A Lesson in Mana (Part - 1)

The sun had barely risen, casting a pale, cold light over the camp. The morning dew clung to the tattered tents and the worn-out cloaks of the tent, making everything seem heavier. Pyrrhus emerged from his tent, rubbing his eyes and stretching his small limbs. Around him, the camp stirred slowly to life.

Five years had passed since Pyrrhus had been born in the world, five years of relentless movement and constant vigilance. Pyrrhus, had known no other life.

Born on the move, he was accustomed to the endless cycle of packing and traveling, though he didn't understand why they moved so often.

There were clues of course but no concrete answers and the questions he asked always had the same answer. "You shouldn't worry about those things."

Anya was already up, her face etched with lines of worry and fatigue. She handed him a piece of stale bread. "Here you go little firebrand, eat up."

Pyrrhus mumbled a half-hearted protest against the nickname, a blush warming his cheeks. He ate slowly, eyes sweeping the temporary camp.

The once vibrant faces of his people were now etched with exhaustion and fear. The soldiers, ever vigilant, bore dark circles under their eyes and wore expressions of perpetual worry.

"Shouldn't you be eating faster?" Anya's voice jolted him from his thoughts. "Don't you have a lesson with Jonathan?"

Pyrrhus nodded, hastily swallowing the last bite. He gave his mother a quick hug, a silent promise in his eyes, before darting towards the elder mage's tent.

Cora was already waiting, her pale blonde hair shimmering like spun gold in the dim light. Her bright blue eyes, a stark contrast to her tanned skin, were focused intently on a levitating sphere of water.

"You're late," she whispered.

Jonathan, back turned to them, spoke without moving. "Indeed, he is."

Pyrrhus shuffled his feet, his cheeks flushing. "Sorry, Grandpa Jonathan."

The old mage approached, his walking stick thumping a steady rhythm against the hard earth. "Discipline is the cornerstone of magic," he rasped, fixing Pyrrhus with a stern gaze. "Today, you will meditate. No magic for you, Pyrrhus. Cora, continue your practice."

Pyrrhus obeyed without a word, settling beside Cora. He knew better than to argue with Jonathan.

Jonathan, meanwhile, had retreated into the tent where Elara, his wife and fellow elder, was preparing a meager breakfast. "Must you always be so harsh?" she chided, stirring a pot of watery soup.

Jonathan sank into a chair with a groan, the weight of their situation heavy on his shoulders. "Every time Anya worries about Pyrrhus, I have to lie to her. Every time I lie, it becomes my responsibility to keep him safe and make it true, even if it means being the one he resents."

Elara chuckled, ladling warm soup over bowls of bread. "He's only five, and he's doing exceptionally well. Rewards can be motivating, too. And I don't believe he resents you."

"You forgot *again*?" Cora whispered, her eyes still fixed on the shimmering sphere of water hovering above her palm.

Pyrrhus sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Grandpa Jonathan keeps changing the time. It's hard to keep track." He resigned himself to another day without magic practice, his gaze falling on the empty bread crust in his hand.

Just then, Jonathan emerged from the tent, followed closely by Elara, who carried two steaming bowls of soup. The rich aroma wafted through the air, causing Pyrrhus's stomach to rumble audibly. He quickly averted his eyes, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as Cora shot him a glare.

"Come now, children," Elara beckoned, her voice gentle yet firm. She set the wooden bowls on a sturdy tree stump near the entrance to the tent. Her hands, weathered and thin, seemed almost translucent in the morning light.

"But we just had breakfast," Pyrrhus protested, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced at Elara, her gaunt frame a stark reminder of the dwindling food supplies. He couldn't bear the thought of taking her portion.

Cora nodded in agreement, her gaze fixed on the ground. "We're not hungry," she echoed softly.

Elara's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Good children don't lie," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She placed a bowl in front of each of them. "Now eat. You'll need your strength for the day ahead."

With a final pat on Pyrrhus's head, she turned and disappeared back into the tent, leaving the two children alone with their soup and a lingering sense of warmth.

Pyrrhus grabbed his bowl, eagerness momentarily overcoming his guilt. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he stirred the soup, infusing a subtle current of mana.

The excess heat dissipated, leaving the broth at a perfect, lukewarm temperature. It was a simple act, yet one that required precise control— the result of Jonathan's meticulous training methods. He eagerly took a spoonful, the warmth spreading through him as he savored the flavor.

Cora, meanwhile, shot him a resentful glare as she was left holding her scalding bowl. With a sigh, she summoned a miniature water spout, carefully cooling her soup. Pyrrhus couldn't help but grin, a smug sense of satisfaction filling him.

Pyrrhus froze, a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. Jonathan had explicitly forbidden him from using magic, yet he had just done so. He glanced nervously at his mentor, expecting a reprimand. But Jonathan remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he observed them both.

They finished their meal in a comfortable silence, leaving nothing but empty bowls behind. Only then did Jonathan speak. "These past few years, both of you have done exceptionally well. You've followed the basics diligently, and you deserve a reward."

Pyrrhus's heart leaped with excitement. What could the reward be? For years, their training had consisted solely of absorbing and controlling mana, practicing with their respective elements: wind for him and water for Cora.

"Fill your bowl with water," Jonathan instructed Cora, who immediately complied, a miniature whirlpool forming in her bowl as it filled to the brim.

"Now, make your bowl float," he said to Pyrrhus. Pyrrhus focused, and his bowl rose effortlessly into the air, bobbing gently above the tree stump.

"Do you notice the difference?" Jonathan asked, his gaze sweeping between the two children.

Both Pyrrhus and Cora shook their heads, puzzled.

"Cora used magic to fill her bowl," Jonathan explained, "but once the water is present, she no longer needs to use mana to maintain it. However, you, Pyrrhus, must continuously use mana to keep your bowl afloat."

A look of understanding dawned on Pyrrhus's face. "It's like... holding something heavy," he said slowly. "I have to keep using my strength to keep it from falling."

Jonathan nodded approvingly. "Precisely. This is due to the inherent nature of mana. We call it... Stable and Unstable Mana." He pointed to Cora. "Stable mana controls elements like water, earth, darkness, and space. It can create lasting effects."

Then he turned to Pyrrhus. "Unstable mana, on the other hand, controls fire, wind, lightning, and light. It requires constant energy to maintain its effects."

The revelation hung in the air, a new layer of understanding dawning on both children.

***

A/N:

The system will make it's first appearance in the next chapter

Thanks for reading Chapter 7! I hope you're enjoying John's journey as Pyrrhus. Your comments and votes really motivate me to keep writing.

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