journey’s start, v2.0
Much of his memory has proven hazy of late. He knows he isn’t the only one in this predicament, so it’s somewhat less of a weight to bear, and yet, and yet...
Of all the things he does remember, Ewan recalls with crystal clarity his struggle in tangling with Fodlan’s magics upon setting foot in Garreg Mach.
Where before he’d cheerfully flung fire with the best of ‘em, he found himself restricted, and instead of falling back on his tomes, he’d stubbornly persisted... and he’d slowly fallen behind.
Ewan recalls having tried his hand at this and that - at whatever methods he could get his hands on to try and solve this... problem of his. Book in hand, he would immediately feel the intoxicating rush of power at his fingertips, the elements at his command anew. Hands emptied, however, and he felt nothing. No spark, no familiarity in the energies permeating the land and air all about.
For a time, he’d been at a loss.
He remembers Leif’s face - and very keenly Leif’s back retreating past the entrance - when Ewan had shared with him his unexpected windfall: that of his discovery for his talent regarding dark magics. How naturally the spells had come to him, no matter his lack of a physical, tangible conduit. The light of runes flaring to life before him, the hum of a spell coming to life at long last...
The tendrils of electric violet that crackled and hissed and seeped from his hands, teasing and taunting, daring him to project them forth... The training dummy that fell to the ground, chunks of straw flung about in a chaotic frenzy as the young mage indulged in the return of what was His, what he’d strived so hard to earn twice over now...
He tries to remember that this particular strain of magic isn’t welcome everywhere. Not that this deters him in the slightest. As he stands on the bridge leading up to the monastery’s cathedral, enjoying the sunset, Ewan eyes the small silver moon atop his palm - a concentrated Luna that vibrates and, with one wrong move, would hiss and spit with all the energy contained therein. . . but for now, it purrs and whispers, its quiet glow reflecting the dying sunbeams.
Ancient magics, they were referred to back home. Magics whose truths lay yet forgotten, yet to be discovered anew...
Ewan smiles to himself.
Armed with new experience and a brand new year ahead of him,
he intends to be the one to uncover some of those truths.
