Pages of Power

Back in his attic room, Kieran barred the door and drew the tattered curtains. 'Can't risk anyone seeing this.' His hands shook as he pulled out the leather-bound book, its cover warm to the touch.

"Alright, Magister Wells," he whispered, settling cross-legged on his threadbare blanket. "Let's see what secrets you were keeping."

The first page bore an inscription in faded ink: "To my dearest Wells, may this guide you through the shadows - Master Blackthorn"

'A personal grimoire.' Kieran's heart raced. He'd heard whispers of such books – spellbooks passed from master to apprentice, filled with personal notes and discoveries.

As he turned the pages, his excitement turned to frustration. Strange symbols swam before his eyes, refusing to make sense. 'It's encoded. Of course it is. No mage would leave their secrets in plain sight.'

"Damn it!" He slammed his fist against the floor. A rat scurried away at the noise.

Then he noticed something odd. Where his hand touched the page, the symbols seemed to shift. 'Wait...' He pressed his palm flat against the text, letting his magic flow naturally.

The symbols writhed like living things, rearranging themselves into readable words.

"Blood and magic," he breathed. "It responds to power."

'First Trial: Understanding the Flow,' read the first clear page. Below it, Wells had scribbled notes:

'The fools at the Academy teach control first. They're wrong. Power comes from instinct, from need. Control can be learned. Raw talent cannot.'

Kieran's fingers traced the words. 'Finally. Someone who understands.'

He read through the night, absorbing Wells' insights. The Magister had been brilliant, if unorthodox. Each page revealed new ways of thinking about magic, approaches the Academy would never teach.

Near dawn, he found what looked like a simple exercise. 'Focus power through intent, not form. Shape it with need, not words.'

Kieran held out his hand, thinking of the rats that plagued his room. Instead of his usual blunt force, he imagined something more precise. The air shimmed, and a nearby rat froze mid-step.

'Control it. Feel it.' He lifted his hand slowly, and the rat rose with it, suspended in the air. No wasted power, no random destruction. Just pure intent.

The rat's heart gave out from fear, and it dropped lifeless to the floor. Kieran barely noticed, too absorbed in what he'd just done.

"Perfect control," he whispered. 'And that's just from one night's reading.'

A pounding on his door made him jump. "Oi! Magic boy!" The matron's voice. "Word's spreading about Wells. You involved?"

"No, Ma'am!" He called back, quickly hiding the book under a loose floorboard. 'Got to be more careful. Can't let anyone know.'

"Good! Keep it that way!" Her footsteps retreated.

Kieran sat back, mind racing with possibilities. 'Wells was right. The Academy teaches boundaries. Limits. But real power...' He glanced at where he'd hidden the book. 'Real power comes from breaking them.'

The morning sun crept through his window as he made plans. He had enough coin now for the Academy's entrance fee. And with Wells' grimoire...

'I'll show them all what real magic looks like.'

The opportunity came sooner than Kieran expected. He sat in his usual corner of the Rusty Nail tavern, nursing a watered-down ale, when he overheard an interesting conversation.

"That street magician's making a fortune," a drunk merchant complained. "Claims he can read minds, predict the future. Been taking all my customers' coin."

'Perfect test subject.' Kieran focused, reaching out with his newfound awareness. 'Let's see if Wells' teachings work on more than rats.'

The street magician wasn't hard to find. He performed in the market square, drawing crowds with simple illusions and cold reading tricks. 'No real magic. Just sleight of hand and clever words.'

"Step right up!" The man called out, his purple coat garish in the afternoon sun. "The Amazing Alessandro can see into your very soul!"

'Let's test that claim.' Kieran closed his eyes, remembering the grimoire's instructions. 'Find the echo. Everyone has one. A magical fingerprint, a soul's shadow.'

There – a flicker of energy, weak but distinct. The fraud had a trace of real magical potential, unused and undeveloped. 'Like finding a thread in the dark. Now, pull it.'

Alessandro stumbled mid-sentence, his face contorting in confusion. 'Good. Now deeper.' Kieran pushed harder, searching for the man's core, his essence.

The grimoire had been specific about this part:

"The soul echo reveals everything – fears, desires, memories. Master this, and you master them."

Images flooded Kieran's mind: a scared boy running from an angry father, years of hunger on the streets, the first time Alessandro discovered he could fool people with simple tricks.

'Found you.' Kieran settled into a comfortable spot and began to experiment.

First, subtle suggestions. Alessandro started mixing up his predictions, calling out wrong names, missing obvious cues. The crowd grew restless.

'Too gentle. Let's try something stronger.' Kieran focused on the man's childhood fears, pulling them to the surface.

Alessandro's eyes went wide. He saw something in the crowd that wasn't there – the angry father of his memories, coming closer, belt in hand.

"No... please, not again..." The street magician backed away from thin air.

The crowd muttered, uncomfortable. Some laughed nervously. 'Not enough. Show me what else this power can do.'

Kieran dove deeper, past memories and into raw instinct. The grimoire called this part "soul manipulation" – not just viewing the echo, but twisting it.

Alessandro screamed. Not in fear now, but in pure agony. His nose began to bleed as Kieran pulled and prodded at his very essence.

"Someone help him!" A woman cried out.

'Yes, someone help him.' Kieran smiled, pushing harder. 'Show me how far this can go.'

Alessandro's eyes rolled back. He clawed at his chest as if trying to rip something out. "Get it out! GET IT OUT!"

'Fascinating.' Kieran watched dispassionately as the man convulsed. 'The grimoire was right. Pain feeds the connection.'

By now, the crowd had backed away. A city guard pushed through, reaching for Alessandro.

One final test. Kieran grabbed hold of that fragile soul echo and squeezed.

Alessandro went rigid. His eyes met Kieran's across the square – the only person he could suddenly see clearly. Recognition, terror, and understanding filled them.

"You—" he managed to gasp.

Kieran closed his fist.

The street magician's heart exploded in his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Chaos erupted in the square. Guards shouted, people screamed, but Kieran sat calmly, finishing his drink.

'No evidence. No witnesses. No trace of magic they can track.' He felt pleasantly tired, like after a good workout. 'Wells would be proud.'

Kieran reviewed his test results:

- Soul echoes were easy to find with practice

- Manipulation caused physical effects

- Death could be induced without visible cause

- The power high was... addictive

'But that was just a street fraud.' He pulled out the grimoire again. 'What could this do to a real mage?'