The dining room was bathed in the golden glow of the hearth, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread hanging heavy in the air. I sat at the table, feeling like an outsider as Rorik, Inga, Ulrik, and Vidal spoke in hushed tones throughout the day. Even now, as we all gathered for dinner, their conversation barely included Emery or me.
Ulrik sat at the head of the table, his massive frame commanding the room. Vidal, seated beside him, looked restless, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of his plate. Across from me, Emery pushed her food around her plate, her usual spark dulled by the weight of the day's tension.
I couldn't take the silence anymore. "Are you going to tell us what's going on?" I asked, looking directly at Ulrik.
Ulrik's piercing gaze shifted to me, and the room seemed to grow quieter. He set down his mug, leaning back in his chair.
"When Rorik contacted me," he began, his voice deep and steady, "I was skeptical. Not often does a retired warrior reach out to a knight of my standing to evaluate a newly changed child. But when I saw you..." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "I was shocked."
---
I swallowed hard, his words heavy with implication.
"The marks on your arms," he continued, gesturing to the spirals on my right and left. "They're not just unusual—they're extraordinary. They signify something that, until now, I thought was just a legend."
"What kind of legend?" I asked cautiously.
Ulrik leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "A Warlock," he said simply.
The word hung in the air, unfamiliar yet filled with weight.
"A Warlock?" Emery asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"A being who can wield both Qi and Mana," Ulrik explained. "Most people can only cultivate one or the other. Warriors, like me, cultivate Qi—internal energy tied to the body. It makes us stronger, faster, more durable. Magi, like Vidal, cultivate Mana—external energy tied to the air and environment. It allows them to manipulate the world around them through spells and magic."
Ulrik gestured to my arms again. "Your red mark signifies Qi. Your blue mark signifies Mana. To have both is unheard of. You're not a warrior. You're not a Magi. You're something entirely new."
---
Vidal leaned forward, his curiosity evident. "The orbs confirmed it," he said, his voice eager. "The red orb, which detects Qi affinities, lit up with five runes when you held it in your right hand. Five! Most people have one, maybe two. Three is considered talented—Ulrik himself has three."
Ulrik smirked slightly but said nothing, letting Vidal continue.
"Four affinities are seen as the pinnacle of genius," Vidal went on, his excitement growing. "But you... you have five. Axe Qi, Strength Qi, Speed Qi, Stamina Qi, and Perception Qi."
I furrowed my brow. "What do those mean?"
"They're aspects of Qi you can cultivate," Ulrik explained. "Each one enhances a different part of your physical abilities. Together, they make you incredibly versatile—and incredibly dangerous."
---
"And that's not even the strangest part," Vidal said, pulling the blue orb from his cloak. "This is the Mana orb, which detects Mana affinities. When you held it in your left hand, four colors appeared."
"Four?" I asked, confused but intrigued.
Vidal nodded. "Most Magi have one or two affinities. Three is rare and marks someone as highly gifted—like me." He added the last part with a touch of pride before continuing. "But four... four is genius-level. And your affinities aren't just numerous—they're rare."
He listed them off, his voice filled with awe. "Fire, Blood, Darkness, and Death. Fire is a basic affinity, the foundation of many spells. Blood and Darkness are rare, each tied to unique and specialized magic. And Death..." He hesitated, glancing at Ulrik.
"Death is foundational," Ulrik said, his voice heavy. "It's ancient, primal, and incredibly dangerous. Few Magi ever wield it, and those who do are often feared—even by their own kind."
---
The weight of their words pressed down on me, my thoughts swirling. I looked at the marks on my arms, their intricate spirals catching the light of the fire. "So... what does this all mean?"
Ulrik leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "It means you have potential, boy. Potential like I've never seen before. But potential is a double-edged sword. It'll make you powerful, yes, but it'll also make you a target."
"A target?" Emery asked, her voice sharp with concern.
Ulrik nodded. "With abilities like yours, people will want to control you—or destroy you. If you're not strong enough to defend yourself, you won't last long in this world. And it's not just your life at stake." He glanced meaningfully at Emery.
I clenched my fists, his words hitting home.
"You need to train," Ulrik said firmly. "Harder than you've ever trained before. If you don't learn to harness this power, it'll destroy you—and everyone you care about."
---
The table fell silent again, the crackle of the fire the only sound.
"Why now?" I asked finally. "Why me?"
Ulrik shrugged. "Some questions don't have answers, boy. All you can do is face what's in front of you."
Rorik placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "You've come this far," he said. "You're stronger than you realize. But this is just the beginning."
I nodded slowly, the enormity of the moment settling over me. The marks on my arms weren't just a sign of change—they were a call to action.
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life had taken a turn I wasn't prepared for. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: I had no choice but to walk it.