### **Arc 1, Chapter 3: Training Begins**
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The morning sun filters through the narrow window of my room, casting a soft glow on the stone walls. It's been hours since I left the council meeting, and despite the exhaustion weighing on me, sleep hasn't come easily. Too many questions, too many uncertainties. I keep thinking about the Veilborn, the fire I summoned, and the world I've been thrown into.
Elara had left me here, promising we'd start training today. I should be relieved to have a guide, someone who seems to understand what's happening, but I can't shake the feeling of being in over my head.
I get out of bed and dress in the simple tunic and pants they provided. The fabric is rough, the kind of clothing meant for function, not comfort. My body still feels strange to me, like a pair of shoes that don't quite fit. But I can't afford to dwell on it. I have to be ready.
As I step outside, the crisp morning air hits me, a welcome relief from the stuffy confines of the stone room. The city of Lysara is already awake—people are moving about, setting up market stalls, gathering in small groups, talking in hushed tones. The barrier above glows faintly in the early light, a reminder of the fragile protection it offers.
"Ready to start?" Elara's voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I turn to see her standing a few feet away, her sword strapped to her back, her expression serious but not unkind. There's a certain intensity about her, like she's always on guard, always prepared for whatever threat might come next. I wonder what she's seen, what battles she's fought, to make her that way.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
Elara nods and motions for me to follow. She leads me through the winding streets of Lysara, past the marketplace and the residential quarters, to a large open area near the city's outer wall. The ground is packed dirt, worn from years of training and combat. Several other warriors are already there, practicing with swords and other weapons, their movements fluid and precise.
"This is where we train," Elara says, gesturing to the area. "You'll be joining the drills soon enough, but first, we need to figure out what you can do."
I glance at the warriors around us. They all seem so… confident, so sure of themselves. I, on the other hand, have no idea what I'm doing here. The only thing I know for certain is that I can summon fire, but even that feels like it was a fluke.
Elara hands me a wooden training sword. "Before we get into anything too complicated, we'll start with the basics. Swordsmanship is a skill every warrior needs, magic or not."
I take the sword, feeling its unfamiliar weight in my hand. I've never held a weapon before—or at least, I don't think I have. My memories are still a jumbled mess, and every time I try to dig deeper, I hit a wall.
Elara stands in front of me, her sword in hand. "We'll start with a simple strike. Raise your sword like this—" She demonstrates, holding her blade above her head, poised to strike. "Then bring it down in a smooth motion."
I mimic her stance, though it feels awkward and unnatural. The wooden sword is heavier than I expected, and my arms tremble slightly as I hold it above my head.
"Now, swing," Elara instructs.
I bring the sword down, but the movement is clumsy, and I nearly lose my balance. The tip of the sword hits the ground with a dull thud.
Elara raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. Instead, she demonstrates the strike again, this time slower. "You need to focus on your balance. Don't think of it as just swinging the sword. It's about control."
I nod and try again, this time focusing on keeping my stance steady. The swing is better, smoother, but still far from perfect.
Elara watches me closely, her eyes sharp. "Not bad. You're getting the hang of it. Now, let's try a few more."
We go through the motions over and over again. Strike, correct, strike, correct. My arms start to burn from the effort, but I push through. I can't afford to be weak here. Not in a world like this.
After what feels like hours of basic drills, Elara finally steps back, giving me a moment to catch my breath.
"You're a fast learner," she says, her tone surprisingly approving. "But swordsmanship is just one part of it. Your real strength is your magic."
The mention of magic makes me pause. "I don't even know how I did it," I admit. "The fire just… happened. I don't know if I can control it."
Elara crosses her arms, studying me. "Magic in Elysia comes from the essence of the world itself. When the Veil Shattered, that essence was fractured, but it didn't disappear. Some people, like you, can tap into it. But without control, magic can be more dangerous than any weapon."
I frown, thinking back to the fire that erupted from my hand. It had felt wild, unpredictable, like trying to control a raging storm. "How do I control it?"
Elara gestures for me to follow her to a small, secluded corner of the training grounds. She holds out her hand, and after a moment of concentration, a small ball of light appears, hovering just above her palm. The light pulses gently, contained, stable.
"Magic is about focus," she says, her eyes never leaving the light. "You need to feel the energy, but you can't let it overwhelm you. Start small, like this. Try to summon just a spark."
I hesitate, staring at my hand. A spark? It sounds simple enough, but the last time I tried to use magic, it nearly consumed me.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and focus. I can feel something deep within me, a warmth, like a fire burning just beneath the surface. I reach for it, trying to pull it forward, trying to summon just a flicker of flame.
For a moment, nothing happens. Frustration starts to bubble up, but I push it down, concentrating harder. Then, slowly, I feel a heat building in my palm. I open my eyes just in time to see a small, flickering flame appear above my hand.
It's tiny, barely more than a spark, but it's there. I can feel the warmth of it, the energy pulsing through me.
"Good," Elara says, her voice steady. "Now hold it. Don't let it grow out of control."
I focus on the flame, keeping it steady, trying to maintain that delicate balance. But the longer I hold it, the harder it becomes. The heat starts to intensify, the flame growing larger, more chaotic. Panic sets in as I feel the fire slipping from my grasp.
"Elara, I—"
"Focus!" she says sharply. "Don't let it consume you."
I grit my teeth, trying to reign in the fire, but it's too strong. The flame bursts, expanding wildly. I stumble back, the heat searing my skin. Just as the fire starts to spiral out of control, Elara steps forward, raising her hand. A wave of blue light washes over me, and the fire vanishes, snuffed out in an instant.
I collapse to the ground, panting, my body trembling from the effort. My hand is singed, the skin red and raw, but otherwise, I'm unharmed.
Elara crouches beside me, her expression unreadable. "That's what I mean by control," she says quietly. "Magic is powerful, but without discipline, it will destroy you—and everyone around you."
I nod, still catching my breath. The power I felt… it was overwhelming. But I can't afford to fear it. If I'm going to survive in this world, I need to learn how to control it.
Elara stands and offers me a hand. "We'll keep working on it. You have potential, Arion, but you need to be patient. Mastery doesn't come overnight."
I take her hand and pull myself to my feet, the weight of her words settling in. This is going to be harder than I thought. But I can't give up. Not now. Not when the fate of Lysara—and maybe more—is at stake.
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**End of Chapter 3**