Sparks in the Dark

The predawn chill wrapped around Cynus as he trudged toward the old training grounds. His breath came out in soft puffs, barely visible against the inky blackness of the sky. The city behind him was silent, its usual hum of life stilled by the early hour. Only the faint glow of magic lanterns dotted the cobblestone streets, casting long shadows in his wake. 

The old training grounds lay on the outskirts of the city, abandoned long ago when the kingdom had built newer, grander facilities closer to the capital. Now, it was a desolate field overrun with weeds and crumbling stone targets. The air here felt heavier, charged with faint remnants of magic from countless spells cast long ago. 

Cynus stopped at the edge of the field and tightened his cloak against the cold. A part of him wondered if Kael had been serious. What if this was just a cruel trick? 

But then he saw the faint glow of a fire ahead. 

Kael sat on a low, crumbling wall, tending to a small campfire. Its light played off his weathered face, deepening the shadows around his scars. He didn't look up as Cynus approached. 

"You're early," Kael said, his voice low and even. 

"I didn't want to be late," Cynus replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

Kael finally glanced up, his sharp eyes scanning Cynus as if weighing him. "Good. Punctuality's a start, but it won't win you a duel. You bring a weapon?" 

Cynus hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't need one. My magic—" 

"Is weak," Kael interrupted, his tone blunt. "That's not an insult, kid. It's the truth. And until you face it, you'll never improve." 

Cynus flinched but bit back a retort. He had come here to learn, not argue. 

Kael stood and dusted off his hands. "Alright, let's see what you've got. Light that target on fire." He pointed to one of the old stone dummies a few paces away, its surface weathered and cracked. 

Cynus nodded, stepping forward. He held out his hand, summoning the flicker of flame he could always manage. The tiny ember appeared, wavering like a candle in the wind. He focused, willing it to grow, but it only sputtered weakly. 

Kael watched in silence, his expression unreadable. 

Frustration bubbled inside Cynus. He clenched his jaw, pouring every ounce of effort into the flame. For a brief moment, it flared brighter, but then it fizzled out entirely, leaving only a wisp of smoke. 

"Pathetic," Cynus muttered under his breath, his shoulders sagging. 

"Not entirely," Kael said, surprising him. "That little flicker of yours—it's stubborn. But stubborn isn't enough. Your problem is control. Right now, your magic's like a wild animal, and you're trying to wrestle it into submission. That's not how it works." 

"What do you mean?" Cynus asked, frowning. 

Kael crossed his arms, his tone turning sharp. "Fire doesn't bow to force. It thrives on intention and clarity. You can't command it if your own will is scattered." 

Cynus blinked, confused. "So... what do I do?" 

Kael gestured to the campfire. "Start small. Feel the flame, understand it. Match its rhythm before you try to command it." 

Cynus hesitated, then crouched by the fire. The heat warmed his face as he stared into the flickering flames. At first, they seemed chaotic, dancing unpredictably in the breeze. But as he focused, he began to notice a pattern—a pulsing rhythm, subtle but steady. 

"Good," Kael said softly. "Now summon your own flame. Don't force it; let it rise naturally, like breathing." 

Cynus raised his hand again, trying to follow Kael's advice. He imagined the pulse of the campfire, matching it in his mind. Slowly, a spark appeared, glowing faintly at his fingertips. This time, it didn't sputter. 

"Hold it," Kael instructed. "Feel the heat. The weight. Keep it steady." 

The flame wavered, but Cynus adjusted his focus, keeping it alive. A flicker of pride stirred within him. 

Kael's expression softened, just slightly. "Better. You've got potential, kid, but it's buried under years of bad habits. If you want to stand a chance against anyone worth their salt, you'll need to start over from the ground up. You ready for that?" 

Cynus nodded, determination hardening his gaze. "I'll do whatever it takes." 

Kael smirked. "Good answer. Let's get to work." 

 Later That Day 

The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Cynus's muscles ached, his head throbbed, and his hands were smudged with soot. Kael had drilled him relentlessly, making him conjure flame after flame until his magic sputtered and failed entirely. 

"Again," Kael ordered, his tone firm. 

Cynus groaned. "I can't—I'm out of energy." 

Kael crouched in front of him, his scarred face inches away. "The world doesn't care if you're tired, Cynus. You think those Archon Wizards got their names by taking breaks? Push past it." 

Gritting his teeth, Cynus raised his hand. His body protested, but he willed a flame into existence. It sputtered weakly, barely more than a spark, but it held for a moment before fading. 

Kael nodded approvingly. "Good enough for now. Rest. Tomorrow, we start on control exercises." 

Cynus collapsed onto the grass, staring up at the sky. His body ached, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. Kael's methods were brutal, but they worked. 

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Kael stood over him. "One last thing, kid." 

Cynus sat up, his curiosity piqued. 

Kael's gaze turned distant, his voice quieter. "Your flame—there's something different about it. Something... raw. I don't know what it means yet, but if you learn to harness it, you might just surprise everyone. Even yourself." 

Cynus felt his chest tighten at the words. Kael's tone wasn't mocking or dismissive—it was genuine. 

"I won't let you down," Cynus said, his voice steady. 

Kael chuckled, a rare hint of warmth in his expression. "We'll see, Candle-boy. We'll see." 

As the first stars appeared in the sky, Cynus lay back down, exhaustion and determination warring within him. His journey was just beginning, but for the first time, he believed he had a chance to light his own path.