Amidst the chirping of crickets and the hooting of owls, a young boy practiced his swordplay in a small clearing. He was tanned and leanly muscled, his upper body bare and slick with sweat. With every swing of the rusty sword, droplets flew from his skin to darken the grass. His technique was crude, a series of clumsy slashes, but a fierce determination burned in every motion. A few minutes later, his energy gave out. He stopped, letting the sword fall, and collapsed onto his back, utterly exhausted. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps as he stared up at the two moons hanging in the night sky. It had been over a month since they’d departed from the Kingdom of Corvania. In that time, their caravan had crossed two kingdoms. They had fought off ferocious beasts on a handful of occasions, the attacks repelled by the mercenaries guarding the carriages. Fortunately, they had yet to encounter any true magical beasts, or the mindless ogres and trolls that roamed the deep wilderness. The boy turned his head, his gaze falling upon the dozen carriages circled around a large bonfire at the edge of the woods. He’d overheard the other children talking; the journey to Argentis would take another two months. The famous Argentis was the capital of the Aethelgard Kingdom, and their destination was its renowned magic academy, the Veridian Academy. Every year, children from all the neighboring kingdoms traveled to Argentis hoping to enroll, to begin the long journey to becoming a Magus. The boy was no different. His name was Alaric Constantine, a commoner from the Kingdom of Corvania. As a child, he had chanced upon a wandering Magus and learned that he possessed a talent for spell-casting. The discovery had left Alaric ecstatic. In his world, Archons were revered beings, figures of immense power and wisdom who could command the elements and work miracles. More importantly, it was a world where the strong preyed upon the weak. Without strength of your own, you would never amount to anything. Alaric had no desire to live a life of mediocrity. From that day forward, he had trained meticulously, resolved to become a Magus and see all the wonders the world had to offer. Unlike the noble children in the caravan, however, Alaric was an orphan and could rely only on himself. He had taken every odd job he could find, scraping together just enough money for the enrollment fees. He doubted the meager sum he’d saved would be enough. The thought of his finances drew a helpless sigh from him. After we reach Argentis, there should still be some time before the academy’s entrance exam. I’ll have to find a way to earn more money then. But no matter what, he would enter the academy. He would become a Magus. He pushed himself to his feet and did a few light stretches to ease his aching muscles. After picking up his sword and meager belongings, he walked toward a nearby pond to wash the grime from his body. The silver light of the twin moons shimmered on the pond’s surface. Accompanied by the occasional, pleasant chirp of a night bird, the clearing felt profoundly peaceful. Alaric felt his tension instinctively ease, but he still scanned the dark treeline for any potential dangers before shedding his pants and wading slowly into the pond. A shiver wracked his body as it met the cold water, but he gradually grew accustomed to the temperature and began to wash himself. Alaric lay back in the pond, letting the cool water soothe his sore muscles. The still surface reflected his young face. His jet-black eyes held a child’s innocence, yet also a tenacity rarely found in one so young. His black hair, parted in the middle, brushed the bottom of his neck. His features were average, neither handsome nor ugly. In truth, his appearance was a touch below average. Suddenly, his stomach rumbled, a hollow ache of hunger. He stroked his belly underwater. It’s almost time for dinner. I should head back. He was famished after the intense sword practice. As he was about to climb out of the pond and dry himself, something peculiar in the water caught his eye. "Hmm?" He squinted, peering into the distance. "What's that?" In the very center of the pond, a pristine Celestial Lily floated on the surface, nestled between three verdant, round leaves. The Lily looked ordinary, yet it emanated a subtle, sacred aura that inspired an instinctive reverence. Alaric stared, mesmerized. For some strange reason, a wave of profound clarity washed over his mind. A few moments later, he snapped out of his daze, his eyes wide with surprise as he gazed at the strange flower. "What in the world is that flower?" he muttered in amazement. He had never felt so invigorated, so mentally sharp. Then, a thought struck him with the force of a physical blow. Could this be one of those precious, natural ingredients used to make magical potions? A jolt of excitement shot through him. Before he knew it, he was swimming toward the center of the pond. If I can sell this in Argentis, I should have more than enough money for the academy’s enrollment fee! He cut through the water with quiet, careful strokes, terrified that any commotion might attract someone else from the camp and reveal his discovery. Soon, he reached the center of the pond. The Lily was now within arm's reach. A wide grin spread across his face as he reached out, his hand trembling slightly, to gently pluck the flower. But his expression suddenly froze. The moment his fingers brushed against the white petals, the Lily vanished. A split second later, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he lost consciousness.

Chapter 2: A Sword Under Moons