The warm glow of the hearth filled the Forrester cottage as the sun dipped below the horizon. The events of the day lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. Mirelle sat across from Kaelen at the small wooden table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The pouch of cards rested between them, its presence commanding an almost reverent silence.
Kaelen broke the quiet first. "What happened today… that wasn't normal magic, was it?"
Mirelle exhaled, her gaze distant. "No, it wasn't. What you have, Kaelen, is rare—so rare that most people only hear of it in old tales." She reached for the pouch, her fingers brushing its worn leather surface. "Your father called it Conjurantia Arcana, the magic of summoning."
"Summoning…" Kaelen repeated, his mind racing.
"It's an ancient form of magic," Mirelle continued. "One that doesn't just cast spells or manipulate the elements but brings forth creatures and entities from other realms. These cards are the key to your magic, Kaelen. They hold the essence of each summon, bound by your father's power."
Kaelen leaned forward, his green eyes wide with curiosity. "So, my father… he could do this too?"
"Yes," she said softly. "Elandor was a summoner, one of the finest of his kind. These cards—he made them for you, poured his own magic into them before he…" She hesitated, her voice faltering.
"Before he left," Kaelen finished, his tone carrying a mix of longing and bitterness.
Mirelle nodded, pain flickering across her face. "He wanted you to have them when you were ready. And today, Kaelen, you proved that you are."
Kaelen looked down at the pouch, his fingers tracing the intricate stitching. "But why me? Why did he leave? Why didn't he teach me himself?"
Mirelle's expression hardened, a protective edge sharpening her voice. "He left to keep us safe, Kaelen. Your magic isn't just rare—it's coveted. There are those who would do anything to control a summoner's power. He gave up everything to make sure you could grow up free."
Kaelen's heart sank. He had spent years resenting his father for leaving, but now those feelings warred with something else: understanding.
"And now," Mirelle continued, "it's time for you to take the next step."
Kaelen's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"
"You need to learn to control this magic," she said. "I've taught you everything I can, but this—this is beyond me. There's a place where you can learn, where you'll be safe and surrounded by others like you. A sorcerer academy."
Kaelen blinked. "A… sorcerer academy?"
"Yes," Mirelle said, her voice firm. "It's called Eldralis Academy. It's where the most gifted young magic-users go to hone their skills. Your father told me about it long ago, in case this day ever came."
Kaelen leaned back in his chair, his thoughts swirling. "Leave Greythorn? But this is my home. And what about you?"
Mirelle reached across the table, placing a hand over his. "Kaelen, I've always known you were destined for more than this village. Staying here won't help you understand your magic—or yourself. And as for me…" She smiled faintly. "I'll be fine. I've managed this long, haven't I?"
Kaelen hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked at the pouch again, feeling its faint warmth. The wolf he'd summoned earlier flashed in his mind—the power, the connection. If there was more to this magic, more he could learn, how could he turn away from it?
"When would I leave?" he asked finally.
"As soon as possible," Mirelle said. "It's a long journey, but I've already saved enough for your passage."
Kaelen's brows furrowed. "You've been planning this?"
"For years," she admitted. "I knew this day would come. And I knew you'd be ready."
Kaelen sat back, his mind racing. Excitement warred with apprehension, but deep down, he knew this was the path he had to take. "Alright," he said after a moment. "I'll go."
Mirelle's eyes shone with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Your father would be so proud of you, Kaelen."
---
The next morning came quickly. Mirelle packed Kaelen's belongings into a sturdy satchel, adding provisions and a few personal mementos. She handed him a small leather-bound journal.
"What's this?" Kaelen asked.
"Your father's notes," she said. "They're not complete, but they might help you understand your magic better."
Kaelen took the journal, his fingers brushing the worn cover. "Thank you."
At the village's edge, Mirelle hugged him tightly, tears glistening in her eyes. "Be brave, Kaelen. Trust yourself. And remember, no matter how far you go, this will always be your home."
Kaelen nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'll make you proud, Mother."
With one last look back at the village, Kaelen set off toward the unknown, the pouch of cards hanging at his side. He didn't know what awaited him at Eldralis Academy, but for the first time, he felt the pull of destiny guiding his steps.
As the forest swallowed him, a faint wind stirred, carrying with it the echoes of a promise left behind.