Chapter 2 - Festival of Mana

Erven woke to the smell of something sweet and sizzling from his. The faint melody of his mother’s humming echoed through the house – cheerful, steady. Lyria only did that on special occasions.

And today certainly was.

Lyria scooped him up, kissed his forehead. “Time to get ready, Ev, ” her gentle voice told him, “it’s the annual Festival of Mana.”

Festival of mana?

Little Erven’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t worry, little man, you’ll see soon enough!” Harold yelled from downstairs whilst tightening the straps on his leather vest.

Today, the family walked down, Erven held enclosed in his mother’s arms in a soft green cloak.

This is way different than usual

Ev was not acquainted with the many stalls lining the streets, nor with the people walking around with sashes each a colour: red, blue, brown, and grey.

They must be representing the four elements, huh?

Ev began to piece together what was meant by The Festival of Mana.

“The story goes,” Lyria began, “that the first generation of mages across the continent of Elarion had no mana crystals to guide them. So they celebrated all elements together, honouring the harmony that keeps our world alive.”

At the village centre, stood 4 pillars with crystals and Ev watched as children lined up.

So this must be those resonance crystals, I think I read somewhere they only release a certain element so if the person’s body reacts to it then their mana filter in their core must have an affinity for it and if not then raw mana just fizzled away.

Just as Ev could finish his thought he heard a bang and then an applause.

“Lyria, some teenager just awakened his fire affinity like me,” Harold pointed at the scene. “Do you think Ev is going to be like that one day?”

Meanwhile, to the other side Lyria was pre-occupied as she watched as a group of early teens were passing around a ball of raw mana until one person failed to catch it.

“Look a healer just like your mommy” Lyria directed Ev’s eyes too, her smile inviting as ever. Ev listened to every word even if no one expected him too, after all his body was just 8 months old; but his mind? Older and sharper.

But a multitude of objects caught Ev’s gaze as he pointed ponderously at them staring at Lyria, seemingly for guidance.

“They’re sky kites, children write wishes on them and then the adults send them off with a big push of wind magic.” Lyria responded before smiling and whispering, “Rumour has it if your sky kite stays up and makes it to the royal capital then your wish will come true.”

Ev’s curiosity was simply overflowing.

As dusk began to set in, Harold bought himself and Lyria a sweet honey-dipped pastry.

“Mmm, this is almost as good as yours.” Harold joked, although Lyria’s expressionless response suggested she didn’t find it quite as funny.

Lyria shared the pastry to her violet-eyed joy and Ev enjoyed it. Not the stickiness but he liked the warmth.

Then a series of booms echoed the market square as an individual began chanting odd words.

Ah, so this is the power of an earth affinity channeler, to so easily construct an arena all by himself.

Ev stood mesmerised as he watched the first two young adolescents walk up to the stage, the crowd leaned in. Even the drums had quieted, their beat replaced by hushed murmurs and the heavy thrum of mana in the air. Erven sat himself up in his mother’s arms to get a better view and began to stare intensely without a blink.

The two figures faced each other in the ring — one in deep crimson robes, the other draped in pale blues like glacier silk. The fire mage’s palms glowed faintly, the heat around him distorting the air. The other mage stood still as a statue, a chill creeping from his boots along the stone.

A bell rang.

The fire mage struck first. He didn’t waste time. A jet of flame spiralled forward like a serpent, dancing and twisting through the air with a hiss. The crowd gasped.

The other mage stood stagnant.

Erven woke to the smell of something sweet and sizzling from his. The faint melody of his mother’s humming echoed through the house – cheerful, steady. Lyria only did that on special occasions.

And today certainly was.

Lyria scooped him up, kissed his forehead. “Time to get ready, Ev, ” her gentle voice told him, “it’s the annual Festival of Mana.”

Festival of mana?

Little Erven’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t worry, little man, you’ll see soon enough!” Harold yelled from downstairs whilst tightening the straps on his leather vest.

Today, the family walked down, Erven held enclosed in his mother’s arms in a soft green cloak.

This is way different than usual

Ev was not acquainted with the many stalls lining the streets, nor with the people walking around with sashes each a colour: red, blue, brown, and grey.

They must be representing the four elements, huh?

Ev began to piece together what was meant by The Festival of Mana.

“The story goes,” Lyria began, “that the first generation of mages across the continent of Elarion had no mana crystals to guide them. So they celebrated all elements together, honouring the harmony that keeps our world alive.”

At the village centre, stood 4 pillars with crystals and Ev watched as children lined up.

So this must be those resonance crystals, I think I read somewhere they only release a certain element so if the person’s body reacts to it then their mana filter in their core must have an affinity for it and if not then raw mana just fizzled away.

Just as Ev could finish his thought he heard a bang and then an applause.

“Lyria, some teenager just awakened his fire affinity like me,” Harold pointed at the scene. “Do you think Ev is going to be like that one day?”

Meanwhile, to the other side Lyria was pre-occupied as she watched as a group of early teens were passing around a ball of raw mana until one person failed to catch it.

“Look a healer just like your mommy” Lyria directed Ev’s eyes too, her smile inviting as ever. Ev listened to ever word even if no one expected him too, after all his body was just 8 months old; but his mind? Older and sharper.

But a multitude of objects caught Ev’s gaze as he pointed ponderously at them staring at Lyria, seemingly for guidance.

“They’re sky kites, children write wishes on them and then the adults send them off with a big push of wind magic.” Lyria responded before smiling and whispering, “Rumour has it if your sky kite stays up and makes it to the royal capital then your wish will come true.”

Ev’s curiosity was simply overflowing.

As dusk began to set in, Harold bought himself and Lyria a sweet honey-dipped pastry.

“Mmm, this is almost as good as yours.” Harold joked, although Lyria’s expressionless response suggested she didn’t find it quite as funny.

Lyria shared the pastry to her violet-eyed joy and Ev enjoyed it. Not the stickiness but he liked the warmth.

Then a series of booms echoed the market square as an individual began chanting odd words.

Ah, so this is the power of an earth affinity channeler, to so easily construct an arena all by himself.

Ev stood mesmerised as he watched the first two young adolescents walk up to the stage, the crowd leaned in. Even the drums had quieted, their beat replaced by hushed murmurs and the heavy thrum of mana in the air. Erven sat himself up in his mother’s arms to get a better view and began to stare intensely without a blink.

The two figures faced each other in the ring — one in deep crimson robes, the other draped in pale blues like glacier silk. The fire mage’s palms glowed faintly, the heat around him distorting the air. The other mage stood still as a statue, a chill creeping from his boots along the stone.

A bell rang.

The fire mage struck first. He didn’t waste time. A jet of flame spiralled forward like a serpent, dancing and twisting through the air with a hiss. The crowd gasped. The other mage stood stagnant.

The flame surged, coiling like a striking viper—then vanished.

A breathless silence fell over the crowd.

Something shimmered in the air—

BOOM—