Magic training is not glamorous.
It is exhausting.
It is humiliating.
It is mostly people yelling "NO, NOT LIKE THAT—" followed by minor explosions.
Thankfully Aiden had two instructors.
Which was roughly four too many.
He stood in a quiet clearing just outside the city limits.
Grass moved gently.
Birds chirped.
The sky had the audacity to act peaceful.
Selis — practical, stern, precise — stood in front of him with arms crossed.
Ardent lounged on a stone like a bored prince.
Liora sat nearby sharpening a blade she didn't technically need to sharpen but emotionally needed to.
Aiden concentrated.
Focused.
Held his hands out.
"Okay," Selis said carefully, "breathe in. Feel the flow. Let the ambient magic answer you. Don't force anything."
"Right," Aiden nodded.
He breathed.
Focused.
Reached.
Magic stirred.
The wind shifted.
A leaf floated gently.
Then pulsed.
Then exploded.
Selis blinked.
"Okay," she said slowly. "We… will call that a strong start."
Ardent clapped.
"Bravo. The leaf only disintegrated mildly."
"That seems bad," Aiden said.
"Oh it is VERY bad," Ardent grinned. "But delightfully entertaining."
Selis shot him a look.
"Do not encourage him."
"I'm enriching the educational environment," Ardent replied.
"You're enriching my headache," she muttered.
They tried again.
Basic stabilization spells.
Defense glyphs.
Containment weaves.
No wish manipulation.
No reality bending.
Just magic.
Something entirely separate.
Something he would need when wishes weren't an option.
He got better.
Slowly.
Awkwardly.
He stopped overreacting to fear impulses.
Stopped surging too much power subconsciously.
Stopped flinching like someone expecting the universe to slap back.
Selis watched closely.
She was good at this.
Too good.
Her instruction wasn't academic.
It was born from someone who had needed these skills desperately once.
Someone who didn't have them.
Once.
Her voice was steady.
Her posture perfect.
Her breathing even.
Her eyes, though… were elsewhere.
Liora noticed.
She always did.
Later,
while Aiden practiced sigil discipline
and Ardent made terrible commentary,
Liora quietly nudged Selis away.
They walked a little.
Silence sat between them.
Then Liora spoke softly.
"You're thinking too loud."
Selis didn't deny it.
She just stared ahead.
For a long moment.
Then:
"When I was a trainee," she said, "I believed what I was told. That law protects. That order preserves. That if you worked hard and followed rules, the city would take care of its people."
"That didn't happen," Liora said gently.
"No," Selis whispered.
Her jaw shook for a fraction of a second before she locked it again.
"They sent me to 'observe' a situation.
A noble estate.
A child being abused.
Everyone knew.
Every official saw.
Every document was 'reviewed' correctly.
Everything was… lawful."
Liora didn't breathe.
Selis swallowed.
"I was told to do nothing. Because intervention jeopardized political cooperation. Because image mattered more than screams."
Silence.
"It was my first failure," she said tightly. "Not because I lost. But because I obeyed."
Her fists clenched.
"Ever since then, I swore I'd protect with the system. That I'd reform from inside. That if I followed the rules long enough and perfectly enough… I'd gain authority to stop it next time."
Liora placed a hand on her shoulder.
"And now?"
Selis's voice cracked finally.
"Now the system uses children as bait."
That broke something in her voice
that structure could not fix.
And if Seris had been a different kind of woman,
she might have cried openly.
Instead she simply whispered:
"I don't know what I believe anymore."
Liora didn't try to fix it.
Didn't try to inspire.
Didn't give speeches.
She just squeezed her shoulder.
"I'll stand with you," she said simply.
That was enough.
Sometimes loyalty is louder than hope.
Meanwhile.
The city's shadows finished sharpening.
Nobles signed documents.
Merchants finalized transactions.
Clerics finished carefully sanctified denials.
Weapons were polished.
Contracts sealed.
Targets identified.
Everything legal.
Everything proper.
Everything nightmare.
A network of hired intelligence finalized routes.
Mage strike teams positioned quietly.
People with nice smiles prepared ugly plans.
They had tested Aiden.
Now they would use what they learned.
They knew where he lived.
They knew who he cared about.
They knew what made him come running.
And someone very high above smiled.
"Tomorrow," they said calmly.
"Yes, sir."
The plan engaged.
And the universe paused.
Watching.
Listening.
Judging.
Back in the clearing,
Ardent watched Aiden perform his first fully stable containment ward.
Soft glow.
No chaos.
No backlash.
A little victory.
Ardent smiled.
Proud.
Sad.
Because he could feel it.
His time was drawing shorter.
The cosmic thread tugged a little tighter.
The stage lights behind him warmed.
Soon.
Not yet.
Soon.
He whispered softly to himself:
"Almost ready, little wish bearer. Almost."
Tomorrow…
would be the last peaceful day.