"Your Majesty... does what I want really matter?"
Silvania recognized that flicker in his eyes. She knew what it meant. A queen, just like a mage trained to serve, could rarely afford to do what she truly desired. Duty always intervened, to the point of making it unthinkable to stop and listen to one's own inner voice.
"Of course it matters," she replied, with a sincerity she rarely allowed herself. "It matters to me."
Dyan lowered his gaze for just an instant, before fixing it on Silvania's eyes again.
"My queen, I want to go. In part because there are people who will suffer if the war spreads; in part because it is my duty... but also because I want to meet your expectations."
"And in your heart?" she asked, softly. "Is there nothing else you would wish to do?"
"Serving my master and you is the only thing that fills my mind. My desires are irrelevant." He was silent for a moment and, after taking a deep breath, added: "But, if you'll allow me to be selfish just this once... I need to return the favor to Captain Lena and my comrades at the tower. They took care of me when I couldn't even move; it's likely they are already fighting."
Silvania felt an uncomfortable weight tighten her chest.
"If it is your will, I will not stop you. But you will do it for the glory of my name. Do you understand?"
"Of course, my queen. Everything I do is in honor of the kingdom."
She returned to her seat and invited him to approach.
"Come and see me every morning until I call you to Fort Frontier. I don't want you to leave without first..." she smiled slightly, "...without giving me the pleasure of your company."
Dyan looked at her, not understanding.
"Of what use could an inexperienced mage be to Your Majesty?"
"Wouldn't you allow your queen to be a little selfish too? At least in this."
"It was not my intention to refuse, Your Majesty. If you require me, I will come every morning without fail."
Silvania smiled. He was still a shy boy, and yet, that barely perceptible blush, the way he bashfully looked away, the awkwardness hidden in every word, filled her chest with a warmth she thought she had forgotten.
"Please, eat. Don't think about anything else."
Dyan could barely hide a smile. It was difficult to explain, but his queen's firmness, the warmth of her gaze, and her very presence gave him a sense of security he felt nowhere else.
The return to the tower was marked by averted gazes and reproaches for his delay.
Edictus was waiting for him in the Archmage's hall, standing, looking out the windows toward Scabia. His eyes indifferently scanned the flourishing market, the outer neighborhoods, the plantations that undulated in the distance.
"You say your skills weren't enough?" he asked without looking away. "Could it be that the enemy was simply superior? All magic has a limit, even for those born with an abnormally large mana well... like you."
Dyan approached the desk. The large mana rock in the center of the hall exhaled silver threads that seemed to breathe, bathing the walls with flashes of living light.
"Master, there must be some way to improve that I haven't tried. Some method to expand the amount of mana I can control."
Edictus turned to him.
"You're a good boy, I've always said so. Your dedication to magic is admirable... but you must also learn to accept your limits. In time, your mana well will grow naturally. It's what always happens." He raised an eyebrow. "The books don't lie about that."
At that moment, the door opened without warning. An old mage entered, shuffling his feet and leaning all his weight on a staff of dark wood.
"Edictus, don't be so hard on the boy," he said, in a grave and measured voice. "We've all dreamed of the same thing as him at one time or another."
His gray eyebrows lifted slightly, revealing clear, serene eyes, as if they were contemplating a horizon that others couldn't see.
"Let him visit the old library. Maybe he'll find something that will help him."
"Master Elgrin, don't give him false hope. Patience is also wisdom. Everything in its own time, Dyan." Edictus returned to his documents. "And now, let's get back to work."
Elgrin ignored the order and fumbled in his sleeve until he pulled out a book as old as he was.
"Here, boy. These are my youthful experiments. Maybe they'll give you some new ideas. What is youth without daring to explore the unknown?"
On the cover, barely legible, it read: "Experiments of a young mage - Volume I."
"Thank you, Master Elgrin," Dyan said, taking the book carefully.
"That's what old people are for," the old man laughed, turning toward the door, "to smooth the path a little and, once in a while, point out a different route."
"Go on, Elgrin," Edictus retorted, without looking up. "The children will be waiting for your classes."
"Children, mages, archmages..." the old man murmured, with a half-smile. "Everyone needs to remember where they came from. Life doesn't always give second chances."
"Right. Now go and do your duty. We have a lot of work here."
Elgrin left with a slow but sure step, and before crossing the threshold he gestured for Dyan to read his book as soon as possible. The young mage could only leave the Archmage's hall near dusk, and entering the subsoil of the tower was not a frequent occurrence, even among advanced mages like him. The dust in the air seemed to dance with every step Dyan took. The light from the oil lamps barely scratched the gloom of the old library, revealing endless rows of shelves that rose like dark wooden walls. Under his arm, he held Elgrin's heavy volume tightly against him, the mage whose writing always smelled of enigmas, perhaps out of pure personal taste, perhaps because it told of mysteries he didn't even understand himself, or perhaps because he understood them very well.
The floorboards creaked softly under his boots, and the echo of his movements was lost among columns covered in cobwebs. He stopped in front of a long table, covered with scrolls rolled with faded ribbons and books so old they seemed to breathe the same stale air he was.
Dyan placed the volume on the wood, its weight resonating like a dull thud. He ran his hand over the rough surface of an astronomical chart, and his fingers were stained with dust.
"I'm not looking for answers," he murmured to himself, "I'm looking for the way."
He opened Elgrin's book and let the pages unfold on their own, as if the manuscript itself knew where he wanted to go. Angular letters and diagrams of arcane circles seemed to spin in his mind, inviting him to cross an invisible threshold.
A scroll rolled on the edge of the table caught his attention. He carefully unrolled it and, in doing so, discovered a map of constellations that did not match the current sky. In its lower corner, a note written with an uncertain hand: "The path is not in the light, but in the shadow it casts."
Dyan smiled faintly. He closed the scroll and, with Elgrin's book firmly in hand, went deeper into the library, toward a forgotten section where the lamps did not reach and the air was colder. There, he hoped to find his true beginning.
The silence in that part of the library was not the same as in the rest; here, every sound seemed denser, as if the air held secrets that were not meant to get out. Dyan moved forward, pushing aside the curtains of dust that hung from the shelves, until he reached a narrow, almost forgotten corner.
There, on a crooked shelf covered with gray specks, rested a volume with faded blue covers, without the yellowish dust of the others, as if someone had placed it there long after the rest had fallen into disuse.
He took it carefully. On the cover, written in the same angular and slightly careless handwriting as the book Elgrin had given him, he read: "Mana Well: Fundamentals and Expansion for Apprentices"
-By Elgrin, Archmage of the Tower of Felaria.
A book for beginners... but written by the same man who had given him a volume full of advanced experiments.
He sat on a bench next to the wall, the cold stone seeping into his back, and opened both books on his knees. The contrast was obvious: the first was full of complex formulas, marginal notes, and theories that bordered on the impossible; the second talked about simple exercises, breathing, meditation at specific times, control of the internal flow... but there was something more.
The pages seemed to whisper to each other. Every time he read a passage from the apprentice manual, he would remember a diagram or a more complex concept from the book of experiments, and suddenly everything fit together like pieces he had never been shown at the Tower.
It wasn't that his mana well was limited... it was that his training had followed an incomplete path.
"Master Elgrin..." he whispered, understanding that the old man had left this clue on purpose.
In that dark corner, between the beginner's manual and the book of impossible theories, Dyan felt a hidden path opening up before him, one that no master had taught him. One that didn't ask for years of waiting... but for the will to take a risk.