The morning light crept through the cracks in the shutters, a soft glow that pulled the boy from restless dreams. He sat up, his heart already beating faster than usual, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The events of the previous day flickered through his mind, vivid as firelight.
Elementum.
The word felt heavy and electric, full of possibility. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed, the wooden frame creaking softly, and dressed quickly. His wooden sword hung from its loop on the wall, a familiar presence, but today it felt less like a toy and more like an anchor.
The smell of baking bread drifted through the air as he made his way into the main room, where his mother and sister were already bustling about. His mother glanced up from the table, where she was slicing bread and cheese for their meal. Her sharp eyes, softened by the morning, lingered on him a moment longer than usual.
"You're up early," she said, her voice light but probing.
The boy shrugged, reaching for a piece of bread. "Just couldn't sleep," he mumbled, keeping his face down to avoid her gaze.
His sister, perched on a stool near the hearth, giggled as she smeared honey on her bread. "You're always up early when you're excited about something," she teased, her tone sing-song.
Their mother's brow furrowed slightly, though she said nothing. She had a way of watching without asking, her silence often more effective than words. As the boy ate, her thoughts wandered. He'd seemed distracted the night before, and now this energy, this barely contained eagerness… She wondered what had captured his attention so completely.
After breakfast, the boy slipped outside, the cool air brushing against his face. His wooden sword hung at his hip, a comforting weight as he made his way toward the village center.
The path wound along the edge of the fjord, the water calm and reflective in the early light. He passed familiar faces along the way—fishermen mending nets, women hanging clothes to dry, children chasing one another with sticks. Some greeted him with friendly nods or quick smiles, but others spoke in hushed tones as he passed.
"That's Regnar's boy," one man muttered to his companion, his voice carrying just enough to reach the boy's ears.
"Aye," the other replied. "Looks like him, too. Quiet, though. You'd think a legend's son would be more…"
The words trailed off as the boy walked out of earshot, but he could feel the weight of their gazes on his back.
Regnar's son.
The words clung to him, an invisible mantle he couldn't shake. He'd heard them before, always spoken with a mix of awe and curiosity, as though he carried some secret tied to his father's name.
He quickened his pace, the village square coming into view. The familiar hum of activity filled the air, but his attention locked onto the cart standing in its center. Matteo was already there, his presence commanding yet approachable.
The old man's voice rolled across the square, rich with warmth and rhythm. "Come closer, my friends! Silks that will make your wife swoon, tools that will make your work sing, and powders that will put the strength of a bear in your arms!"
The boy weaved through the small crowd, his heart pounding. Matteo caught sight of him almost immediately, his dark eyes narrowing slightly before a grin spread across his face.
"Ah, there he is," Matteo said, his tone wry. "The boy with all the questions."
The boy stopped in front of him, barely able to contain his excitement. "You said you'd test me," he blurted, his words tumbling over one another.
Matteo raised a hand, his smile turning indulgent. "Calm yourself, little one. I said I would, and I will. But let an old man make his living first, eh?"
The boy shifted from foot to foot, glancing at the cart as though the test might be hidden among its wares. Matteo chuckled, shaking his head. "Patience," he said, reaching beneath the cart. "I'll test you now, or you'll burst before the sun is halfway to noon."
He straightened, holding a polished wooden box with intricate carvings along its edges. The boy leaned closer, mesmerized by the craftsmanship. Matteo opened the box with a flourish, revealing a crystal nestled in dark cloth. It was smooth and clear, catching the light in a way that made it seem alive.
"Hold this," Matteo said, his tone serious now. "Don't drop it, and don't let go until I say."
The boy reached out, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted the crystal. It was surprisingly light, almost weightless, and cool to the touch.
Matteo began to chant, his voice low and deliberate: "Elementa, consurge. Ignis, terra, fulgur—unite et manifestare." The words carried a strange resonance, as though they echoed from someplace deep and ancient.
The air around them seemed to shift, growing heavier. The boy's grip tightened on the crystal as it began to glow—a soft light at first, then brighter, until it blazed with a brilliance that forced him to close his eyes.
When the light dimmed, he opened his eyes slowly. The crystal now shimmered faintly, its surface etched with glowing symbols.
Matteo's expression shifted, his usual air of calm amusement replaced by something sharper, more serious. He leaned closer, studying the symbols with narrowed eyes.
"What does it say?" the boy asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Matteo straightened, letting out a long breath. "It says," he began, his tone careful, "that you have an affinity for fire—a strong one. And earth. Solid, steady, reliable. But this…" He tapped one of the glowing symbols. "This is rare."
"What is it?"
"Lightning," Matteo said, his voice soft. "An offshoot of fire, but far more volatile. It is uncommon—very uncommon."
The boy's heart raced. "Is that good?"
Matteo hesitated, then smiled faintly. "It is… unusual," he said. "And powerful. But lightning is not an art I know."
"What about fire?" the boy pressed. "You said you could teach me fire."
Matteo nodded slowly, closing the box and tucking it back beneath his cart. "I am no master," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I can teach you the basics—small forms, like the flame I showed you yesterday. But fire is dangerous, boy. It burns without care, and once unleashed, it cannot be taken back."
"I don't care," the boy said quickly. "I'll learn. Please."
Matteo studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Very well," he said. "We'll begin tomorrow. But hear me, little one—Elementum is not a game. It requires discipline, patience, and respect. Without those, even a simple flame can consume everything you hold dear."
The boy nodded, his excitement undimmed. "I'll be ready," he said.
Matteo smiled faintly, though his eyes carried a weight the boy didn't yet understand. "We'll see," he said quietly.
As the boy turned to leave, his thoughts ablaze with possibilities, Matteo watched him go. He muttered something under his breath in his native tongue, a half-prayer, half-warning, then turned back to his wares. The crystal's glow lingered in his mind, and for the first time in many years, Matteo felt a flicker of anticipation.
The boy barely noticed when his feet left the packed earth of the village paths and found the uneven forest trail. He was running before he even realized it, the air cool against his flushed cheeks, his breath coming in quick bursts. The wooden sword at his hip slapped against his leg, but he didn't care. His mind raced faster than his feet, alive with the possibilities Matteo had revealed.
Fire. Lightning. Earth.
The words crackled through his thoughts like embers in a forge, each one sparking a new vision. He imagined fire leaping from his hands, roaring to life like a dragon's breath. He could see himself standing on a battlefield, flames licking the edges of his clothes, the enemies fleeing before him as the sky filled with ash and light.
Then lightning—quicker than thought, its power sharp and wild. He imagined streaking across the land with impossible speed, his steps leaving scorched earth in their wake. No one could catch him. No one could stop him.
And earth—steady and unyielding. He pictured himself raising walls of stone with a single gesture, shielding his village from danger. Or striking the ground so hard it sent enemies flying. His thoughts tumbled over one another, each more grandiose than the last.
He grinned as he ran, the trees blurring past, their trunks glowing faintly golden in the afternoon light. He didn't feel the sharp edges of the rocks beneath his feet or the sting of the brambles scratching at his ankles. The world seemed to rush by in a haze of possibility, his heart thundering in time with his dreams.
Before he knew it, the woods thinned, and the familiar outline of his home came into view. The sight of the small field beside it slowed his pace, and his breath caught when he saw his sister darting through the tall grass. She spun in lazy circles, her arms outstretched as if trying to catch the breeze, a string of wildflowers clutched in one hand.
She spotted him immediately and planted her hands on her hips, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "What's gotten into you?" she called, her voice lilting with curiosity.
The boy skidded to a stop, bent double as he tried to catch his breath. "You… won't believe it," he panted, his words tumbling out as he straightened.
His sister tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "Oh, really? Did you find a troll in the woods?"
"No! Better than that!" he said, his voice rising with excitement. He took a step closer, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "I met someone—a merchant. Matteo. He showed me something called Elementum. It's real—magic, but not magic. And he said I have a gift!"
Her teasing expression shifted to one of wide-eyed wonder. "A gift?"
"Affinity," the boy corrected, barely pausing. "For fire, earth, and lightning! He said I could learn to control them, to use them. He even tested me with this glowing crystal. It was so bright I couldn't see for a moment!"
His sister's mouth fell open, the wildflowers dangling forgotten from her hand. "He really said that? You—our boring brother—can cast fire?"
"Well… not yet," the boy admitted, his face flushing slightly. "But he's going to teach me. I'm going back tomorrow to start."
She stared at him, her eyes alight with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. "Fire and lightning? You'll be unstoppable!"
He grinned, standing a little taller. "That's what I was thinking!"
Her gaze softened, and she took a step closer. "You'd better not set the house on fire," she said with a smirk. "Mama will kill you."
The boy laughed, his chest swelling with anticipation. "I'll practice in the woods," he promised.
His sister laughed with him, though a faint shadow of worry flickered across her face. But in that moment, standing in the golden light of the field, the possibilities felt endless, and the world seemed just a little brighter.