Broken chords

Days flowed in Ezerion like a river, slowly carrying friends towards a tumultuous waterfall of destiny. Gurzhik and Artemon continued their studies, and everything followed its course, but even though their friendship seemed unbreakable, clouds of discord began to gather over them.

During practical lessons in the art of magic, Artemon surprisingly found it easy, like a melody born under a musician's gentle touch on the strings. The air filled with magical sounds, carrying them into a world of harmony and inspiration. Every time he cast spells, his silver hair gleamed like lightning in the darkest storm, appearing as a faded white color at the heart of a typhoon. Watching this, Gurzhik began to realize that Artemon possessed a great power, capable of changing what even the greatest considered impossible.

Gurzhik understood that witnessing this magic stirred both awe and fear in him. He couldn't help but notice that something incredible was sprouting within this young man, capable of altering the course of the grandest events. However, this realization filled him with an anxiety that couldn't be stopped. Gurzhik hesitantly confessed to Artemon:

"Artemon, your magic is like the radiance of the brightest star, illuminating the path in the darkest abyss. Your art is a moment of pure mastery, like a conductor gathering notes from the entire orchestra and merging them into a magnificent melody. This melody is as beautiful as it is dangerous. I feel like I can never reach your level of magic proficiency." 

"Gurzhik, my friend, you just lack patience. If you focus on honing your skills and dedicate more time to practice, you'll see what you can achieve," replied Artemon.

As days passed, Gurzhik and Artemon drifted apart like a river carrying its waters in different directions, separating the shores of their destinies. The clouds of discord continued to thicken, and though they still met, the once harmonious atmosphere of their friendship faded away like winter tracks after a blizzard. While Artemon shone brightest in the sky, Gurzhik found no peace, slowly fading into the shadows cast by his friend.

Artemon watched as Gurzhik unsuccessfully trained in fire magic, creating only a faint wisp of pale flame. Deciding to play a prank, he surrounded Gurzhik with a wall of fire, as bright as its creator.

"Stop! Stop immediately!" shouted Gurzhik, offended by such behavior. In a half-whisper, holding back tears, he added, "Why are you doing this to me? I am genuinely trying my best to cast this silly spell... But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I work day in and day out for the desired result... I just won't be able to reach your level... You know, I always thought I was special, I always worked hard, was devoted to the craft, but it seems I'm just not destined to become a good mage... What's more! Even the simplest spells give me a hard time. Look at you, the school's shining star... Everything always comes effortlessly to you! Teachers' pet... Do you know how many hours I've spent just trying to produce a tiny spark?... You'll never understand my struggles and suffering..."

"Listen, I'm sorry; I didn't mean for it to turn out like this," Artemon tried to console him.

"Of course. He didn't mean it. Look at him. The genius of universal scale! Admire him!" Gurzhik exclaimed with disdain.

"Oh, really?! You're not worth a penny! Look at what a wretched soul I am," Artemon mocked. "Can't even conjure fire. Pity me. But do you know why you won't become a good mage? Because you're hopelessly dull. You don't even want to see beyond your nose. Just good at crying."

"I understand you," Gurzhik barely said with tears in his eyes. "I thought we were friends, that we would support each other even in the darkest moments of life... But how blind I've been all this time..."

With tears in his eyes, Gurzhik hastily fled in an unknown direction. Artemon silently watched it unfold. Although a fleeting sense of guilt crossed his eyes, he didn't rush to catch up with his friend. He just went his own way.

Poor Gurzhik waited for his heartfelt friend for a long time, thinking he would come to apologize, but... He waited too long, hoping for a miracle. Overcoming the storm of emotions, undoubtedly leaving its mark on him, he headed to the library. Only books could drown out this pain.