Chapter 1: Reflection in The Fire

Chapter 1: Reflection in the Fire

The heat in Ka’alen never bothered me as much as what it stood for.

It’s the same heat that shapes this land, that feeds the flames and hardens the stone.

Everything here is intense, vibrant, powerful.

Except me.

As I walked toward the oasis—my secret refuge—everything felt heavier than usual: the air, the sun, the doubts clouding my mind.

The small oasis wound gently through the sand, a rare sight in Ka’alen, where water was as precious as gold. I knelt at its edge and stared at my reflection.

My blue eyes stared back—so out of place in this land of earth and fire mages. They’d said it since I was a child: “He’s different.”

Sometimes, that word sounded like praise. Most of the time, it was a sentence of isolation.

I ran my fingers across the surface of the water, breaking my own image. “Why am I like this?” I murmured.

The question no longer seemed to have an answer.

At least the water had always been honest with me.

From the day it first answered my call, I knew something was… wrong. Or maybe just different.

The problem is, in Ka’alen, being different can be a curse.

I remember that day clearly.

I was eight years old, and for the first time, I felt real anger.

It happened during a fight with other kids.

I just wanted them to stop—but then the damp ground around me began to rise, forming thin streams of water that danced in the air.

I didn’t have to say a word.

The fear on their faces said it all.

They ran. I stayed, staring at what I had just done.

Something no one in this land should be able to do.

I moved my fingers, and the streams followed, mirroring my disbelief.

That’s how it all began: the curious stares, the whispers in the markets, the moments when my mother smiled at me, but her eyes couldn’t hide the worry.

I was different. And that was reason enough for them to keep their distance.

But it was also what pushed me here.

Loneliness came with something solid: my future.

I once said I wanted to understand the mysteries behind magic. But I can’t just sit and wait for answers to fall from the sky. My magic has limits. I know that.

All the nights I spent researching, testing, writing… still feel like they’re not enough.

If I want to grow—both as a mage and as a person—I need to step out of the shadow of what I already know. I need to seek the unknown.

###

My sister studies at a magic school called Agnidus Academy.

Magic schools are the best places for those who want to develop their magical and physical abilities. They usually have direct contracts with associations and the Hunter’s Guild, which makes it easier for students to find work in those institutions.

Each of the five current nations has its own schools, each with its own doctrine, requirements, and conditions, run by their respective directors or founders.

Agnidus Academy is no different.

Its headmistress, Agatha Agnidus, set extremely simple conditions, making it accessible to anyone who needs or wants to learn more about their magic—and the world. The requirements are few and easy to follow, or so my sister says.

According to Lucia, the headmistress says the same thing every year at the opening ceremony: that she believes in the potential of everyone, without exception. In other words, it might be a good place for me—if I dared to try.

After avoiding the truth for so long, I finally decided to face what I’d made so many excuses to escape.

Arriving at Agnidus Academy was… intimidating, to say the least.

The sight of the central tower against the blazing sky made my chest tighten.

Its black walls seemed to absorb the sun’s heat, as if the school itself wanted to scare off anyone who dared approach.

I climbed the steps slowly, each one feeling like a deliberate choice.

Inside my bag, notebooks and small water flasks clinked together—remnants of the safe world I was leaving behind.

At the top of the stairs, she was there. Headmistress Agatha Agnidus.

Even without her reputation as a war legend, anyone could tell just by looking at her—this woman was formidable.

Her eyes studied me with something between curiosity and expectation.

“Dylan Adriano, the water mage everyone’s talking about,” she said, my name hanging heavy in the air. “I hear you wish to join Agnidus Academy. Why?”

I swallowed hard. Talking to people was never my strength, but the words came out before I could hesitate: “I want to become stronger. Not just as a mage, but as a person.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, weighing my words.

For a moment, I thought she’d say what everyone else had: that I didn’t belong here. But instead, a faint smile touched her lips. “Your difference is your greatest strength, Dylan. Of course, it’s also your greatest challenge.”

Then she turned and began to walk. “Follow me.”

I followed, quickly finishing the climb.

She led me silently through the school’s corridors to a room with only a few students inside.

“This is where your legacy begins,” she said, her voice firm but hopeful. “Good luck.”

I bowed slightly in thanks and took an empty seat at the front.

A few minutes later, more students arrived, all staring at me as they entered.

“Sitting in the front might’ve been a mistake…” I thought, slumping over the desk and hiding my face in my arms.

Then the teacher arrived. “Take your seats,” he said, his voice firm but calm.

I sat up to face him. His posture was rigid, jaw clenched.

He turned to the board and began writing simple notes.

The class started quietly—too quietly for someone like me, still trying to figure out how to fit in.

But soon, I was faced with a challenge I hadn’t asked for.

“Dylan Adriano,” the teacher’s voice echoed through the room. I blinked, shaking off the weight of exhaustion pulling at my eyes. “Since you’re distracted, come up here and show us your magic.”

The other students murmured, and I felt their eyes on me, tracking every step as I walked to the front.

I took a deep breath and focused on the mana around me, on the moisture in the hot air.

It was a simple trick, something I’d done many times before.

Water began to gather, forming a translucent sphere that floated gently between my hands.

But then came the doubt—that cursed doubt—a whisper telling me I wasn’t enough, that I’d never be like them. The sphere trembled, lost its shape, and collapsed, splashing over my hands.

The teacher sighed, clearly disappointed. “Emotional control, Adriano. Without it, your magic will never be complete.”

His words stayed with me the rest of the day. I knew he was right. Emotional control… Maybe that’s the real secret. Maybe it always has been.

That same night, alone in the Agnidus library, a book caught my eye.

It was old, its pages yellowed with time.

As I flipped through it, I stopped at a line that seemed to glow just for me: “True magic reflects what is hidden in the soul. Only by facing and understanding the reflection can we reach true power.”

I traced the words slowly with my finger, letting them sink deep into my mind. If my magic is a reflection of my soul… maybe what I’m missing is understanding who I really am.

That’s when the sound of soft footsteps broke the silence.

I looked up quickly and saw a hooded figure standing at the library’s entrance. Their golden eyes seemed to glow in the dark, locking onto mine for a moment before vanishing into the shadows.

I stood frozen, heart pounding.

Something told me this was only the beginning.