Chapter Seven: Arcane Foundations II: Cloaking the Flame

  Vick’s breathing remained steady, though there was an audible weight as his sternum flexed with his breath; The man was clearly processing the spectacle before him. “No… that wasn’t what I meant at all,” he rasped, perhaps from the slightest tinge of fear. “A cantrip… what you are doing… Those are simple spells. But this?” He gestured to the two manifestations of flame and spark in the nascent mage’s hands. “That’s dual casting—two spells at once.”

  Selriph blinked, still confused. “I am going to need some… elaboration. "

  Vick’s expression twisted into something between a smile and a frown. “Boy… dual casting is rare. Extremely rare for anyone not yet a full-fledged mage. It was something only the most skilled mages had a grasp on, and it usually involved two different spells from the same elemental school. But you… You were casting two different elements at the same time.”

  His gaze flicked briefly to the dissipating traces of fire and lightning as Selriph lowered both of his hands, processing what the older mage had said. Selriph stood silently, watching him with an intensity that suggested he was absorbing every word.

  “And for you to do it... with no training,” Vick said, voice almost reverent, “effortlessly... You’re not just gifted, Selriph. You’re dangerous. More dangerous than I ever imagined.” He glanced warily at the shadowy tunnels around the chamber, as if looking out for an unseen eavesdropper. “If the Templars even suspect what you’re capable of, they’ll do anything to control you. Or destroy you.”

  His hand slipped into a back pocket, fumbling. After a moment, he produced an unremarkable pendant and extended it toward Selriph.

  “Listen carefully,” he said. “Don’t cast anything until we meet again. Do not show anything; do not mention anything. Take this; wear this around your neck. No questions. It may feel… strange. I’ll explain everything tomorrow, deep in the tunnels, far from prying eyes and ears.”

  Selriph’s left hand reached out cautiously, unsure of what to expect from the trinket presented to him. The pendant was simple, centred by a dull black stone—onyx, perhaps? As his fingers brushed it, he felt a strange sensation, a coldness, but not physical. This was accompanied by a conspicuous lack of arcane energy, which unsettled the young boy, but still, he obeyed and palmed it before slipping it over his head.

  At first, nothing happened. No jolt, no sudden burst of magic. But something had changed. The world around him felt cooler, muted, muffled, as if a paradoxically cold layer of wool had been drawn over him.

  “What is this?” he asked, voice low. “You really seemed adamant that I wear it.”

  “You have no idea what you’re capable of, boy,” Vick murmured, almost to himself. His face darkened. “I’ve seen mages with a fraction of your raw power, and even they... were hunted down like animals.”

  He shook his head. “The Templars have methods for finding mages like us; sigils, scrying, holy magic twisted to become tools of surveillance.”

  Selriph swallowed hard.

  “You need to understand the gravity of your situation, kid.” He paused, letting the weight of his statement land before he continued. “Every spell you cast, every spark of power, leaves a signature. A trail. Someone like you, you are blazing like a campfire in the open field; that’s how. If I could pick up your trace, it’s a wonder they haven’t found you already.”

  Selriph thought back to the day before. That would explain how Vick had anticipated his arrival. His thoughts drifted further backwards, to the Inquisitor. The forced act he had to do, the drawing of steel and the last-second parry, survived by a thread.

  Vick noticed the introspection in the boy’s eyes and continued. “The Templars train scouts who can track that magical ‘scent.’ They can taste it in the air. When you cast those spells just now, it was like lighting a flare.”

  He stepped closer, voice dropping. “We’re lucky. We’re deep underground. Most folks up top wouldn’t know a magical flare from a torch fire. But if there were any spies, any informants nearby...”

  He trailed off, letting the implication settle like dust in the tunnel.

  In the silence, Selriph’s gaze drifted back to the pendant, and the coldness emanating from it became more defined. It wasn’t just cold; it was cloaking him. If he had to guess, the muffling he was feeling was the feeling of having his magical aura smothered. The magic from him always felt like a second skin, humming gently in the background, but now it was veiled by the trinket around his neck.

  “This pendant,” he said slowly. “It’s suppressing my magical aura. That’s how you stayed hidden this long, isn’t it?”

  Vick nodded. “There are more ways than an old trinket to mask a signature. Some are harder than others. But yes, that trinket helped me, but I no longer need it,” he let out the briefest of chuckles before saying, “But even that may not be enough for you.”

  He gave Selriph a hard look. “Your aura’s leaking even through the enchantment. I’ve never seen anything like it. But for now… it will suffice, if no hounds are sniffing around.”

  “We’ll fix it. First thing tomorrow—”

  “Why wait?” Selriph interrupted, urgency rising in his voice. “I already had a run-in with the Templars. There was an Inquisitor.”

  Vick froze, blood draining from his face. “You... what?”

  “Yeah, did Rix not tell you? I managed to convince them I was just a street rat, like the rest of the people here in the tunnels. The Inquisitor, though, drew steel on me, tried to provoke me into casting. But I met his blade with mine.” His head briefly gestured down to the estoc at his side. “I got very lucky, disarmed him; His companions convinced him to see reason. He was breaking doctrine, after all. After that, they let me go.”

  Vick staggered a step back. “By the light of…” He grabbed Selriph’s arm. “You don’t get let go by an Inquisitor. He may have backed off, but he certainly reported that encounter. It won’t be long before they come back looking down here! They might be crawling around the tunnels right now, looking for you.”

  His grip tightened. “You have to suppress your aura. That pendant is not enough. This is survival, Selriph.”

  Selriph stared at him. “Then why’d you let me throw around magic the past two days? If it is so dangerous?”

  Vick released him, exasperated. “Because I didn’t know you might be the second coming of Valdor the Great.”

  His shout echoed off the stone walls.

  They stood in silence, the words hanging between them.

  “I’m... sorry,” Vick muttered. “You didn’t know that. I should not have reacted like that…”

  Selriph shook his head. “No. I should’ve been more careful. But suppressing my aura—that’s the next step, right? You’re my teacher. So teach me.”

  Vick studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I am your teacher. And it’s time I started acting like it.”

  He stepped forward again, this time placing a guiding hand on Selriph’s shoulder.

  “We’ll need to go deeper. It’s not safe to train here anymore.” He trailed off, then motioned toward the dark corridor behind him.

  Without another word, he turned and led the way into the shadows. Selriph followed. They descended, the scent of torch smoke in his nostrils. The walls grew damp. The air cooled, and water dripped from the ceiling—a steady, rhythmic echo met with footsteps.

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  After nearly fifteen minutes of navigating the narrowing corridors, the pair emerged into a small circular chamber. The walls were lined with carvings, with rusted, ancient pieces of metal lying about, with no evidence of their original configuration. The stench of dampness lingered in the air. A single, faint glow from an overhead crystal was the only source of light in the chamber, meagre against the surrounding darkness.

  Vick came to a stop and turned. “This is far enough,” he said. “The Templars’ patrols don’t come this deep. We’re safe to practise here.”

  Selriph raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t we just—”

  He caught himself and stopped short. He didn’t want to provoke Vick again; They both knew the seriousness of the situation. Still, the question hung unfinished in the air.

  Vick didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched, as if he’d heard the full sentence either way. He strode to the centre of the room, while Selriph’s eyes roamed across the walls, trying to make out the features in the faint light. He could barely make out the symbols. Arcane glyphs and runes perhaps, pulsing faintly like glowmoss, dormant in energy. Selriph couldn’t read them, but he felt them. They resonated with the same quiet force as the pendant around his neck, like a veil.

  Vick turned around and caught the boy’s investigative eyes, giving an approving nod. “You have a sharp eye. Those runes were carved long before I came here. This place was once part of an underground network. Built for mages, sanctuaries. The runes create a field of magical suppression. They block scrying, dampen signatures. This chamber is hidden.”

  Selriph felt the weight of the silence around him, even deeper than the tunnels they had passed through. It was just the lack of sound, the veil amplifying the stillness.

  “Now,” Vick said, facing him fully. His expression had hardened again, serious and sharp. “Let’s begin.”

  “In theory, this is simple. Suppress Aura is a 1st-level spell, but don’t let that fool you. It’s harder than most spells at that level, but for someone like you, it is essential that you learn this.”

  Vick’s voice dropped to a murmur, low and steady. “The key to this spell is to channel your magical energy in a very specific way.” He moved his hands slowly, forming fluid, practised shapes. “You need to imagine your energy like a cloak, not something to radiate out, but to fold, to tuck in and away.”

  Selriph’s eyes tracked his hands. Every motion looked simple, but clearly refined and well-practised. He could almost visualise himself doing it, but there were small movements he could not immediately pick up on.

  “When you cast Suppress Aura,” Vick continued, stepping closer, “you’re not merely hiding your presence. You’re actively subduing it. Think of it like extinguishing the initial flame of a campfire. You are not snuffing it, just letting it turn into hot coals, keeping it cool enough so you are not noticed.”

  His gaze locked with Selriph’s. “All living creatures have magical energy in them; It and life energy are intertwined in the fabric of this world. All you have to do to dampen your signature enough so you don’t stick out.”

  Selriph took a breath. “Alright… show me again, this time in full. I will try to pick this up quickly.”

  Vick extended a hand and began a soft incantation. Energy swirled faintly—no flare, no light. But he could feel the shift in arcane energy. He then saw it, or felt it rather—a blanket of cold, unpleasant, but foreign, settling over his senses. His connection to the arcane did not vanish, but it receded deeper into him, feeling subjectively colder in the process.

  “That’s what you are going for,” Vick said. “Now it’s your turn to do it. Try it on yourself.”

  Selriph nodded. He closed his eyes.

  He reached inward, searching for the ever-present thrum beneath his skin. There it was, a warm pulse, radiating out from himself. He had never visualised it before, but it radiated out of his chest, out through his entire body. He visualised it; This was his magical aura, and now he had to produce a cloak over it.

  So he began to fold it.

  Layer by layer, as if pressing the warmth inward, dimming it, tucking it away under itself, fold by fold. With each fold, the warmth lessened. The light dimmed.

  Then he felt it go past the threshold. He could feel a soft layer of his energy settle around him. The sensation was indescribable, feeling warmth and coldness at the same time. Perhaps the closest thing he felt to it was the feeling of having a burning fever on a cold winter’s night, but significantly less uncomfortable.

  Selriph’s eyes snapped open as he let out an audible exhale.

  Vick’s eyebrows lifted just slightly, his voice calm. “Well done, Selriph.”

  Selriph frowned, unable to find an apt description for what he felt. “It’s such a strange sensation. It’s less ... warm; I don’t know how to describe it … Is that normal?

  Vick nodded, his expression softening. “Exactly right. When your aura is suppressed, you feel the slight absence of the ambient arcane energy around you. I should say for you, though, that sensation might be extremely profound, maybe might feel extremely warm on the inside, but it’s like standing on a cold autumn day, your body heat keeping you warm, yet simultaneously you are cooling yourself with a breeze. It’s probably an odd sensation.”

  A beat of silence passed, and Selriph looked down. “So when I was with the Templars… is that part of the reason why they singled me out? I always thought it was because of why I ended up there, but if the superiors, if some of them could sense this energy from me…”

  Vick’s face darkened. “You’re perceptive. Yes. That’s exactly what it was.”

  He paused, crossing his arms. “Templars have methods; Some of your superiors could probably sense your magical potential. Even the faintest signature makes you stand out from common folk. And yours is far from faint.”

  Selriph swallowed hard. The pieces were fitting together now, and none of them felt good.

  “That information must have spread around, at least to your superiors at least. It was no wonder you were picked on. If they didn’t already have a reason to pick on you, this made you an easy target.”

  He sighed and turned away for a moment, running a hand through his hair.

  “And the higher-ranking ones, like that Inquisitor—Varos was his name?” Selriph asked. “Could they see more?”

  A grim smile touched Vick’s mouth. “There are rumours that some can taste magic, feel it in the air. See spells being cast. Follow the threads through even stone. If that’s true… then yes, your magic signature could’ve painted a trail right to you.”

  Selriph felt cold all over again. “So that’s why you were so insistent I not cast anything until I learned this…”

  Vick nodded. “Exactly. It could leave a scent that could lead us into these tunnels. This Varos would have likely reported his findings. It won’t be long before he and the people from your unit connect the dots and come back down here looking for you. “

  They stood quietly for a moment.

  “So you have to make your signature like the rest of the folk here, we don’t rat people out to the Templars when they come down here, but we won’t raise our weapons to defend you if a lot of them show up, if they find you, you are on your own kid.”

  “Alright, fair,” Selriph said softly, squaring his shoulders. “Then give me everything I need to know. The sooner I learn this off by heart, the safer it will be when we head back up there, no? If there is no magical trace to follow, they will have no trail to me, even if they come down here.”

  A rare glint of pride touched Vick’s eyes. “That’s right, lad, so let’s get to work. You still have some work before your signature is just like everyone else’s. Now again...”

  For the next few hours, the chamber echoed with nothing but murmurs with the subtle swell, ebb and fall of magic. Selriph practised folding and releasing his aura again and again. With each attempt, his suppression became more profound, accompanied by his awareness of even the smallest wisp of magical energy emanating from him. Eventually, he brought his magical aura down to a markedly lower level, not as faint as Vick’s, even with the extra effects of the pendant, but just enough to stick out far less than he had been.

  “Well done,” he said. “You’re getting it. Not just the spell, but the awareness. That’s enough for today; just stay low when you are back up there.

  Selriph sat down on the cold-hard floor with a thud. He was used to physical exertion, but he had never had to exert himself this much in an arcane manner. Unlike the physical exertion, however, he felt a sense of accomplishment, even though his mind and magical reserves felt depleted.

  He looked at the old man sitting on the stone stool in front of him; It dawned on him. This was the first time he had been taught magic by someone. While the old man did not display any outward liking for the boy, the utilitarian need to suppress his aura was of vital importance, Selriph could not help but feel a sense of gratitude to the old man, for finally giving him his first taste of learning magic, what life could be outside of Eldeitia.

  He muttered softly, “Thank you for this… Master?” he offered uncertainly.

  Vick laughed, an honest, unguarded sound. “Master? Don’t call me that, lad. I’m just Vick. An old fool who’s survived too long.”

  Selriph grinned. “Well, then I’ll be your disobedient apprentice.”

  Vick’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “As long as your aura does not get us killed. I will allow it.”

  A long pause. Then Selriph glanced toward the passage. “I... are we done today? I am knackered.”

  Vick clapped him on the back. “Of course, it’s late. I’d say if you were on the surface, I reckon it’s nearly sundown already.”

  He gestured with his hands as he said, “Come on. Let’s make our way above. And remember—no casting, keep that aura in check, visualise it as you sleep, and it will maintain itself. Just act like you belong; don’t stick out.”

  Selriph nodded and picked up his belongings and quickly followed Vick through the tunnels they had come through. The veil of his newly suppressed aura weighed over him like an invisible cloak.