Aldarion stood at the edge of the village, gazing at the horizon where the sun kissed the earth goodnight. The sky was a canvas painted in warm shades of orange and pink, and a gentle breeze tousled his hair. He always felt something magical about this time of day, a hint of adventure lingering in the air. What if I get a strong magic type? he wondered, his heart racing at the thought. He had grown up on stories of powerful wizards who could command fire, water, and even lightning. The dreams of becoming one of them fueled his imagination, but deep down, uncertainty simmered like embers waiting to ignite.

  “Aldarion! Dinner’s ready!” His mother’s voice called out, breaking the spell of his thoughts. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her face that warmed him more than the fading sunlight.

  “Coming!” he replied, but a part of him lingered a moment longer, yearning for the magic that seemed just beyond his reach. With a sigh, he stepped inside, the familiar aroma of baked bread and herbs wrapping around him like a comforting cloak.

  As they gathered at the table, Aldarion’s mother watched him with bright eyes, her enthusiasm infectious. “Are you excited to unlock your magic soon? Just a little longer until you can harness Arkanum,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

  “Yeah! I can’t wait to harness Arkanum; it’s going to be awesome!” he said, trying to muster the enthusiasm he knew she expected. But as he sat there, the weight of anticipation pressed down on him. What if I can’t do it? What if he could only summon a weak flame, not the roaring fire he imagined?

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  After dinner, the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a blanket of stars to fill the sky. Aldarion hurried outside, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with anxiety. He found a quiet corner of the garden, where the scent of earth and flowers surrounded him, grounding his swirling thoughts.

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and lifted his hands, palms up. He focused, summoning the warmth he felt deep within. Come on, just a flicker, he urged himself.

  With a spark of determination, he envisioned the flames dancing to life. To his amazement, a tiny ember flickered into existence, glowing softly in the night. “I did it!” he exclaimed, exhilaration bubbling up inside him. But as he stared at the small glow, a wave of disappointment washed over him.

  This is it? he thought, feeling a knot of frustration twist in his stomach. The ember was a weaker variant of fire magic, simply called “Ember.” It felt like a timid little spark, barely warm enough to light a match.

  For a moment, he let the weight of his disappointment settle. I wanted something powerful, something that could truly protect my friends. But then he remembered the stories—the heroes who had started small, who had faced doubts and fears before finding their strength.

  With a flicker of resolve igniting in his heart, he realized this ember was just the beginning. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and he would practice until he could turn that small ember into a blazing fire.

  As he stood in the cool night air, a sense of hope bloomed within him. For now, he had taken his first step into a world filled with magic, and who knew what the future held?