Two Sides of a Coin

Arlo's muscles ached after the grueling training session, a familiar reminder of the toll his ambition demanded. Tonight, he craved solitude, a space to explore the depths of his power – and hide it. Slipping past the village perimeter under the cloak of darkness, he reached a clearing. He'd told Kian he needed some solo time to experiment with his golden aura.

It had been a while since he'd snuck out, and neither his parents nor Bartleby seemed bothered anymore. Still, he went alone to avoid questions about venturing outside with Kian, even though most villagers wouldn't blink an eye – the boys were practically inseparable after the hag incident.

Tonight, he sought mastery over the light that danced within him, the vibrant aura that materialized into radiant armor. Arlo focused, feeling the energy coursing through his veins, a liquid sun. He willed it to coalesce, shaping it into a shimmering bubble that enveloped him.

Without resistance, the aura did its familiar trick, conjuring his gleaming armor piece by piece – gauntlets, chest plate, even the sleek greaves and thigh plates. He wasn't just clad in light; he became it.

But ambition gnawed at him. He pushed further, experimenting with the boundaries of his power. He directed the flow into his staff, coating it in the familiar white glow.

A surge of aura and the staff transmuted, morphing into the imposing halberd he'd wielded sparingly. Each configuration of his armor, he discovered, granted him enhanced agility and strength, a symphony of power conducted by his will.

Even without the full armor manifested, a mere whisper of aura granted him a noticeable boost, though nowhere near the formidable might bestowed by its complete form.

He also realized he wanted to practice more with the halberd as it began to feel like a better fit for his fighting style. He hoped that practicing with the staff would be enough for now until he could get his hands on a halberd that wouldn't attract as much attention as his golden halberd.

Wanting to maintain a low profile while knowing the kingdom sought those with light affinity, he was glad he had a second energy to hide the truth. Manipulating this second aura was like wrestling with an unruly beast.

Its hues were a stark contrast to the brilliance of his light, swirling with shades of deep purple like an approaching storm. He could only manage a frail bubble encompassing his hands and forearms, a whisper against the roar of his golden power.

Yet, he felt a connection, a sense of opposite sides of the same coin. He didn't understand it fully, but he knew it was more than just shadow; it was another facet of himself, waiting to be unveiled.

Exhaustion clung to Arlo like a second skin as he trudged back towards the village. Training with Kian beckoned him tomorrow, a familiar rhythm he craved, but a lingering uncertainty lingered in his mind. The forest spirit, a fleeting wisp in the shadows, felt as distant as a forgotten dream.

He doubted he'd see it again, its presence reserved for moments of dire need. But the echo of his father's reaction to the dark energy vibrated deeper, a mystery demanding answers. He knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that it held the key to a puzzle he couldn't ignore.

*****

Two days after Arlo's midnight experiment, exhaustion hung heavy in the air as they sparred. Kian, ever the prodigy, danced around Arlo with arms fully encased in white aura, his blows heavy and unstoppable.

Arlo, on the other hand, could only coat his forearms and upper arms, leaving him at a disadvantage in raw power. Yet, he fought with grit, relying on cunning tactics and footwork to land a rare strike against his friend. Each hit felt like a tiny victory, a beacon of hope amidst the relentless assault.

The sparring came to an abrupt halt with Silas' booming voice, "Enough!" His presence, a towering silhouette, seemed to absorb the very air around him. "Kian," he addressed the prodigy, "impressive strength, but your form needs work. Arlo," he turned to Arlo, his face grim, "your clever tactics won't save you in a real fight. Aura control matters. Every adult wielder can coat their entire body. That's the bare minimum to survive."

Then, with a gesture that stole the breath away, Silas unleashed his power. His aura wasn't a shimmering glow, but a swirling vortex of ethereal pale yellow, weaving around him like a living storm. The pressure radiated outwards, tangible and almost suffocating.

"This," Silas declared, his voice heavy with expectation, "is the minimum for most adult wielders."

Kian, speechless for once, finally managed a stammered, "Whoa, Master Silas… you're like a walking hurricane!"

Silas chuckled, a rumble that seemed to shake the very ground. "Not quite, young Kian. Just showing you the true potential of aura control. This, boys, is what's expected of you."

Arlo looked at his own incomplete armor, dwarfed by Silas's mastery. Yet, he wasn't discouraged.

Instead, a surge of pride rose within him for Kian, his friend's potential a sunrise unfolding before his eyes. He himself wasn't bothered by the reminder of his lagging aura. He knew his true strength lay in the brilliant aura within, a power that dwarfed even Silas's impressive display.

Silas's smile faltered, sensing a stillness in Arlo that he misinterpreted as impatience. "Patience, my boy," he said, a warm hand settling on Arlo's shoulder. "Your control will blossom, like a flower in its season. But..." his voice dipped, laced with something weighty, "...there's something else we need to discuss."

He led Arlo deeper into the clearing, pulling him from Kian's curious gaze. A stern crease ran down Silas's brow. " Arlo, I've been consulting with Elder Thorne. We believe we've identified your aura's affinity… it's darkness."

A strange clarity washed over Arlo, confirming a suspicion that had flickered in the shadows of his mind. This was no revelation, merely a name to the nameless. An odd curiosity tickled at him, why these two energies, one so radiant, the other its opposite, should reside within him?

Where would this duality lead him? He braced himself for bad news, for whispers of darkness often painted a villain's portrait.

Seeing Arlo's thoughtful composure, Silas's worry eased. "There's more," he admitted, "things you likely haven't heard about aura wielders of the darkness affinity. They are rarer than light's touch, whispers on the wind. And often... misunderstood."

He paused, searching for the right words. "Some struggle to grasp that darkness, in its essence, is not evil. It is simply another thread in the tapestry of existence. But these are troubled times, whispers of prophecy and pushing back the shadows. It breeds fear, mistrust."

"Darkness wielders," he explained, "from what Elder Thorne and I have gleaned, can weave minor illusions when their power swells. Another fuel for the misinformed whispers. Arlo, I implore you, do not flaunt your darkness. Let it be your secret armor, not a beacon that invites judgment before you prove your true heart."

Arlo swallowed, the burden of this truth settling on his shoulders. His path, once straightforward, now meandered through a tapestry of shadow and light. Yet, fear gave way to a steely resolve.

The Hero Academy, a crucible where he could untangle the mysteries within, called to him with siren song. He would face this challenge, embrace his dual nature, and prove that even in a world cloaked in shadows, a wielder of darkness could shine with the brilliance of a thousand suns.

Arlo walked back to Kian; his steps heavy with the weight of the revelation. Kian, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in his friend's mood. "Hey, something wrong, buddy?" his voice laced with concern.

Arlo hesitated, caught between the urge to spill everything and the need for secrecy. Glancing at Silas, he saw a reassuring nod, the silent affirmation of support. Taking a deep breath, Arlo met Kian's gaze. "Silas just told me…" he paused, the words gathering in his throat, "...about my aura."

Kian's eyebrows shot up, curiosity battling confusion. "About your aura? Like, what element?"

"Darkness," Arlo finished, the word tumbling out in a hushed whisper.

Kian stared at him, processing the information. Then, a grin slowly spread across his face. "That's awesome, Arlo! I always knew you were special."

Arlo chuckled, a hint of relief washing over him. "I don't know about awesome, Kian. Silas said it's rare, and…" his voice faltered, the shadows of doubt creeping in.

"And what?" Kian pressed gently, sensing his friend's hesitation.

Arlo sighed. "And… well, people don't like darkness much. They think it's bad."

Kian snorted, shaking his head. "That's crazy! Darkness is just another part of the world, just like sunlight. It's not good or bad, just different."

Arlo looked at Kian, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "Really? You think so?"

"Absolutely," Kian affirmed, clapping Arlo on the shoulder. "You're Arlo, my friend. You wouldn't let anything, light or dark, make you do something bad. You can choose how to use it, and that's what makes you special."

"Thanks, Kian," Arlo said, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "You're someone I can always count on."

Kian grinned back. "And you're the most fascinating shadow-wielding dude I know, even if we have to keep it under wraps sometimes."

With renewed spirit, they walked back towards the village, their laughter echoing through the clearing. The path ahead might be uncertain, but together, they knew they could face whatever darkness awaited, their friendship a beacon of light, even in the deepest shadows.

*****

Another couple of days passed as Arlo attempted to keep up with Kian's breakneck pace at which he was learning aura manipulation. This was especially impressive considering that Arlo was only slightly slower than Kian using his secondary affinity. It pulsed within him, a dark counterpoint to the radiant energy that flowed so readily.

The question gnawed at him - why was the darkness so slippery, so elusive compared to the light? He strained, trying to grasp the tendrils of the dark energy, only to have it slip through his fingers like smoke at the slightest flicker of doubt. Just as frustration threatened to engulf him, a breathless messenger stumbled into their training circle.

"Silas," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper, "a letter from the capital. News about the Hero Academy. Elder Thorne requests the boys' presence immediately."

Kian and Arlo met eyes, a shared anticipation crackling between them. This was it. The door they'd dreamt of breaching stood ajar.

Arlo's heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The Hero Academy, a crucible where his potential could truly ignite, beckoned with a siren song. But a knot of worry twisted in his gut. Would his dark aura find acceptance in this hallowed hall?

The whispers about darkness, the fear of others finding out about his dual nature, gnawed at him. He envisioned whispers, accusing glances, the very label of "abomination" hanging heavy in the air. The future, shimmered with uncertainty, as thrilling as it was terrifying.