Thomas sat on his favored log at the edge of the training ground, ostensibly focused on his own lightning manipulation exercises, but his attention had been drawn inexorably to the strange display unfolding near the eastern boundary of the clearing.
The white-haired boy, he thought, small electrical sparks dancing between his fingers as his concentration wavered. Aeon.
The name still felt foreign on his mental tongue, carrying with it memories of that night in the Assembly Hall when the elders had debated the fate of this unusual stranger. Thomas remembered his first impression of the boy—bloodied, bandaged, barely conscious as he was carried into the healer's quarters. A pitiful figure who had escaped slavery through what seemed like pure luck and desperation.
Pathetic, Thomas recalled thinking at the time. Another broken refugee who survived by accident rather than design.
But watching Aeon now, Thomas felt that initial assessment crumbling like sand before an incoming tide.
There was nothing pitiful about the way Aeon moved, nothing desperate or lucky about his controlled experimentation with whatever power he was wielding. The boy stood with quiet confidence, manipulating forces that Thomas couldn't see but could somehow sense—the same way he could feel electrical potential building in the atmosphere before a storm.
This isn't luck, Thomas realized with growing unease. This is competence. Intelligence. Purpose.
The transformation was startling enough to make Thomas question his own judgment. How had he so completely misread someone during their first encounter? What else had he failed to notice about this stranger who had somehow found their hidden village?
His attention sharpened as Master Kellor approached Aeon's position, the instructor's expression shifting from polite interest to obvious bewilderment. Thomas couldn't hear their conversation clearly from his distance, but he could see the teacher's body language growing increasingly confused as Aeon gestured at empty air and made requests that seemed to baffle the experienced magical instructor.
Kellor can't see whatever Aeon is doing, Thomas observed with fascination. But something is definitely happening.
The realization sent a chill down Thomas's spine. As someone with a rare attribute himself, he understood that unusual magical abilities often came with properties that defied normal understanding. But an attribute that was invisible to other magic users? That suggested capabilities beyond anything in their village's collective experience.
What exactly are we dealing with?
Thomas watched with intense focus as Aeon began demonstrating something that looked impossibly strange—walking in place despite obvious effort, attempting to clap but somehow unable to bring his hands together. To most observers, it would have appeared like elaborate pantomime or possibly some kind of magical affliction.
But Thomas's lightning attribute gave him heightened sensitivity to electrical fields and energy disruptions, and he could perceive subtle distortions in the air around Aeon's position. Not enough to see clearly, but sufficient to sense that space itself was somehow... wrong in that area.
Spatial manipulation? Thomas wondered with growing alarm. Is that even possible?
Master Kellor's concern was obvious as he called out to Aeon, clearly worried about his student's apparently constrained movements. But then Aeon stepped backward and immediately returned to normal motion, as if whatever had been affecting him simply ceased to exist.
The conversation that followed was too distant for Thomas to overhear, but he could see Kellor's bewilderment deepening as Aeon made what appeared to be an increasingly insistent request. Finally, the instructor shook his head in obvious confusion but moved into a casting stance.
He's actually going to attack the dummy, Thomas realized with anticipation. Now we'll see what Aeon's attribute can really do.
Master Kellor raised his hands and began channeling his earth attribute, drawing power from the packed soil beneath his feet. The instructor's specialty was defensive magic rather than offensive, but he possessed enough combat training to create a respectable projectile attack when necessary.
A sphere of compressed earth formed above Kellor's palm, roughly the size of a child's fist and dense enough to crack wood or stone upon impact. The instructor took careful aim at the practice dummy and released his attack with professional precision.
Thomas watched the earthen projectile streak toward its target with the kind of intense focus that his future leadership role demanded. This was information gathering of the highest importance—understanding the capabilities of someone who might represent either opportunity or threat to Millhaven's security.
What happened next defied every principle of magical combat that Thomas had been taught.
The earthen sphere simply... disappeared.
Not deflected, not shattered, not absorbed—it vanished completely as it approached the area roughly two meters in front of the practice dummy. One moment it was a solid projectile with obvious momentum and destructive potential, the next moment it was gone as if it had never existed.
But the secondary effects of Kellor's attack continued to manifest around the disappeared projectile's trajectory.
Dust swirled in the air where the sphere should have passed, carried by wind currents that the projectile's movement had generated. Small stones and debris that had been kicked up during the earth magic's formation scattered across the training ground in patterns that clearly showed a magical attack had occurred.
Most tellingly, a faint brown discoloration appeared on the dummy's surface—not from direct impact, but from earth particles that had been trailing behind the main projectile and had somehow reached their target despite the primary attack's disappearance.
The attack was stopped, but not everything around it, Thomas observed with sharp analytical thinking that would serve him well as a future leader. The barrier—if that's what it is—affects the main magical construct but not the environmental consequences.
It was simultaneously impressive and terrifying. Aeon had created a defense that could apparently nullify direct magical attacks while allowing secondary effects to pass through. Thomas couldn't begin to imagine the strategic applications of such an ability, but he was certain they would be significant.
Master Kellor stood frozen in obvious shock, staring at the practice dummy with an expression that suggested his understanding of magical theory had just been fundamentally challenged. The instructor's earthen projectile had simply ceased to exist, violating every principle of energy conservation and magical interaction that formed the foundation of formal magical education.
This changes everything, Thomas thought with the kind of cold political calculation that his father had been teaching him since early childhood. Aeon isn't just a refugee with an unusual attribute. He's someone with capabilities that could reshape how magical conflict works.
The implications were staggering. If Aeon could nullify magical attacks while remaining hidden from direct observation, he represented either the greatest defensive asset Millhaven had ever possessed or the most dangerous security threat they had ever encountered.
And the elders have given him four months to develop these abilities further before sending him back into the world.
Thomas felt his respect for the white-haired boy crystallizing into something approaching awe, mixed with the kind of wariness that future leaders learned to maintain around potential game-changers.
I need to understand what he really is, Thomas decided with newfound determination. Because whatever happens next, this boy is going to be important.
Far more important than anyone—including possibly Aeon himself—currently realized.