The days at Hearthstone Orphanage began early, with the soft glow of morning light filtering through the high windows. Finn found himself assigned to sweeping the common room—again. It was a repetitive, mundane task, but the other children approached it with enthusiasm, adding their own magical flair.
Across the room, Wren grinned as he sent small streams of water snaking across the floor, gathering dust into neat piles. Talia whispered a quiet incantation, and her broom came to life, gliding gracefully over the wooden boards. Even Nyx, with her usual stoic demeanor, conjured a gentle breeze that swept away stray crumbs.
Meanwhile, Finn worked with his broom the old-fashioned way, dragging it back and forth in uneven strokes. His arms ached, and his frustration grew as he caught Wren giving him a teasing smirk.
“You know, Finn, if you squint hard enough, you might actually see magic,” Wren called, his tone light but not unkind.
Cosmo jumped in, his constellation magic sparking faintly above his hand. “Ignore him. Everyone’s got to start somewhere, right? Besides, magic’s overrated. Sweeping builds character!”
Finn grumbled something under his breath, glancing at his hands as if willing them to spark to life. Instead, they remained disappointingly still.
-break-
Alistair’s lessons were the highlight of the day for most of the children. The room buzzed with energy as they practiced spells, Alistair weaving through the rows with calm authority.
“Remember, magic isn’t about force; it’s about connection,” Alistair reminded them, demonstrating with a swirl of light that danced around his fingertips.
Finn watched, captivated, before turning to his own practice. He closed his eyes, focusing as Alistair had instructed, and reached out for the elusive spark of magic he was certain lay somewhere inside him.
Nothing.
He clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. Around him, the other children were making progress—Cosmo’s constellations grew brighter and more intricate, Nyx’s winds carried a piece of parchment effortlessly, and Talia conjured a soft glow in her palms, her concentration steady.
A flicker of movement caught Finn’s eye. He glanced down to see the edge of his desk quivering, as though something invisible were tugging at it. The motion stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving Finn unsettled.
The UI chimed in.
New Status: Overthinking Detected. Suggested Action: Breathe. Seriously, just breathe.
Finn groaned softly. “You’re not helping,” he muttered.
Response: I’m helping more than you realize. Achievement Unlocked: Talking to Yourself. Reward: Self-Awareness.
-break-
The courtyard was alive with the sound of children’s laughter as they raced around in a game of tag. Finn hung back at first, watching Cosmo conjure a cluster of glowing stars that hovered around him like a shield.
“Come on, Finn!” Cosmo called, ducking under a gust of wind Nyx had sent his way. “Don’t just stand there—come hang out with us!!”
Finn hesitated before joining in, his smaller stature making him quick on his feet. He darted between the others, evading Wren’s attempts to tag him with a splash of water. For a moment, he felt like he belonged, his worries forgotten.
But then it happened again. As Wren sent another splash his way, Finn raised his hands instinctively. A sharp crackle of purple energy burst from his fingers, scattering the water mid-air.
The courtyard fell silent. Finn stared at his hands, his chest tightening. “I… I didn’t mean to—”
“That was awesome!” Cosmo exclaimed, breaking the tension.
Nyx tilted her head, her green eyes narrowing as she studied Finn. Wren gave a low whistle. “Looks like you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve after all.”
Finn tried to smile, but unease coiled in his chest like a knot.
Is my magic defective? he thought bitterly. Why can’t I do anything more than these random, useless sparks?
Frustration bubbling beneath the surface, he willed the strange character screen to appear. The translucent display materialized before his eyes, the familiar text glowing faintly.
Character Sheet
Name: Finn
Family Name: No Family Name Assigned
Race: Half-Elf
Current Rank: Normal
Magic Affinity: ???
Attributes: ???
Abilities: ???
Status Effects: ???
Finn frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the screen. Where did half of this even come from? The last time he’d checked, nearly everything had been question marks. His gaze lingered on the rows beneath "Magic Affinity," and his lips pressed into a thin line.
Shouldn't you explain these things, Mr. User Interface?
The screen remained silent, and Finn rolled his eyes. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath.
Just as he was about to dismiss it, the UI flickered, and a line of text scrolled across the display:
Response: “Your curiosity is appreciated. Answers will arrive eventually… Probably.”
“Probably?” Finn groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not helpful at all! And what’s with all these question marks? Are you trying to make me paranoid?”
The screen glitched slightly, the edges flickering like static, before another message appeared:
Hint: “Question marks often represent mysteries. Mysteries are meant to be solved. Try harder.”
Finn blinked at the display, a dry laugh escaping his lips despite his frustration. “Great. My magical interface is sassy and vague. That’s exactly what I needed.”
The screen vanished without further comment, leaving Finn alone with his thoughts. He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. The faint memory of purple sparks flashed in his mind, and a pang of worry settled in his chest.
What if being reborn broke my magic somehow? The thought echoed louder than he wanted to admit.
“Uhh, Finn?” Wren called out.
Finn realized to everyone else, he had just been standing off to the side, staring at nothing and muttering nonsense to himself. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying much attention until Wren brought the attention to him.
“Oh, I must have spaced out,” He said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m good, let's go.”
-break-
Finn slumped onto a bench in the courtyard after another lesson, his head in his hands. Alistair appeared quietly, his footsteps soft against the stone.
“Rough day?” Alistair asked, sitting beside him.
Finn hesitated before nodding. “I just don’t get it. Everyone else is getting better, and I’m… stuck. What if I never figure it out?”
Alistair rested his elbows on his knees, gazing out at the horizon. “You remind me of myself when I was your age,” he said, his voice gentle. “I wanted results yesterday, but magic doesn’t always work like that. It’s like planting a seed. You have to tend to it, let it grow in its own time.”
Finn frowned. “But what if my seed is…broken? What if it doesn’t ever grow?”
Alistair chuckled softly. “No seed is broken, Finn. Some just grow in ways we don’t expect. Maybe your magic is trying to teach you something about yourself. Pay attention to the little moments—they might surprise you.”
-break-
Finn followed the regimented routine Alistair had established, day after day blending into a steady rhythm. Mornings began with chores, afternoons brought lessons in the study hall, and evenings were filled with laughter as the children played in the courtyard or shared stories before bed. For Finn, each day offered something new to learn about the world he now called home.
Although Alistair tailored his lessons to the children’s age, the breadth of topics still amazed Finn. Geography, economics, politics, and, of course, magic—all were explored in ways that painted a vivid picture of the world outside the orphanage. To Finn, who had only fleeting memories of another life, it felt like piecing together fragments of a grand puzzle.
Eldarion, their kingdom, was nestled in a temperate region bordered by the Mistspire Mountains to the east and the Aridstone Desert to the south. Alistair spoke of the Lunebark Forest, a vast expanse of ancient trees with silver-hued bark said to glimmer under moonlight, rumored to hum with latent magic. To the west lay the Vandrel Coast, where glittering beaches met treacherous seas, frequented by both daring traders and cunning pirates.
Finn’s favorite lesson, however, was about Lumineth, the capital city. Alistair described it as a place of wonder, its streets bustling with life and its skyline dominated by the towering spires of the Arcane Assembly, the kingdom’s foremost magical institution. Finn’s mind raced at the thought of such a place, imagining streets lined with glowing lanterns, shops overflowing with enchanted goods, and scholars debating spells in open-air forums.
“What’s it like there?” Finn asked one afternoon, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Alistair paused, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. “It’s… alive,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Every corner holds something unexpected. You’d see adventurers returning from the frontier, their weapons still stained with battle, merchants hawking wares from distant lands, and mages performing feats that defy belief. It’s a place that demands ambition—and patience.”
The lessons on Eldarion’s economy were equally fascinating, though they sparked more questions than answers for Finn. Coins were the backbone of daily trade, minted in gold, silver, and copper. Each bore a faint magical glow, a subtle but effective safeguard against counterfeiting. More intriguing, however, were mana cores—crystalline fragments of concentrated magical energy. Alistair explained how mana cores were graded by purity and size, with low-grade cores fueling lanterns and simple devices, while high-grade cores powered advanced enchantments or served as currency among the elite.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“They’re not just valuable,” Alistair explained. “They’re essential. Without mana cores, half the infrastructure of Lumineth would crumble. Transportation, defense, even the spires of the Arcane Assembly—they all rely on them.”
Finn imagined these glittering cores, thinking of how they must shine like stars. “Where do they come from?” he asked.
“From the wild,” Alistair replied, his voice turning grave. “Adventurers risk their lives to harvest them from magical beasts or mine them from unstable regions. And sometimes…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Sometimes, the cost is too great.”
-break-
As Finn learned more about the guild system, he began to understand how deeply magic shaped the kingdom’s structure. Each guild specialized in a different craft, skill, or service, holding immense sway over their respective fields. The Adventurer’s Guild, with its sprawling network of branches, trained and certified explorers who ventured into uncharted lands or delved into ruins. Finn couldn’t help but admire the idea of becoming an adventurer, even if his current struggles with magic made it seem impossible.
The Merchant’s Consortium fascinated him for a different reason. Alistair explained how its members controlled trade routes and commerce, often wielding as much influence as the nobility. “They’re the ones who decide which goods reach which cities,” Alistair said. “And they don’t take kindly to anyone trying to bypass their control.”
“What about farmers or craftsmen?” Talia asked during one lesson, her brow furrowed.
“They have their own guilds,” Alistair said with a nod. “The Artisan’s Guild for crafts, the Agrarian Union for farming. Every profession, from blacksmiths to shipbuilders, falls under a guild’s purview. It keeps things… organized.”
“What if someone doesn’t join a guild?” Wren chimed in, leaning forward.
Alistair’s expression darkened slightly. “Then they operate outside the system. Some call them freelancers; others call them outlaws. It depends on who you ask.”
-break-
Through it all, Finn absorbed the knowledge hungrily, but his growing understanding of the world only deepened his unease. Everything in Eldarion seemed to hinge on magic—guild memberships, professions, even basic survival in certain regions. Without it, what chance did he have?
His inability to grasp his own magic weighed heavily on him, especially during the practical lessons. While the other children conjured small flames, breezes, or shimmering lights, Finn struggled to summon even a flicker of energy. The more he learned about how integral magic was to this world, the more he worried that something was wrong with him.
Occasionally, the UI would chime in with unhelpful commentary.
New Quest: Watch and Learn. Objective: Pay close attention to Nyx’s wind magic. Reward: Perspective.
Finn sighed as he glanced at Nyx, whose calm precision sent gusts of air spiraling in perfect loops. “Yeah, thanks for that,” he muttered under his breath.
Hint: Success is often preceded by failure. Sometimes… lots of failure.
“Helpful,” Finn grumbled.
Despite his frustration, Finn found solace in the friendships he was forming. Cosmo’s optimism was a constant source of encouragement, and Talia’s quiet kindness made her a steadying presence. Even Wren, for all his teasing, had moments of surprising sincerity. Together, they made the long days feel lighter, even as Finn’s doubts loomed ever larger.
-break-
One night, after several weeks of cramming new information in his head his user interface gave Finn an unexpected update.
Notice: Threshold Reached: Information Catalog Unlocked.
You have acquired sufficient knowledge of the following topics:
-Geography of Eldarion
-Trade and Economy
-Historical Foundations
-Command Unlocked: Access Recorded Knowledge.
-Sample Query: “Show Eldarion Geography”
Finn blinked at the text, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “Wait… I have a catalog? You couldn’t have told me this earlier?” he whispered sharply.
The UI flickered again.
Response: Catalog access requires a minimum threshold of effort. Congratulations on not being a complete slacker.
Finn scowled, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Great. My magical cheat sheet is sassy and judgmental.”
Still, curiosity got the better of him. “Uh… show Eldarion Geography?”
The UI shimmered, bringing up a detailed list.
Eldarion Geography:
- Capital: Iridell, the “Shining City.”
- Borders:
- East: Mistspire Mountains
- South: Aridstone Desert
- Northwest: Lunebark Forest
- West: Vandrel Coast
- Notable Features:
- Lunebark Forest: Ancient woods said to resonate with latent magic.
- Mistspire Mountains: Treacherous peaks, home to hidden ruins and mining settlements.
- Aridstone Desert: A barren expanse dotted with oases and rumored to hide secrets beneath its sands.
Finn’s brows furrowed as he scanned the list. It wasn’t overly detailed, but it was enough to piece things together—and having the information at his fingertips was undeniably convenient.
“Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of useful,” he muttered. “Even if you’re a little too smug about it.”
The UI responded with another flicker.
Response: Acknowledgment of utility accepted. Rest is recommended for optimal brain function.
Finn snorted quietly, lying back against his pillow. As much as he hated to admit it, the catalog would probably come in handy. If only it could tell him how to fix his magic.
The thought lingered, and his chest tightened slightly. For now, though, he let the soft hum of the UI fade as he drifted to sleep, the knowledge of Eldarion swirling through his mind like a faint, comforting lullaby.
-break-
Over the next several weeks, much of the orphanage’s lessons revolved around understanding the various types of magic. Alistair often spoke with an almost reverent tone about how magic wasn’t just a tool but a reflection of its wielder. The children eagerly absorbed his explanations, while Finn tried to keep up, his curiosity tinged with frustration at his lack of progress.
One day during a particularly…The classroom was abuzz with quiet excitement as Alistair turned to the board, chalk in hand. He wrote the title in large, clear letters:
“The Magic Affinity Tree.”
Turning to the class, he spoke, “Today, we’ll cover the primary branches of magic and their affinities in more depth. Magic is as varied as the people who wield it, but every type of magic has roots—it belongs to a greater whole.”
He began sketching a branching diagram, starting with a central root labeled “The Flow.”
- Elemental Magic (Parent)
The most common branch, representing the physical forces of nature.
- Fire: Aggressive and destructive. Users are passionate and often headstrong.
- Water: Adaptive and fluid. It can heal or harm, depending on the user’s intent.
- Earth: Steady and immovable. A reflection of strength and resilience.
- Wind: Agile and free. Reflects quick thinking and creativity.
“Elemental magic,” Alistair explained, “is practical and intuitive, making it the most frequently seen among people of all ranks.”
- Life Magic (Parent)
The magic of growth, healing, and preservation.
- Healing: Focused on mending injuries and curing ailments.
- Flora: A connection to plants and ecosystems, nurturing life directly.
- Vitality: Strengthens the physical and mental endurance of others.
“Life magic,” Alistair said, gesturing to Talia, “requires an affinity for nurturing and an understanding of balance.”
Cosmic Magic (Parent)
The magic of celestial forces and the universe.
- Constellation: Manipulates the patterns of stars and their energies.
- Gravitas: Focused on gravity and spatial manipulation.
- Ecliptic: Harnesses the alignment of celestial bodies for power.
“Cosmic magic,” he added with a nod toward Cosmo, “requires precision and a deep connection to the greater universe.”
Before he could continue, Wren raised his hand with a slight smirk. “So, uh, did Cosmo’s parents just… know? Like, ‘Let’s name him Cosmo because he’s obviously going to have cosmic magic’? Seems like they really nailed it.”
A few students chuckled, and even Cosmo rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Very funny, Wren. Maybe your parents named you Wren because they figured you’d be small and annoying.”
The class broke into laughter, and even Alistair chuckled softly before raising a hand to quiet them. “While Wren’s delivery could perhaps use some tact, he’s not entirely wrong.”
That caught their attention, and Alistair continued, his expression half amused, half thoughtful. “It is common for parents to choose names based on their hopes—or expectations—for their child’s affinity. Sometimes, it’s inspired by a family legacy. Other times, it’s pure intuition. And, as in Cosmo’s case, once in a while, it turns out to be an uncanny match.”
He leaned back on his desk, adding with a wry smile, “Of course, more often than not, it’s wildly inaccurate. I once met a fire user named River, and a wind user named Stone. So, it’s safe to say naming conventions don’t always predict affinities.”
The students laughed again, and Wren leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “Good to know. Guess my parents just named me after a bird for no reason, then.”
“Moving on,” he said, pointing back at the board.
- Chaos Magic (Parent)
The force of unpredictability and entropy.
- Arcane: Harnesses raw magical energy in its purest, most chaotic form.
- Void: The magic of nothingness, consuming, redirecting, and erasing.
- Wild: Tied to randomness and untamed natural phenomena.
“Chaos magic is powerful,” Alistair cautioned, his tone serious. “It’s an art that must be mastered, or it very well may consume you.”
- Death Magic (Parent)
A controversial and misunderstood branch, tied to endings and transitions.
- Necromancy: The magic of reanimation and control over the dead.
- Decay: Manipulates rot and the breaking down of matter.
- Curse: The art of imbuing objects, people, or places with negative magical effects.
“Death magic,” Alistair said carefully, his voice carrying a note of caution, “is a polarizing art. Necromancy, the reanimation and control over the dead, is forbidden in nearly every kingdom for the way it disrupts the natural order. The other branches, like Decay and Curse magic, are not outlawed, but they are deeply regarded with suspicion and fear for the harm they can cause. Still, as with any magic, it is not the power itself but the intent of its wielder that defines its morality.”
“Order magic,” Alistair said, as a faint, steady glow formed in his hand, “is as much about preservation as it is about clarity.”
-
Order Magic (Parent)
?Light Magic – Clarity, truth, and dispelling darkness.
?Ward Magic – Barriers, protection, and defense against chaos.
?Law Magic – Enforcing rules, binding contracts, and maintaining cosmic balance.
Alistair stepped back from the board, the branching diagram now full of terms. “This,” he said, “is only the beginning. Each of these affinities can manifest differently, depending on the person. And remember—having an affinity for one type of magic means you can only use that branch. A fire user, for example, will never cast water spells. Your magic is tied to who you are.”
Finn stared at the board, his gaze lingering on Arcane under Chaos Magic. It felt… familiar, somehow. The thought made him uneasy.
Cosmo nudged him. “Looks cool, huh? I’d love to see Void magic someday.”
“Yeah,” Finn muttered, his eyes drifting back to the diagram. “Cool…”
As Alistair wrapped up, he pointed to the board one last time. “These are just the major branches of magic—the ones we focus on in our studies. There are rarer, more specialized types out there, but those are stories for another day.”
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