Norman had finally gotten some goodnight sleep for a while after having the headphones play relaxing music until he heard a loud bang in the next room. After being kept up for hours before, he had gotten enough of it and decided to walk in and tell what he had to say. Norman had no time to put on more than the night garments he wore or, more specifically, the t-shirt and underwear that he considered as such. He went to the door and slammed it open.

“First, you snore like a pig, and then this-” Norman complained.

Norman stopped his rant after seeing Andras on the floor, seemingly warping in pain. Immediately rushing to his side, Norman tried to figure out what was wrong. He could only see Andras covering his face but not having any injuries.

“Andras! Hey! What’s wrong?” Norman tried waking him.

Andras was not talking, more like mumbling as he violently shifted on the floor, eyes closed and face in despair. His shirt was sweaty all over like a wet rag. Norman didn’t know what was happening; perhaps Andras was having a nightmare.

“Snap out of it!” Norman shook Andras’ head.

“Oh, lord. All gone. Sfagi. Fire...” Tears ran over Andras’ face.

“Andras!” Norman raised his voice.

Suddenly, Andras opened his eyes and gasped for air. The tears did not stop, but at least he was awake. Norman was relieved that he got Andras out of that state, but questions remained in his mind.

“What the hell was that?” Norman sat on the bed.

“My head...That dream, I’ve seen it before.” Andras shook his head.

“What is it about?”

“Aaah, flames,” Andras could picture them. “...Great flames consuming all and leaving nothing. Men and women with twisted faces of fear and pain from the seething heat. No, why do I see these horrible dreams...”

“Do you remember more now?”

“I...Not much. My head feels a bit better now.”

“What is this Sfagi you kept repeating?”

“I don’t know. The name just makes me cry from saying it.”

“I see. From now on, would you tell me if you have more of these dreams?”

“Alright, but I can’t promise that I can remember them clearly. No, it’s not that. I don’t want to remember them.”

“Alright. We better get back to sleep.” Norman headed back to the door.

Orel slammed the door open again, making Norman almost fall to the floor. Andras was surprised, yet he couldn’t fall more as he was already on the floor.

“Wake up, you two! It’s time for breakfast!”

“Wait, what time is it?” Norman asked.

“7 AM,” Orel answered bluntly.

“Huh?” Norman would never even wake up at that hour.

“Ooh, what’s for breakfast?” Andras was feeling hungry.

“Some pancakes and porridge,” Orel listed.

“Uuuh! I’ll be there in a jiffy!” Andras started putting on more clothes.

“That’s way too early for me to rise. Ask again in three hours.” Norman walked through the door to his room.

“Alright. I’ll go tell mom.” Orel started walking back to the house.

“Sure, sure.” Norman closed the door.

Norman went back under the sheets and was feeling more tired than when he went to sleep in the first place. Waking up and eating that early was more foreign to him than chopsticks, though he had never tried either of the two. He was almost asleep when his brain’s figurative clockwork processed the implication of Orel’s tone in the response.

The words echoed in his mind. “I’ll go tell mom...”

Those words made his eyes strike open, and a shock tingled through his spine. Norman rushed into the house, poorly dressed and sweating from fear and exercise. Everyone else was already enjoying the breakfast at the dinner table. An exception to this was Ymir reading the newspaper in the living room, who had already eaten.

Tuja turned to Norman while others ate quietly. Ymir felt no need other than to turn the page. “Oh, you changed your mind? What a relief! Otherwise, I would have had to serve the food to your bed, perhaps slipping while trying to put it on the nightstand so that the hot porridge would have fallen to your lap. Good thing that didn’t happen. It’s good that you accept our hospitality well so that those kinds of possible mistakes won’t happen ever again.”

Norman was feeling ridiculed like a dog being house-trained. He felt an enormous arm press on his shoulders, pulling his head down submissively. He was fully awake yet trapped in a horrid nightmare.

“Is there something you want to say?” Tuja asked.

“...Yes, ma’am. I would want a bowl of that porridge, please,”

“It’s already served for you there. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Norman sat down next to Andras.

“Very well. See? This way, everyone gets along.” Tuja looked sharply at Norman as she poured him a cup.

Norman quietly took a sip of the coffee and reminded himself that he had to set the alarm for the morning.

“By the way, what were you doing there?” Orel asked.

“I...Was complaining to Andras about him snoring so loudly.” Norman told half of the truth.

“I see. I got used to that sort of stuff after living next to Deras for years.” Orel sympathized with Norman.

“Oi! I’m not that loud!” Deras felt offended.

“You can have my spare pair of earplugs,” Tuja, for once, felt sorry for him.

“Ma, don’t tell me you think the same too?”

“What?” Ymir held a hand over her ear.

Everyone except Andras, who was too busy eating, snickered while Deras tried to ignore them and chowed down some pancakes. Norman felt a bit light-hearted once someone else was taking the heat.

“This porridge is so tasty!” Andras chugged down spoonfuls of it at an alarming rate.

“Well...thank you!” Tuja felt creeped out by the sheer speed of eating the freshly served food.

“Maybe he can’t burn his tongue.” She thought.

“This reminds me of someone,” Orel glanced at Norman, trying to follow standard etiquette.

After finishing the food, Norman was about to go back to sleep until Orel felt the need to ask.

“When are you going to teach me magic?”

“Oh, right. Let’s see. Is noon fine for you?” Norman looked at his wrist with no watch.

“I think you two can start as soon as you put proper clothes on, am I right?” Tuja looked over from the kitchen with a knife.

“An excellent idea; we will do that,” Norman didn’t want to get stabbed.

“Also, if it includes any possible way to set the island on fire, you can train on the smaller island next to us.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Norman went out of the door.

“Orel, meet me on the island in around fifteen minutes.” Norman opened the door again.

The island in question was reasonably small, bearing no trees but a small patch of grass, many stumps, and on the edges was just smooth rock wet from the waves. It was easily passable by either a boat or by walking there around the shallow parts. Orel chose to walk, where he saw Norman waiting for him, sitting on one of the stumps, sleeping back and forth from consciousness.

“Oh, you’re here.” Norman noticed.

“You didn’t tell me to bring anything, so I came empty-handed,” Orel said.

“That’s fine-Wait. Why did you bring Andras here?” Norman noticed two people standing.

“I wanted to try this magic thing too,” Andras said.

“Umm, alright. It’s easier to try teaching you, as I know that you cannot die horribly from the slightest of mistake.” Norman laughed nervously.

“So, what are we going to do?” Orel asked.

“A good question! I hadn’t thought about that.”

Orel was not surprised.

“What? I never thought I would get as far as to teach others magic.”

“Well, I can give you a simple lecture, if anything.” Norman stood up from the trunk.

“You can think of magic the same way, for instance, as chemicals. If you have some chemicals and try to make a reaction out of them, you can get a variety of different things, some you don’t necessarily want to happen.”

“Uh-huh.” Orel nodded.

“I already told you, Orel, about forming magic. When battling, you need to increase your output, which is one of the earliest things a mage needs to learn. Depending on your spells, you need to train it a bit differently.”

“What do you mean?” Orel asked.

“Well, some spells use a lot of magic at once, like a burst. Other magic has an effect that is more like a passive buff. It requires a standard output for longer periods. Of course, some spells go in between those, and someone can be adept in both, but most mages specialize in one.”

“If we would talk about the most simple of magics, there are the simple mana abilities, cantrips,” Norman explained.

“Cantrips?” Orel was not familiar with the term.

“Well, mana is magic that has not been formed to a spell, pure yet weak. Cantrip is magic that does not quite reach the status of a spell, a pseudospell. Mages usually know some cantrips, but most rely on their spells.”

“Can you show an example?” Orel asked.

“Of course. I’ll show you one of the most simple cantrips, a mana shield or ward.”

“You can use ward in a couple of ways. You can either keep a passive shield that is not that powerful or form a stronger one on the spot in the event of a battle. The main purpose of it is to block spells because it’s not that effective against physical attacks.”

“Umm, could you show us something?” Andras asked.

“Oh, yes. Ward does not usually show unless hit with magic, after all.” Norman took down his ward.

“I’ll show you an assault cantrip, then.” Norman turned to face the tree trunk he was just sitting on.

At that moment, Norman pushed his hand down to the trunk as if it was soft and mellow, yet with unnatural force, the tree gave away to the hand, compressing, splintering, and crunching violently. Unscathed, Norman lifted his hand from the dent, showing an unmistakable mark of his palm on the trunk. Orel was astonished, as Norman couldn’t typically bend even a spoon.

“This is called true strike. It makes your physical attacks stronger but can be easily blocked with a ward. You need to be careful with using it, though, as you cannot use ward in the hand you are using true strike with.”

“As I was saying. It may be dangerous, but if you know how to use the chemicals correctly, you can create the effect you want...” Norman paused.

“Damn, I knew I should have used a better metaphor! Maybe martial arts and punching, no. Ah, the professor had the one with gunpowder and guns. No, I was not too fond of that. Oh, that one weird guy had the one I liked!” Norman rambled.

Orel and Andras looked at each other, for they had no idea what they were supposed to understand from all of the mumbling and self-corrections. Orel made a mental note to bring a paper and pen next time.

“Excuse me for that. In a better way, magic is like electricity, A fancy thing on its own that can cause serious damage and is quite unpredictable. On the other hand, a spell is like applying electricity to an electronic. You get exactly the effect you want and need, provided you know how to make the appliance...No! That one doesn’t work either...”

Orel raised his hand.

“Yes, my pupil?” Norman noticed.

“Ok, so magic is quite complicated to explain and all, but mana is a basic thing, cantrip is lesser spells, and a spell is more specific, right?”

“Exactly!”

“So, when can we do what you just showed us or what you did yesterday?”

“Umm, so what I showed you is what someone with an aptitude should be able to do without any lessons, but I guess you would still need teaching,”

“And what about a spell?”

“Ummm, two years to develop after basic training, five to master,”

“two years?” Orel raised an eyebrow.

“Well, depending on the effect and complexity, it can vary. Some use their whole lives mastering a spell, while some learn specific spells for future careers in a school.”

“...Alright,” Orel would have wanted to hear Norman’s assessment of his progression.

Andras lifted his hand, imitating what Orel did.

“Yes, Andras?”

“So, how can I use magic?”

“Oh, right. We only went through that with Orel. Alright, try to think of the natural way to channel power.”

“The most natural way...I got this idea of a gate that I would open.”

“Sure, that works. A little unusual per se, but I think it can work.”

“Alright. Here it goes.” Andras closed his eyes.

Andras concentrated and imagined a sealed gate with a lock. He didn’t know how to open it, but before he could think of it much more, a key descended from the sky. He grabbed it and turned the lock. After a slight sound of a click, the gate doors swung open, and from inside flowed awe-inspiring light, radiation boundless blinding light to the void. Andras could feel power surging, that it was grand and that it was familiar. He felt at peace, being one with everything.

Norman observed as Andras meditated. His tired eyes were kept open by the sheer curiosity of what would happen. And that curiosity was sparked aflame as, in an instant, Andras’ body started radiating heat, with his skin turning red and steam rising from it. Norman stepped back and fell just after he witnessed the man burst with energy. There, from the ground, he saw Andras, with flames erupting from his hair, arms, and legs, burning away clothing as the event didn’t phase the man. As the clothes had burned away, they revealed a layer of flames coursing over Andras’ body in spirals. Norman was without words. He had never witnessed such an aggressive way of manifesting magic and was frankly terrified. The grass around Andras burned, creating black smoke mixed with the steam erupting from his body. Norman was sweating. Not only because of fear but also because of the enormous heat that Andras was radiating. It was like standing right next to a giant bonfire. Only legends could compare, but with no mortal able of such feat. If not for Andras's extraordinary body, he would have surely burnt up in seconds.

Orel was none the wiser. He only looked at the scenario with awe and confusion, with an even smaller idea of what was happening. For him, it was the pinnacle of what magic can grant you, as both encouragement and a warning. Orel was unsure if Andras needed help, but he didn’t try to think of it too hard and sprung running to the other island. He knew they couldn’t let the fire spread to the main island.

After some moments that Norman could only use to look at the sight, Orel returned with a water bucket that he filled on the way and threw at Andras. It was still a quick-mannered action in an emergency, where Orel thought he couldn’t approach Andras, so he decided to throw the whole bucket there.

His plan worked as it both extinguished the flames and knocked Andras out of his meditation. Andras was greatly confused about the situation. The gazes Orel and Norman gave, the burned grass around him, the bucket that hit him in the back of the head, his soaked body. This was the most confused Andras had been since he fell out of the ice.

“What happened?” Andras asked.

“You...Erupted in flames.” Norman said.

Andras looked around more.

“It sure seems so. What does that mean?”

“It means that there is more to your body than just regeneration. I’ve never heard of magic manifesting that way or someone being able to survive such a thing.”

“Is flame magic rare?” Orel asked.

“Well, in its entirety, the school of pyrokinesis and other elemental magic is highly unpopular. Mostly because of how hazardous and deadly it is to control and train. The rule is usually that the most dangerous-to-train magic is either banned or shunned in all communities as they produce dead students every semester. You can see the reasoning behind there.”

“Is any magic safe to train?” Orel rephrased his question.

“All have some manner of risk involved, but usually they are more about stressing your body too much or causing collateral damage,”

“Then how should I train?” Orel asked.

“Hmm. You saw what happened to Andras? Not that I believe you would spontaneously combust like him, but it works the same way. I believe that the first time you tried to use magic, you overloaded yourself with it. We don’t want that. I want you to try to focus on producing a more stable amount of magic.”

“How can I do that?”

“Do what you did before, but try to focus more on that.”

“How long will I need to do it?”

“As long as it takes,”

“What do I do?” Andras asked.

“I would like to monitor you more, but for that, we need to find a more secluded area and, most importantly, coffee.”

“I can ask Deras to find you a secluded island in the gulf. They are pretty common.” Orel said.

“That’ll do,” Norman said.

“What the hell happened there?!” Tuja ran to the edge of the shore after noticing the smoke.

The tree looked at each other, for which one would tell her. No one wanted to be the one shouted at, but someone had to make the heroic sacrifice.

“You tell her, Orel. You should do it,” Norman said.

“You tell her you are responsible as a teacher.”

“I just erupted in flames as we practiced!” Andras yelled nonchalantly.

Orel and Norman glanced at Andras for a moment before turning back to Tuja. They were terrified. Andras was not the only one to turn red and burst with energy. They held their hands on their ears as they braced for it.

“YOU WHAT?!” Anglers fishing on the open sea heard a scream echo from somewhere.

They returned to the cabin, and after Andras was fitted with new clothes, they had to come clean of what had happened.

“I can only be glad that you were on the other island. What if this bloke would have exploded here?!” Tuja asked.

“I am sorry. We were training, and I didn’t think that would happen.” Norman sat on the floor, apologizing in a soft voice. The others looked over from the dinner table.

“Well, at least you’re all safe. I already heard from Orel that you would train with Andras on a more safe island. I agree on that, but I must ask you again: Can you promise that my Orel won’t explode as he did?”

Norman was quiet on the floor for a moment, carefully constructing his words. He silently rose to stand and looked straight into Tuja’s eyes.

“I will use all of my power and wisdom to ensure that won’t happen. I won’t let anything happen to my student, your son. I say that as both a teacher and a friend.”

Tuja was unphased in the eyes of those who watched. Norman remained bravely, looking at her in the eyes. The silent judgment in her eyes terrified Norman, but he knew he shouldn’t look away. After a long staredown, Tuja smiled.

“Now I see what you are all about. You remind me of my foolish husband in that way. All right. I’ve seen enough. You are granted to stay here and by my son’s side as long as you want.”

“Thank you.” Norman sighed with relief.

“You better cherish that moment. That’s the kindest thing she’s going to say to you!” Deras opened his mouth.

“Shut up,” Tuja snapped.

“As for you, mister erupting in flames...We need to get you some fireproof clothing.” Tuja turned to Andras.

“I would appreciate the act. Thank you.”

“So, go on then.” Tuja walked to the door.

“What?” Norman asked.

“Continue. Things better still be intact when I come back from my shop.”

“Oh, right. Let’s go.”

Orel continued to train as instructed, with Norman spending most of the days with Andras until he was ready to give Orel more exercises. Norman watched as Andras would erupt in flames day by day, with both fascination and fear. He was constructing a puzzle, and he did not like what he saw in the picture. Unsure of this origin, Norman decided it was best to keep a keen eye on him, unsure of this origin.

One day Andras suddenly spoke before the start of their study.

“I remember more.”

“What exactly?” Norman needed to know.

“I have a spell. I got a name for it ready, but I can’t show it yet.”

“Hmmm, would you mind telling me about it?”

The wind blew on the rocks, making it hard for anyone else than Norman to hear if they were not standing close. What he heard was more than interesting. A scratch itched in his brain. He wrote all of it down, as he now knew that he was right to add Andras as part of his study. He was both relieved that he now understood it better yet, terrified of the possibilities. In the last part of his memo, he wrote, ‘Needs more research.’

Orel’s training, on the other hand, was a bit harder. His peculiar way of manifesting magic was unconventional, but Orel could utilize it in a new way with Norman’s advice. Their rigorous training to get his magic in control had paid off.

“That’s it! Brilliant, if I say myself. To be able to channel your mana so well already, you should be able to start practicing cantrips in no time.”

“How about a spell?” Orel asked.

“Umm, I wouldn’t go there, but do you have any ideas already?”

“No, not really,”

“I’ll still give you some piece of advice about battling,”

“About that. Can I ask about something?”

“Alright, hit me.”

“Can you teach what you showed yesterday?”

“Sure, I can teach you that, but you know it’s not that useful?

“I know, but I still feel like I could use it.”

“Alright, well, it is similar to a cantrip. With that, we are due to finish right on time to return to Alanland for next spring.”

“You only want to go there so that there would be less snow,” Orel knew Norman well enough.

“No, there is never less snow, only less cold. Still, better than nothing,”

“I guess so.”

“Now, fetch me some empty cans.” Norman was ready to teach him the trick.

“Sure.”

The snow melted, and grass grew. The goat willows bloomed in their yellow and grey fur as the mark to depart. This meant goodbyes, sent-offs, and the return to Alanland. What sort of things awaited were up to their imagination, though most likely they would not be able to guess right.