The next morning, Abraham awoke before the sun had fully risen. The air was still damp and cold, carrying the scent of wet earth mixed with fresh leaves through the wooden corridors of Haldof's house. He sat quietly at the edge of his bed, staring at his own hands hands long accustomed to plants, herbs, and light work in the forest.
With careful steps, Abraham opened his door.
In the front yard, Ashrel was already standing upright. His body looked solid despite the simple cloth wrapped around old wounds. He stretched with steady, disciplined movements like someone who had repeated them thousands of times. Every breath was deep. Every motion controlled.
Abraham froze.
Ashrel's muscles were clearly defined not the kind born from labor alone, but a body forged by battle. Scars crossed his arms, shoulders, even the side of his neck slashes, punctures, and cuts that could never come from ordinary hunting.
"Truly… a war veteran," Abraham murmured.
"Scars never lie."
Abraham flinched.
He turned to see Haldof standing behind him, holding a wooden cup filled with warm medicine. The old man's gaze was calm as ever, yet there was a sharp glimmer of knowledge in his eyes.
"They are the marks of a knight who has walked too close to death," Haldof continued.
"O-oh, Haldof… you startled me," Abraham said nervously.
Haldof gave a faint smile. "You're awake earlier than usual. Good."
He nodded toward the back of the house. "Come. We'll train in the back garden today."
The garden behind Haldof's home was simple but well kept. A straw mat lay neatly over the soil. Small stones formed a circle, and at its center sat a crystal orb the size of a fist dull, unlit, unremarkable.
Abraham sat cross-legged before it, while Haldof stood behind him.
"Listen carefully," Haldof said in a low but firm voice. "Today, I will not teach you spells or complex magic. First, you must learn to feel magical energy."
"Magical… energy?" Abraham repeated.
"Yes. The current that binds everything soil, plants, the body, even poison and medicine." Haldof walked slowly around him. "I will also teach you how to handle toxins and remedies. All of this will be important… for your future."
Abraham frowned. "My future?"
Haldof stopped in front of him. "Don't ask too much. For now, just listen."
He continued, "We train from morning until noon. After that, you rest. In the afternoon, Ashrel will train you with the sword."
Abraham nodded, though an unfamiliar feeling stirred in his chest a mix of hope and anxiety.
"Not everyone can wield magic," Haldof said, his voice turning more serious. "Not everyone can become a mage. Sometimes it is talent. Sometimes… destiny."
Abraham swallowed.
"We will try," Haldof went on. "Meditate. Empty your mind. Touch the orb, and see if you can make it shine."
He turned away. "I'll tend to Ashrel's treatment."
And Abraham was left alone.
He closed his eyes.
At first, there was only silence. Birds calling. Leaves brushing together. His own breathing. Abraham tried to remember Haldof's instruction to feel, not to force.
He reached out and touched the crystal orb.
Nothing.
He took a deeper breath and tried again. In his mind, he imagined the warm flow he often felt while brewing remedies that faint sensation when herbs blended perfectly.
But the orb remained cold. Dull. Still.
"Why…?" he whispered.
Time passed slowly. Too slowly.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three.
Abraham opened his eyes. Cold sweat clung to his temples. His chest felt tight. He clenched the fabric on his knees, holding back the disappointment piling inside him.
When Haldof returned, the sun was already high.
"Can you feel it?" Haldof asked calmly.
Abraham shook his head. "Not yet…"
There was no anger on Haldof's face. No disappointment. "That's fine. Everything takes time."
He patted Abraham's shoulder. "Rest now."
They ate lunch together at a simple wooden table. Ashrel sat carefully, mindful of his leg, his face looking slightly better than the day before.
"How did your magic training go, Will?" Ashrel asked with a smile.
Abraham blinked at the nickname. "Not very well… I still can't feel magic."
His voice was subdued.
"It's only the first day," Haldof interjected. "Don't judge yourself so quickly."
Ashrel chuckled. "And even if you can't become a mage, I'll still train you with the sword. You could become a great knight, hahaha!"
Abraham returned a faint smile. Just barely.
That afternoon, sword training began. Ashrel taught him how to grip the sword, basic stances, and footwork. There were no fancy techniques only repetition, balance, and the burning pain of muscles unaccustomed to strain.
Days passed.
Three weeks.
Abraham's body began to change. Stronger. Straighter. Yet magic remained silent. The crystal orb never shone.
Even so, in the arts of poison and healing, he advanced rapidly. At times, Haldof merely watched in silence proud, yet saying nothing.
Abraham did not yet know his path.
But destiny…
seemed to be waiting.