I sat once again in the clearing that had become familiar to me over the past few weeks. The ground beneath me was cold, the air crisp, but I paid no attention to my surroundings. My gaze was fixed on my outstretched hand.
Today, it would work.
I was tired of failing over and over again. Day after day, I had trained, focused, meditated—and yet, there was nothing. No flame, no spark, just silence. But today felt different. Something was different.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried to feel the fire—not as something that existed outside of me, but as something that slumbered within, waiting to be ignited.
Heat.
Faint, a slight tingling in my palm. My heart beat faster. I held my breath, focused on this sensation, let it spread.
Then—a tiny, flickering flame appeared in my hand.
It was no bigger than a candle flame, barely more than a whisper of light and warmth. But it was there.
My breath caught.
I had done it.
For a moment, I couldn't believe it. I, who had once decided over life and death, who had possessed a body of steel and a soul of ice—I was now rejoicing over a small flame in my hand.
A quiet laugh escaped me.
"If someone had told me this before, I wouldn't have believed it."
I stared at the fire in my hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. My first sign of success. My first step.
But as soon as the moment passed, the flame flickered and went out.
I frowned. That couldn't be a coincidence. I tried again. And again. Each time, the flame appeared for a few seconds before vanishing.
I clenched my teeth. That wasn't enough.
Once more, I concentrated. Focused on the fire, on its warmth. Again, a small flame flickered to life, this time a little more stable. But after just a few seconds, I felt my body grow heavy. An unpleasant dizziness spread through my head.
Tired.
I gasped for air. It felt as if my body had poured all its energy into this tiny flame. I let myself sink onto the ground and stared up at the sky.
I had to laugh.
Not because I had failed. But because I knew I was making progress.
With one last glance at my hand, which suddenly felt so empty, I closed my eyes.
The Next Day
I felt refreshed. The exhaustion from the day before was gone. Today was a new day, a new chance.
As soon as I arrived at the clearing, I started again. I stretched out my hand, focused—and the flame appeared instantly.
Bigger than yesterday. Stronger.
I felt a triumphant grin creep onto my face.
"This is it."
I experimented with the flame, tried to make it dance in my palm, to grow and shrink it. It was difficult, but it worked.
Then came the next step.
Water.
I opened the book and flipped to the chapters about water magic. Unlike fire, water was supposed to be calm and flowing. Instead of unleashing heat, I had to learn to guide the current.
I stood up and closed my eyes. I remembered raindrops tapping against a window in my past life. I imagined the cool sensation of water slipping through my fingers.
I raised my hand.
But nothing happened.
I repeated the process, concentrating on every description from the book. But controlling water was different from fire. I could feel the heat, but the water… it slipped through my grasp.
I took a deep breath.
I would learn.
Fire was only the first step. And now it was time to move forward.
Days Passed
I trained daily, spending hours in the clearing until my fingers ached and my head throbbed from the effort. Fire was no longer a problem. I could control it, make it grow, extinguish it—though only in limited measure.
But water…
Water always slipped through my grasp.
I had learned that fire was an aggressive force, something that was unleashed with passion. But water? Water was different. It was patient, calm, yielding, yet powerful. It couldn't be forced.
And that was the problem.
I was used to forcing things with strength. But that wasn't working here.
One evening, when I returned home exhausted, my parents were already waiting for me.
"Where have you been so long?" my mother asked worriedly.
"Just outside. Getting some fresh air."
She studied me with narrowed eyes before sighing. "Take care of yourself, okay? I know you want to be strong, but… sometimes things just take time."
My father grinned. "Or do you want to become the Archmage of the capital already?"
I shook my head slightly and smirked. "No… not yet."
My mother ruffled my hair. "You're still a child, Luck. You have time."
Time.
Yes.
Maybe I needed to stop trying to force everything.
One Week Later
I sat in the clearing again, but this time my approach was different. I didn't focus on grasping the water or forcing it.
I simply let it flow.
I took a deep breath, felt the air around me, the moisture in the ground, the coolness in my hand.
And then…
A single drop of water hovered above my palm.
My heart raced.
Another drop. Then two.
Suddenly, multiple drops gathered, forming a small, trembling sphere of water.
It wasn't perfect. Not stable.
But it was a beginning.
I let the sphere hover in my hand for a moment before it dissolved and dripped onto the ground.
I smiled.
"I did it."
Fire and water.
The first step was taken.