Ashborn didn't stop after that night. He couldn't.
That floating silver orb had unlocked something inside him. Like a door in his mind had been cracked open, and now magic was pouring through quiet, slow, but constant. He became obsessed, not in a reckless way, but with the cold, focused hunger of someone who knew time was a gift.
By six, he could bend small flames to his will. Not with flashy fireballs, but subtle control guiding candlelight to dance on command, tracing shapes in the air. It wasn't power that fascinated him, it was precision.
At seven, things got stranger.
He started changing the way spells behaved. A basic levitation spell was supposed to hover items gently but Ashborn made it spin, change direction, even lift heavier things than it was designed for. He didn't just cast spells.
He edited them.
He combined elements he barely understood and watched them react. And when something failed, he didn't panic. He learned like someone who'd done it before.
He wasn't just a novice mage anymore
Meanwhile, his life during the day looked totally different.
Swords. Drills. Bruised knuckles and split lips. His father, Lord Verrian, was merciless but fair. He didn't praise often, but Ashborn didn't seek it. He trained in silence, drove himself harder than anyone else. Not because he wanted approval but because it was the only way to make his two worlds fit.
Sword by day. Spell by night.
No one knew. Not even Verrian. Ashborn kept his magic a secret, hidden in the nights and in his alone time.
And the older he got, the more he realized something was happening outside their estate too.
Reports started coming in. Dungeons were growing more active. Creatures that hadn't been seen in decades were crawling out of the wilderness again. Towns near the old ruins were being evacuated. Magical storms swept through far off regions.
None of it made sense.
But Ashborn could feel it like the world was holding its breath.
And sometime when he meditated too deep into his mana, he heard things. Felt echoes.
Like something far, far away… was watching.
Not a person. Not a monster. Something bigger.
Something old.
He didn't know what it meant. Not yet.
But one thing was certain
The magic inside him wasn't done waking up.