Aric, his heart pounding with anticipation, was behind the horse cages, trying to replicate the movements he had seen Princess Azel perform, hoping to coax magic from the book. But no magic came, only frustration. He kept trying for almost an hour, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from his hands, a searing flash that momentarily blinded him. A gust of wind, smelling of ozone and something ancient, like dust from forgotten tombs, slammed into him, sending him flying backwards into the rear of a startled horse. He landed with a thud, his head spinning, and looked up to see the horse staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, its nostrils flaring.
Aric, his face flushed with excitement, scrambled to his feet and looked at his hands, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I... I can do magic?! I can learn magic?!" Aric exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. The horses, sensing something unusual about him, whinnied nervously and kicked out their hooves, forcing him to stumble back.
In the royal chamber where the master mages were resting, a room filled with the scent of incense and old parchment, they all felt the strange wind. It felt familiar, both in sensation and smell, like a forgotten spell or a lost magic. They exchanged knowing glances, their faces etched with concern. "What is this? Where is this coming from?" one of the masters, a wizened old woman with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of centuries, asked, her voice barely a whisper. They looked at the large window and saw, not far from the castle walls, the royal horse farm. Near the cages, they noticed some unusual ashes, shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. One of the masters, a stern-faced man with a long, flowing beard, summoned his guard and ordered him to investigate.
After about a minute, they all gathered in a large basement, a dimly lit space filled with arcane symbols and bubbling potions. All the masters were sitting on chairs, their faces impassive, with the king and princess sitting nervously in front, as the princess was about to undergo her magic examination. The princess, her face pale but determined, tried to impress them with how she had learned magic, reciting incantations and attempting to conjure spells. But the magic in her hands was wild and untamed, like a caged animal wanting to break free. She summoned a small flame, but it flickered erratically and threatened to burn her own fingers. The masters didn't move, their expressions unreadable, as this was normal for untrained mages. A few of them sighed in disappointment, their hopes dwindling.
One of the master's guards, a hulking figure with a dark face hidden beneath a black cloak, approached his master and whispered in his ear, "Master, I checked it out. It was just a kid... a stable boy. But I saw his chain... it had a blue diamond, glowing faintly."
The master's eyes widened, his gaze sharpening. "Enough with this examination!" he declared, his voice ringing with authority. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but this is a complete waste of time. Perhaps I should ask, do you have any farm boys or a kid slave with a blue diamond necklace?" the master asked the king, who looked bewildered.
"What are you talking about? My daughter is brilliant... she can conjure magic from her hands without a book," said the king, his face reddening with anger and disbelief. He couldn't accept that his daughter, his heir, was not as gifted as he had hoped.
"I understand, but the magic will only consume her hands alive; she can't control it," the master said, his voice filled with a strange mix of pity and warning. He rose to leave, and the other masters followed suit, their faces grim. However, instead of heading towards the exit, they walked to the other side of the room, towards the window, wanting to see who had caused the strange explosion of wind. The king, clueless and increasingly agitated, decided to follow them, his footsteps heavy and clumsy.
After arriving at the horse farm, they saw Aric, his face still smudged with dirt, cleaning horse dung with a worn-out brush. "Oh, that kid? He's the princess's slave; he's useless and works like an animal," the king said dismissively to the masters, his voice dripping with disdain.
Aric didn't know they were watching him because he was focused on trying to replicate the magic he had used earlier, his brow furrowed in concentration. He turned around, startled, and was shocked to see the group of people looking at him, especially the king, whose face was contorted with anger. Aric bowed his head to show respect to the king, while the masters exchanged knowing smiles. They knew the boy was more than just a normal kid; he was a conduit of raw, untapped magic.
"You, kid... come here," said one of the masters, his voice gentle but firm. Aric had no choice but to obey. Behind the king was Princess Azel, her face a mask of jealousy and resentment. "That bastard!" she whispered to herself, her eyes narrowed with hatred.
They looked at Aric, his clothes ragged and his hands calloused and dirty. The master, his eyes gleaming with an inner light, took Aric's hands and examined them, his fingers tracing the lines of his palms, perhaps feeling something beyond the dirt and grime. The master's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He could sense the future, the potential that lay dormant within the boy. He looked at the king, his expression grave. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, I'm afraid I must insist on taking this kid to the Arcanum realms with us," the master said, his voice ringing with conviction, surprising the king.
"You dare to take the useless kid instead of my daughter?! She is of royal blood, and you choose a rotten rat!" the king said, his face turning purple with rage, his voice trembling with fury.
The masters exchanged amused glances and laughed softly, their eyes twinkling with amusement. "Your Majesty, do you think being of royal blood is enough for us to take you to the realms? No... she doesn't have the mage's blood, and she can't even control her own hands. This is the end of this discussion. I will take the kid to the Arcanum realms with us. This kid is not just a normal kid, but he is more than a mage," the master mage declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. He commanded his guard to take Aric with them.
The king, his face contorted with rage, tried to stop them, but the master had had enough of his foolishness. He raised his hands, and a shower of gold coins rained down in front of the king, glittering in the sunlight. The king's eyes widened, his anger replaced by avarice. He was crazy about wealth, his greed insatiable. The king stopped walking and smiled, his face suddenly amiable. "Well, well, you know what I like the most. This is the deal... you can take the damn kid and leave," said the king, his eyes glued to the gold as he scrambled to gather the coins, his dignity forgotten.
"Father! How about me?!" said the princess, her voice shrill with desperation, her eyes fixed on Aric as if he had stolen something that belonged to her. But Aric had no choice; rather than living like a dog, he would rather go with the masters, even if it meant facing the unknown.
He entered the carriage, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, it was like a fantasy world, bigger than the castle itself but not luxurious. It was filled with gnarled roots with vibrant green leaves and thousands of ancient books, their spines cracked and faded. It was as if entering a small box that was more than just a black box, a portal to another dimension. Aric couldn't believe what he saw, his mouth agape with wonder. All the master mages, their faces lined with age and experience, seemed to become younger after entering the carriage and closing the door, their eyes shining with vitality. It felt like the carriage was flying, soaring through the air, leaving the castle and the king far behind.
"Hey, kid, come sit beside me," said one of the masters, a kind-faced man with a twinkle in his eye, gesturing to an empty seat. Aric looked at him, his heart filled with a mixture of fear and excitement, and sat down cautiously.
"What's your name?" the master asked, his voice gentle and reassuring.
Aric looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation. "My name is Aric. I'm an orphan," Aric replied, his voice barely a whisper.
The man smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I think I know where you come from and your bloodline," the man said to Aric, his voice filled with mystery.
Aric was silent, his mind reeling. "...My bloodline?...." Aric whispered to himself, his heart pounding in his chest. Could it be true? Could he finally discover the truth about his past?