Aaron stood in the old observatory tower, panting. He'd climbed all the way up, one agonizing stair at a time. His legs hated him. His body threatened to mutiny.
But he'd made it.
The observatory hadn't been used in years. Dust coated everything. Glass lenses were cracked, the celestial globe sat askew, and the star maps lining the walls were yellowed with age.
But there was a view—an endless sky, stretching above the estate like a forgotten promise.
He leaned on the railing, watching clouds drift by.
"It's weird," he muttered. "Being in a place like this... in a story I never finished reading."
The wind rustled his robe.
He pulled out a half-torn notebook he'd found in the estate's old study. Inside were notes written by the former Aaron—mostly angry scribbles, terrible poetry, and crude drawings of food.
But tucked between the pages was something else.
A spell circle. One of the most basic ones, drawn with heavy ink strokes: Light Spark—a beginner's spell to create a floating orb of light.
Aaron tilted his head.
"Huh. Just a flashlight."
The instructions were simple: focus mana, picture the sigil, and speak the word.
He snorted. "As if I could do magic. I'm just pretending to survive here."
Still… his fingers tingled lately. Ever since he started exercising.
Curiosity overcame his doubt. He sat cross-legged, the notebook on his lap.
He held out his hand. Tried to feel something.
"Mana," he whispered. "Flow... or glow... or whatever."
Nothing.
Then, a flicker.
A tiny warmth lit in his chest. Subtle. Strange. Like the gentle hum of a machine finally turning on after years of silence.
He closed his eyes. Tried again.
The warmth traveled—up his spine, through his shoulders, into his arm. His palm tingled.
The air shifted. The observatory stirred.
A faint wind curled around him.
"...Light Spark."
A tiny star blinked into existence above his palm.
Perfect. Bright. Gentle.
Aaron's jaw dropped. "...I did it?"
Then it exploded.
A blinding flash rocked the tower. The orb burst like a miniature sun. The force threw him backward into a bookshelf, sending dust, books, and broken wood flying.
The outer wall cracked. A chunk of it fell off the tower.
Below, in the courtyard, gardeners screamed and dived for cover.
---
"HE BLEW UP THE OBSERVATORY!"
"No, he collapsed it!"
"Someone get the head mage!"
"I told you he was planning something!"
---
Aaron coughed through the dust, blinking.
Smoke curled from his fingers. The notebook had disintegrated.
"Okay," he croaked. "That was... not a flashlight."
He staggered to his feet, vision still swimming.
What had he just done?
He'd only followed the instructions. There hadn't been any huge effort, or blood, or sacrifices. He'd just thought the right way.
And it created an explosion strong enough to take out a wall.
He didn't know much about magic. But that wasn't normal.
---
In the Duke's private study, two mages reported simultaneously:
> "He cast a spell." "No incantation, no focus crystal, no circle drawn." "We think he just... willed it."
The Duke said nothing for a long time.
Then he laughed. A quiet, almost nostalgic sound.
"So, my son finally awakens."
---
Later that evening, Aaron sat with an ice pack on his head while the staff cleaned up the damage.
A maid hovered nervously nearby.
"Young Master, are you... planning to blow up anything else?"
He winced. "No. It was an accident. Really."
The staff didn't believe him. They stood at a distance, whispering about possessed bloodlines and celestial retribution.
Aaron laid back and stared at the stars.
He didn't understand what happened. But something inside him had changed. Something real.
Magic wasn't just a tool here—it was him.
Still, he told himself: I'll figure this out slowly. Calmly. No more accidents.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he'd try another spell.
What could possibly go wrong?
---
End of Chapter 3