physical training had him living at the edge of physical collapse, and his other studies hadn't helped. Hours spent practicing writing had his brain turning to mush, and he felt like his eyes would deflate and fall out of his skull if he had to stare at another piece of paper.

His body hurt constantly. His head hurt constantly. And so far, he hadn't had a damn thing to show for it. Not true. Darian corrected himself.

He had noticed a few changes. Lys was more than generous with food portions, and despite eating as much as he could stuff himself with at every meal, Darian was thinning out in some places and filling out in others. Even after just two weeks, he'd started to see some of the baby fat left on his cheeks fading.

"Last hundred yards, sprint boy! Sprint!"

Darian had learned what happened when he refused to listen and had no desire for extra letter practice. His legs felt like they were made of lead as he forced them to work harder, pushing for the house's front porch.

Lys was shouting something, but Darian’s exhausted body couldn’t comprehend the noise. The only sounds he could discern were blood pounding through his ears and the distant discordant sounds of music. He'd heard the music more often but never more than a few notes at a time.

Darian reached the porch just as his legs refused to continue. He stumbled, then fell, landing flat in the grass. The impact with the ground made his sore body scream in protest. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, still heaving for breath. The grass felt incredible, cooling the skin of his bare chest.

A face came into view, piercing turquoise eyes looking down at him. "Good work." Lys offered a hand, which Darian took. Lys pulled Darian to his feet, making the motion seem effortless.

It probably is for him. A water skin appeared in Lys's hand, and Darian eagerly took it. Darian drank and focused on his breathing. Trying to calm his racing heart. Finally, through steady breaths, he asked, "When will magic start to strengthen my body?"

"It already is, but I guess you are asking when it will become noticeable. The enchantment I put on you to slow your development is slowing that process. If you are lucky, you won't get any physical benefits from magic until you've gone through the operation. But once you've recovered, you will likely see benefits almost immediately."

The reminder of the time limit they had made Darian shutter. It was why he hadn't just curled into a ball and given up. Who would have guessed that the looming threat of death would be such a great motivator? It felt strange in a way. The idea of death had felt distant, almost impossible, at least when applied to himself. That distant idea had gotten more intimate as it settled in his mind.

"There isn't any way to make more time," Darian couldn't help but ask.

Lys shook his head, "To delay would make the attempt a waste of your life and my time." His tone was flat.

Darian just nodded.

"Don't dwell on the future. Keep your mind in the present and focused on the task at hand." He looked Darian up and down. "Go take a shower. I'll get dinner cooking."

Darian was so hungry even the idea of Lys's cooking made his stomach rumble. That and the thought of a shower gave his limbs new life. The marvel of plumbing still amazed Darian; it was something he'd heard was in the cities, but the idea that he would turn a handle and hot water would shower over him. It might be the most magical thing Lys has shown me.

He made his way through the house and up the stairs. It had turned out that one of the three doors was a bathroom. It still stunned Darian—an entire room for washing and cleaning. Lys had laughed when Darian nearly exploded with excitement when he first saw the room.

Darian grabbed a towel and a clean set of clothes. Lys had given him multiple pairs of the same plain white shirt and tan pants the day after their arrival. He'd been shocked when the man had told him he expected Darian to wash daily.

It didn't take long before the room was full of steam, a result of the hot water soothing aching muscles. It will all be worth it, even if all I get is showers. Plumbing really was a gift from the Gods. The only downside was how sensitive his hands still were to heat.

The shower ended too soon. Donning clean clothes, Darian made his way to the kitchen with trepidation. Lys's cooking was always miss or miss. For all of the man's talent with magic and age, his lack of cooking skills astonished Darian. You'd think he'd have figured it out by now.

The savory smell and popping of searing meat lifted Darian's spirits. Steaks were the one thing Lys could make palatable, and even that was probably more due to the source of the steaks. Tired limbs were given new strength, and Darian practically leaped down the stairs. Auroch steaks were always good even when Lys burned them, or cooked them unevenly, or didn't salt or pepper them. How does a man so hells bent on perfection repeat the same mistakes?

Still, it didn't matter how it was cooked. Auroch meat was so tender and soft it would melt in your mouth, and Lys let Darian eat as much as he could stomach.

As it turned out, Darian could stomach a lot. The salad was bland, and the potatoes were burnt, but he gorged himself to a degree that even he was impressed. Ever since his training had begun, he'd been eating like he had a bottomless pit in place of a stomach.

"I'll clean. Get started on sensory training," Lys said.

"Why not use magic to clean?" It was a question that had been burning in his mind since he'd gotten there, and he'd just not had the courage to ask.

"Magic is a wondrous thing, but never underestimate the value of completing a task with your own hands," he paused as a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "Besides, I need something to do while I monitor your sensory training."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Darian, confused, just nodded. That was another thing about Lys that confused him. He stays busy just to stay busy. It was clear to Darian that Lys did not enjoy being idle. "Sound again?"

"Yes."

Darian nodded and moved to the sitting room. Unlike the kitchen, where Lys had conjured two chairs from thin air, the sitting room was still without furniture. A cushion in the center of the room sat in the middle of an intricately chalked ritual circle. The circle acted as an isolation ward, and Darian knew that outside sound would completely vanish once he entered it.

It was so quiet that the sound of his heartbeat became thunderous. He could hear his stomach's tiny noises as his dinner digested. The air moving through his lungs became a rolling storm. It had been a process to get accustomed to the strange noises of his body, and even now, he couldn't spend more than twenty minutes in the circle at a time.

And that was just the sound isolation effects. The circle would numb Darian's senses, removing any sensation of touch and taste and blind both his eyes and nose. Then, the circle would play any one of the twelve basic notes.

Darkness embraced Darian as he sat on the cushion, and his body tingled as nothingness consumed him. He'd initially fought the sensation despite Lys walking him through the process. Even now, weeks later, he had to shove down a visceral panic that threatened to consume him. He breathed in deeply. Darian held his breath for a small count and then let it go.

He focused on the sound of his breathing, and as his ears adjusted to the total silence, it turned from barely audible to the gusting of an angry elemental. Darian knew the notes were already playing. There was enough randomness to the timing and of the notes that Darian couldn't predict them. It likely wouldn't have mattered anyway. In most sessions, Darian was lucky if he picked up more than one.

He sat and waited, listening to the sounds of his own body. In this strange place between existence and nonexistence, time moved unpredictably. Is this what damnation is like, to be stuck in the void, completely cut off for all eternity? Ailis had often preached about damnation, where all who forsook the Triune would eventually go—the place where the gods' ultimate enemy awaited.

Darian had often caught Ailis's eyes falling upon him when he sermonized about the dangers of sin and the fate of those who would be cast away from the light of the Triune when their time came.

Lost in memories, Darian almost missed it. A vibrant sound, distinctly different from anything noise his own body made, sounded out in the blackness. Darian couldn't hold back a smile. That was a life rune! He was certain of it. Lys had described them to him, and over many practice sessions, he'd slowly gotten enough experience with the different notes to recognize them. The note hummed with energy, calling to him.

That was nothing new. Every note had called to Darian, whispering for him to reach out and take them. He'd been unable to manage it, and his early attempts had been comical. One overly exuberant one had seen Darian lung from the cushion he sat on, physically attempting to tackle the note. It had only resulted in him messing up the circle and tumbling head over heels as his limbs were impossible to coordinate properly when all sensation was gone from them.

Soon, the silence faded, and sensation came crashing down on Darian. It always surprised him how strange his mouth tasted.

"Well done, that was twenty-five minutes. The longest you've managed," Lys said.

Darian furrowed his brows. He'd barely broken a sweat. Then the headache hit as his brain struggled to process the flood of sensations that assaulted him. He slumped over, trying to control his descent to the ground.

"What notes did you hear?" Lys stood over him.

Why is it always the ground? It annoyed Darian with how frequently it happened. "Life," groaned Darian from the floor.

"Just the one," asked Lys.

Darian nodded.

"You are lasting longer than I expected. That's progress... of a sort. You probably could have gone another minute or two."

Darian shuddered. That extra minute or two would have multiplied the pain he was in. There had been a few early attempts that had ended with him losing complete control of his body, coating himself in fluids and puking all over himself, then passing out. Only to wake up an hour later feeling like someone had repeatedly dropped a log on his skull.

"We'll give it an hour for you to recover, and then we go again."

Darian groaned but nodded. The worst would pass in minutes, but it would feel like hours. Those minutes passed, and his headache faded, not completely vanishing but dissipating enough to sit back up. He had questions, and for some reason, he felt brave enough to ask them today.

"Why is it so hard to hear the notes in the isolation array, but when I hear them all the time when I'm doing just about anything else?"

Lys smiled, "Smart question. It's a matter of subtlety and training effectiveness. For example, walking is good exercise, but if you are training to run a mile as fast as possible, walking will only help so much. This exercise is a high-intensity sprint, in comparison."

Darian nodded, falling silent momentarily as he worked up the courage to ask his next question before faltering. Lys had been open and upfront when answering his questions, but for some reason, that had only made him more hesitant to ask them.

"Ask your question."

"Huh?"

"Don't fear asking an honest question, lad," Lys said.

"What happens after the operation," asked Darian.

"You'll continue to learn. There is a lot I have to teach you before I send you off to the Royal College."

Darian blinked in surprise; this was the first time Lys had mentioned sending him away. He shook his head, getting back to the point, "What exactly will you teach me? I know so little I don't even know how to ask the question properly."

"We'll go over the basics of everything, which includes alchemy, enchanting, spellcraft, ritual-craft, and herbology. There are a few more, but we'll get to them when we get to them. We will also cover things like history and get you more experience with writing and higher-level math."

"What about fighting," Darian blurted the question out before he could stop himself.

"Fighting," Lys's voice had gone flat.

"I've always wanted to be a soldier… After meeting you, I hoped to become a war-mage."

"You aren't the first to hope for just about the dumbest thing you can ask for." Lys paused and sighed, "The soldier's life isn't glamorous, Darian." Lys's voice had gone quiet.

"But you handled the raiders that attacked so easily. You sent them packing by yourself, and then when they were gone, you burned their ships."

Lys's wince confused Darian. It was strange to see Lys break his even expression.

"You saw that," asked Lys.

"I snuck out of the church and watched from the roofs," Darian said sheepishly, fully aware that he had just ratted himself out.

"To kill is a horrible thing, Darian. What I did that day was... impulsive." Lys turned away from Darian and headed for the kitchen. "You can do so much with magic. With your capabilities, you'll be able to create wonders. Leave killing to lesser men."

Darian narrowed his eyes at Lys. "I want to become a war-mage."

"Why?"

Darian opened his mouth, then shut it. He could put it into words. Back in Mapleton, becoming a soldier was a way to leave. To escape the hell he'd been born into. That and he enjoyed fighting, both the challenge and the thrill. But Darian didn't need a way out; he was a mage. Once his training was complete, he could go where he wanted and do what he wished.

His mind went back to how Lys had moved, how he had fought. He'd been untouchable. The mage he'd fought might as well have been fighting the wind. Darian had seen a glimpse of true power, and he craved it. But why? He didn't know.

Darian stayed silent.

Lys turned to him. "Is it pride, ego… vengeance, perhaps?"

"I don't know," stammered Darian, surprised by the growl in Lys's voice.

Lys looked down at him, "I will play no part in making another monster, nor will I damn another student to a life of conflict for no good reason. Think on it, and if you can't decide upon a greater purpose, do not ask again." Lys turned, heading for the kitchen and likely another inane chore to keep himself busy,

Darian sat there confused. It was as close to a refusal as he could get without being outright turned down. But why blow up on me like that?

Darian's mind was a confused buzz as he thought through what had happened. He hadn't expected anything near the reaction he'd gotten. 'I will play no part in making another monster.' Just who in all the hells did my mother tie my wagon to?