Training

Cyrus studied the array of roots. "What do we do now?"

"I'm afraid there's not much we can do," Myrel said, shrugging. "If you used magic as I do, I would be able to teach you how to control it, given enough time. As it is, I'm afraid I can't."

"Is that it?" Cyrus asked. He furrowed his brow. "I'm forever incapable of controlling my magic?"

"I didn't say that," Myrel said. "While I may be unable to teach you the methods I use, I noticed a few things watching you. First, your magic only affects plants. If it affected anything else, I would have seen it. Second, you don't need to cast spells to use your magic. This will help you save time while others would have to study countless incantations. Finally, your magic is highly dependent on your emotions right now. If we work on that, you should be able to confidently cast no matter how you feel."

"So there are limitations and benefits then?" Cyrus asked.

Myrel nodded. "Yes, that's right. It may take some time, but I'm certain you'll be able to catch on quickly. For now, I'd like to take some time to research your magic. Perhaps I'll find something relating to it in my books."

…

Several hours later, Cyrus sat in his room, staring out the window. Dark clouds enveloped the sky overhead, rolling like waves beneath the guidance of wind. The tree in the center of the kingdom swayed with each gust, while the surrounding foliage waved from afar.

"Cyrus. Come here. I believe I may have found something," Myrel called. The old man leaned over his desk, and Sylven sat nearby, flipping through the pages of a dark journal. 

"What is it?" Cyrus asked. 

Myrel spun a book around, and showed it to him. The charcol on the page was crisp and clear, bringing to life the image of a kingdom, built from smoothed stone, and clear ponds, while mossy ledges lined the sides, and high spires overlooked the land. A single tree towered over the kingdom, its branches creating a golden canopy.

"What's this?" Cyrus asked.

"That would be the kingdom of Cirven'hold, where the Ashveil live," Sylven said, glancing up from his journal. "It's said to be hidden in the mountains of Arkenthell, though few know if this is true or not."

"Who are the Ashveil?"

"A dangerous race of beings," Myrel said, his voice grave. "Out of all the races that live on the continent of Delahost, they are the ones the people fear the most. They possess an innate ability to wield aether, and their lean bodies make them adept with all weapons. Their grace is bested only by the Sylphs, a race of beings brought to life by the wind."

"Why were you looking at them?"

Myrel narrowed his eyes. "Because they may be your best chance in finding the kingdom of Amuriel. This book is an ancient record of trades between kingdoms, and it says that the two of these kingdoms often traded with one another. And since I can't figure out where Amuriel is, I thought this would be the next best choice."

"So if we find the Ashveil, then we should be able to find the kingdom of Amuriel?"

"It's certainly a possibility," Myrel said, shutting the book. "Though it doesn't sound like the journey to find them will be easy. Truth be told, I've met them when I was much younger. I don't know the exact location of their homeland, but I should be able to pinpoint a general area."

"I see," Cyrus said. He clenched his fists. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not at the moment, but wait," Myrel said. He spun around, and dug through the draws of the desk. A moment later, he retrieved a small box, and handed it to Cyrus. "This is something my master forged for me while I trained. I stumbled across it while searching, and thought it might be of aid to you."

Cyrus opened the box, revealing a silver ring, embellished with light blue glyphs. 

"Is this… an artifact?" Cyrus asked. The ring tingled in his palm.

"Put it on," Myrel said, grinning. Sylven watched from the side, his brow furrowed. 

Tilting his head, Cyrus slid the ring onto his middle finger, and wiggled it around. A bit of a gap remained between his skin and the silver.

"It's a bit loose," Cyrus said. "Maybe it'll fit on my thumb?"

"Hold on," Myrel said, raising his hand. 

Cyrus held still as the old man tapped his nail against the silver, causing the glyphs to glow. To his surprise, the metal swirled across his finger, tightening until it fit comfortable on his hand. He studied it carefully, flipping his hand back and forth. 

"You said this will help me with my aether? How?" Cyrus asked.

"The runes help limit your connection to aether, forcing you to work harder to make the connection," Myrel said. He grinned. "It should keep you from losing control. I want you to wear it from now on, until you feel comfortable casting."

"Master, would you be able to add a second row of runes to the ring?" Sylven asked. 

Myrel frowned. "It's possible, but why do you ask?"

"Cyrus's hair stands out as it is. I'm afraid it'll bring him too much attention as it is."

"Is that so?" Myrel rubbed his beard. "Hmm. I think I have a spell to fix that. If you don't mind, Cyrus. The ring?"

Cyrus slipped the ring off, and handed it back to Myrel. The old wizard studied it, then spoke in the Aetherien language. 

"Cerinth lavoid."

Cyrus shielded his eyes as a bright light enveloped the ring. As it faded, two more runes were carved into the silver.

"Those two runes will alter your appearance. Try it now," Myrel said, handing the ring back. Cyrus fitted the ring onto his middle finger, and flexed his hand.

"Did it work?"

"See for yourself," Sylven said. He grabbed a mirror off the shelf, and passed it to Cyrus. 

In his reflection, he found his hair to be a dull brown color, lightly covering his still green eyes. Cyrus brushed his hair to the side, and grinned. "Incredible. Now I won't have to-"

Cyrus trailed off, and pushed his hair further back. A small bump rose from above his temple, green in color. Tilting his head to the side, he spotted a similar bump above the other temple.

'That's odd. Did I hit my head recently?' Cyrus wondered. Noticing Myrel and Sylven watching him, he dropped his hair. "Thank you. This will definitely help."

"I'm glad to hear it," Myrel said. "Let me know if you need anything else changed, and I'll see what I can do."

"I will."

Myrel gave a slight nod, and returned to his desk, while Sylven headed towards the stairs. He paused at the top, and glanced back at Cyrus.

"I'm going to prepare myself a meal. Would you like something?"

"I think I could eat," Cyrus said. "This morning left me famished."

…

Over the next week, Cyrus spent his mornings in Myrel's observatory, training to control his aether. The ring aided him, limiting his outbursts of magic, until he could control them on his own. Of course, the ability to do more than just grow plants still eluded him.

Occasionally, Myrel would step in to guide him, or study his magic. He kept a small journal of notes, which he often scribbled in during their sessions. Afterwards, he would advise Cyrus to read different books, most of which contained records of spells and incantations. 

When Cyrus asked why, Myrel explained that while he may not be able to use those spells, knowledge of them would never hurt. At the same time, the old man spent his afternoons rummaging through his shelves, and picking through the archives of ancient kingdoms.

On the third day, he unfurled a map of the continent on his desk, and started plotting a route through the detailed mountain ranges, and nearby coasts, until he reached a section void of any human kingdoms or settlements.

"What's out there?" Cyrus asked, peeking over Myrel's shoulder. 

Myrel set down his quill, and glanced up. "Few know, as the area is guarded by other races, against human invasion. Years of war and distrust has led them to avoid us, and their lands beyond the mountains remain as a safe haven from our greed and schemes."

Cyrus eyed the empty lands, marked only by forests, and plains. "Have you ever been out there?" 

Myrel glanced out the window, towards the western walls of the kingdom. His clouded eyes seemed to light up for a second, with a faraway expression.

"Once, two decades ago. I stayed along the outskirts though, and even that was a risk I thought twice before taking."

"Do you think if I go there, I'll regain my memories?"

"I'm not certain, but I doubt you'll recover them by staying here." Myrel rolled up the map, and handed it to Cyrus. "Either way, this will lead you to the Ashveil, who are your best chance at finding the kingdom of Amuriel. I've done what I could to make the journey as easy as possible, but there is no doubt that it will be difficult. Do you still wish to go?"

Cyrus stared at the map in his hands. A sense of unease and excitement filled his chest, and he knew he would regret not going.

"Yes. I will go," Cyrus said.

"Very well. I'll have Sylven prepare a bag for you." 

"Actually, master. I'd like to accompany Cyrus on his journey," Sylven said, stepping forward. 

Myrel furrowed his brow. "Are you certain? You know better than most what awaits you."

"I do," Sylven said. His gaze remained firm. "But I believe it's been long enough. Not to mention Cyrus would do well with a guide. His loss of memories would be the least of his worries should he get lost."

"You have a point," Myrel said. "Very well, Sylven. You're free to travel with him. Your first stop is Phisloke, where you'll meet Lewn."

Myrel glanced at Cyrus. "He's an alchemist who owes me a favor. He'll provide with a boat to the Cilthrin Shores, but you'll have to travel the rest of the way by foot."

"Are you certain he'll help us?" Sylven asked. "I remember him being quite guarded the last time we were there."

"You have a point," Myrel said. He grabbed a sheet of paper, and scrawled a note out. "Here. As long as you bring this to him, he'll know I sent you."

"When do we leave?" Cyrus asked. 

"Tonight," Sylven said. He crossed his arms. "The kingdom has put forth a curfew, so there'll be less people out to spot us."

Cyrus nodded. "Very well."

…

When night arrived, Cyrus left his room to find Sylven downstairs, along with two packs, and waterskins. He carried a short sword upon his hip, sheathed in black leather, and wore a dark cloak, fastened around his neck. 

Cyrus gestured towards the sword. "Will I need one of those?"

Sylven shrugged. "It might help, but we'll have to wait until we reach Phisloke to buy one. I doubt any blacksmith in Mourtop would be selling swords."

"Mourtop? Why are we going there?" Cyrus asked. He furrowed his brow. 

"I planned to acquire horses and more supplies there," Sylven said. He studied Cyrus. "Why? You look wary."

Cyrus shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing, but I overheard some men the first night I was here. They spoke of a missing caravan, which had yet to make it to Galeden. Supposedly, it passed through Mourtop, or was going to, when they lost contact."

"Odd. I've heard of a few strange rumors floating in from the nearby kingdoms, but nothing about Mourtop yet," Myrel said. He rubbed his chin. "It seems there are strange occurrences happening in Delahost. It may be best to remain on guard."

"We'll stay safe, Master. You don't need to worry," Sylven said. "We'll keep to the main roads, and take the pass through the mountains. If all goes well, we'll reach Phisloke in three weeks, and send word back."