Lately, I’ve been feeling pressure more and more often whenever I’m near living beings.

  I can sense their mana — and even estimate the approximate size of a creature just by feeling its presence. It’s a strange sensation. Not exactly unpleasant, but I wouldn’t say it’s particularly useful either.

  Alak calls it a “gift.”

  I’m not so sure.

  So far, I haven’t found much benefit in this mana sensitivity — as people here call it.

  Aria, on the other hand, had already reached an intermediate level in water magic by the age of ten… and beginner level in healing.

  Teachers at our school were predicting a great future for her — saying she might even become the next God of Water.

  Meanwhile, after all this time… I had finally mastered a basic Fireball.

  I doubted she’d actually become a god, of course — but Legendary Rank? That was well within her reach.

  For comparison, most mages only reach intermediate elemental magic closer to their thirties.

  Aria did it at ten.

  Recently, the Vice-Archmage of the local Mage Guild noticed her talent and became her personal instructor.

  Because of that… we started seeing each other less.

  Back then, I was the one teaching her magic — theory, basic practice. But my knowledge couldn’t compare to that of a two-hundred-year-old mage.

  So now we only met occasionally for walks.

  I didn’t mind.

  If anything — I wanted her to reach her full potential.

  Spring arrived.

  Which meant the school year was ending.

  And with it… another chapter of my life.

  I was packing my things in my room.

  There were no suitcases in this world, so I had to use a leather travel sack with straps — something like a backpack.

  Outside, the weather was warm and sunny. No snow at all — the region’s climate was mild even in early spring.

  Then I heard a knock on the door.

  — Eyron, are you ready?

  — Yeah! — I answered, fastening the straps on my bag.

  — Then don’t keep the gods waiting. The carriage is already here.

  I stepped out of my room, closing the door carefully behind me.

  The house felt… unusually quiet.

  It’s strange — in moments like these, you start noticing little things you’d never paid attention to before.

  My parents were waiting in the living room.

  Alak stood by the wall, arms crossed. His face was calm — as always — but I knew that look.

  He looked like that whenever he was worried and didn’t want to show it.

  Mom sat at the table.

  Elvarin held a handkerchief in her hands, gripping it too tightly. Her eyes were red — though she wasn’t crying. She was trying to smile.

  — Well… — she said softly. — You’ve grown up already.

  I shifted awkwardly.

  — I’m not leaving forever, — I said. — I’ll visit on holidays.

  Elvarin nodded quickly — as if afraid that if she paused, she might break.

  — I know. It’s just… — she stopped, inhaled deeply. — The house will be too quiet without you.

  She stood and walked over, hugging me tightly — but gently, like I might fall apart.

  I felt her hands trembling.

  — Be careful, — she whispered in my ear. — Don’t rush to grow up faster than you should.

  I nodded, unsure what to say.

  Alak stepped closer and placed a heavy, steady hand on my shoulder.

  — You’re ready, — he said. — That’s what matters. Remember: talent is a tool. Character is a weapon. Don’t confuse the two.

  — I’ll try, — I replied.

  He gave a short nod — like this wasn’t a farewell, just another lesson.

  We stepped outside.

  A carriage stood near the house. Horses shifted impatiently, harnesses jingling. The air was warm, filled with the scent of soil and young grass.

  I turned back.

  Elvarin stood in the doorway, pressing the handkerchief to her lips. Tears shimmered in her eyes now — but she still didn’t cry.

  She just watched.

  Alak stood beside her.

  — It’s time, — he said.

  I climbed into the carriage and sat down, placing my bag at my feet.

  The driver snapped the reins.

  The wheels creaked.

  The house began to drift away.

  First the yard.

  Then the familiar street.

  Then the rooftops of Lorelin, bathed in morning light.

  I stared forward… but I could feel their gazes on my back.

  When the carriage turned the corner, the pressure in my chest grew heavier.

  Not mana.

  Awareness.

  That chapter was over.

  Ahead lay Illusion — the Dominion’s capital.

  A new city.

  New people.

  New mistakes.

  I tightened my grip on the bag straps.

  — Alright… — I muttered to myself. — Let’s go.

  The carriage picked up speed, and the road stretched forward into the distance.

  The journey took far longer than I had expected.

  At first, the road felt monotonous — fields, sparse groves, the Dominion’s well-kept roads stretching endlessly forward. But after a few days, I began to notice the rhythm of travel.

  Each city felt like a separate musical note — similar, yet carrying its own tone.

  Our first major stop was Laenior — an elven trade hub in the north of the Dominion, not far from the Vestmar regions.

  The city stood on high stone terraces that rose upward in layered steps. The buildings were pale, with smooth, flowing lines — as if they hadn’t been built from stone, but carved out of light itself.

  There were barely any walls.

  Only arches and open galleries.

  Merchants traded quietly, speaking in gestures and short phrases. I noticed that voices were rarely raised in Laenior. Even the marketplace sounded hushed — as if the city itself suppressed noise.

  Next came Syl’Taeris — the City of Gardens.

  It was so overgrown with greenery that roads sometimes passed beneath interwoven canopies. Houses weren’t built there — they were grown.

  Tree trunks bent and twisted, forming balconies, windows, stairways.

  At night, the city glowed with soft bioluminescent light from its plants. I lay awake for hours, watching leaves slowly shift their color from green to blue.

  Further along the road stood Aelaron-Fel — an old Dominion border city.

  It felt far grimmer than the others: towering bastions, heavy stone streets, guards everywhere.

  Discipline was in the air.

  Even children walked in orderly lines, staying close to the walls.

  It was there that I truly felt my mana sensitivity for the first time — a dense, heavy pressure radiating from the garrison mages.

  It didn’t frighten me.

  But it made me stand straighter.

  The farther we traveled, the more the landscape changed.

  Forests grew thicker. Roads narrower. The air cooler — cleaner.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And then, after nearly two weeks of travel…

  We arrived in Etherion.

  The carriage entered the city near evening.

  Etherion was far larger than I had imagined. The streets were wide, paved with pale stone, and the buildings rose high, connected by bridges and skyways.

  But that wasn’t what stunned me.

  Above the central plaza — dozens of meters in the air — floated the city hall.

  An entire architectural complex — columns, towers, domed halls — hung in the sky like a torn fragment of earth.

  Beneath it, massive magical rings rotated slowly, etched with runes. They emitted a steady, controlled glow that kept the floating island suspended.

  I stopped involuntarily, tilting my head back.

  — …Whoa…

  The driver chuckled.

  — Get used to it, boy. The Dominion likes to remind everyone who rules sky and earth here.

  We stayed the night at an inn near the central square.

  While the driver arranged a stable for the horses, I sat by a wooden table near the window, watching the city.

  The hall was crowded — merchants, mercenaries, several Dominion guards.

  Conversations blended into a low hum, from which fragments occasionally surfaced:

  — …the caravan was never found…

  — …they say even high-tier mages disappeared…

  — …strange how quietly they buried it…

  I turned my head, listening — but the conversation drifted away. Someone started talking about taxes, another about western roads.

  I’d already heard talk of the missing caravan more than once in this city.

  Though, knowing the locals, it could easily be just another rumor.

  Aurians — and not only them — loved gossip. Truth didn’t matter much.

  Outside, darkness slowly settled.

  The floating city hall glowed with a soft blue light, watching over the streets from above.

  My eyelids grew heavy.

  The day had been exhausting.

  I fell asleep quickly.

  I dreamed of silence.

  Not the kind that fills a forest at night or an empty room — a different silence.

  I was sitting by the window again.

  Narrow. Too high to see the street below. Only a gray strip of sky wedged between buildings. The light was cold — the kind that makes morning and evening indistinguishable.

  My body wouldn’t respond.

  My legs lay motionless — чужие… not mine. I knew that if I tried to stand, I wouldn’t be able to. Even the thought of it brought exhaustion, as if I had already tried hundreds of times… and failed every single one.

  Someone lived behind the wall.

  They laughed. Talked. Rushed somewhere.

  I listened to those sounds the way one listens to rain behind glass — close… but not meant for me.

  Sometimes I imagined going outside.

  Walking.

  Breathing deeply.

  Without pain. Without help. Without the feeling that every step was a debt I could never repay.

  But the fantasies always ended the same way.

  With my gaze returning to the ceiling.

  To silence.

  To waiting.

  Not for death… but for something worse.

  For life to pass me by while I never even began living it.

  I woke up sharply.

  The ceiling was different.

  And my body… was healthy.

  I clenched my fingers. My heart was beating too fast.

  Will I make it this time?

  Not become the strongest. Not change the world.

  Just… live a life I didn’t even dare hope for back then.

  I lay in the darkness, listening to the distant шум of the city outside the inn window.

  And for the first time in a long while…

  I was afraid.

  Not of losing everything.

  But of once again never having the chance to live at all.

  I woke up to the gentle rocking and the dull rumble of wheels.

  Our carriage had begun climbing a wide, paved road.

  — We’re here, — the driver said without turning. — Illusion.

  I leaned out of the carriage… and froze for a moment.

  The first thing that caught my attention were the enormous magical pillars — the ones called Arcane Beacons.

  I had read about them. They replaced city walls. In the event of a siege or any threat to the city, the beacons would activate, forming a barrier between them. Far more effective than ordinary stone walls… though those barriers consumed an absurd amount of mana.

  Where do they even get the mana to power something like that?

  Illusion was the largest city I had ever seen.

  Three times bigger than Kyiv — yet somehow it didn’t feel overcrowded. There were people, plenty of them, but not the suffocating masses I had expected.

  The architecture felt more familiar compared to other cities. If you ignored the beacons, Illusion looked like a blend of Ancient Greece and medieval Europe.

  I stepped down from the carriage, tightening my grip on the straps of my pack, and just stood there for a few seconds, taking it all in.

  The Arcane Beacons towered over the city like stone spears driven into the earth itself. They were spaced far apart along Illusion’s perimeter — no walls, no moats. Just open ground… and confidence.

  A barrier on that scale…

  It would devour mana like a bottomless pit.

  I frowned.

  If it wasn’t a one-time activation but a system on constant standby — then the city had a source.

  A very serious source.

  But I didn’t get to finish the thought.

  — Well, that’s you, — the driver said, hopping down and grabbing the reins. — You’re on your own from here.

  The carriage rolled away, dissolving into the city noise, leaving me alone.

  Illusion was… massive.

  Truly massive.

  It stretched across hills, rising upward and outward without feeling oppressive. There were many people, but not a crowd. The streets breathed. The city didn’t feel like it was choking on its own population.

  I walked forward, checking Alak’s note.

  Artisan district. Inner ring. House with an inner courtyard. Light stone.

  Easy to say.

  I walked one street. Then another. Too many similar intersections, too many identical arches and stairways. At some point I realized I was no longer heading the right way.

  — Damn…

  I turned right. Then again.

  Fewer people. Less noise. Houses stood closer together, windows higher, light thinner between them.

  The alley was almost empty.

  That’s when I heard it.

  Fast footsteps. Heavy breathing. A sharp scrape of boots against stone.

  I didn’t even have time to turn my head.

  A man burst around the corner.

  Leather armor — dark, worn. A simple mask covering the lower half of his face. He was running without looking — and slammed straight into me at full speed.

  — Ah!

  We both lost balance. I crashed onto the cobblestones, my shoulder hitting hard. The man stumbled but stayed on his feet.

  — Watch it, brat, — he rasped, already sprinting off.

  I didn’t even get to respond.

  He vanished around the bend — and almost immediately the street filled with another sound.

  Heavy boots. Metal. Shouted orders.

  — That way!

  — Don’t let him get away!

  I pushed myself up on my elbows — and that’s when I saw it.

  Something on the ground.

  Between the stones, near my foot, lay an object.

  A cube.

  Perfectly even. About ten centimeters across. Matte, dark… yet radiating a faint, strange sensation.

  I stared at it too long. The guards were already close.

  Instinct moved before thought.

  I grabbed the cube and shoved it into my pocket, barely looking — like I was hiding something completely ordinary.

  — You! — one of them shouted. — See anyone?

  — N-no, — I said, standing. — I… I just fell. Someone bumped into me.

  The guard stared at me.

  Too carefully.

  — You alone?

  — Yes.

  A second passed. Then another.

  — Fine, — he grunted. — Get out of here. And watch where you’re going.

  They ran past, chasing the fugitive.

  I stood alone in the narrow alley, feeling the weight of something in my pocket that definitely shouldn’t be there.

  I exhaled slowly.

  What the hell was that…?

  Probably some bandit who stole this artifact.

  Though… it almost looked like he deliberately tossed it to me. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t escape and decided to dump the evidence.

  I only grabbed it because I was afraid the guards would see it near me and think I was involved.

  Damn it. I hadn’t even arrived in the capital yet — and I was already tangled up in a robbery.

  Whatever. I’d throw it away later.

  Just… not here.

  I kept walking, tension crawling under my skin.

  Eventually, I found the house and knocked.

  Silence.

  I waited ten seconds. Maybe more. No answer.

  Wrong address?

  I raised my hand to knock again when I heard footsteps behind the door.

  It opened.

  A guy stepped out — older than me by a lot.

  — Who are you? — he asked calmly.

  — Sorry, does Kronos Lurue live here?

  He looked me up and down, assessing.

  — You’re Eiron?

  — Uh… yeah.

  — Then come in.

  So this must be Lorean — my cousin. Over twenty, though for Aurions that still counted as a teenager.

  The house interior was spacious and well-off, but not excessive. The entry hall alone was the size of three of my rooms. Two staircases rose at the far end. Doorways without doors opened into other rooms.

  Enchanting must pay well.

  — Take your boots off here, — Lorean said. — Parents aren’t home, so I’ll show you around.

  He turned away, then added:

  — Oh, right. I’m Lorean.

  — Yeah, I figured.

  He smirked faintly.

  — Come on.

  We went right.

  — Kitchen. If you’re hungry — here.

  Then upstairs.

  — Bathroom.

  He opened the door beside it.

  — Your room.

  Simple. Wardrobe. Double bed.

  — That’s it.

  With his real-estate skills, he should consider becoming a broker.

  — Not very talkative, are you? — I said.

  He chuckled.

  — And you’re not short on words.

  I dropped my bag beside the bed. He lingered in the doorway.

  — Heard from my father you’re into magic.

  — A bit.

  — When did you start casting?

  I thought.

  Three? Two? Hard to remember.

  — Around five.

  His eyes widened.

  — Five? That early?

  — Yeah.

  — Your parents okay with that?

  — They found out when I was six… give or take.

  He thought for a moment.

  — Makes sense. What schools?

  — Healing. Fire.

  — Fire? So you’re not fond of healing.

  — Not really.

  He looked away.

  — Same. I focused on enchanting… and earth magic.

  Earth magic?

  Didn’t expect that.

  If fire didn’t work out, I’d always planned to try earth. Looks like we’ll have things to talk about.

  — Anyway, my parents will brief you when they’re back. Rest for now. You must be tired after the trip.

  He left.

  I fell onto the bed… then felt something in my pocket.

  Right.

  The cube.

  I pulled it out carefully.

  Up close, I noticed runes covering its surface — runes I hadn’t seen at first glance. Definitely a magical artifact, but unfamiliar.

  After a minute of thinking, I remembered something.

  A storage artifact. A mana battery. You pour mana into it — it stores it long-term. Then you can draw it back later if needed.

  Still… I doubted that’s what this was.

  The runes were wrong.

  I didn’t know enchanting deeply, but I knew dozens of rune structures — and these looked completely different.

  Damn it. Why did I take this thing?

  Why did I assume the guards would think I was involved?

  I should’ve left it.

  Whatever.

  I’ll throw it away later. Just… not now.