Part 1: The Uncle's Wish
The scent of woodsmoke and something vaguely magical always clung to the air in Uncle Elara's small cottage, nestled beside the whispering woods. For Ace, all sixteen years of his life had been spent within those cozy, slightly chaotic walls. His uncle, a man with eyes that twinkled like distant stars and a beard that seemed to have a life of its own, had been his guardian, his mentor, and his only family since he could remember.
Elara had taught Ace many things: how to coax flames from his fingertips with a flick of the wrist, the proper way to brew a tea that could soothe any ailment, and the importance of always landing on your feet, no matter how clumsy the stumble. He'd even tried to teach Ace how to properly prune the stubborn rose bushes in the garden, a task Ace consistently failed at, much to Elara's amusement.
But the most unique lesson Elara had imparted was about something Ace himself didn't fully understand – his inherent luck. "You're a special one, Ace," his uncle would say, his voice a low rumble. "Born under a lucky star, or perhaps… something more." He'd never elaborated, but strange, fortunate things seemed to happen around Ace. A dropped cup would somehow land upright. A gust of wind would always seem to push him in the right direction. He just… had a knack for things working out.
Elara had also taught him about magic, the very essence of their world. Ace had a natural affinity for fire, the flames dancing to his will with an ease that surprised even his uncle. But there was a limit, a wellspring of energy within him that would eventually run dry.
Until the "roll."
It had started as a game, a way for young Ace to focus his fidgety energy. Elara would draw a circle in the dirt and mark a number within it – Ace's favorite, the number seven. "Roll," his uncle would say, tossing a simple wooden die. If it landed anywhere else, Ace could still channel his magic, but if it landed on the seven… it was like a dam had burst within him. A boundless, exhilarating energy would flood his being, the flames he conjured burning brighter, hotter, with seemingly no end. They called it his "Lucky Roll."
Lately, however, the air in their cottage had grown heavy, the scent of woodsmoke tinged with a medicinal aroma. Uncle Elara had been growing weaker, his once booming laughter now a soft whisper. Ace had tried everything he knew, every healing spell his uncle had taught him, but the light in Elara's eyes was slowly fading.
One crisp autumn evening, as the leaves outside swirled in fiery hues, Elara beckoned Ace closer. His hand, frail but still strong, gripped Ace's. "Ace, my boy," he said, his voice raspy but filled with a familiar warmth. "There's something… something I've always wanted for you."
Ace knelt beside his uncle's bed, his heart aching. "Anything, Uncle. Anything at all."
Elara smiled weakly. "You have potential, Ace. More than you know. Your father… he had it too." A shadow flickered across his face. "He went to a great magic school, the Royal Academy of Eldoria. The best in the land."
Ace had heard stories of Eldoria, a legendary institution that trained the most powerful mages in the kingdom. It seemed a world away from their quiet cottage.
"I… I always regretted not pushing him more," Elara continued, his breath catching. "He had so much talent… so much promise." He squeezed Ace's hand tighter. "My wish, Ace… my dying wish… is for you to go there. To Eldoria. Take the entrance exams. See how far your luck… and your magic… can take you."
Tears welled in Ace's eyes. He couldn't imagine life without his uncle, but he could see the earnest plea in his weakening gaze. "I… I will, Uncle," Ace choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise. I'll go to Eldoria."
A faint smile touched Elara's lips. "That's… my good boy." A soft sigh escaped him, and his grip on Ace's hand loosened. The room fell silent, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth.
The next few weeks were a blur of grief and preparation. Ace packed the few belongings he had, his uncle's worn spellbook tucked safely within his satchel. He looked at the small wooden die Elara had given him years ago, the one with the lucky number seven etched on its side. He held it tight, a tangible link to his past and a symbol of the promise he had made.
With a heavy heart but a determined glint in his eyes, Ace stood at the edge of the whispering woods, the path to Eldoria stretching out before him. He took a deep breath, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs. For Uncle Elara, and for the memory of the father he never knew, he would face whatever challenges lay ahead. His journey to the Royal Academy of Eldoria had begun.