Ten full months have passed since I began my meditation training — the fundamental first step to understanding and accumulating the arcane energy that permeates this world.
But, like every truly dedicated apprentice, I did not limit myself to basic accumulation. I also studied the hidden paths of runic evolution that few beginners have access to. I discovered that, to ascend from one rune to the next, it is necessary to transition through two distinct intermediate levels. Each of these stages has a specific coloration that anticipates the final tone of the superior Rune — like visual echoes of the soul in its delicate process of refinement.
In the specific case of the Spark, the colors manifest as follows:
— First stage: Light Golden Amber — represents the purity of the initial awakening, the first genuine glow of the soul upon touching the arcane world.
— Second stage: Brilliant Amber — the living and fully conscious Spark. The crucial moment where energy needs to be refined with precision, or it will inevitably be dispersed.
In summary:
> Light Golden Amber is the degree of accumulation.
> Brilliant Amber is the degree of purification.
This second stage demands extreme attention and unwavering discipline. If the arcanist persists in merely accumulating energy without initiating the purification process, the imbalance between soul and rune can lead to complete regression... or death. And not a gentle or merciful death, as Margareth made sure to emphasize in her lessons.
As training progresses, the process naturally becomes slower and more demanding. Greater accumulation demands greater purification. And since one cannot rely exclusively on static meditation in times of conflict or necessity, we learned advanced techniques to accumulate energy even in motion — walking, fighting, casting minor spells.
It was during these ten months of intense learning that Margareth finally revealed more to me than mere arcane theories. She showed me, with impressive clarity, the real impact of arcane arts on the physical world.
— Elian, follow me. — she said one morning, with a seriousness in her eyes that she rarely showed.
We crossed the polished corridors of the mansion, traversed the impeccably maintained gardens, and, for the first time since the beginning of my training, went beyond the visible domain of the property. Upon opening an ancient, solid iron door, almost completely covered by dark-leaved vines, I discovered something truly unexpected.
An arcane training ground.
Hidden beyond the golden order of nobility, where everything is rigid protocol and disciplined containment, there was a wild and vibrant space of energy. There, the air felt different — charged with invisible pulsations that made my skin tingle. Occasional crackles, ethereal whistles, and distant roars filled what should have been silence.
The field was surprisingly vast. The ground, enchanted with ancient and powerful spells, supported energy explosions, complex rituals, and even minor dimensional distortions. Deep black marks, partially melted stones, and craters of various sizes told silent stories of past battles and training.
In the exact center of the field, a perfectly symmetrical circular arena made of polished black stone. Complex runes carved around its entire circumference glowed faintly with their own light — seals of containment, amplification, and arcane balance. Around the arena, crystal pillars carefully tuned to primordial elements awaited activation, capable of generating convincing illusions, temporary creatures, or defensive barriers.
— How beautiful… — I whispered instinctively, unable to contain my admiration.
Margareth merely observed my reaction with attentive eyes, and then said in a measured voice:
— I brought you here so you can fully understand what awaits you in the coming months of training.
She slowly turned to face me directly.
— You have accumulated approximately 25% of your arcane core's capacity. — I nodded, feeling a discreet pride in this achievement. — But do not let that go to your head, young apprentice. Do not be guided by the greed for power that consumes so many promising beginners.
Her gaze suddenly darkened. Something deeper and more personal clearly weighed on her experienced soul.
— You carry a special burden, Elian. I know this for sure... because I was present at the exact moment of your birth.
My eyes widened involuntarily. Does she know about my true nature? About my reincarnation?
With a sad smile that revealed understanding, she answered my silent question without me needing to verbalize it:
— I don't know precisely where you came from, nor how you came to us... but your arcane energy equals ethereal energy in its fundamental composition. Perhaps it's a consequence of having been technically stillborn. Or perhaps...
I opened my mouth to question, but she raised her hand with authority and interrupted me before I could articulate a single word.
— You don't need to tell me anything now. Your awakening is intrinsically tied to the ethereal essence. I agreed to train you not just out of obligation or payment, but because you are like me.
— What do you mean? — I asked, genuinely surprised by the unexpected revelation.
Margareth smiled with contained melancholy, her eyes revealing ancient memories.
— I also died, Elian. Not for as long as you remained on the threshold... but I died completely. And, against all odds, I returned. — She looked up at the clear sky above us, and silence enveloped us for a few moments laden with meaning. When she spoke again, her voice had regained its usual firmness.
— Take this entire week off. Stay with your parents. With your little sister. Enjoy these precious moments while you can still do so freely. Because when you return...
She turned towards the central arena, where the ancient runes pulsed slowly like a living, conscious heart.
— ...I will teach you a method of using arcane arts that does not require elaborate sigils or ritual chants.
A new path opened before me — silent, pulsating, and inevitable as destiny.
★★★
Returning home on horseback with my father, the wind gently cut through the trees along the path, and my mind incessantly spun in silence, repeating Margareth's revealing words:
"I am like you."
— Is she also a complete reincarnate, like me? — I reflected internally. — Or did she just die for a brief time and return, as in ancient tales of people who swear they glimpsed the other side?
My father, always attentive to subtle changes in my behavior, noticed the unusual weight on my thoughtful face.
— What's bothering you, son? — he asked with genuine concern.
I hesitated for a significant moment, then finally verbalized, like someone throwing a stone into a calm lake to test its depth:
— Father... — I took a deep breath to gather courage — do you believe in reincarnation?
He looked straight ahead, visibly thoughtful, as if searching for an ancient memory buried in his consciousness.
— Reincarnation, huh... — he murmured almost to himself. — Believe, I believe in the possibility. But why such a sudden question?
Once again, I hesitated at the crossroads of truth. The urge to tell everything was almost overwhelming — to reveal that I wasn't exactly "Elian" in essence, that I carried vivid memories of another time, of a completely different world. That perhaps I was just a temporary guest in the body they once called their son.
But the fear... the paralyzing fear of being rejected, of losing the unconditional love of those who welcomed me as family... was infinitely greater than any momentary impulse of courage.
So I lied.
I said I had read about the concept in one of the ancient books in Margareth's library and that the subject piqued my natural curiosity.
He accepted my explanation without pressing for more details. Perhaps he intuited that there was much more behind my seemingly casual question, but he respected my silence and my time.
I took the opportunity to change the subject. I told him that, after this week of rest, I would begin a new stage of training with the arcane arts — a different approach, without the need for complex sigils or ritual chants.
★★★
Finally arriving at our residence, I was warmly greeted by the two women I love most in this new existence: my mother and my little sister.
My mother, as always, was waiting for me at the entrance with that sweet and loving smile that seemed to have the magical power to warm even the coldest and darkest parts of the soul.
I ran to her without hesitation and hugged her tightly, with no rush to let go. Her familiar scent, her gentle touch, her maternal warmth... everything about her represented the purest concept of home. She then gracefully bent down and, timidly emerging from behind her, appeared Vivian — that small being with curious eyes and a hesitant smile who had won my heart from the very first moment.
"So defenseless, so innocent... and yet, so full of natural light. She comforts my heart without even realizing what she does" — I thought, feeling a profound peace I had never experienced in my previous existence.
We entered the house together, the three of us, like a small and harmonious procession of genuine affections.
My mother watched me attentively as we walked through the main hall.
— How was your day, Elian? Are you very tired from training?
I nodded with a slight smile and began to narrate the day's events. Every detail I could share. Perhaps, in my past life, I would have considered this type of family conversation tedious — repeating, narrating, explaining minutiae. But now, every second shared with my family was an invaluable gift that I deeply cherished.
I spoke about Margareth, about the advances in meditation, the impressive arcane training ground... even about the contemplative silence on the way back. I omitted only one significant thing: the moment I almost revealed the whole truth to my father.
"Not yet..." — I thought with determination. — "It's not the right time for this full revelation yet."
Perhaps one day, in the future. When courage finally overcomes paralyzing fear. When my heart feels with absolute certainty that it is safe to tell the complete truth:
"I came from a world entirely different from this one."