The night stretched endlessly as Tyrin and Thesia journeyed beneath the vast canopy of stars, Tyrin's footsteps weaved a quiet rhythm through the wilderness. Neither spoke for long moments at a time, content to let the crisp night air carry their thoughts. But when they did, their words painted a picture of a world that was still a mystery to Tyrin—one he had only just been reborn into.
Thesia spoke of Eldrida, a land unlike any other. Here, strength was measured not by brute force alone, nor by arcane mastery in isolation. Instead, its people thrived in the delicate equilibrium between physical prowess and magical aptitude. Warriors trained alongside mages, forging a society where skill and discipline flowed together like twin currents in a mighty river.
But Eldrida was not just a land of balance—it was a land of endless possibility. Every child, upon reaching their coming of age, stands at a crossroads of destiny. They could choose the path of the Mage, delving into the arcane mysteries that shaped reality itself; the Warrior, mastering the blade and their own body as a weapon; the Adventurer, carving their own legend through perilous quests; the Artisan, crafting wonders of metal, cloth, and spellwoven artistry; or even the Mercenary, selling skill to the highest bidder in a world teeming with opportunity.
The King and Queen of Eldrida had built a nation where choice was a birthright. Where fate was a thing to be grasped, molded, and claimed. As Tyrin listened, absorbing every detail, he felt the weight of this new world settling upon him—not as a burden, but as a boundless horizon awaiting his first step.
"I got a second chance..." Tyrin whispered under his breath, "I can be different now." He paused, "I need to be different."
Tyrin muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting back to his past. He had always believed he wasn't good enough—that no matter what he did, it was always the wrong choice, even when it felt right. His memories of his former life were fragmented, and unclear.
He didn't fully understand what had happened, but he vaguely recalled one thing: he had misused his power. He had been meant for something different, and now, this was his chance.
Tyrin hesitated before speaking. "Thesia?" He turned his thoughts to her. "How does magic work? Tell me everything you know."
Then, realizing just how vast her knowledge was, he quickly corrected himself. "Actually… maybe not everything. Just tell me the basics."
Thesia thought for a moment, considering how best to explain. "Magic works much like science does on Earth," she began. "It's everywhere—woven into the very fabric of life itself. Every particle in this world contains some form of magic."
She continued, "Magic is divided into six elemental categories: fire, water, earth, wind, light, and darkness. These elements together shape everything we know. But there's more to it than just the elements. There are different types of mana: the mana inside a person, the elemental mana that flows through nature, and the world mana that surrounds everything. These three forces interact to create magic."
Tyrin was struggling to follow but didn't interrupt.
"Magic is powered by Mana, the energy inside every living being. At the core of every person is a Mana Core, like a battery that stores magical energy. The stronger it gets, the more powerful the magic becomes."
Thesia was getting excited, "That core determines how strong a person's magic is. It starts off small, with the color red. As it grows, it becomes more vibrant, progressing through orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, all the way to violet, where magic can reshape reality."
Thesia's voice became firm, "Magic isn't just a tool—it's a force of nature, one that must be respected. You have the chance to understand it in a way very few ever do."
Once Thesia finished speaking, Tyrin sat in silence, thinking. He absorbed the information, trying to make it sink into his flesh and bones. Magic was his chance. It was something that excited him, something that made him eager to keep going. He nearly forgot about his hunger.
He needed to master it. He wanted to learn more, to become stronger—not out of hate, resentment, or negativity, but out of pure joy. He had found something in this world that he truly enjoyed, something that could make him a new person. He had found a way to be better.
"Thank you Thesia!" Tyrin was overjoyed. "This is exactly what I wished it to be! Can you teach me?" The question threw Thesia for a loop.
"I'm not sure Tyrin." Tyrin's face scrunched, "Magic is typically taught in school when you are around 10 years of age. At least the magic I told you about. Some of what I said isn't even taught. It is learned through decades of practice."
Tyrin was slightly disappointed, "You said I was the most powerful host you had and yet you won't teach me to use my power?"
"Not yet." Thesia said, "Your body still needs to grow before you are ready for real magic."
"So teach me fake magic!" Tyrin became annoyed, he was not going to be denied his only hope.
Thesia became quiet for a moment. "I will agree to teach you on one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you never use it to hurt innocent people." Thesia was firm.
Tyrin thought it was a slightly odd and specific request but he couldn't see a problem with it. "You have my word! I will try my hardest to never harbor ill will behind my magic."
"Then I have no problem showing you the basics." Thesia said. "But we are not going to be able to continue moving towards the village if I'm going to start teaching you are you willing to move forward with learning magic or would you like to go eat?"
Tyrin's hunger had faded into the background replaced by a growing curiosity about magic the idea of learning it filled him with excitement his thoughts racing ahead to what he might discover he was eager and ready to begin.
"Teach me!" Tyrin couldn't contain his excitement.
~~~
The hunt for food came to an abrupt stop as Tyrin and Thesia veered off the path to the village, slipping into the woods. It didn't take long before they stumbled upon a cave—abandoned, by the look of it. This, for now, would be their home.
Bones lay scattered across the floor, remnants of long-past meals, yet there were no fresh tracks or signs of life. No scent of a predator, no lingering presence. Tyrin studied the scene and decided—it was safe.
"Sit in the center, Tyrin," Thesia instructed.
Tyrin, eager, hurried over and settled into a meditative stance. He barely contained his anticipation.
"Magic begins with understanding yourself," Thesia continued. "And that starts with breath. Simple, yet vital. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Let it fill your lungs, stir your blood, and awaken your senses. Feel it—not just in your chest, but in your bones."
Tyrin was caught off guard by Thesia's intensity. She was usually more relaxed, but when it came to magic, there was no room for levity—only focus.
Shaking off his distraction, Tyrin forced himself to concentrate. He followed his breath, feeling the way it expanded his lungs and flowed through his body. Yet something felt… off. As he traced the air's movement, he sensed something foreign within him—a presence he couldn't quite place. Was it simply his unfamiliar body, or was there something else at play?
"I didn't think you'd pick it up this fast!" Thesia exclaimed. She had expected progress—but not this quickly.
One glance at Tyrin confirmed it. His expression, his presence—it was undeniable. She could see the mana swelling within him, pulsing with untamed potential. He was going to be powerful, with or without her guidance.
"What you are feeling is Mana," Thesia said back to her serious demeanor. "You must learn to control it" Her words were calm and encouraging.
Tyrin poured every ounce of his strength into forcing the mana into submission. Pressure built against his bones, a searing heat flooding through him—it felt as if his blood was boiling. He wrestled with the energy, trying to draw it fully into himself, to command it, to make it his own. But no matter how fiercely he fought, it refused to yield.
"Stop trying so hard!" Thesia's voice cut through his mind like a whip. "Breathe, idiot! Stay calm!"
But her words came too late. The strain was too much. Tyrin's vision blurred, his body went slack, and in the next instant, he collapsed, sprawled across the cave floor—unconscious.
Dreams found Tyrin as he drifted into unconsciousness. And with them came understanding.
Before him lay pure chaos—flashing lights, raging flames, howling winds, crashing waves, crumbling earth—all consumed by endless darkness. Nothing held form, no order guided their motion.
Then, something new emerged. It moved like water, fluid yet controlled, shaping the wild elements with deliberate precision. Slowly, it wove them into harmony, arranging them into a perfect six-pointed star—each element claiming its place at its edge.
The sight filled Tyrin's mind with clarity. The chaos faded, giving a way to a deep, steady calm. And as balance took hold, so did a newfound energy. He stirred, waking with more determination than before.