Chapter 1
Elias Blackwood woke up to the sound of rain hitting the tin roof above his head. The small room he rented in the slums of Eldoria City was cold and damp. Water dripped from a crack in the ceiling into an old bucket on the floor. Plop. Plop. Plop.
He was sixteen years old, thin from not eating enough, and his black hair stuck out in all directions. He sat up on the thin mattress, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. The room had one small window, a rickety table, and a single chair. His clothes from yesterday lay on the floor, still wet from the rain.
Elias stood up, pulled on his patched trousers and shirt, and tied his worn boots. He had no family. His parents died when he was too young to remember them. He survived by scavenging in the streets and doing small jobs for coins.
Today he planned to search the old library ruins on the edge of the city. People said books and papers were still there from before the big fire years ago. Sometimes he found things he could sell, like metal scraps or unbroken glass jars. Most of the time he found nothing.
He grabbed his small canvas bag, slipped a short knife into his belt for protection, and left the room. The hallway outside smelled of mold and smoke. He locked his door with a simple iron key and walked down the narrow stairs.
The street below was already busy even though it was early. Vendors shouted about hot bread and cheap soup. Kids ran between carts. A few sorcerers in clean robes walked past, their mana glowing faintly around them as they used small spells to keep the rain off their clothes. Elias watched them for a moment, then pulled his hood up and started walking.
The city was split into parts. The rich lived in the center with tall stone buildings and strong runic circles that protected everything. The slums were on the outside, built from whatever people could find. Elias lived in the slums. He had never been inside the rich parts. Guards stopped people like him at the gates.
It took him an hour to reach the library ruins. The building was half collapsed. Black burn marks covered the walls from the old fire. Vines grew over broken stones. No one guarded it anymore. Too many years had passed.
Elias climbed over a low wall and stepped inside. The air smelled of dust and old paper. Sunlight came through holes in the roof and lit up floating dust particles. He walked carefully over fallen beams and broken shelves.
Most books were burned or rotted away. He checked the corners and under piles of rubbish anyway. After twenty minutes he found nothing useful. He moved deeper into the ruin, to a part he had not searched before.
There, under a collapsed shelf, he saw the corner of a thick book sticking out. It looked different from the others. The cover was dark leather and still in one piece. He pulled it free. Dust flew up and made him cough.
The book was heavy. Strange symbols covered the front. Elias could not read them. He opened it carefully. The pages inside were yellow but not burned. Lines and circles filled the pages, along with words in an old language. Some pages had drawings of fire and wind and water.
He turned another page and saw a simple drawing of a hand holding a small light. Below it were steps written in common words he could understand.
"Focus mana in the palm. Shape it into a sphere. Release."
Elias stared at the words. Everyone had some mana inside them. Even poor kids like him. But using it needed formulas, and formulas were hard to learn without teachers or money.
He had never tried a real spell before. Only rich people or academy students did that.
He looked around. No one else was in the ruins. The rain still fell outside.
Elias closed the book and sat on a broken stone. He held out his right hand, palm up, just like the drawing. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the mana inside him. It was faint, like a weak warmth in his chest.
He pictured moving that warmth down his arm to his hand. Nothing happened at first. He tried again, harder. A tiny spark of light appeared above his palm, then vanished.
His eyes opened wide. He did it again. This time the spark stayed longer, a small glowing ball no bigger than a coin.
The light felt warm. He could feel the mana leaving his body, small amounts at a time. After a few seconds the light went out and he felt tired.
Elias looked at the book in his lap. If this was real, he could learn more. He could become stronger. Maybe even get out of the slums one day.
He put the book into his canvas bag. It barely fit, but he made it work. Then he stood up and walked out of the ruins, careful to keep the bag close to his side.
The rain had stopped. The streets were muddy now. Elias started the long walk home, his mind full of the small light he had made.
He did not notice the man in a dark cloak watching him from across the street. The man saw the bag, saw the way Elias held it tight, and turned to follow at a distance.