Two days after the incident at the temple, Wei Chen sat in the yard behind his house, practicing.
The task was simple: extend a shadow. Hold it. Release it. Repeat.
Simple didn't mean easy.
He'd been at it since morning. His mother had brought him rice and vegetables at midday, watched him work for a few minutes in silence, then gone back inside without comment.
His father was in the workshop. The pottery wheel's rhythm had become background noise, steady and unchanging.
Wei Chen focused on the shadow cast by the wooden fence. Reached for his magic. Pulled gently.
The shadow stretched. Two inches. Four. Six.
He held it there, breathing slowly, maintaining focus. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Then he let go. The shadow snapped back.
Progress.
"You're getting better."
Wei Chen didn't jump this time. He'd heard Lian Xiu approaching—her footsteps weren't exactly quiet.
She sat down beside him, cross-legged, inspecting his work like a craftsman evaluating pottery. "Last time, the shadow went crazy. Now it's just... stretchy."
"That's the idea."
"Boring, though."
Wei Chen glanced at her. "Boring is safe. Safe means I don't accidentally terrify everyone again."
"Fair." Lian Xiu picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "So what happens if you want to terrify someone? Can you do that on purpose?"
"Probably. Elder Shen said Darkness responds to emotion. Fear makes it stronger."
"So if you got angry, you could make bigger shadows?"
"Or lose control and hurt someone."
Lian Xiu nodded thoughtfully. "That's why everyone's scared of you. Not because you're mean. Because you're dangerous and they don't know if you can control it."
Wei Chen hadn't thought of it that way. But she was right.
"Can you show me something cool?" Lian Xiu asked suddenly.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Make a shadow move. Or turn into a shape. Anything that's not just... stretching."
Wei Chen hesitated. Elder Shen had said to practice small, controlled manipulations. Nothing aggressive. Nothing showy.
But Lian Xiu was looking at him with genuine curiosity, not fear. And part of him wanted to see what he could do.
"All right. But if this goes wrong, run."
"Deal."
Wei Chen stood and walked to the center of the yard, where the afternoon sun cast his shadow long and dark across the dirt.
He closed his eyes. Reached for the magic.
This time, instead of extending the shadow outward, he tried to shape it. Change its form.
The magic responded, flowing down through his body and into the ground. His shadow rippled like water.
Slowly—carefully—Wei Chen willed it to twist. To coil. To rise.
His shadow lifted off the ground.
Not much. Just a few inches, like a snake rearing its head. But it moved, independent of his body, swaying slightly in the still air.
Lian Xiu gasped. "That's amazing."
Wei Chen opened his eyes. His shadow-snake writhed for another moment, then collapsed back to the ground, resuming its normal shape.
His hands were shaking. His chest felt cold and hollow.
But he'd done it. Controlled manipulation. No panic. No explosion of darkness.
"Can you make it bite something?" Lian Xiu asked.
"I don't know. Maybe." Wei Chen sat down heavily. "But I'm tired. Magic drains something. Not just energy."
"Your soul?"
"I don't think I have one of those yet. I'm five."
Lian Xiu laughed. "Fair point."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. The sun moved lower, shadows growing longer.
"Why aren't you afraid of me?" Wei Chen asked finally.
Lian Xiu shrugged. "Why would I be?"
"Everyone else is. Even the other mages at the temple look at me like I'm going to curse them."
"That's because they're idiots." Lian Xiu pulled her knees to her chest. "You're not scary. You're just... different. And people don't like different."
"You're different too. Your father's dead. Your family's poor. People probably look down on you."
"They do." Lian Xiu's voice was matter-of-fact. "But I don't care. Looking down doesn't change anything. I'm still here. Still alive. Still better than half the brats in this town."
Wei Chen smiled. "You're weird."
"Says the shadow mage."
His mother called from inside. "Wei Chen! Lian Xiu! Dinner!"
Lian Xiu perked up. "Your mom's cooking?"
"Probably."
"I'm staying."
They went inside. Lin Mei had set out rice, steamed vegetables, and a small portion of salted fish—more than usual, clearly prepared for a guest.
Chen Bo joined them, wiping clay dust from his hands. He nodded to Lian Xiu. "Your mother know you're here?"
"She's at the market until dark. Won't even notice I'm gone."
"Hmm." Chen Bo didn't press. He served himself and ate in his usual quiet manner.
The meal was simple but warm. For the first time since the ceremony, Wei Chen felt almost normal.
After Lian Xiu left, Wei Chen helped his mother clean the dishes.
"She's a good friend," Lin Mei said.
"She's the only friend."
"Then treasure that. People who stand by you when others won't are rare."
Wei Chen nodded. But something about the statement bothered him.
Stand by you when others won't.
The assumption being that people wouldn't stand by him. That isolation was inevitable.
Maybe it was. Maybe having Darkness magic meant being alone except for the few strange enough not to care.
Or maybe—and this thought was quieter, colder—maybe he didn't need friends who were afraid of him.
Maybe he needed people who were useful.
That night, Wei Chen lay awake again, thinking.
Lian Xiu wasn't afraid because she had nothing to lose. No magic. No status. No expectations.
The other children were afraid because they did have something to lose. Safety. Normalcy. The comfort of fitting in.
Fear wasn't about Wei Chen. It was about them.
And if fear was about them, then it was a tool. Something he could use.
Not now. He was five, barely able to stretch a shadow without exhausting himself.
But someday.
Someday, fear would be useful.
The next morning, Wei Chen returned to the temple.
Eight children again. Same faces. Same cautious distance.
Elder Shen wasted no time. "Today, we will discuss magical theory. Sit."
They sat in a circle on the cold stone floor. Elder Shen stood in the center, staff in hand.
"Magic is not infinite. Every use drains your core—the reservoir of energy within you. Beginner mages have small cores. Intermediate, larger. Advanced, larger still."
He gestured to Wei Chen. "Wei Chen. You've practiced between lessons?"
"Yes, Elder."
"How many times could you manipulate a shadow before exhaustion?"
Wei Chen thought back. "Maybe... eight or nine times. Small manipulations."
"And you?" Elder Shen pointed to Yun Hao.
"Fifteen or twenty times, Elder."
Elder Shen nodded. "This demonstrates the difference between raw power and trained control. Both of you are intermediate level—your magical cores hold the same amount of mana. Your potential is equal."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But Yun Hao has been practicing water manipulation since his family discovered his affinity two years ago. He's learned efficiency. Precision. His control is apprentice level. Wei Chen's is still novice."
The old mage's gaze settled on Wei Chen. "You are not weaker than Yun Hao. You are less experienced. This gap can be closed through practice and discipline. In fact, with enough dedication, you could surpass him in practical application."
Wei Chen felt something shift in his chest. Not resentment. Not jealousy.
Challenge accepted.
The lesson continued. Theory about elemental specializations.
"Water excels at adaptation and endurance," Elder Shen explained. "Fire excels at overwhelming force. Earth at defense. Air at mobility. Light at support and purification. Darkness at unpredictability and control."
He tapped his staff against the stone. "No element is inherently superior. A Fire mage is not automatically stronger than a Water mage. Victory depends on skill, strategy, and circumstance."
One of the Water students raised their hand. "But Elder, doesn't Water counter Fire?"
"A common misconception. Water can extinguish fire, yes. But a skilled Fire mage generates such heat that water evaporates before contact. Meanwhile, Fire can boil Water, but a skilled Water mage controls temperature and disperses heat." Elder Shen's expression was stern. "Abandon the idea of easy victories. There are none. Only preparation versus lack thereof."
"Darkness," Elder Shen continued, looking directly at Wei Chen, "specializes in what others cannot see. Stealth. Misdirection. Psychological warfare. If you fight like a Fire mage—direct and aggressive—you will lose. But if you fight like a Darkness mage, using terrain, psychology, and unpredictability, you can defeat anyone."
Wei Chen absorbed every word. This wasn't just theory. This was strategy. A roadmap.
"Each element has optimal fighting styles," Elder Shen said. "Water flows around obstacles. Fire crashes through them. Earth endures them. Air avoids them. Light purifies them. Darkness becomes them."
He swept his gaze across all the students. "Learn your element's nature. Master it. And never assume your opponent's element determines the outcome. Only skill does."
When the lesson ended, Wei Chen lingered. The other children left quickly, as always.
Except Yun Hao.
The boy approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "Wei Chen."
"Yun Hao."
Awkward silence.
"You've improved," Yun Hao said finally. "Your control. It's better than three days ago."
"Thanks."
"Elder Shen is right. Power isn't everything. My father says the same thing. He always tells me: 'A sharp mind cuts deeper than a sharp blade.'"
Wei Chen studied him. Yun Hao looked uncomfortable, like he was forcing himself to have this conversation. But he was trying. That meant something.
"Why are you talking to me?" Wei Chen asked.
"Because everyone else is being stupid." Yun Hao shrugged. "You're not evil. You're just... different. And Elder Shen says we should learn from each other, not avoid each other."
He straightened slightly, and Wei Chen caught a glimpse of pride there. Not arrogance, exactly. Just... confidence in his own position.
"You believe him?"
"I believe strength respects strength. You have intermediate Darkness. I have intermediate Water. We're equals in potential." Yun Hao's tone was measured, almost formal. "The element doesn't matter. What matters is how we use it."
There was something calculated about the way he said it. Like he was establishing a relationship on his terms—generous, but from a position of superiority. The young noble extending respect to the commoner, elevating both of them in the process.
Wei Chen should have resented it. Should have seen the subtle positioning.
But he didn't. Because Yun Hao was the first person besides Lian Xiu to treat him like an equal. To acknowledge his potential without fear.
And that... that was valuable.
"All right," Wei Chen said. "Equals."
Yun Hao nodded once, seemingly satisfied with the exchange. "Good. Then I'll see you at the next lesson."
He left with his usual composed stride—back straight, steps measured. The walk of someone raised to expect respect.
Wei Chen stood alone in the empty temple, thinking.
Yun Hao had just done something clever. He'd raised Wei Chen up while simultaneously establishing himself as the one doing the raising. The benefactor. The one with the authority to grant recognition.
It should have bothered Wei Chen. It probably would have, if he were older. More experienced.
But right now, at five years old, isolated and feared by nearly everyone?
He was just grateful someone saw him as more than a threat.
Thank you, Yun Hao.
Even if it was self-serving. Even if it fed Yun Hao's pride as much as it helped Wei Chen.
Sometimes, Wei Chen thought, the reason behind kindness mattered less than the kindness itself.
Wei Chen walked home through empty streets, but for the first time since the ceremony, the emptiness didn't feel quite so heavy.
Lian Xiu didn't fear him. Yun Hao respected him.
Two people. Out of thousands.
But it was a start.
And maybe respect, Wei Chen suspected, was far more valuable than fear.
At least for now.