Echoes of the Past
The morning sun cast a pale glow over the ruined village, its golden light struggling to pierce through the lingering mist. The remnants of battle lay scattered across the ground—splintered wood, charred earth, shattered stone. The acrid scent of burnt flesh still hung in the air.
At the heart of the destruction, Aeron stood motionless, staring at his hands. Faint, glowing runes had emerged on his skin—complex symbols of unknown origin. They pulsed softly, their energy whispering through his veins, yet he understood none of it.
It should have felt like a triumph. He had survived. He had won. But deep down, he knew the battle wasn't over.
A few feet away, Segirus watched in silence. The old rune master stood with his arms crossed, his silver eyes unreadable. There was no praise. No acknowledgment of victory. Only expectation.
"How do you feel?" Segirus finally asked.
Aeron exhaled. The power within the runes flickered beneath his skin, like a beast shifting in its sleep. He clenched his fists. "Different."
"The hunger?"
"It's… quieter."
But not gone. It would never be gone. He could still feel it, lurking beneath his consciousness like a shadow. The Devourer had been defeated, but it had left something behind.
Segirus gave a slow nod. "Good. Then we begin."
Aeron blinked. "Begin? Begin what?"
Segirus turned, motioning for him to follow. "Your training. You wield a power you do not understand. If you do not learn to control it, it will destroy you."
Aeron hesitated. For years, he had fought only with instinct—raw power, sharpened by pain. Now, for the first time, he had a choice.
He clenched his fists and stepped forward. "Then teach me."
---
The Nature of Runes
They traveled deep into the forest beyond the ruins, where the trees grew taller and the air felt thicker. The deeper they went, the more Aeron could sense something… different.
It wasn't just the wind or the scent of damp earth. It was energy—a presence beneath reality, as if something vast and unseen was watching.
At the heart of the grove stood an ancient stone altar. Its surface was covered in intricate runes, each glowing with a quiet, steady pulse. Some symbols were sharp, angular. Others curved like flowing water.
Segirus approached the altar and placed his hand upon it. The runes shifted in response, as if alive. "This is an ancient site of Rune Magic. Here, you will take your first step."
Aeron frowned. "What exactly are runes?"
Segirus glanced at him. "They are not simply symbols. They are words of power. Each rune represents a fundamental truth of the world—not just energy, but intent, structure, and consequence."
Aeron narrowed his eyes. "So they're spells?"
"No," Segirus said firmly. "Spells are crude imitations of Rune Magic. Spells are commands—temporary manipulations of reality. Runes are laws. They do not simply alter reality; they define it."
Aeron's brow furrowed. "Then why doesn't everyone use them?"
"Because they are nearly impossible to wield."
Segirus turned to him, his gaze sharp. "A single rune is more complex than a lifetime of spellcraft. Understanding it requires more than memorization. You must comprehend its nature, its balance, its flow."
Aeron glanced down at his hands, where his own runes flickered faintly. He had no idea what any of them meant.
"So how do I start?"
Segirus gestured to the altar. "You must carve your first rune. But not with your hands. With your will."
Aeron exhaled and stepped forward. He placed his hand on the stone, closing his eyes. He could feel it—the quiet hum of power beneath the surface.
He reached out.
For a moment, something responded. A flicker of energy, a whisper of possibility—
Then it vanished.
Aeron's eyes snapped open. The altar was unchanged. No rune had appeared.
He scowled. "What happened?"
"You failed."
Aeron gritted his teeth. "Why?"
Segirus studied him. "Because you reached without understanding."
Aeron scowled. "I thought you said I needed will."
"Will alone is not enough." Segirus placed his hand on the stone again, and a rune formed instantly beneath his touch. Its lines were flawless, its glow steady. "You are trying to force the rune into existence. That is not how this works."
Aeron clenched his fists. Fine. I'll try again.
He placed his hand on the stone and focused. This time, he imagined the rune obeying him, shaping itself beneath his will—
A flicker of energy appeared—
Then collapsed.
A sharp shockwave burst from the altar, sending Aeron stumbling backward. He hit the ground hard, pain flaring through his ribs.
Segirus sighed. "Again."
Aeron pushed himself up, biting back a curse. He wasn't going to be beaten by a rock.
He stepped forward, placed his hand on the altar, and focused—
Collapse.
Again.
Collapse.
Again.
Collapse.
His arms trembled. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His mind ached from the strain. Nothing was working.
He turned to Segirus, frustration burning in his eyes. "What am I doing wrong?"
Segirus met his gaze evenly. "You are treating the rune as an object. It is not. It is a truth. A law. A concept that must be understood before it can exist."
Aeron's breath was ragged. "Then how am I supposed to make it work?"
Segirus knelt beside him. His voice was calm, but firm. "Stop trying to control it. Listen to it."
Aeron frowned. "Listen?"
"Feel the energy. Feel its flow, its nature. Runes are not carved by force. They are shaped by understanding."
Aeron hesitated. He closed his eyes again.
This time, he did not command the rune. He let go of his frustration. His doubts. His anger.
He focused on the energy itself—its rhythm, its movement.
For the first time, he felt it.
It wasn't raw power. It was a pattern—a thread woven through existence, waiting to be grasped.
He reached out again.
This time, the rune formed slowly. Its lines flickered, unsteady but present. It did not collapse.
Aeron opened his eyes. His breath caught in his throat. "…I did it."
Segirus gave a small nod. "Now you begin to understand."
Aeron stared at the rune, his mind racing. It wasn't about power. It wasn't about force.
It was about listening. Comprehending. Becoming part of something greater.
And for the first time, he wanted more.
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