Chapter 1: Morning in Velmira

  Nestled between a shadowy stretch of the Gloomrest Jungle, the walled town of Velmira woke with the sun. Stone walls weathered by age stood as silent guardians, blanketed in moss and stories. Just beyond them, the jungle loomed wild and untamed—home to beasts that made even seasoned guild veterans shiver.

  But inside the walls, Velmira was a world of gentle rhythm and familiar faces.

  A beam of golden light pierced the upstairs window of a modest two-story home tucked near the eastern edge of town. Wooden walls creaked as the wind passed through, and the hearth below whispered of last night’s warmth.

  Aether stirred beneath his blanket, his black hair defying gravity in ten different directions. He blinked slowly, trying to decide whether to start the day or pretend he was still asleep. His room was small but filled with signs of curiosity—books stacked in uneven towers, parchment scraps bearing scribbles of runes, and a shelf full of carved wooden animals and shiny rocks.

  Then came the voice that meant pretending was pointless.

  “Aether! Breakfast!”

  He groaned. “Just five more—”

  “Now!”

  The tone had shifted.

  Aether sat up instantly, stretching with exaggerated drama. “Why must mornings be so awake?”

  He dressed quickly—tunic slightly wrinkled, boots half-laced—and stumbled down the creaky stairs to the scent of fresh bread and stew.

  The kitchen was alive with steam and motion. Eliah, his mother, danced through the space like a windstorm with purpose. Her silver braid swung behind her, and flour dusted her apron like snow.

  “Sit. Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

  Aether dropped into his chair and inhaled the food like a growing weed. “Mmm. This is better than yesterday.”

  “It’s the same stew,” Eliah replied, arching a brow. “You just didn’t drown it in cheese this time.”

  He smirked, cheeks full. “Improved version, then.”

  She flicked a bit of flour at him. “After you eat, head to the market. We’re low on flour, and don’t get distracted by the guild plaza again.”

  “I won't,” he said innocently.

  She gave him a flat stare. “Like how you didn’t last time? We ended up with no eggs because you watched sword-fighters juggling flaming blades.”

  “That was a demonstration! For educational purposes!”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn't know this was part of your research,” she said with mock reverence.

  He snorted into his stew.

  After clearing his bowl, Aether stepped outside, bundled in a woolen cloak. The sky was a soft blue, streaked with pale clouds. The wind was brisk but not cruel. He passed the old oak by the fence, where a few birds chirped, then made his way toward the heart of the town.

  A Stroll Through Velmira

  Vendors shouted greetings as they raised their stall canopies. The air carried the scent of sweet dates, roasting nuts, and tanned leather. A blacksmith’s rhythmic hammer echoed in the distance like a heartbeat.

  Aether passed a trio of children chasing each other with sticks—"swords," obviously—and waved at Old Merik, who sold apples too bruised for the nobles but sweet enough for the common folk.

  Outside the guildhall, a gathering of adventurers buzzed with morning chatter. Some bore swords across their backs, others carried staves with elemental runes etched deep into the wood. Magical sparks occasionally flashed in controlled bursts as younger members practiced spellcraft under supervision.

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  "Morning, kid!" called a burly warrior with a beard bigger than Aether's whole head.

  Aether waved. “Try not to trip over your own sword again, Kael!”

  Laughter rippled through the guild courtyard.

  Magic wasn’t common, not in a world like this. Only a fraction of the population could sense mana at all, and fewer still could shape it. Most turned to the sword—or, for the clever, a mix of both. But even then, magical strength varied wildly based on one’s affinity, control, and the mysterious flow of mana itself.

  Aether observed them all with a mix of wonder and quiet longing.

  The Market

  At Mirna’s Flour & Grain, the smell of fresh bread smacked Aether in the face.

  “Well, well,” Mirna said, arms crossed, hands flour-covered. “Velmira’s little scholar graces us again.”

  “Mother says no dry batch this time,” Aether replied, placing the coin pouch down with dramatic care. “She threatens to bake you into a loaf if you do.”

  Mirna let out a hearty laugh. “That woman still has her fire. Alright, here’s the good stuff.”

  She handed over a bag of fresh flour, then paused. With a rare softness, she slipped him a warm, round loaf.

  “Still growing, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Thanks, Mirna.”

  On his way home, he detoured behind the smithy—because of course he did.

  A flicker of motion caught his eye.

  Nestled in the alley’s shadows was a small creature. Feline-shaped, jet black fur, and red stripes along its back like glowing embers. It blinked at him with curious, slitted eyes.

  “Hey, Stripe,” Aether whispered, tearing off a piece of his loaf and tossing it over.

  The Nyxen crept forward and devoured it quickly, tail flicking contentedly.

  “You’re gonna get fat at this rate.”

  Family

  When he returned home, Eliah didn’t even look up.

  “You fed it again, didn’t you?”

  “Whaaat? I don’t even know what ‘it’ you mean.”

  She pointed a spoon at him. “Next time it follows you home, you’re bathing it.”

  “I’ll build it a guest room,” he replied smoothly.

  She shook her head, trying not to smile.

  Later, while fetching water near the plaza, Aether paused to watch recruits practicing swordplay. Some used wooden blades laced with weak flame enchantments, leaving glowing trails in the air. One fumbled and set his sleeve on fire. His partner tackled him into a trough.

  Aether winced. “Educational.”

  By sunset, the front door creaked open again.

  Thorne stepped in—towering, grizzled, boots coated in dust, and blue cloak slung over one arm. His presence always filled the room like thunderclouds after a summer day.

  “You fed the Nyxen again?”

  “…Define ‘feed’.”

  He groaned and dropped into a chair. “If that thing shows up with friends, you’re naming them.”

  “Already have a list,” Aether muttered.

  Eliah tossed a cloth at them both. “Wash up, boys. You stink of wild things and sarcasm.”

  Lessons by Firelight

  That night, Thorne unrolled a worn scroll across the kitchen table, now cleared of stew bowls.

  Thorne tapped the scroll. “Let’s begin.”

  Symbols danced across the parchment—basic channeling runes and diagrams of the human mana circuit. Thorne traced a line with his finger.

  “Magic,” he said, “isn’t just energy. It’s control. First you feel mana. Then you guide it inward. Then you form circuits. That’s Rank 1. You need that just to be taken seriously at the Academy.”

  Aether nodded, listening. He had already formed 3 circuits without anyone knowing.

  “Most applicants get there by twelve or thirteen. Some gifted ones reach Rank 2 or 3 before admission,” Thorne continued. “But mages aren’t the only path. Archers, blacksmiths, tamers, enchanters—each has a role. Magic is rare. Mastery, rarer.”

  “Do all mages go to the Academy?” Aether asked.

  “Not all. But it’s where you go if you want to rise. Nobles, guilds, researchers—all pull from there. But only if you show potential.”

  “Magic isn’t just shouting spells and flailing your arms,” Thorne began, tracing glowing runes across the parchment. “You have to feel it. Shape it. Draw it in, and keep it from tearing you apart.”

  He pointed to a rune of flame. “Every element has a symbol. Learn them. Know them. Respect them.”

  He sketched a basic mana circuit. “And this? This is you. Mana flows through your body, mind, and soul. Without this? You don’t cast. You burn.”

  Aether listened with rapt attention.

  Thorne’s voice softened. “Some will never feel mana. Some feel it but can’t move it. And a few? A few will change the world.”

  “But magic’s not the only path,” Thorne continued, setting the stone aside. “We’ve got blacksmiths who make weapons strong enough to slay beasts twice your size, archers who can shoot a hawk mid-flight, tamers who bond with creatures like it’s second nature. Not everyone wields mana—but everyone has a role.”

  Aether grinned. “Even bakers?”

  “Eliah could probably stop a war with her stew,” Thorne said with a laugh.

  Aether laughed too, the scroll forgotten for now as the lesson shifted into stories and memories lit by firelight.

  Under Starlight

  Later, Aether slipped out to his usual spot on the town wall, watching stars twinkle above the jungle line.

  Footsteps approached.

  “I told you not to wander.”

  “I didn’t. I sat.”

  Thorne sighed and plopped beside him.

  They sat together in silence, staring at the stars, the hush of the wild whispering just beyond the stone.

  “You’ll go far,” Thorne said eventually, barely a whisper.

  “Yeah?” Aether asked.

  “I can feel it. Just don’t outrun home.”

  Aether smiled faintly.

  A Quiet End

  Back in his room, Aether sat by the window once more. The jungle whispered. The stars watched. The Nyxen purred softly below.

  And the boy—black hair, sharp eyes, and more potential than h

  e yet knew—rested in the warmth of a quiet town, unaware of the storm he would one day become.