A new Path Forward

By the time Caelum had returned to the academy, it was now known to everyone what he had done in the caverns. The same kids that would look down at him before looked at him with respect now, almost in awe. But a little skepticism of how such a young child could be capable of all that he had done so far lingered in the people's minds. Caelum knew things weren't going to get any easier, but for the first time in his life, he really felt confident.

Not by the strength of his own magic-for indeed he was not stronger than his brother-but a matter of knowing his strengths and weaknesses alike. Through Lirael's teaching and object lessons of fighting, Caelum had learned about threads not just as things manipulated but as lives which, depending on the way one harnessed the power, worked against him or for him.

The following weeks in the academy were rather busy: much intense studying and practice of magic were taking place. It was just this way that the friendship between Caelum and Lirael developed, as they increasingly spent more time studying together, reading through old texts about magic, training their powers. They grew up together, learning to harmonize the magic coursing through them.

All Lirael would do was remind Caelum to plant his feet back on the ground because the stresses within this academy, let alone the power coursing through his veins, were not to swerve him from his purpose. "You can change the world," she would say to him, "but first you have to change yourself."

It was one such evening-after one of the heavier training sessions-when Caelum finally found himself in the Academy library, hands laid flat on the old, worn-out pages of some ancient magical book or another, his mind far off. He felt it heavy upon his shoulders, this weight from responsibilities, and he really could not help but feel his path led him toward so much more than what the Academy would have him face.

And there he sat on the couch, thinking about the road ahead, when a figure appeared in his doorway-a figure so well-known yet so long unseen. Mira, his mother, stood at the door, her face etched with worry.

"Caelum," she whispered, her voice warm yet laced with a cutting edge of concern. "Rumors, disturbing in tone, speak about your actions in those caverns. Some claim that you have awoken powers that are not to be disturbed.

Caelum shut the book in front of him, rose to his feet, and turned to her. "Mom, I don't know what's happening with me. I feel tugged in a specific direction. I don't know; it's as if there were some purpose in all this power, and I have to answer the call."

Mira moved toward him, softening at the sight of his futility. Setting her hand on his shoulder, eyes filled with pride and concern both, she whispered, "I have always known you were meant for much more, Caelum." But it's dangerous, such power. And you really do need to be careful-most especially when you don't understand it fully." Promise me you won't let it control you.

He searched her eyes, and with every word more weight dropped, settling upon him. "I promise, Mom-I'll be careful. Yet, I have to go ahead-no matter what. There is something that I have to learn about, and that is about me, who I am. "

Mira blew loud, the expression of emotions on her face read from all corners. "I know," she whispered, "Yet, no matter how big you are going to get, you are my son, and Mum would always be here."

Smiling wryly, a warmth in his chest told him that he was not totally alone on this journey, whichever way the path ahead veered. And with wearing days, he thought it was just the beginning of a journey.

Once-foreign threads of magic now were his life: to guide him, to shape him, to remind him that the test of strength was not in how much power could be used but how it was put to use.