Magic, as I'd come to learn, wasn't something anyone could just pick up and use. It was tied to an individual's affinity—a natural bond with one of the world's elemental forces. Everyone had an affinity; it was as much a part of us as our blood or bones, though it didn't always make itself known right away.
The elements were simple enough to list: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and the rarer Light and Shadow. Affinity determined not just what kind of magic you could wield, but also how easily you could learn it.
It wasn't as though you could choose your affinity either. It was innate, written into your very being, though you could sometimes discover it through instinct, luck, or guidance. Some families passed down strong elemental affinities through their bloodlines, while others were more mixed.
The first time I'd brought this up to my friends, it became an afternoon of self-discovery and chaos.
"How do we find out our affinities?" Ryn had asked, squinting suspiciously at my book, as if it might attack him.
"Well," I'd explained, holding up a passage from Elementary Affinities and Magical Awakening, "affinities show themselves naturally when you begin to experiment with magic. You just have to pay attention to what feels right."
"What does that mean?" Thad had groaned, already sprawled across a rock like a bored lizard.
"It means you'll know when you're trying to cast something your affinity aligns with," I'd replied patiently. "It'll feel natural—like water flowing downhill. Trying to use an element you don't have affinity for, though? It'll be like forcing a river to run uphill. Technically possible… but really, really hard."
And sure enough, through trial and error, we'd each discovered our elemental affinities.
Ryn turned out to have an affinity for Air. It fit his carefree, reckless nature perfectly—he loved the feeling of wind whipping around him and quickly mastered simple spells like Gust.
Thad had an affinity for Earth, which was almost too fitting. Practical, solid, and stubborn, he never rushed his spells but always got results, like his slow and steady Tremor.
Lena surprised no one with her affinity for Water. Cool, calm, and disciplined, she wielded water magic with elegant precision. She claimed it was "the most practical element," and frankly, she wasn't wrong.
Serra, ever the prodigy, had an affinity for Fire. It was raw, powerful, and blindingly obvious from the start—her sparks burned brighter and hotter than any of us could match.
As for me? Well, my affinity wasn't as immediately flashy as theirs. After some experimenting (and plenty of frustration), I'd discovered I had a slight inclination toward Fire—not strong enough to make me a prodigy like Serra, but enough to let me grasp basic Grade 1 spells like Sparkflare or Ignite.
But where my friends leaned into their magic, I leaned into alchemy.
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Why Affinity Matters?
Affinity wasn't just a neat trick—it dictated your path forward in magic. Magic was ranked by grades, from 1 to 5, with Grade 1 being entry-level spells and Grade 5 being the realm of gods and legends. But you couldn't advance without mastering spells that aligned with your affinity.
Take Serra, for example. Her affinity for Fire made learning Grade 1 fire spells feel almost instinctive. She moved from Flame Spark to Flame Orb in record time, and everyone agreed it wouldn't be long before she reached Grade 2. The same went for Lena and Ryn—Lena's water spells grew more complex by the month, and Ryn was already experimenting with ways to enhance Gust into short-lived bursts of flight.
Thad, predictably, worked at his own pace, but even his Tremor was evolving into something sturdier and stronger—an early sign of Grade 2 magic.
And me? My progression was slower. I could practice fire spells and maybe advance to Grade 2 with enough time and effort, but it didn't excite me the way alchemy did. My sparks were small and fleeting compared to Serra's firestorms, and I was okay with that.
Alchemy didn't rely on affinity. It relied on knowledge, patience, and creativity—qualities I had in abundance. I didn't need to bend an element to my will; I could craft my own magic. Through powders, potions, and carefully controlled explosions, I was forging my own path.
---
Sometimes, though, I wondered about my choices. Watching Serra wield flames like an extension of her own body, or Lena summon graceful arcs of water, made me feel… slow. Left behind. The others were climbing steadily toward Grade 2, while I was still fiddling with glowing flowers and smoky flasks.
But then, as I watched a small potion burst into soft, golden light in the palm of my hand, I couldn't help but smile. This was magic too—just a different kind.
"Alchemy isn't flashy," I'd told the others once, when Ryn had teased me about still being at Grade 1. "But it lasts. I don't just cast magic—I make it."
They didn't always understand, but that was fine. I had my own vision for the future, even if I was the only one who could see it.
---
One day my father came to discuss my enrollment into the Academy of Heart, I was busy in my "lab"—which, if I'm being honest, was more of a glorified shack at the edge of the forest. The air was thick with the sharp scent of sulfur and herbs, and the latest potion experiment was bubbling ominously in a mana-fueled flask.
"Venzel," my father called from outside, his voice steady but tinged with something I couldn't quite place.
"Come in, but watch your step!" I yelled, not looking up from my concoction.
My father entered cautiously, his boots crunching on shards of a failed experiment from earlier. He gave the room a once-over, his expression a mix of bemusement and resignation.
"Still blowing things up, I see."
I turned to him with a grin. "Of course. How else would I get better?"
He sighed but didn't press further. Honestly, I adored that about him. He didn't squash my passions, even if they sometimes—okay, often—ended in fiery chaos.
"Listen," he began, leaning against the only stable piece of furniture in the room. "You're going to the Academy of Heart."
I blinked, momentarily distracted from my potion. "Wait, the Academy of Heart? The floating city? The one built entirely out of mana crystals?"
"Yes."
My jaw dropped. "What's the catch? Do I have to behave? Stop making explosions? Wear formal robes?"
"No catch," he said, though his mouth twitched as if suppressing a smile. "You're a noble, Venzel. It's expected you attend one of the best academies. But…" He paused, his gaze softening. "You've always been more… generous than most nobles your age. I know you'll want your friends to come along."
I blinked again. "Wait, you're saying you'll sponsor them too?"
He nodded.
"Just like that?"
"Yes," he said simply, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "Serra, in particular, has caught the attention of a few people. They say she's a prodigy."
At that, I couldn't help but grin. "Can't be helped, she had such a generous teacher."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know how you managed to turn your childhood friends into such loyal companions, Venzel. You're a noble, and they're commoners. Most would've kept their distance."
I shrugged, turning back to my potion. "They're fun to be around. Titles don't matter much to me. Plus, Thad and Ryn are better fighters than I'll ever be, so they've saved my skin plenty of times."
"And what about Serra and Lena?"
"They're my sparring partners," I said without hesitation. "Well, Lena's more of a strategist. She keeps us all in line. And Serra? She's a prodigy, sure, but I'll always be her first mentor."
My father's face shifted into an expression I couldn't quite read. Was it pride? Amusement? A mix of both?
"This is the same son who caused so many explosions we had to banish him to the forest to experiment," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"Hey," I protested, "you didn't banished me! You suggested I use the forest, and I agreed. Totally different."
His laughter boomed through the small room. "Call it what you will. Just don't blow up the Academy when you get there."
"No promises," I said with a mischievous grin.
As he left, I couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude. My father might have been a noble who ruled with authority, but he had always treated me with a rare kind of understanding.
He didn't just tolerate my eccentricities—he encouraged them.
And now, he was giving me the chance to bring my friends along to the Academy of Heart.
This was going to be one explosive adventure.