"Child, why are you here before dawn? Do you find my humble cottage uncomfortable to sleep in?"
"N-no," I stammered, twisting the hem of my shirt while forcing a dry smile. "I slept wonderfully. Not uncomfortable at all!"
The old woman chuckled, her wrinkles crinkling warmly around kind eyes.
"No need to spare my feelings. Truth be told, my granddaughter left for the city because she found this place too cramped."
"R-really?" I replied with an unnatural grin.
Guilt prickled under her gaze. I’d slipped into those hidden rooms without permission—rifled through her collection of spellbooks, even took that strange, weightless white "stone." Thank goodness I hadn’t grabbed any books this time. Getting caught red-handed would’ve been disastrous. What if she got angry? Would she slice me with wind blades like those mercenaries? Or set me ablaze?
Under her cloudy stare, my pulse hammered wildly. Raindrops fell like snapped beads, splattering mud into tiny starbursts.
She coughed twice, voice gentle. "Since you’ve come here… you must have seen *it*. Perhaps even taken it."
My face paled. *What did she mean?* Had she known about the hidden room? Was "it" the floating white stone?
My mind raced. No point hiding now. Better to confess.
"Um… the thing you mentioned—is it a white stone that floats in the air?"
She nodded. "Indeed. So you’ve seen it. Did you take it?"
"I touched it out of curiosity in the room… then it vanished into my head. Truly gone—I couldn’t find it anywhere." I twisted my shirt again. "I only touched it… I didn’t mean to take it…"
"Good, good. I understand." Her smile deepened. "Has anything new appeared in your mind since then?"
I nodded. "Yes. Records… about magic."
"Do you wish to learn magic?" she asked suddenly.
I froze. "Yes."
Magic was a dream for many. Now, I craved that power.
"If you truly desire it," she said softly, "it belongs to you."
She raised her left hand toward the scattered corpses. Strange energy gathered in her palm—then searing flames surged forth. Orange light flooded the clearing, scorching my eyes. Rain hissed as fire devoured the bodies, dancing against falling drops. Puddles boiled into white vapor, heat thickening the air.
*Is this… magic?*
She turned, her cloudy eyes holding mine like melted candle wax.
"Are you certain? Truly certain you’re ready to bear the Mage’s burden?" Another cough rattled her frame. "Choose carefully. Magic grants wondrous power, but it chains you to a life of danger. Without resolve to carry that weight… abandon what you’ve learned. It will only bring endless peril. Becoming a Mage demands sacrifice."
*Sacrifice?*
Danger simply for wielding magic? What kind of danger?
She shuffled to the fence, back turned, then paused.
"Child, think deeply. That stone was my old friend’s legacy—a spiritual magic, not a mere rock. He wished his research preserved. Now, its knowledge is yours: everything from novice to Formal Mage. When you achieve that rank, the location of his true inheritance will appear in your mind. That is its final secret."
As she turned to leave, I called out:
"Wait—why me? This is precious! Why give it to me?"
"Because you appeared," she sighed, almost petulant. "My friend begged me to pass on his magic. I meant to give it to my granddaughter, but she hated studying spells. Ran off to the city. So I waited… for someone suitable." She glanced back. "You are clever. Observant. You found my hidden door. And you have the curiosity a Mage needs. Seeing the stone granted you the right to claim it."
Her cane tapped softly as she vanished into the pre-dawn gloom—the darkest hour before sunrise. Flames still roared beside me, pushing back the shadows.
I stared at the sky, doubt coiling in my chest.
*Should I learn magic? What dangers await? Will its power shield me… or doom me?*
I didn’t want trouble hunting me down. But… what *was* this danger?
I walked toward the cottage’s front, needing to check on Rosalynd.
Beneath the fading night, a familiar silhouette stood by the wooden door.
Black hair. Dark eyes. A slender frame. Cool, detached gaze.
Eunice.
