In the kitchen where cinnamon lingered thick in the air was Hermit and Ciro, concocting a dessert no man alive could reasonably refuse.
From the clay oven, Hermit withdrew a steaming pie, its golden crust crackling softly as he set it upon the table. Ciro had to stop himself from drooling, the scent alone nearly overwhelming his senses.
"Ciro," Hermit began solemnly, slicing the pie into eight perfectly equal pieces, "there are two things a man must experience in this world."
Ciro tensed immediately.
"First," Hermit continued, "is the tender warmth of the woman he loves."
Ciro's face twisted into an awkward frown, his enthusiasm evaporating at once.
"And second!" Hermit declared, suddenly brightening. "Apple pies!"
"Apple... pies..."
In that instant, Ciro abandoned all restraint.
Hermit barely had time to gasp before the boy lunged forward, engulfing all eight slices in a single, horrifying bite. Crust, filling, and steam vanished at once.
Hermit's hands reached out far too late.
"No—! You greedy child!" he cried, collapsing to his knees in defeat. "We were meant to share that in equity!"
"It's your fault for being slow," Ciro shot back, crumbs clinging to his lips as an almost mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Heh."
Hermit stared at him in disbelief.
"I do not believe anyone could react fast enough to someone who could devour a pie meant for five in one bite…"
Regardless, Hermit could not help but let out a hearty laugh. It had been ages since anyone had lived under his roof. He did not mind, even if his company ate enough for five.
"Weird old man," Ciro muttered, though softly.
Hermit was certainly eccentric in his eyes, but Ciro found that he did not mind it much at all.
_________________________________________________________________________________
"In any case," Hermit asked, seated across the table, "who taught you Lucias?"
Ciro wiped the remaining crumbs from his face, pausing briefly. He figured the old man meant the light he had summoned earlier.
"Nobody," Ciro replied plainly. "It's just something I remembered from my village..."
Hermit's brow lifted slightly.
"Then," he pressed, extending his arm, "do you know of any other spells?"
A small, weak flame flickered to life in Hermit's palm. Ciro flinched despite himself.
"Is that what they're called?" he asked, eyes fixed on the fire.
Hermit smiled, stroking his beard.
"Magic," he began, "is built upon what we call spells."
The flame vanished.
"Spells are reactions of mana," Hermit continued, and as he spoke, droplets of water began to gather in his open hand, "modified in particular ways, ultimately producing an effect of some kind upon reality."
The water dispersed just as easily as it had formed.
"Does that sate your curiosity, boy?" Hermit asked, his smile never fading.
Ciro remained silent, attempting to piece together the old man's rambling explanation.
"Then," he said, rising from his seat.
With his palm turned upward, he cast, "Lucias".
The same lonesome sphere of light formed at the palm of his hand.
Ciro frowned.
"Why is there only one?" he complained, dissatisfied. He had expected a swarm like the one he remembered.
Hermit turned away, already heading for the door.
"Let us take this elsewhere," he said, raising a hand. "Levitas."
Ciro felt his feet leave the ground.
He hung suspended in the air, weightless, like a swallow caught mid-flap.
"What—"
FWOOOSH!!!
The air shattered with a sound like a cannon firing.
Held firmly by the collar of his cotton shirt, Ciro's gaze snapped downward. The ground rushed away from him, the familiar trees shrinking until they looked no larger than twigs.
"Kawk! Kawk!"
A flock of four-winged, red-feathered birds glided past them, utterly indifferent, as though it were perfectly normal for humans to drift hundreds of meters above the ground.
Ciro's expression twisted in horror, his world quite literally turned upside down. Though safely bound by Hermit's magic, Ciro had no way of knowing that. He clutched the old man's robe with dear desperation.
"P–put me down, old man!" he yelled, refusing to loosen his grip.
Hermit merely chuckled, unbothered, keeping hold of the boy by his collar.
"It won't be long until we arrive," he teased. "So do try not to let go."
"Fuuuuuck you, old maaaaaaaaaaan!"
______________________________________________________________________________
"Here we are," Hermit called out.
Ahead of them stood a towering, flat-faced cliff—an awe-inspiring landmark draped in creeping greenery. The forest below teemed with life, every distant cry reminded Ciro just how far from home they now stood.
They landed.
Ciro's legs trembled violently, his hands aching after clinging so desperately. He nearly collapsed, barely keeping himself upright.
"The key to magic is intent," Hermit began at once, a flame blooming calmly in his palm.
Ciro straightened slowly, brushing dust from his clothes.
"It is the union of will and imagination," Hermit continued. "If you can truly envision an outcome, then, given enough mana, you may achieve it."
"Then why did my spell only make one?" Ciro protested. "I wanted a whole bunch flying around."
The flame in Hermit's palm swelled brighter, denser, and heavier. His gaze drifted toward a dead tree nearby, blackened and hollow, long stripped of life.
"Ignius."
BOOM!!!
The tree ceased to exist.
Rotting bark and splinters erupted outward as the explosive force reduced it to drifting ash. The shockwave slammed into Ciro before he could even blink, sending him tumbling onto his back.
For a moment, there was only ringing silence.
"Amazing," the word slipped from Ciro's mouth before he could stop himself.
Hermit chuckled, stepping beside the boy as he stared at the empty space where the tree once stood.
"You asked why your spell made only one," Hermit said, smiling. "The answer is experience and mana."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"I was alive when kingdoms were still villages. Strength comes with time, boy."
Ciro watched the old man's figure, tall and frail, yet undeniably strong, grow smaller the farther he walked.
He halted in his tracks.
"Let us go, boy. I have much to show you."
More than he wanted to admit, a bud of wonder had already begun sprouting in his heart.
______________________________________________________________________________
"Where are we?" Ciro posed, scanning the wilderness surrounding them.
"Acerbus," Hermit replied. "An isolated region, far from most settlements. Should one lose their way here, no help would come."
He continued onward regardless.
Ciro, meanwhile, kept his gaze moving—trees, shadows, distant movement. The forest felt aware.
Hermit glanced back, noting the boy's unease.
"Worry not," he said calmly. "I have long since tamed this land. No dweller here will bring us harm."
He paused.
"—save for the Lord of the Land, that is."
Rustle.
Ciro stiffened. The sound of footsteps faltered.
"Boy?" Hermit called, turning.
There was nothing.
Only drifting leaves, spiraling gently as they settled upon the earth.
Hermit exhaled.
"Oh dear."