Focus, Evandar told himself. He felt the manna channel through him, releasing the energy through his palms. Six feet in front of him, a fire run materialized on the floor.
"Well done," Faralda said, inspecting the rune. "Now, destroy it with a frost spell."
Evandar drew upon his manna again and shot an ice spike at the rune, which exploded on impact. But he underestimated the area of effect, and ended up singeing his robes. He yelped and jumped back, patting out a flame on his sleeve.
"Are you alright, Evandar?" Faralda asked. He nodded. "Yes. That just caught me off guard."
"My apologies. I should have warned you about the damage radius runes can have." The destruction professor examined his burnt sleeve. "You should get this sewn as soon as you can. Tattered robes will lose their enchantments over time. I think we're done for this morning." She dismissed Evandar, who made his way back to his room in the hall of attainment.
He had been a student at the College of Winterhold for nearly seven months now. Before then, he had lived in the Summerset Isles, and was apprenticed to an old warlock named Maerzadí. The old Altmer had seen potential in Evandar, and taught him all he knew.
"Magic is all around you," Maerzadí had once said. "It is one of the oldest energies that exist, and what the divines used to create Nirn. It is also within you as well. You simply must learn to harness this power and apply it."
Before Evandar could complete his training, Maerzadí had passed away. The old warlock had known his time was approaching, and had seemed rather accepting of it. He had told Evandar, "Everything has a time and place in this world; a beginning and an end. I have lived a great many years, and I hear the void calling out to me. Soon I must return to it, Evandar. But I am not afraid, for I know it is my time."
Not long after his teacher died, Evandar's mother fell ill. The healers had done everything they could, but she too passed into the void. With nothing left, Evandar left his home, determined to get as far away as he could. Finally, he arrived in Skyrim, and resumed his arcane training.
Evandar gave his burnt robes to his classmate Brelyna Maryon, who was good with a needle. He then went to his own room and sat down, allowing himself to unwind from the morning's practice. He inspected his hands. One his left hand was a gold ring, the only thing of Maerzadí's he had left. The warlock had given it to him the night before he died. To Evandar, it was nothing short of an inheritance. The ring gave a tremendous boost to his magical capabilities; it could have been enchanted by Magnus himself.
The only other thing Evander had from his past was a sun pendant that had belonged to his mother. She had told him that it was one of two identical pieces, and that the other was worn by Evandar's father, whom he had never met. Apparently he had left when Evandar was less than a year old. His mother said one night he simply vanished, with no explanation. Evandar often wondered about his father, but never expected to every find out his identity.
"Hey Evandar, J'zargo and I are heading down to the Frozen Hearth. You want to join us?"
Onmund's voice brought Evandar back to the present. The Nord and Khajiit were standing in his doorway. Evandar looked up at them and smiled. "Sure, I could use a drink."
As the three mages headed down into what remained of the city of Winterhold, none of them could have imagined the news they would hear when they arrived at the inn.
