Chapter 24 – Aric
The clearing buzzed with energy as Aric faced a boy only a few years older than himself. The youth was lean, sharp-eyed, and carried the smugness of someone who had already bested others before. A faint shimmer of flame wavered around his hand.
"Don't hold back," the boy sneered. "Or are you afraid?"
Aric steadied his breathing. Daren had arranged this spar with one of the safehouse's wards—a young initiate whose loyalty to his father was unquestionable. It wasn't about victory; it was about pressure, about making mistakes while it still mattered little.
"I'm ready," Aric replied, voice firmer than he felt.
The boy lunged forward, flame arcing. Aric reacted instinctively, drawing mana into his palm. His flame burst outward, meeting his opponent's. For a brief moment, sparks crackled in the air, the heat forcing the watching initiates to step back.
But then Aric's fire faltered. The other boy's blaze surged, overpowering his. Aric stumbled back, the grass beneath him searing.
"Too weak!" his opponent barked, pressing forward.
Aric gritted his teeth and swung his arm wide, pulling mana into a crude barrier of flame. The shield flickered, unstable, but it held long enough for him to dodge. He ducked low, rolled across the grass, and flung a spark toward the boy's leg.
The spark fizzled before reaching its target.
The boy laughed. "Is that all you've got? I thought Daren's son would be better."
Aric's cheeks burned hotter than the fire. He pulled mana again, this time trying to shape it into a sharp lance the way his father had shown him. For a moment, it worked—the fire compressed, forming a narrow spear of heat.
But his control slipped. The lance exploded in his hand, sending him staggering back with his sleeve scorched. Pain seared his palm, but he clenched his fist, refusing to yield.
The boy advanced, flames swirling around his fists like gauntlets. Aric met him head-on, conjuring a burst of flame to intercept. Their powers collided, fire against fire, heat against heat.
The clearing erupted with light and smoke.
When it cleared, Aric was on one knee, panting, his reserves drained. His opponent stood tall, grinning in triumph, though his own flame flickered weakly now.
"That's enough," Daren's voice cut through the haze like a blade.
Both boys froze. Daren stepped into the clearing, his gaze unreadable. He looked first at Aric, then at the older boy. "Good. Both of you showed strength. Both of you showed weakness. That is the purpose of sparring."
The boy bowed quickly, pride glowing in his eyes. Aric, still catching his breath, forced himself to stand. He hated the taste of failure, bitter and sharp on his tongue.
Daren approached Aric, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. His voice was low enough only Aric could hear. "You relied on raw power, not discipline. That is why your flame betrayed you."
Aric clenched his fists. "I know… I felt it slipping, but I thought—"
"You thought brute force would fix it. That is the first mistake of all mages." Daren's eyes softened, if only slightly. "Better to make it here than out there. Remember what you felt—the instability, the drain. Learn from it."
Aric swallowed his frustration and nodded.
As the initiates dispersed, murmuring among themselves, Aric remained in the clearing. The scorched grass and lingering smoke felt like reminders of his failure. But deep down, beneath the sting of humiliation, something else smoldered—determination.
He whispered to himself, voice steady despite his exhaustion. "Next time, I won't falter."
The wind carried away the smoke, but the promise burned within him like a steady ember, waiting for its chance to ignite.