Chapter 4

  Ren wiped his palms on his pants. The training stone still sat in his hand, warm now with a steady, dim pulse. It wasn’t glowing or anything flashy, but it felt… real. Like proof.

  He looked up. “So… is that it? Just keep moving it until I can control it?”

  Farin snorted. “If only. No, this was just step one—learning to touch it. Now comes the part where you find out what kind of freak you are.”

  “…Thanks?”

  Farin tossed him a dry cloth to clean his hands. “I’m talking about affinities. Every person has a natural leaning—like a flavor profile for your mana. Some people run hot—fire, heat, combustion. Others flow like water. Some are stone-stubborn. Some are slippery like wind or subtle like shadow.”

  He started pacing, gesturing animatedly.

  “Affinity determines how your mana wants to behave. Push against it and everything feels harder. Work with it, and it’s like breathing.”

  Ren furrowed his brow. “How do I know what mine is?”

  “You don’t. Not yet. But you’ll feel it. It’s like seasoning. You start to notice when things taste ‘right.’”

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  Farin picked up a small crystal vial filled with a viscous silver liquid and held it up to the light. “Mana is flavorless until it touches the world. Then it takes shape—fire, water, arcane, life, decay. And once it’s inside something? It changes it.”

  He turned to Ren. “That’s where you come in. You’re not just tossing mana into spells. You’re infusing it into ingredients. Into flavor. Into experience. That takes finesse.”

  Ren rubbed the back of his neck. “So… what if I don’t have an affinity?”

  Farin grinned. “Everyone has something. Yours might be subtle. Might be rare. Might be tied to your skill rather than the usual elemental flavors. But trust me, it’ll show up eventually.”

  He glanced toward the door. “Alright. That’s enough for today. Go rest. Let your body absorb the feel of it. Practice tomorrow. Morning and night. Just feel the mana. Get used to it.”

  Ren stood up, flexing his fingers. “You really think I’ve got something worth teaching?”

  Farin’s voice softened. “I think you’re the first person in a long time who’s trying to do something new. That makes you dangerous. And valuable.”

  Then, smirking again, he waved him off. “Now get out. I have mushrooms to grow and potions to brew.”

  __________

  The sun had set fully by the time Ren stepped back into the lantern-lit streets. The town was still awake—workers heading home, adventurers stumbling out of taverns, merchants packing up under the stars.

  He passed a pair of kids throwing pebbles at a glowing streetlamp, and a woman whispering to a hawk perched on her shoulder. Magic here wasn’t flashy—it was woven in. Like heat in bread. Quiet, essential, alive.

  As he reached the inn, his hand brushed his pouch. The same pouch where he’d tucked away that earthy, bitter herb earlier.

  For the first time, he didn’t just feel curious.

  He felt hungry.

  Not for food—but for understanding.