Caleb swallowed hard, his throat parched and aching. "Who… who are you?"
The mage crouched beside the bed, their hands still glowing faintly with magic. "I'm Lysara. Are you feeling alright?"
A groan escaped him as he shifted on the mattress. Every joint, every muscle screamed in protest, like his body had been crushed under a landslide.
"Everything hurts… and I need some water."
"There's water here." Lysara reached for a cup on the bedside table and guided it to his lips. "As for the pain, I'll ease it as much as I can, but you'll still be sore for a few days."
He took a slow sip, the coolness of the water dulling the burn in his throat. "Thanks," he murmured, setting the cup down with trembling fingers. "But… what happened to me? The last thing I remember is touching a monster core."
Lysara's face darkened, her voice low and grave. "When I found you in the storage room, you were convulsing. The core you touched—it wasn't cleansed."
"Not… cleansed?" he echoed, brow furrowing.
"Monster cores need to be purified before they're safe to use," she explained. "If they're not, they retain fragments of the monster's essence—memories, emotions. Some, like the one you touched, are filled with hatred. Rage like that can overwhelm a young mage's mind—or worse, damage their body."
"I don't remember reading anything about that," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Weird."
Lysara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "At least you know now—though the hard way. That core you touched had a huge concentration of mana. You're lucky there's no major—"
The door burst open.
Boots thundered against the stone floor. Before Caleb could even register what was happening, a figure was looming over him.
"What were you thinking, touching an uncleansed monster core?!" Selene's voice cracked like a whip. "Didn't you read the books we gave you?"
He flinched at the sharpness in her tone, trying to sit up. "The books didn't mention anything about this!" The movement triggered a violent cough, and he collapsed back into the pillows, wincing.
"They most certainly did." Her arms crossed tightly across her chest, eyes blazing with fury. "You need to pay attention when you're reading instead of daydreaming, Caleb."
"I do read!" he snapped, though even to his own ears it sounded defensive. "I don't daydream while doing it—much."
Beside the bed, Lysara let out a quiet sigh. "Madam Selene, it would be best if Caleb avoids stress for now. His body's still recovering. It's making the healing spells less effective."
Selene's mouth tightened. She lingered, clearly wanting to say more. But after a long pause, she gave a curt nod.
"Fine. I'll leave—for now."
As she turned to go, she paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes locked onto Caleb's with a look that chilled him more than any frost spell.
"This is not over, Caleb."
Her tone was razor-sharp—quieter than before, but far more dangerous. He had heard her angry before, but rarely like this. She was furious.
And this time, he'd earned it.
***
The sun had dipped lower, casting warm rays through the arched windows when the door creaked open again.
Caleb looked up from his pillow, groggy but more alert than earlier. The ache in his limbs had dulled to a manageable throb. He expected Lysara returning with another spell or warning—but instead, four familiar figures filed into the room.
"Is the invalid awake yet?" Veylan's voice came first, light and teasing.
Rhydian shot his younger brother a warning glance. "Don't start," he muttered.
Caleb managed a weak smile. "Barely awake. Still feels like I was run over by a mana beast."
Veylan sauntered closer, his unkempt red hair bouncing slightly with each step. "Serves you right. Only you would try to become a mage by nearly getting possessed." He gave Caleb's shoulder a gentle nudge, more playful than cruel.
"You're one to talk," Elira said as she glided into view behind them. Her copper hair shimmered in the light, and her golden eyes narrowed slightly as she looked Caleb over. "Honestly, if it had been a second longer, you might have damaged your internal channels. You're lucky."
"I didn't know the core was uncleansed," Caleb muttered.
"You should have," she replied, folding her arms. Her robes barely rustled as she moved, precise and composed. "You've read the theory texts, haven't you?"
"Not everyone memorizes entire libraries, Elira," Veylan interjected, flopping into a chair near the window. "Some of us have better things to do."
"Like sneak into kitchens and blame the cat for everything?" she shot back without looking at him.
Before their bickering could escalate, a blur of energy rushed past them and landed on the edge of Caleb's bed.
"Caleb! You're awake!" Mirelle beamed, her curls bouncing as she leaned in close. She smelled faintly of ink and charcoal, and there was a dark smudge across her cheek. "We heard what happened. Was it scary? Did it hurt? Did you see colors or hear voices or—"
"I'm fine, Mirelle," Caleb said, laughing despite himself. "Just sore."
"You look like a squashed turnip," she said with genuine concern and fascination.
Rhydian finally stepped forward, his presence quiet but grounding. He didn't speak right away, simply placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "Don't scare Mother like that again."
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know," he said calmly. "But next time, ask for help. That's what we're here for."
The others fell into a momentary silence, the usual rhythm of their bickering suspended by Rhydian's rare, serious tone.
Caleb looked at each of them—Veylan's roguish grin, Elira's sharp eyes, Mirelle's irrepressible energy, and Rhydian's steady hand. Despite their differences, despite the scolding, they'd come. They cared.
And for the first time that day, the weight in his chest lightened.
***
Days had passed since the incident with the uncleansed core—days that felt like weeks. Though his body had healed under Lysara's magic, the memory of his mother's lecture lingered longer than the pain. Caleb never wanted to endure that again.
This time, he wasn't going to take any risks. He stayed put in the training chamber, seated properly, waiting for his instructor to arrive with a cleansed core, his fingers drumming restlessly on his knees.
When footsteps echoed in the hall, his heart quickened. Today would be the day. No more watching his siblings from afar—today, he would awaken.
The door opened and in stepped his instructor: Master Vaelin, a tall, weathered man with slate-grey hair and a long coat that swayed like a banner. His eyes were sharp, though softened as they settled on Caleb.
"How are you feeling, Caleb? That monster core you touched was no joke."
Caleb shot up from the bench, practically vibrating with excitement. "Much better! Let's start! I want to shoot fireballs already!"
Vaelin chuckled, folding his arms. "Easy now. Even after forming your core, there's still a process—"
"I know, I know. I have to check my element first and then learn how to circulate mana properly before I can cast anything."
The older mage tilted his head, impressed. "So you have been reading. I was starting to think your books were just for show."
"It only happened once! I lost my page and didn't want to start over, so I may have… skipped a few parts."
"Which nearly cost you your sanity. Lesson learned, I hope?"
Caleb gave a sheepish nod.
"Good," Vaelin said, producing a radiant, glowing orb. The core pulsed with a gentle, steady light—pure orange, perfectly cleansed. "Let's begin. This one's yours."
Caleb took the orb into his hands. It was warm, thrumming with potential, but calm—not twisted like the last one. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, focusing on the core's mana.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, like a stream trickling through a cracked dam, the mana began to flow into him.
It was gentle at first, like warmth curling around his fingers, then his chest, sinking into the well of his being. Caleb's breath hitched. The warmth thickened, condensed, and coiled deep within his center.
The black mist that had long filled his core—the undefined, raw essence he'd carried since birth—began to stir.
It churned, swirled, and then the mana struck it.
A sharp pulse shot through his spine. The black haze writhed as the orange mana consumed it, burning through the darkness like flame devouring oil. His whole body tensed, but he gritted his teeth, riding out the surge.
The haze turned to embers—then fire.
And in a single breath, it all snapped into place.
A burst of heat spread from his chest outward, racing through every limb like wildfire. His eyes flew open, ablaze with a golden light that faded just as quickly.
Vaelin stepped forward, narrowing his gaze. "You… didn't just form your core," he muttered.
Caleb blinked, panting. "What… what happened?"
"You skipped a step." The instructor's voice was laced with disbelief. "You already had a black core… and just now, you advanced to red."
Caleb stared down at his hands. They trembled, not with weakness—but with power. New, raw, his.
Vaelin let out a low whistle. "That's incredibly rare. You must have absorbed a tremendous amount of mana from that other core… enough to bypass the initial stage altogether."
Caleb's heart raced. "So… I'm a mage now?"
Vaelin grinned. "You're more than that. You're a red core mage. Now let's see what elemental affinity you were born with."