"Whoa, Eli, you were so cool!" Daniel's bubbly voice chimed from behind me.

I turned to look at the little scamp. Initially, I had assumed he'd come for more candies, but to my surprise, he'd risen early just to cheer me on. I'd casually mentioned Zach was training me, never imagining he'd be so enthusiastic about watching my practice sessions.

"You were like a real Knight, Eli!" Daniel's hands danced in the air, mimicking swordplay. "Swish, swoosh, and then you were all like, 'Ha! Take that!' You were so fast!"

"Um, well, I was just practicing, you know?" I stumbled over my words, unused to such earnest praise. "It's, uh, kind of you to think that way."

I continued walking, unsure of how to handle such genuine admiration. Blast my lack of social graces.

But Daniel wasn't finished. His animated retelling of my training session continued, recounting every dodge, every spin, with unbridled excitement.

"Eli! You almost dodged that one, like whoosh, almost there! It was so cool!" Daniel's exuberance was infectious.

"Do you know what else is cool?" I leaned in, scanning the corridor cautiously.

"What?" His eyes widened with curiosity.

"Magic," I whispered conspiratorially.

The reaction on the little scamp's face. Priceless.

"Wait, you can do magic?" He looked so surprised. "But how? You didn't even take that magic test yet. Dad said only after that can you find out if you're a real mage."

Certain facts were common knowledge in this world, and the concept of magic and mages ranked among them.

It was widely understood that magic within an individual began to mature around the age of ten. This was the time when one would sense the presence of magic within themselves, although they wouldn't discern the specific elemental affinity. Hence, it marked the age when churches across the kingdom conducted aptitude exams for this age group.

The frequency of these exams varied based on the region's population density, ranging from bi-weekly to annual occurrences.

In Shadowstep county, they took place quarterly every year.

"Secret," I replied cryptically, leaving him more bewildered than before.

Yet, the allure of witnessing magic in action was too irresistible for him to resist.

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The door to the study creaked open, and I stepped inside with Daniel in tow. The room lay dark and empty as usual. With a flick of my wrist, I switched on the mana lamps, eliciting a soft sizzling sound before the room bathed in light once more.

Daniel suspiciously peeked outside before firmly closing the door. I unlatched the window to invite in the morning light; the sun was on the brink of rising.

As soon as Daniel shut the door, his excitement overflowed, and he bombarded me with a flurry of questions. "How did you figure out you're a mage? When did you know? Can you do spells? But you don't have teachers yet. What about elements? Can you...?"

"Steady there, Daniel," I interjected, attempting to quell the deluge of questions.

When he finally abated, I chose my words with care.

Revealing the truth was out of the question, so I merely stated, "One day, I simply sensed the stirrings of my magic and knew I was a mage."

He regarded me with suspicion, a adorably quizzical expression upon his cherubic countenance.

"Can I do that as well?" inquired young Daniel.

"Nope," I replied, quite bluntly.

"But why?" he persisted.

"You haven't yet reached the age of ten, Daniel. Your inquiry is premature."

"Oh…"

My statement seemed to quell his words, as if I had made an irrefutable point. Returning my attention to the manual, I located the page outlining the spell matrix for [Twilight Veil]. Though committed to memory, a thorough check never harmed.

In the interim, Daniel curiously sidled closer, stealing glances at the pages I perused. Questions evidently lingered on his tongue, yet for the present, he chose to stifle them. Admirable.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath.

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To be honest, this marked my inaugural attempt at spellcasting. Thus far, I'd immersed myself in foundational studies, various mana exercises, yet curiously skirted the actual casting of spells.

The recent exercise aimed to enhance spellcasting efficiency, yet why I delved into it without prior spellcasting experience was a conundrum even to me.

And so, I had summoned Daniel. It seemed the pressure of performance might serve as my catalyst to overcome this hesitation.

I followed the prescribed steps.

Hand extended, guiding the mana towards my fingertips. A peculiar, twitchy sensation tingled within, nestled deep within my fingertips.

Now, slowly push it out of one of the mana channels.

Pressure on the fingertips lightened, as I felt it flowing out. My eyes snapped open.

Threads.

Ethereal. Pulsating. Dark.

I just momentarily stared at these threads emanating from my fingertips. Daniel stared too.

But I soon recentred myself. Focus.

Gently, I twirled my hand, commanding threads to weave a perfect circle.

Will the second hand, expand the circle.

Another circle beneath.

Interlocking triangles along the periphery. Vertices, opposite. Runes, within.

The world receded. Allow it. Inconsequential.

Sense it. The Vibration. The faint symphony. The harmony.

Shaking. Hands are shaking. CALM THEM!

Pull back.

Runes swirl. Fast. Faster.

Wait. Wait. Just a bit more.

It's time.

"[Twilight Veil]"

Darkness erupted like an explosion, reverberating through the space. Reality snapped back into focus, awakened and attentive to the command issued. Wisps of darkness surged forth, hungrily chasing and devouring the ambient light.

It had been a straightforward command, to obstruct all traces of light. Mana lamps were enveloped, windows shrouded, and light itself vanished.

Yet, amidst the successful execution, a gradual drain began within me, a persistent feeling of losing something vital.

I gazed, transfixed, at the fully formed matrix shimmering in front of my hand. Intricate, pulsating, ominous.

Casting the spell had provided insights into its nature: a form of communication, a command conveyed through the runes. The Twilight. The Absence. The Shroud.

Amidst this revelation, Daniel's voice pierced through the growing darkness, pulling me back to the present. He clutched onto my gown, palpably frightened.

Surveying the engulfing darkness, I realized my eyes had failed me. The cause of Daniel's fear dawned on me, and it fell upon my shoulders to console the young lad—he was only six, after all.

"Daniel, it's alright," I said as I knelt beside him. The little man trembled, and in retrospect, I contemplated whether divulging my attunement to Dark Mana might have been a wise precursor. It seemed I had underestimated the potential impact on his tender sensibilities.

"It's just a spell. I... I didn't expect it to turn out like this. But don't worry, I'll fix it," I reassured Daniel, my own surprise evident in the unexpected outcome.

The anticipation of a misty shroud had starkly contrasted with the complete annihilation of light sources that manifested.

The manuals had cautioned about the diverse expressions of magic, unique to each individual. Until the church's screening, my specific capabilities remained a mystery.

Focused on rectifying the situation, I deliberated the correct means to end the spell. The theoretical option to sever the mana supply came with the risk of damaging my channels.

Cautiously, I observed the runes within the matrix. Amidst the swirling symbols, one remained static at the center.

Concentrating on the unmoving central rune, I sensed the convergence of mana, all energies drawn toward this focal point. The circles dissipated; the runes vanished. The command of darkness dissipated, and light naturally reclaimed its dominion.

As my heart gradually steadied its rapid beats, the memory of manipulating mana, of commanding and channelling it, lingered vividly. The sheer rush was an unforgettable experience.

But first, Daniel.

With a sigh of relief, I couldn't help but hope for the absence of any unfortunate accidents in his pants.

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In the cloak of night, my room turned into a makeshift Rapunzel tower, thanks to my resourceful bedsheet engineering.

Yet, alas, no Prince Charming or distressed royalty, just me, the girl-next-window, indulging in some girly stuff.

[Visionary Mastery]

Night vision engaged, horizons perpetually broadened. Peering out for the umpteenth time, the garden below revealed no clandestine rendezvous; just a nameless cat planning world domination. Acceptable.

A smidge of nerves fluttered in the pit of my stomach—a sensation I've masterfully avoided for eons.

Oh, the things we do when avoidance is no longer an option.

With a metaphorical slap resonating through the chambers of my cranium, it marked the quintessential "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" moment, as they are wont to say in the more modern circles.

Now or never, the wisdom imparted. And so, with the audacity known only to those with a penchant for questionable choices, my unshod extremities found perch upon the sill of the ajar window.

Behold, a ballet of smooth-brained brilliance.

I, a fearless acrobat, engaged in a nocturnal leap of faith, eschewing the commonplace notion of a rope-aided descent. Who needs such pedestrian apparatus when one can defy gravity with sheer audacity?

As I descended from the modest elevation of a two-story abode, the wind became an accomplice, cavorting with my locks.

Fear? Ah, a relic of yesteryears, akin to the forgotten password of an overlooked email.

With the terra firma looming at a pace bordering on impertinence, my latent skill whispered sweet assurances, coaxing my attention to the forefront. And just before the imminent rendezvous with the ground, it was time.

The pièce de resistance!

[Featherweight Descent]

Momentum? swatted away like an incessant summer mosquito.

Acceleration due to gravity? A truant on an unscheduled sojourn.

Newton's first law? Bereaved, cast into a desolate corner.

Physics? demoted to a mere suggestion box.

And lo, my feet met the grass with a finesse befitting a seasoned hopscotch virtuoso.

In the wake of my triumphant, yet surprisingly genteel plummet from the window, elation coursed through my veins like a refreshing tonic.

A proper lady, however, doesn't engage in undignified squealing; instead, I indulged in a refined repertoire of joyous little jumpy jumpies.

It worked. It worked. It worked.

Naturally, as a former acrophobic, Summoning courage akin to coaxing a cat into a bath – a commendable feat, if I say so.

Now, what purpose did you imagine this ingeniously fashioned bedsheet rope served? Was it some avant-garde clothesline? A secret escape route for socks fed up with their monotonous drawer life? Oh, the folly of such notions.

Time to ascend, conquer that windowsill with the grace of a spider avoiding raindrops.

And why limit oneself to a singular leap?