As the first few beams of sunlight hit the oaken floorboards, Cyrus rubbed his weary eyes, and lumbered downstairs.
The aroma of fresh loaves, glazed in honey, hung in the air, accompanied by the sweet scent of porridge. Cyrus's stomach grumbled as he approached the dining room, and eyed the three plates set out at the table.
"Ah, good morning, Cyrus," Myrel said. He sat at the head of the table, sipping from a steaming mug as he flipped through the pages of an old book with golden binding.
"I was just about to come wake you," Sylven said, setting a bowl of scrambled eggs down on the table. He glanced at Cyrus, then frowned. "Though the bags under your eyes suggest you didn't sleep much anyway."
"None, actually. I had too much on my mind," Cyrus said. He peeked over Myrel's shoulder as he sat, noticing a series of strange symbols scrawled across the worn parchment. "What are you reading?"
"This would be a record of Delahost, and the history of its inhabitants," Myrel said. He slid the book over. "I thought I'd look more into the places you mentioned while you stayed here, but so far I haven't had any luck."
"These are letters then?" Cyrus asked, furrowing his brow. "They don't resemble the ones in the other books I've seen."
"That would be because these are runes, or better known as the written form of magic," Myrel said, his grey eyes brightening. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm blind in the sense of what's normal, which is why I'm unable to read books as you do. However, the accident which took my sight, also provided me with the ability to see aether, which is how I'm able to see you, and Sylven, or in this case, these runes."
"Fortunately, most things possess a bit of aether, so he's not as reliant on me as he would have been otherwise," Sylven said, taking his spot at the table, and scooping a modest amount of eggs onto his plate.
"Aether… Do you mean magic?" Cyrus asked.
"It's the source of magic, yes," Myrel said, resting his arms on the table. "But it's also much more than that. Aether is, after all, the source of all things in this world. Magic is simply the process of changing it to fit your desires."
Cyrus frowned. "I'm confused. How do you change it?"
"By speaking to it, of course," Myrel said. He grinned. "The Aetherial language, or the incantations we use, is what allows us to change the laws of reality, bending them to our will."
"Doesn't that mean anyone can use magic then. As long as they know the words?" Cyrus asked. He picked at his roll, tearing a small section off, and rolling it into a small ball.
Myrel chuckled. "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that. First, one must be chosen, forming a connection between you and the world around you. Without that, you'd just be mumbling nonsense."
"You make it sound as though it's a living thing," Cyrus said.
"I happen to believe it is," Myrel said. He waved his hand. "Not as you and I are, of course, but a living entity of some sort, that much I'm certain."
"You're letting your food get cold, Master Myrel," Sylven said. He pushed a bit of the eggs onto the old man's plate. "Eat, before it all goes to waste."
Cyrus leaned back as Myrel began to eat, still reeling in shock from what he learned.
"It's a bit much to take in, isn't it?" Sylven asked, scooping a second helping of eggs onto his plate. "Even I become confused if I listen to him long enough, but I've also learned a lot from him. Have you… considered our proposal any further?"
"You mean about learning how to control my magic?" Cyrus asked. He sighed and set down the roll. "I have. It's true that I fear hurting others with this… power, but I'm also aware that I can't run away from it. It's a part of me, one I need to know more about, and… it might help me remember who I am."
Sylven nodded. "Yes, Master Myrel told me about what happened. It's terrifying to think about, losing all of your memories."
Myrel pushed the remainder of his food onto his fork. "Indeed, but I'm hoping to learn a bit more through your magic. From what I can tell, its unlike anything I've ever seen, and it might open a door to new knowledge."
Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, signaling the change of the hour. Myrel smiled, and climbed to his feet, collecting his empty plate, and mug in the process. "For now, I'll leave you to finish your breakfast. Once you're done, Sylven will bring you to my observatory, where we can test your abilities. We'll start easy this morning, so you don't need to rush."
As Myrel dropped his dishes into the basin, Cyrus realized he hadn't touched a single bit of his food. Sylven arched his brow as he finished the last of his eggs.
"You don't need to worry to much, we have our fair share of experience with the dangers of magic," Sylven said, speaking between mouthfuls. "Although his methods may be confusing, I promise he knows what he's doing. I've learned from him since I was young, so if you ever have any questions, you can ask me."
"I appreciate the offer," Cyrus said. He took a sip of his tea, which washed his roll down his throat with a sharp spice, followed by the taste of sweet nectar. A rush of energy flowed through Cyrus as he frowned, and glanced at Sylven. "This… I thought this was tea?"
Sylven grinned. "It is. My own blend of lavender and wither root herbs. It helps wake you up, doesn't it? I spent three years attempting different mixtures before I stumbled across this. What do you think?"
"I can honestly say I can't remember tasting anything like this before," Cyrus said. He and Sylven stared at each for a moment before breaking into laughter.