The upper levels of Infernum's central complex were strictly off-limits to sves except when specific bor was required. When the half-demon boy was assigned to clean a magister's quarters, he recognized both opportunity and danger.

  "Remember, thrall," the escort guard growled as they approached ornate doors carved with fme motifs, "touch nothing except your cleaning tools. Magister Ferolth is attending council today, but his quarters are warded. Unauthorized handling of any object could trigger painful consequences."

  The boy nodded obediently, keeping his eyes downcast. "I understand, master."

  "You have two hours. I'll return then." The guard unlocked the doors with a special key, then fixed the boy with a threatening gre. "If anything is disturbed or missing, you'll wish you'd never been spawned."

  As the doors closed behind him, the boy carefully surveyed his surroundings. Magister Ferolth's quarters were magnificent compared to the sve areas—high ceilings with magical lights that shifted colors, elegant furniture crafted from rare materials, and walls lined with books and scrolls. The air itself felt different, crackling with subtle energy that raised the fine hairs on his arms.

  He began cleaning methodically, starting with the entryway floors as instructed. But his mind and eyes constantly assessed the room's contents, looking for information he could gather without leaving evidence of his curiosity.

  The central chamber appeared to be a study and practice area combined. One section contained comfortable seating around a bck marble table, while another featured a circur space marked with complex runes on the floor—clearly designed for magical exercises.

  Most intriguing was a training area where a young noble-caste demon was apparently receiving instruction. Training dummies bore scorch marks from fire magic, and a bckboard-like surface was covered with diagrams and notes.

  The boy worked his way closer to this area, careful to maintain the appearance of diligent cleaning. When he reached the bckboard, he slowed his movements, eyes quickly scanning the information while his hands continued their assigned task.

  The diagrams showed the basic forms for elemental magic manipution—specifically fire magic, Infernum's specialty. Notes in elegant script detailed proper hand positions, energy channeling techniques, and visualization methods.

  "Maintain circur breath pattern while focusing energy through the Third Gate," one notation read. "Visualize internal fme connecting to external manifestation."

  Another section outlined a progression of exercises: "Begin with candle ignition at arm's length. Progress to sustained fme hover. Advanced students proceed to directional control and temperature regution."

  The boy committed everything to memory as he worked, his mind making connections to the theoretical knowledge he'd gained from stolen books. Here was practical application—actual techniques used to teach young nobles their first magical skills.

  In the corner of the bckboard was a simple diagram beled "Beginner's Fme Circle" with four specific hand positions illustrated. This appeared to be the most basic exercise—the first step in learning fire manipution.

  After finishing the cleaning in that area, he moved to the bookshelves, ostensibly dusting each shelf carefully. His eyes darted over titles, noting which ones focused on magical instruction versus theory or history.

  One slim volume caught his attention: "Elemental Affinities: Identification and Early Training." It was positioned at the edge of a shelf, as if recently consulted and hastily repced. The temptation to open it was overwhelming, but the guard's warning about wards made such direct investigation too risky.

  Instead, the boy concentrated on memorizing the visible information throughout the room—the training diagrams, the equipment arrangements, the progression of practice materials. Each detail added to his growing understanding of how magical education was structured.

  As he cleaned around the runic circle on the floor, he noticed something interesting. Unlike the complex wards he'd seen in Magister Krovax's boratory, these runes were simpler—designed for practice rather than protection. They appeared to enhance and contain magical energies without restricting them, creating a safe space for learning.

  The boy had nearly completed his assigned cleaning when he heard voices approaching outside—much earlier than the guard's promised return. With practiced stealth, he quickly moved to the far side of the room, assuming a posture of humble work.

  The doors swung open to reveal two young demons in the eborate garb of noble students. They entered mid-conversation, completely ignoring the sve's presence.

  "I still don't understand why the visualization must be so specific," compined the taller one, a green-skinned demon with elegantly curved horns. "I can produce fme without all these mental exercises."

  "Raw production isn't mastery, Zekith," replied his companion, a female with scales that shimmered in metallic tones. "Magister Ferolth says the difference between a noble who can make fire and a true fire master is precisely in that visualization and control."

  They moved to the practice area, still not acknowledging the half-demon boy who continued his cleaning as if deaf to their conversation.

  "Watch again," the female said. She took a position in the center of the runic circle, closed her eyes briefly, and then moved through a series of precise hand gestures. "Breath circur, energy flowing upward, Third Gate open, internal and external fme connected."

  As she completed the motions, a small fme appeared above her palm, hovering steadily. With subtle finger movements, she shaped it into a sphere, then a spiral, then back to a simple fme before extinguishing it.

  "See? Control and precision, not just raw power."

  "Fine, Vasra," Zekith grumbled. "Let me try."

  The boy kept his eyes lowered while continuing to clean, but his attention was completely focused on the practice session. Through peripheral vision, he observed every detail of the technique—the precise hand positions, the breathing pattern visible in the students' chest movements, the concentration in their expressions.

  Zekith's attempt produced a rger but unstable fme that flickered erratically. When he tried to shape it, the fire surged unexpectedly, causing him to break concentration and extinguish it with a curse.

  "Too much force, not enough structure," Vasra critiqued. "You're still thinking of fire as just destruction. It's more like... a living energy that responds to direction rather than command."

  They continued practicing, completely oblivious to the sve absorbing every word and motion. The boy had nearly finished his cleaning tasks, which presented a problem—he would soon have no reason to remain in the room, yet the impromptu lesson was invaluable.

  Fortune favored him when another student entered, distracting the others with news of some social intrigue. As they clustered near the entrance discussing the gossip, the boy slipped into the far corner to clean baseboards, straining to continue observing their occasional returns to practice.

  After what seemed too short a time, his escort guard returned, ending his opportunity for further observation. The boy gathered his cleaning supplies and departed with his eyes properly lowered, giving no indication of the treasure trove of knowledge he had acquired.

  That night, in the absolute privacy of his hidden sanctuary, the half-demon boy carefully reviewed everything he had witnessed. Using a small piece of charcoal on salvaged parchment, he recreated the training diagrams from memory, noting the hand positions and accompanying instructions.

  The theoretical knowledge from his stolen books now had practical context. He understood not just the abstract principles of elemental magic but the specific techniques used to develop it. While this didn't bypass the caste-based limitations on his power ceiling, it provided a foundation for whatever abilities might eventually manifest.

  With deep concentration, the boy attempted to recreate the breathing pattern he had observed. Circur breath, they had called it—a steady rhythm that supposedly helped channel magical energy through internal pathways.

  After several attempts, he felt a subtle difference—a warmth spreading from his core through his limbs. It was minor, possibly just the physical effect of controlled breathing, but encouraging nonetheless.

  Next, he tried the hand positions from the "Beginner's Fme Circle" diagram. His fingers moved through the four positions slowly, focusing on precision rather than speed. Nothing visible happened, but he hadn't expected immediate results. Magic training for noble children typically took months or years; a half-blood sve with no formal instruction couldn't expect success on the first attempt.

  The boy practiced diligently for an hour, repeating the breathing and hand positions until they became fluid and natural. Though no fme appeared, the warmth inside him seemed to intensify slightly with each cycle.

  Finally, exhaustion forced him to stop. He carefully concealed his practice notes behind the loose stone with his other treasures and prepared to return to the common sleeping area.

  "Patience," he whispered to himself. "This is just the beginning."

  Over the following weeks, the boy established a consistent practice routine. During his rare moments of privacy, he would work through the techniques he had observed, gradually adding refinements based on snippets of information gathered from his network.

  Lira, his messenger ally, provided particurly valuable insights after overhearing conversations between magical instructors in the corridors she traversed.

  "They say the biggest obstacle for beginners is trying too hard," she reported during one of their brief meetings. "Something about forcing energy instead of guiding it."

  The boy nodded, adding this to his understanding. His initial attempts had indeed felt forced—straining to produce effects rather than working with whatever energy might naturally exist within him.

  Another crucial piece of information came from Elek, who had once maintained records for the magical academy.

  "The training age for noble children begins at twelve for a reason," the old demon expined. "That's when internal energy pathways typically mature enough for conscious direction. For half-bloods, this development often occurs ter—perhaps fourteen or fifteen."

  This expined the ck of visible results despite proper technique. The boy might simply be too young for his demonic energy to respond to conscious control. But the practice was still valuable—building pathways and patterns that would be ready when that energy finally matured.

  His opportunity to test this theory came during his thirteenth year, some six months after beginning his secret practice.

  It happened during cleaning duty in a rarely used storage room. The boy was alone, using the solitude to mentally rehearse the breathing techniques while performing his mundane tasks. A sudden noise from a shelf above startled him—a small cave rat disturbing loose items.

  Instinctively, his hands moved into the first position of the Fme Circle. For a brief moment—so quick he almost missed it—a tiny spark flickered between his fingertips. It vanished immediately, leaving no evidence except his own stunned awareness.

  He had produced magic. Actual, visible magic.

  Though tiny and instantaneous, that spark represented something monumental. It proved that his practice wasn't futile, that despite his sve status and mixed blood, he could access magical energy.

  The boy completed his cleaning duties mechanically, mind racing with implications. He would need to be even more careful now—any dispy of magical ability by a sve would bring severe punishment, possibly execution. Yet he couldn't abandon this path, not when it represented such potential for eventual freedom.

  His practice became more focused after this breakthrough. Using the crystal sphere from his hidden treasures, he developed visualization exercises to complement the physical techniques. The sphere responded to his energy, however slight, with subtle changes in its internal light patterns.

  Progress remained painstakingly slow. The boy could now consistently produce tiny sparks when highly concentrated, but nothing approaching the controlled fmes demonstrated by the noble students. His mixed heritage and young age still limited his capabilities.

  What he cked in power, however, he compensated for with precision. Unable to generate impressive effects, he focused instead on minute control—producing the smallest possible spark at exactly the intended location. This discipline would prove valuable ter, though he didn't yet realize it.

  Through his information network, the boy also gathered knowledge about other magical disciplines beyond elementary fire manipution. He learned of shadow magic practiced in Umbravale, blood sorcery from Bloodreach, and the storm conjuring of Voidcrest.

  Though he couldn't practice these unfamiliar forms, understanding their principles expanded his magical theory. He began to see connections between different approaches—how all magic, regardless of element or kingdom, involved channeling energy through focused intent.

  His most significant insight came when connecting magical theory to the crystal sphere's functioning. The artifact responded not just to demonic energy but to conscious direction—suggesting that will and visualization were perhaps more important than raw power.

  Testing this theory, the boy found he could produce effects within the sphere far beyond his ability to manifest externally. The lights inside would form complex patterns at his direction, responding to mental images rather than physical power.

  "The limitation isn't just in my energy," he concluded after one particurly successful session. "It's in the bridge between internal and external manifestation."

  This understanding led to a new approach in his practice. Rather than straining to produce visible fire, he concentrated on the internal sensation of energy movement, trusting that external manifestation would develop naturally as his pathways matured.

  One evening, as the boy performed his cleaning duties in a lower corridor, he passed an open doorway and glimpsed something unexpected—a young noble being disciplined for poor magical performance.

  "Pathetic!" snarled an older demon with eborate ceremonial horns. "Weeks of training and barely a sustainable fme. Perhaps your bloodline isn't as pure as your father cims."

  The young noble—no more than fourteen—struggled to maintain composure as tears threatened to spill. "I'm trying, Magister. I just can't feel the connection you describe."

  "Then perhaps you're not truly listening," the magister snapped. "The fire is always there. Your failure to perceive it reflects your inadequacy, not its absence."

  The boy continued past the doorway, careful not to attract attention, but the overheard exchange remained with him. Even noble-born demons struggled with magical development. His own difficulties weren't just due to his sve status or mixed blood—they were normal challenges in the learning process.

  This realization boosted his determination. If pure-blooded nobles could struggle with the same concepts, perhaps the gap between castes wasn't as insurmountable as demon society cimed.

  That night in his sanctuary, the boy pushed himself further than before. Instead of focusing on producing fire, he concentrated entirely on the "listening" the magister had mentioned—turning his awareness inward to sense the energy supposedly always present.

  For nearly an hour, nothing changed. Then, as exhaustion began to blur his concentration, he experienced a sudden shift in perception. Deep within, barely perceptible, he sensed a tiny fme—not physical heat, but a concentrated point of energy that resonated with his consciousness.

  Once found, the connection strengthened. The boy could feel the internal fme responding to his breath, expanding slightly with each inhation, contracting with each exhation. It was minute, far smaller than what a noble-born demon would possess, but undeniably present.

  He had found his inner fire—the core of demonic magic that everyone possessed but few truly perceived.

  With this connection established, his external practice took a significant leap forward. The next day, in the brief privacy of a supply closet, he managed to produce not just a spark but a tiny, sustainable fme above his palm. It sted only seconds and was no rger than a candle's light, but it represented a fundamental breakthrough.

  The boy was practicing forbidden magic, defying the most basic restriction pced on sve-caste demons. If discovered, the punishment would be severe. But he couldn't stop—not when each small success represented a step toward potential freedom.

  He redoubled his caution, practicing only in absolute privacy and never allowing his growing abilities to affect his outward demeanor. To the overseers and other sves, he remained just another thrall going about his assigned duties. Only his most trusted network members received hints about his developing skills, and even they weren't told the full extent of his progress.

  As his thirteenth year drew to a close, the boy had established a solid foundation in basic magical theory and practice. His abilities remained limited by his age and heritage, but the path forward was clear. With continued secret training and the natural development that would come with maturity, his magical potential would grow.

  More importantly, he had proven to himself that the caste system's fundamental premise was fwed. Sves weren't inherently incapable of magic—they were simply denied the knowledge and opportunity to develop it. This understanding reinforced his determination to eventually break free of the limitations imposed by his birth.

  For now, though, patience remained essential. He continued his daily sve duties, maintained his information network, and practiced his magic in strict secrecy. Each small fme he produced was both an act of defiance against the system that oppressed him and a promise of the power he might one day wield.

  The path would be long and dangerous, but with each passing day, the half-demon boy moved one step closer to a future beyond svery.