Chapter 8: The First Lesson

The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the training hall, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished stone floor. Yasser stood in the center of the circular chamber, his dark and golden clothes slightly rumpled from a restless night's sleep. His silver ring glowed faintly on his finger, a constant hum of energy that had kept him awake as much as his swirling thoughts. The Council's decision to let him stay in Lifara came with a catch—training under Kaerys' watchful eye—and Yasser wasn't sure if he should be relieved or on edge. His sword rested in its sheath at his side, a familiar weight, but the magic coursing through him felt anything but familiar.

Kaerys stood across from him, their cloak draped over a nearby bench, revealing a sleek tunic embroidered with the same golden runes that adorned their cloak. Their staff leaned against the wall, its gem dim for now, but their silver eyes were sharp, assessing Yasser with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "You survived the Council's trial," Kaerys began, their voice calm but firm. "But survival is not enough. If you're to become a true mage-warrior, you must learn to control your power—not just wield it like a blunt instrument."

Yasser crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Blunt instrument? I think I've been doing pretty well for someone who got dragged into this mess a week ago," he said, his sarcasm a reflex. "I mean, I'm still standing, aren't I?"

Kaerys' expression didn't change, but their eyes narrowed slightly. "You're standing because you've been lucky," they replied, stepping closer. "Luck won't save you when you face a true threat. The Council spared you because they see potential, but they'll destroy you if that potential becomes a liability. Today, we begin your training—starting with the basics of magical control."

They gestured to the center of the room, where a small pedestal stood, topped with a crystal orb the size of an apple. The orb glowed faintly, its surface swirling with threads of blue and gold energy. "This is a focus crystal," Kaerys explained. "It will amplify and reflect your magic, allowing you to see its flow and learn to shape it. Place your hand over the orb and channel your magic into it—but do so gently. Too much power, and it will shatter."

Yasser raised an eyebrow, stepping up to the pedestal. "Gently. Right. Because I'm so good at being gentle," he muttered, though his tone held a hint of unease. He extended his hand, the silver ring glowing brighter as he focused. The now-familiar warmth of his magic surged within him, and he tried to temper it, imagining a slow trickle rather than a flood. A soft light flowed from his palm into the orb, its colors shifting to match the blue and gold within. For a moment, it seemed to work—the orb pulsed steadily, the energy flowing in a smooth cycle.

Then the orb began to tremble. Yasser's control slipped, the trickle becoming a rush, and cracks spiderwebbed across the crystal's surface. "Uh, Kaerys—" he started, but before he could finish, the orb shattered with a sharp crack, sending shards flying. Yasser flinched, raising an arm to shield his face, while Kaerys waved a hand, a violet barrier catching the fragments before they could do any harm.

Kaerys sighed, lowering their hand as the shards dissolved into motes of light. "As I said," they remarked dryly, "control is your weakness. Your power is raw, unrefined. You must learn to temper it, or it will destroy you—and those around you."

Yasser lowered his arm, his smirk replaced by a scowl. "I tried to be gentle," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "This magic stuff—it's like trying to hold water in my hands. It keeps slipping through my fingers."

Kaerys nodded, their expression softening slightly. "A fitting analogy," they said. "Magic is fluid, ever-moving. But like water, it can be directed with the right focus. Let's try again—this time, with a different approach." They retrieved another orb from a nearby shelf, placing it on the pedestal. "Close your eyes," they instructed. "Feel the magic within you, but don't force it. Let it flow naturally, like a stream finding its path."

Yasser hesitated, then nodded, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth in his core, the steady pulse of the ring on his finger. He pictured a stream, its current gentle but steady, winding through a forest like the one he'd crossed to reach Lifara. Slowly, he extended his hand, letting the magic flow without pushing. This time, the orb accepted the energy, its glow brightening without trembling. Yasser opened his eyes, a grin spreading across his face as the orb pulsed in harmony with his magic. "Ha! I did it!" he exclaimed, a rare note of genuine excitement in his voice.

Kaerys inclined their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. "A good first step," they said. "But this is only the beginning. Now, we move to the next lesson—combining your magic with your sword."

They gestured to a rack of training dummies on the far side of the hall, each one made of enchanted wood that shimmered with a faint protective aura. "A mage-warrior's strength lies in their duality," Kaerys explained, retrieving their staff and handing Yasser a wooden training sword. "You must learn to weave magic into your blade, making it an extension of your power. Strike the dummy, but as you do, channel your magic through the sword. Aim for precision, not force."

Yasser took the wooden sword, testing its weight before approaching the dummy. He raised the blade, focusing on the stream of magic he'd visualized earlier. As he swung, he pushed the energy through the sword, a faint glow enveloping the wood. The blade struck the dummy, leaving a scorch mark on its surface, but the impact was controlled, the magic enhancing the strike without overwhelming it. Yasser stepped back, surprised at his own success. "Okay, that felt… good," he admitted, glancing at Kaerys. "Really good."

Kaerys nodded, their silver eyes gleaming with approval. "You're beginning to understand," they said. "But this is only the first lesson. There will be many more—and they will not all be so gentle." They turned, their cloak swirling as they retrieved their staff. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we'll test your limits further."

Yasser watched them go, the wooden sword still in his hand. For the first time since arriving in Lifara, he felt a flicker of confidence—a sense that he might actually belong in this strange, magical world. But as the training hall's lights dimmed, the weight of the Council's scrutiny and the city's secrets loomed large in his mind. He tightened his grip on the sword, his ring glowing softly. Whatever came next, he'd be ready—or at least, he'd fake it until he was.