Aeon slumped onto his bed, his muscles screaming in protest from Falion's brutal training session. Meditation, a common practice amongst cultivators to alleviate pain and improve focus, offered him no solace. Unlike his cousins, Kellan and Lyra, who possessed the innate ability to cultivate, Aeon was a blank slate in that regard.
Suddenly, a soft rap on his door startled him. It was Rossy, the kind housekeeper who had become a surrogate mother to Aeon. She entered with a steaming bowl and a gentle smile.
"Your mother sent this," she said, placing the bowl beside him. "A special concoction of herbs to ease your aches."
Aeon's heart warmed. Despite the harsh realities of his new life, the Walkers had showered him with love. He gulped down the bitter concoction, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as the herbs took effect.
With renewed purpose, Aeon closed his eyes, attempting to enter a meditative state. This time, the pain subsided enough to allow him to focus on the fragmented memories locked within him. Whenever he had a moment, Aeon would delve into these echoes of the past, hoping to glean some knowledge or understanding of who he was before the amnesia. The information he could access was vast, a treasure trove waiting to be unearthed.
Time blurred as Aeon delved deeper into his past. When he finally opened his eyes, the sun had dipped slightly towards the west, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. Realizing the time, he quickly rose and headed towards Falion's workshop for their alchemy lesson.
He reached the familiar, weathered door and lifted his hand to knock. However, before his knuckles could connect with the wood, a voice boomed from within. "Enter, Aeon."
Surprise flickered across Aeon's face, but he entered without hesitation. The room was bathed in a warm glow emanating from a lamp on the workbench. In the center of the room sat a tall figure shrouded in shadow.
As the figure shifted, revealing Master Falion, a sense of anticipation filled Aeon. Falion gestured towards a stool in front of him. "Sit, Aeon," he instructed.
Aeon sat, his back straight, ready to absorb any knowledge Falion was willing to impart.
"Today," Falion began, his voice low and rumbling, "we delve into the very heart of alchemy."
Aeon's brow furrowed. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be a simple lesson on mixing potions.
"What is the most important element in alchemy, Aeon?" Falion's question hung heavy in the air.
Aeon hesitated. He hadn't considered such a fundamental question before. Various options swirled in his head – precise measurements, potent ingredients, years of experience. Yet, none felt quite right.
Seeing Aeon's struggle, Falion chuckled softly. "It's not the meticulous scales," he stated, "nor the rarest herbs. The heart, Aeon, that is the most critical ingredient in any alchemist's repertoire."
Aeon's eyes widened in realization. It made perfect sense. Alchemy wasn't just about manipulating physical materials; it was about channeling one's will and intent to bring about a desired outcome.
"A strong heart, one filled with focus, determination, and perhaps even a dash of passion," Falion continued, "is the fire that ignites the alchemical process. Without it, even the most potent ingredients remain inert."
Aeon nodded, his mind brimming with questions. "But Master," he asked, "how does one cultivate such a heart?"
A faint smile, invisible in the dim light, played on Falion's lips. "There's no single formula, Aeon. It's a journey of self-discovery. But some things might aid in its development – a clear purpose, unyielding perseverance, and a deep respect for the power you wield."
The conversation flowed, each question from Aeon prompting another insightful response from Falion. They discussed the delicate balance needed, the potential for alchemy to heal as well as to destroy, and the importance of maintaining a calm and steady mind even when faced with unexpected results.
As the lesson progressed, Falion's next question surprised Aeon. "Do you know the other most important element in alchemy, Aeon?" He inquired.
"Fire?" Aeon ventured, remembering the flickering lamplight and Falion's earlier metaphor.
Falion nodded. "Indeed. Fire is the lifeblood of the alchemist's workshop. It provides the necessary heat to activate the transmutation process."
He launched into an explanation of different types of flames, starting with the most common – beast flames. These were acquired, Aeon learned, by slaying fire-attributed beasts. The quality and potency of these flames varied greatly.
Falion then described Human grade flames, formed under harsher conditions where intense heat persisted for extended periods. These flames were much rarer and significantly more powerful than beast flames.
Next came Earth-grade flames, even more elusive than Human-grade. These flames were born from the very heart of the planet, forged in the crucible of volcanoes or deep within the earth's mantle for tens of thousands of years. Their power was immense, capable of melting the sturdiest metals and fueling the creation of incredibly potent alchemical concoctions.
Finally, Falion spoke of the rarest flames of all – Heaven-grade flames. These legendary flames were rumored to exist, but their existence remained unconfirmed. They were said to be birthed from celestial phenomena like supernovae or the heart of a dying star, possessing unimaginable power that could reshape reality itself.
Aeon listened, enthralled by these revelations. He glanced at Falion's hand, expecting to see nothing but the dim lamplight. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, a vibrant yellow flame materialized in his palm.
A gasp escaped Aeon's lips. The flame crackled with a life of its own, radiating a surprising amount of warmth. It wasn't the ethereal blue or gold Aeon had envisioned for legendary flames, but it was undeniably impressive.
"This," Falion declared with a hint of pride in his voice, "is the flame I acquired from a rare Flamming Lion. It's considered quite strong amongst beast flames."
Excitement bubbled within Aeon. If Falion, a master alchemist, possessed a beast flame, surely he, Aeon, could acquire one when he turned ten – the age when most children manifested their elemental affinities. Perhaps then, he wouldn't be so reliant on the pain-relieving concoctions Rossy provided.
Falion, however, noticed the shift in Aeon's expression and chuckled. "Acquiring a flame, Aeon, is a delicate and often dangerous process. Merging a flame with one's body requires immense control and compatibility. It's especially risky for those with ice-attributed bodies."
Aeon's heart sank. The dream of wielding a powerful flame seemed to dissipate like smoke. Yet, Falion continued, sensing Aeon's disappointment.
"There's much more to alchemy than flames, Aeon," he reassured him. "There are countless techniques and alternative methods to achieve incredible results. We'll explore those further in the coming days."
He spent the rest of the lesson discussing various applications of fire in alchemy, from gentle simmering to intense bursts of heat needed for specific reactions. Aeon scribbled notes furiously, his mind buzzing with information.
Finally, Falion dismissed him for the night. "There's much to learn, young Aeon," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "But you possess a spark of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. That's a good foundation for an alchemist."
As Aeon stepped out into the cool night air, he looked back at the dimly lit workshop. The lesson had sparked more than just his curiosity; it had ignited a passion within him. He yearned to unlock the secrets of alchemy, not just for the power it might grant him, but for the sheer wonder of manipulating the very essence of reality. He knew the path wouldn't be easy, but with every step, he hoped to get closer to the truth of his past and the potential that lay dormant within him.
Meanwhile, back in his workshop, Falion watched Aeon disappear into the night. A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "This boy," he murmured to himself, "he's more than meets the eye. The knowledge and wisdom he possesses… it's far beyond his years. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be the one…"
The rest of his thoughts remained unspoken, lost in the quiet hum of the workshop and the flickering orange glow of the lamplight. The future, with all its uncertainties and possibilities, stretched before them both.