Might make a few adjustments cause I don't feel like researching spells and am just gonna default to their rough latin translation oh and shorten some of the spells if that annoys you I'm warning you ahead of time. Elemental magic sounds fun so I'm adding that anyways R pls.
Carter sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit room, staring out the window at the quiet countryside. The past few days had been a whirlwind—escaping an ambush, fleeing the country. Now, instead of heading to Hogwarts as he'd expected, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man who acted like every conversation was a battle to be won.
The safe house was old, its walls lined with bookshelves overflowing with worn-out tomes, and the wooden floors creaked with every step. Dust hung in the air, catching the golden light of the setting sun as Carter drummed his fingers against the windowsill. His mind wouldn't slow down.
He should've been at Hogwarts by now. He should've been stepping into the Great Hall, seeing the enchanted ceiling, getting sorted into a house. Instead, he was stranded in some run-down shack with Ronan, a man who barely spoke more than five words at a time.
Frustration boiled inside him.
What was the plan now? If Hogwarts was out, what came next? Was he supposed to just sit here and read old books while Ronan grumbled at him about "preparation" and "discipline"?
Nope. Not happening.
Carter pushed himself up and stalked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent house. He passed a fireplace with a few dying embers still glowing and spotted a stack of papers on a table—maps, notes, scribbled-down instructions in handwriting that was barely legible. His eyes flicked over them, but none of it made any sense.
Shoving the papers aside, he headed for the door and stepped outside into the cool night air.
Ronan stood near the fence at the edge of the property, arms crossed, watching the distant hills as if expecting trouble. His cloak shifted slightly in the breeze, and the way he stood—tense, ready—made Carter uneasy.
"Alright," Carter said, coming up beside him. "I've been patient."
Ronan snorted without looking at him. "Have you?"
"Patient enough," Carter corrected, crossing his arms. "So, what's the deal? If I'm not going to Hogwarts, what am I doing?"
Ronan was silent for a moment before he finally spoke. "Training."
Carter waited for more. It didn't come.
"That's it?" he pressed.
"That's it."
Carter groaned. "Alright, fine. Training for what?"
"For not dying."
"That's real specific, thanks."
Ronan turned to face him, his piercing gaze locking onto Carter's. "You don't get it, do you? The second you set foot in that alleyway in New Orleans, you put a target on your back. There are people out there who don't want you learning magic—who don't want you alive. You think Hogwarts would've been safe? You'd be predictable. Easy to find. I won't let that happen."
Carter clenched his jaw. He hated that Ronan was right, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. "So, what? You're just gonna turn me into some kind of secret wizard warrior?"
Ronan smirked. "Something like that."
Carter sighed. "You really need to work on your explanations."
Ronan ignored that. "We start tomorrow at dawn."
"Of course we do," Carter muttered.
Ronan clapped him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, kid. You're gonna need it."
Carter watched him walk back inside before sighing and looking up at the night sky.
So, Hogwarts was out. His father's legacy was a mystery. And now he was being trained by a wizard who treated emotions like a weakness.
Yeah. This was totally going to be fun.
But Carter didn't go back inside.
Instead, he sat on the rickety porch steps, staring out into the darkened field. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the occasional gust of wind rustled the dry grass. Despite the peaceful surroundings, his thoughts were anything but calm.
His whole life, he had never really known where he belonged. His mom had done her best, but there had always been that missing piece—his father. The man who had left behind nothing but questions and a name Carter barely even knew.
And now, apparently, a legacy of magic.
He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, great job, Dad. Real helpful. No letters, no guidance, but hey, at least I get a target on my back. Awesome parenting."
His words drifted into the empty night, unheard by anyone except maybe the stars.
He wished he could be excited about magic, about this whole new world that had been dumped into his lap. But how was he supposed to enjoy any of this when he didn't even know who he was supposed to be?
And now he was stuck with Ronan, who probably thought emotions were some kind of disease and spoke in cryptic warnings instead of actual information.
Carter groaned and flopped onto his back, staring up at the stars. He should sleep. He knew he should. But there was too much swirling in his head, and the idea of waking up at dawn for whatever Ronan had planned was not exactly motivating him to hurry inside.
Still, after a while, exhaustion won out.
With a sigh, he pushed himself up and trudged back into the house, closing the door behind him.
Carter barely made it five steps inside before he heard Ronan's voice from the other room.
"You're an idiot if you think staying up late is gonna help you tomorrow."
Carter rolled his eyes. "I was thinking."
"Well, don't hurt yourself."
Carter scoffed and muttered something under his breath.
Ronan leaned against the doorway leading to what Carter assumed was his study. He held an old, battered book in one hand, flipping through the pages absently. "You think training's gonna be fun?"
Carter hesitated. He had been picturing something a little cool—maybe dueling practice, learning some fancy spells, maybe even levitating things just for fun.
"…That depends," he said. "Do I get to shoot fire from my hands?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "No."
"Well, that's disappointing."
Ronan smirked slightly. "First lesson: magic isn't about flashy tricks. It's about control. Power without control is dangerous. And right now, you have neither."
Carter scoffed. "Gee, thanks for the confidence boost."
"You'll need more than confidence to survive."
Something about the way Ronan said it sent a chill down Carter's spine. He didn't sound like he was being dramatic—he sounded like he knew exactly what he was talking about.
Carter's bravado faded slightly. "So, what are we actually doing tomorrow?"
Ronan shut the book. "First? Testing what you can already do. Then, break all your bad habits. After that, we build from scratch."
Carter frowned. "That sounds… unnecessarily harsh."
"Good. That means you're getting the right idea."
Carter groaned and trudged toward his room. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"
"Depends. You gonna whine the whole time?"
Carter shot him a glare over his shoulder before disappearing inside.
As he collapsed onto the bed, he exhaled deeply. His muscles were tense, his mind still racing. Tomorrow, his entire life would change. Again.
But for now, he just needed to get through the night.
The sun was barely creeping over the horizon the next morning when Carter was yanked from his restless sleep by a loud knock at the door.
He groaned, rolling over in bed, glaring at the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains. What time was it? Too early, that's for sure.
Carter had barely closed his eyes the night before, too much on his mind to even think about resting. He had to fight the urge to pull the covers back over his head and sleep for another century.
Another knock came, louder this time, followed by a voice.
"Get up, Mercer. You're wasting daylight."
Carter cursed under his breath and threw the covers off. "I'm up, I'm up!"
After a few minutes of dragging himself out of bed and doing his best to look halfway presentable, Carter finally trudged downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He wasn't used to this early morning routine, especially when there was no sign of breakfast anywhere.
Ronan stood by the front door, already dressed in his usual dark robes, his face stoic and unreadable.
"You've got thirty minutes," Ronan said bluntly. "We'll start in the field behind the house."
Carter shot him a look. "Really? You couldn't have at least let me eat?"
"You'll eat after you've worked," Ronan said, and there was an edge to his voice that didn't leave much room for negotiation.
"Great. Just great," Carter muttered, following him out the door.
The cool morning air hit him as soon as he stepped outside, making him wish he had grabbed a jacket. The field stretched out before him, a vast, open space of uneven grass and dirt. The horizon was painted in shades of purple and pink as the sun rose, but all Carter could focus on was Ronan's unyielding expression.
"So," Carter began, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "What are we doing first?"
Ronan didn't respond at first, but instead, he stopped walking and turned to face him. "You think this is going to be easy?"
"Easy? No. But I was hoping for something slightly less… dreadful," Carter replied, raising an eyebrow.
Ronan's mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile. "That's the first lesson, kid. Nothing about magic is easy. It's dangerous. You don't get to slack off or take shortcuts."
"I'm not asking for shortcuts," Carter snapped, but the words came out sharper than he'd meant them. "I just thought we'd— I don't know—ease into it?"
Ronan stared at him for a long beat before letting out a low sigh. "Fine. Easing into it." He stepped back a few paces, holding out his hand. "Show me what you've got."
Carter blinked, confused. "What?"
"Magic," Ronan said. "You've got a wand. Let's see what you can do."
Carter hesitated, then instinctively reached into his pocket for his wand. It felt strange in his hand like it was just waiting for him to figure out how to use it properly. He had no idea what Ronan expected, but the pressure of the situation made his palms sweat.
"Uh… okay, here goes."
Carter raised his wand, aiming it at a small rock that was resting near the edge of the field. He concentrated and tried to remember the simple spells he had read about in his father's old books. Nothing flashy, just something basic.
"Leviosa," he muttered, a little unsure.
The rock twitched slightly, but that was it. Carter frowned, frustrated. He had done better when he was alone. Why wasn't it working now?
"Not bad," Ronan said, though his voice didn't sound impressed. "But you're not focusing. Magic requires more than just words. It's about intent. You have to feel it."
Carter stared at him. "Feel it? What, like I'm supposed to… feel magic?"
Ronan gave him a long, patient look. "You're trying to control something that's already inside you. You think words are the magic? No, they're just the catalyst. It's the intent that makes the spell happen. You need to feel what you want, not just speak it."
Carter felt like he had just been hit with a bucket of cold water. This was going to be way more complicated than he thought.
"Right," he muttered, trying again. "Leviosa."
He focused harder this time, imagining the rock floating into the air. His muscles tensed as he willed it to rise, his hand shaking just a little.
And then, for a split second, the rock did lift, just a few inches. But it was shaky, unsteady, and it fell almost immediately.
"Well, that was better," Ronan commented, his voice surprisingly neutral. "But you've got a long way to go."
Carter groaned, flopping back onto the ground. "This sucks. I can't even get a rock to float. How am I supposed to—?"
"You'll get there," Ronan interrupted. "It's a process. You need patience."
"I'm starting to hate patience."
"Get used to it. Magic doesn't care about your timeline."
Carter sighed, staring up at the sky. It was harder than he thought. Everything about this was harder than he thought.
"So, what now?" Carter asked, pushing himself back up to his feet.
Ronan didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave the ground a thoughtful glance before reaching for a small pouch at his side.
"This," he said, pulling out a handful of what looked like dust. "Is what we're working with today. It's a basic elemental spell. Not one I'd expect you to get perfect right away, but it'll teach you how to use intent differently."
Carter eyed the dust suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Concentrated air," Ronan said as if that explained everything.
"Concentrated air?" Carter repeated, narrowing his eyes. "So… I'm supposed to… what? Make it float around like some kind of ghost?"
"Close enough," Ronan said, handing Carter the pouch. "What I want you to do is focus on the energy around you. You'll feel the air currents, the weight of the dust. Imagine the dust floating, rising with the breeze. Then channel your focus into it. Make the air obey."
Carter hesitated but took the pouch, feeling the soft grains of dust slip between his fingers. It felt delicate and almost alive in a way. He glanced back at Ronan, who had his arms folded again, eyes fixed on him.
"Alright. Concentrated air. Here goes nothing," Carter muttered under his breath.
He lifted his wand, focusing on the feeling of the air around him. The wind had picked up slightly since earlier, rustling the tall grass. Carter felt the breeze on his face, but there was something deeper, a current he couldn't quite explain. He closed his eyes for a moment, centering his mind, before releasing the air in his hand, focusing on the dust.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then, the smallest gust of wind caught the dust. It swirled, just a few inches off the ground. It didn't float high like Carter had wanted, but it was a start.
"Better," Ronan said with a slight nod. "Now focus on increasing the current. You want the energy to build, not just stir."
Carter gritted his teeth and tried again. He wasn't sure how, but there was something in him, some small spark of belief, that told him it was possible.
This time, the dust rose higher, spinning into a small vortex of air.
"Nice," Ronan said, voice giving a hint of approval.
Carter let out a breath, feeling his chest swell with pride, despite the exhaustion creeping in. "This isn't so bad."
"No," Ronan replied, with a dry smile. "It's just the beginning."
Carter could feel it then. The smallest flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn't going to be as impossible as it seemed.
He wasn't done yet. He still had a long road ahead of him. But at least now, it felt like something was changing.
The sun was high in the sky by the time Carter had finished his morning training session with Ronan, sweat dripping down his face and his muscles aching more than he cared to admit. His arms felt like lead, but there was a sense of satisfaction beneath the exhaustion. The air had finally begun to bend to his will. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Ronan had made it clear that there was no time to waste, no room for slackers. Carter had learned more in the last couple of days than he had expected, though he'd barely scratched the surface. The training sessions, long and grueling, were beginning to bleed together in Carter's mind—each one a blur of spells, theory, and more muscle pain than he had ever thought possible.
"You've got potential," Ronan had said earlier after Carter had managed to lift a rock a few feet off the ground. "But this is only the beginning."
Carter wasn't sure how he felt about that. The beginning was exhausting, painful, and honestly, a little bit terrifying. But it was better than what he had expected. For the first time, he was learning to control something that had always been beyond his reach—something that was a part of him, whether he liked it or not.
They had spent the morning working with simple elemental magic, but Ronan had warned him that they were about to step it up a notch.
"So," Carter said between gasps of air, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "what's next? Are we going to move onto something... easier?"
Ronan gave him a look that bordered on amusement. "Easier? You think this is easy?"
Carter hesitated. "It's hard, but... I can handle it."
Ronan's lips quirked slightly. "Good. Because you're going to need to."
Without another word, Ronan turned and began walking toward the back of the property. Carter, still trying to catch his breath, hurried to follow him.
They walked for several minutes, passing the small stone barn that Ronan had pointed out earlier, the fields stretching out in every direction. Finally, they reached a small clearing surrounded by thick trees. The area was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind, but there was a palpable sense of tension in the air as if something— or someone—was waiting.
"You're going to learn how to defend yourself," Ronan said as if reading Carter's thoughts. "Not every magical person is going to be friendly. You'll need to be prepared for when things get rough."
Carter's stomach flipped at the thought. He had seen enough action-packed movies to know what that meant. "Defend myself? From what?"
Ronan gave him a pointed look. "From whatever comes your way. Magic isn't all about making things float or summoning the wind. It's also about protection. You need to be able to defend yourself when it matters most."
Carter nodded slowly, trying to keep his nerves in check. "Alright. So what do I do?"
Ronan stopped walking, turning to face him. "First, you need to understand how your magic works. You've got control over the elements, but that doesn't mean you know how to fight with them. You need to tap into the energy around you, focus it, and then unleash it. The trick is doing that without losing control."
Carter had heard the words, but he wasn't sure how to make them make sense. Focus it? Without losing control?
"Right," Carter muttered, feeling a little uncertain. "And how do I do that?"
Ronan looked at him with a small, knowing smirk. "We'll start with something simple. Defensive spells. The basic shield charm. You'll need it."
Carter raised an eyebrow. "A shield charm? Is that all? I've seen that in the books."
Ronan's expression darkened. "It's simple, yes. But it's harder than you think to maintain. A strong shield requires focus, strength, and most importantly, precision. Without it, you're just waving your wand around uselessly."
He handed Carter a small piece of parchment, upon which the incantation for the Shield Charm was written in neat, flowing script.
"Alright," Carter said, rolling his shoulders and glancing at the parchment. He had done a little reading on the spell, but reading it and actually performing it were two very different things.
"Now," Ronan said, his voice turning serious. "You need to focus. Clear your mind of distractions. Picture the shield in your head—what it looks like, what it feels like. Then, speak the incantation."
"Got it," Carter muttered, feeling a bead of sweat form on his forehead as he lifted his wand. "Protego."
Nothing.
Carter blinked, lowering his wand and trying to shake off the frustration. He had expected something to happen, anything, but it was as if the spell had completely ignored him.
Ronan didn't move, but Carter could feel his eyes on him.
"Again," Ronan said, voice flat. "Focus."
Carter let out a shaky breath and tried again, this time closing his eyes. He imagined the shield, the force of it, wrapping around him like a cocoon. He could almost feel the energy of it pressing against his skin, a subtle vibration.
"Protego."
Still nothing.
His wand was heavy in his hand. He could feel his magic tugging at him, urging him to do something, anything. But he couldn't figure out how to harness it.
Frustration built within him, and before he realized what was happening, a wave of power surged from his core, flooding through his body and out of his wand.
For a brief moment, he thought he had completely messed up, but then the air around him rippled, and a faint shimmer appeared in the space in front of him.
"Whoa."
Carter stepped back, staring at the shield that had materialized in front of him. It was flickering, unstable, but it was there. It was a start.
"Not bad," Ronan said, his voice uncharacteristically approving. "Not bad at all."
Carter let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "I—I did it?"
Ronan nodded. "You did. Now, the trick is maintaining it. A shield can't be used once and then forgotten. You'll need to keep it up as long as necessary. The longer it's up, the more draining it becomes. Don't overdo it."
Carter nodded, though the idea of maintaining the shield seemed almost impossible. But for now, he was just happy to have managed to produce one.
"Alright," Ronan said, his tone shifting. "Now we practice. Keep the shield up as long as you can."
Carter's heart sank. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of those long days.
Carter took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The shimmering shield in front of him flickered, its glow weak but steady. He felt a pulse of pride, though he tried to hide it behind a grimace. Keeping it up wasn't as easy as Ronan had made it seem.
"Don't get cocky," Ronan warned, folding his arms. "A shield won't do you any good if you can't maintain it under pressure."
Carter nodded, forcing himself to focus again. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at the shield, trying to picture it in his mind. But the longer he held it up, the more it started to flicker as if it were losing its strength.
"You're tiring out already," Ronan observed dryly. "That's the first hurdle. Magic draws on your energy, and if you're not careful, you'll burn out before the spell can even be useful."
"I'm trying," Carter muttered through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around his wand. The shield wavered and then sputtered out, vanishing into thin air.
He slumped his shoulders in frustration.
Ronan didn't seem surprised, though his gaze was sharp as ever. "That's okay. You're not going to master it in a day. But you have to keep pushing."
Carter shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow. "It's just... it feels like there's so much to do. It's not just about learning spells. It's about controlling them, feeling them..."
Ronan's expression softened, just a little. "You're right. Magic isn't just about waving a wand and saying words. It's about knowing yourself, knowing the world around you. The connection between your magic and the energy of the world is what gives you control. If you don't have that connection, you're just throwing around sparks."
Carter considered this for a moment, then gave a tired shrug. "Sounds easier when you say it like that."
Ronan let out a small, almost amused chuckle. "Trust me, it gets easier. But you've got to let go of the idea that magic is something separate from you. It's an extension of you—your will, your strength. You need to stop fighting it."
"Right," Carter muttered, trying to force the image of the shield back into his mind. He took another breath, focusing on the flickering remnants of the spell. He was exhausted, and every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he pushed through.
The shield reappeared, this time stronger. It was still faint, like a ghost of its former self, but it held steady for a few moments longer. Carter grinned, his heart lifting at the sight.
"There you go," Ronan said, a note of approval in his voice. "Now, keep it up for another minute."
Carter's face flushed, and he clenched his teeth. Time seemed to drag as the shield held its form. The longer it stayed in place, the more he felt his body protesting. Sweat dripped down his temples, his arms trembling.
But he refused to drop it.
The shield began to flicker again, its glow dimming. "I can't—" Carter gasped.
"Don't think. Just feel it," Ronan instructed, his voice calm but firm. "You don't need to try harder. You need to relax. It's already part of you."
The tension in Carter's shoulders loosened slightly, but his limbs felt like lead. His fingers ached as they tightened around the wand, but he breathed deep again, focusing.
For a few more seconds, the shield held. Then, with a soft sigh of defeat, it wavered and disappeared. Carter collapsed to his knees, panting heavily.
"Better," Ronan said simply, his gaze steady. "Now you know what it feels like to hold it. That's progress."
Carter gave him a tired, lopsided smile. "I—I'd call it a start, at best."
Ronan raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, instead turning his back and walking a few paces away. Carter, still catching his breath, slowly got to his feet, wiping his forehead again.
"Next lesson?" Carter asked, already bracing himself for whatever was coming next.
Ronan stopped walking, his back to Carter. "Next lesson... we teach you how to counter a curse."
Carter froze, the words sinking in. "What? A curse?"
Ronan turned to face him, his eyes glinting with a mix of seriousness and something else—something Carter couldn't quite place. "Yes. You need to know how to defend against more than just spells you can block with a shield. Curses aren't so easily stopped."
Carter's heart raced. "I—I thought I was just learning the basics right now. Like, you know, avoiding getting hit in the face with some random spell."
"This is part of the basics," Ronan corrected. "Curses happen. You need to know how to handle them before you get caught off guard."
Carter swallowed. "What kind of curses?"
"The dark kind," Ronan said simply. "The ones that can seriously mess you up."
Carter didn't like the sound of that. "Great," he muttered. "You're just full of good news, aren't you?"
Ronan smirked. "Would you rather not know? Because, trust me, you'll be far worse off if you wait until it's too late to learn."
The weight of his words hit Carter hard. He could feel his stomach twist with the realization that, as much as he hated it, Ronan was right. He was out here learning to defend himself against real threats, not just some theoretical classroom lessons.
"Alright," Carter said, setting his jaw. "Teach me. But if I end up looking like a potato after this, I'm blaming you."
Ronan chuckled lightly, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Fair enough."
And so, they spent the next hour going over the basics of countering curses. Ronan had Carter practice his focus, imagining a cursed spell being cast and picturing the counteraction in his mind.
At first, it was all theory—mental exercises designed to prepare Carter for what he'd face. But slowly, Ronan started showing him how to translate that focus into actual action.
They started with a simple hex, one that Carter could feel the moment it hit him. Ronan had him practice blocking it using his shield, but Carter found that it was far harder than it seemed. The curse would slip through the shield if he didn't counter it with the right energy, the right angle.
By the time the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, Carter was exhausted again, but the sense of accomplishment still lingered. They hadn't yet moved on to the more dangerous curses, but the groundwork was laid.
"You're making progress," Ronan said as Carter dropped his wand to his side, his arms shaking. "Keep it up, and you'll be ready before long."
Carter nodded wearily, though there was a fire in his chest now, something new. It had taken a lot out of him, but he was beginning to realize that he wasn't as helpless as he had thought.
It was still early in the game, but for the first time, he felt like he had a chance at this—like he could stand up for himself.
He wasn't just some random kid. He was a wizard. And that meant something.
Carter stood in the clearing, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms as he tried to ignore the dull ache in his muscles.
The morning air was crisp, but sweat already clung to his skin from the earlier warm-ups Ronan had made him do. It had been weeks since his training started, and while he'd made real progress, today felt different.
Ronan wasn't holding back anymore.
"Alright, kid," Ronan called from a few feet away, twirling his wand between his fingers. "You've got the basics down. Now it's time to see if you can handle something with a little more teeth."
Carter wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning. "Define 'more teeth.' Because that makes it sound like something's about to bite me, and I'm really not in the mood to get mauled before breakfast."
Ronan smirked. "Good. You'll need that attitude where we're going."
Before Carter could respond, Ronan flicked his wand, and a pulse of magic rippled through the air.
The ground beneath them trembled slightly as a gust of wind kicked up dust, sending leaves swirling around them. Then, without warning, Ronan snapped his wrist and fired a spell directly at Carter's chest.
Carter barely had time to react. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the streak of red light that sizzled past him and exploded against a tree, leaving a scorch mark.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Carter shouted, scrambling back to his feet.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "What? You think enemies are going to give you a countdown before they attack? You need to be ready at all times."
"You could've WARNED me!" Carter snapped, but his grip tightened on his wand. His pulse was racing, and he wasn't sure if it was from fear or adrenaline.
Ronan only shrugged. "You're still standing. That means you've got a second to think. So, what's your next move?"
Carter gritted his teeth. He knew Ronan was testing him. Training hadn't exactly been gentle so far, but this was a whole new level. There was no more slowly building up techniques—now it was adapt or get hit.
He forced himself to focus, gripping his wand tighter as Ronan sent another spell flying his way.
This time, Carter didn't dodge. Instead, he threw up his shield, just like they had practiced.
A golden shimmer appeared in front of him just in time to absorb the impact. The spell crackled against the barrier before dissipating.
Carter grinned. "Ha! Take that—"
The moment the words left his mouth, Ronan fired off another spell, this one faster than the last.
Carter panicked and tried to dodge, but it was too late. The blast hit him square in the stomach, sending him sprawling backward into the dirt. His wand flew from his grasp, landing a few feet away.
He groaned, blinking up at the sky. "Ow."
Ronan strolled over, hands in his pockets. "And that's why you don't gloat in the middle of a fight."
Carter coughed and rolled onto his side. "Noted. Thanks for the lesson, coach."
Ronan extended a hand to help him up, which Carter reluctantly took. His entire body ached, but he refused to give Ronan the satisfaction of complaining.
"Again?" Carter asked, already reaching for his wand.
Ronan gave a small nod of approval. "Again."
And so they continued.
Carter wasn't sure how long they trained—an hour, maybe two—but it felt endless. Every time he improved, Ronan upped the difficulty, pushing him harder.
He dodged, he blocked, he countered. He got knocked down, but each time, he forced himself back up.
By the time they finally stopped, Carter was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His legs wobbled as he tried to stay upright, his arms burning from holding up so many shields.
"Not bad," Ronan admitted. "You're improving."
Carter let out a breathless laugh. "Tell that to my ribs."
"You'll thank me when you actually have to fight someone for real," Ronan said, picking up his jacket from a nearby rock. "Take a break. You'll need the energy for the next lesson."
Carter groaned, flopping onto the ground. "There's a next lesson? Are you TRYING to kill me?"
Ronan just smirked. "If you survive, that means you're learning."
Carter muttered something under his breath that Ronan chose to ignore.
As he lay there staring at the sky, he realized something.
He was exhausted, sore, and completely drained…
But for the first time, he felt strong.
Carter barely had time to catch his breath before Ronan tossed something at him.
Reflexively, Carter reached out and caught it—a small pouch, tied shut with a thin string.
He sat up, frowning. "What is this? A reward for getting blasted across the field?"
"Herb mix," Ronan replied, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. "Put it in hot water, drink it, and your muscles will stop feeling like they're on fire."
Carter peered inside the pouch and made a face. "This smells like something died in it."
"That means it works."
Carter let the pouch drop into his lap and exhaled sharply. "So, what now? Are you gonna start hurling boulders at me? Maybe summon a dragon while you're at it?"
Ronan smirked. "You're not ready for dragons."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," Carter muttered.
He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, his dirty blond strands sticking to his forehead.
Despite his complaints, there was something thrilling about pushing himself this hard.
Sure, he had been knocked flat on his back more times than he could count, but he wasn't losing anymore—not completely.
He was dodging faster, casting sharper.
He was getting better.
Ronan studied him for a moment before speaking again.
"Tomorrow, we'll start dueling."
Carter's eyes widened. "Wait, what have we been doing this whole time?!"
"Training," Ronan said simply. "Tomorrow, I stop holding back."
Carter let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto his back again. "Cool. Guess I'll go write my will tonight."
Ronan chuckled, but there was a glint in his eye. "Get some rest, Mercer. You're gonna need it."
Carter sighed, staring up at the sky.
His body ached, his limbs felt like lead, and he was covered in dirt.
But for the first time since this training started, he wasn't afraid of what came next.
He was ready.
Carter sat hunched over a steaming cup of the herbal concoction Ronan had given him. He had reluctantly brewed it over the fire, watching the murky liquid swirl with what he was convinced were tiny bits of dried swamp. The smell alone was enough to make his nose wrinkle, but after the beating he had taken earlier, he needed all the help he could get.
He pinched his nose and took a sip.
Immediately, he gagged.
"Oh, that is foul," he sputtered, coughing into his sleeve. "You sure this isn't poison?"
Ronan, who was sharpening a dagger on the other side of the clearing, didn't even look up. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't waste ingredients."
"Comforting." Carter took another reluctant sip, grimacing.
The soreness in his muscles was still there, but it was fading—slowly. The training Ronan had put him through was the most intense thing he had ever done, and tomorrow promised to be even worse. The thought made his stomach twist, but at the same time, he couldn't deny the rush of excitement that came with knowing he was actually getting stronger.
Ronan had said they would start dueling. And this time, Carter intended to win.
Once he finished forcing down the rest of the drink (gagging through every sip), Carter set the empty cup aside and got to his feet. His legs felt steadier, and while he was still exhausted, he could move without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry.
Ronan finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. "You're not about to ask for more training, are you?"
Carter scoffed. "Please. I have some sense of self-preservation. I just want to know what I'm up against."
Ronan studied him for a long moment, then stood, tucking the dagger away. "Fine. Let's test something."
Carter blinked. "That sounds suspiciously like more training."
"Just shut up and stand over there," Ronan said, pointing to an open patch of dirt a few feet away.
Carter sighed but did as he was told. Ronan followed after him, rolling his shoulders before drawing his wand.
"Alright. We're going to see just how well you handle pressure."
Carter immediately took a step back. "Oh, that sounds like a trap."
Ronan smirked. "You catch on quick."
Before Carter could react, Ronan flicked his wand, and suddenly, Carter's feet were yanked out from under him. He barely had time to yell before he went tumbling into the air, flipping upside down. His arms flailed, his wand slipping from his fingers and landing in the dirt below.
"HEY—WHAT THE—RONAN!" Carter shouted, his shirt riding up as he dangled helplessly.
Ronan stood with his wand lazily pointed at him, looking far too amused. "Levicorpus. A classic."
Carter twisted in the air, glaring down at him. "You did not just levitate me."
"I did."
"Put me down!"
"Oh, I will," Ronan said casually. "Just as soon as you free yourself."
Carter's glare intensified. He reached for his wand, but it was still on the ground. His first instinct was to panic, but he forced himself to take a breath.
Think.
The spell was holding him up by his ankle. It wasn't painful, but it was strong. If he wanted to get down, he needed to counter it.
Carter clenched his fists and concentrated. Wandless magic was difficult, but he had managed to pull it off before in bursts—especially when he was panicking.
He was definitely panicking now.
He focused, reaching for that strange, instinctual part of him that he had been tapping into more and more. He imagined himself dropping back to the ground, willing the magic to break.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then—
With a sudden jolt, the magic snapped.
Carter yelped as he dropped like a rock, landing face-first in the dirt with a heavy thud.
Ronan snorted. "Well. That was dramatic."
Carter groaned into the dirt before rolling onto his back. He could still feel the remnants of the magic fizzling away from his skin. It had worked. He had broken the spell without a wand.
A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "I did it."
"You did," Ronan admitted, stepping closer. "Not exactly graceful, but you got free. That's what matters."
Carter sat up, shaking the dust from his hair. "So what, that was my first test?"
Ronan smirked. "Nah. That was me messing with you. The real test starts tomorrow."
Carter sighed dramatically and flopped back down. "Oh, fantastic. Can't wait."
That night, Carter sat near the fire, staring into the flames. His body still ached, but there was something satisfying about it now. Like a reminder that he was actually getting stronger.
Ronan sat across from him, flipping through a worn notebook. Carter had tried to peek at it earlier, but Ronan had shut it before he could read anything.
Carter propped his chin in his hand. "So, what's with the secret notes? You writing your memoir?"
Ronan didn't look up. "Keeping track of your progress."
Carter blinked. "Wait, you're actually writing stuff down?"
Ronan finally glanced at him. "Of course. Training's not just about pushing yourself—it's about tracking what works and what doesn't. How else are we supposed to improve?"
Carter considered that. He had been so caught up in just trying to survive each session that he hadn't really thought about how he was progressing. But Ronan was taking it seriously.
Something about that made Carter sit up a little straighter.
"…So, what's my progress?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
Ronan studied him for a moment before flipping back a few pages. "Your defensive spells have improved. You're getting better at dodging—mostly. And your ability to break magical restraints is promising."
Carter smirked. "Yeah, I did crush that last test."
"You also face-planted."
"Details."
Ronan shook his head. "Still, you're getting there." He closed the notebook and leaned back. "But tomorrow will be different. You're not just going to react—you're going to fight back."
Carter exhaled. He knew this was coming, but it still made his stomach twist. Dueling. Actual fighting. This wasn't just dodging spells and learning tricks—this was going to be real.
And Ronan? He wasn't an easy opponent.
Carter poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers spark. "Guess that means no more easy days, huh?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "You thought these were easy?"
Carter snorted. "Point taken."
For a while, they sat in silence, the fire crackling between them. Tomorrow was going to be brutal. Carter knew that. But deep down, underneath the nerves and the exhaustion, there was something else.
Excitement.
He was ready.
Carter woke up to the sharp scent of dew-covered grass and the distant sound of birds chirping—peaceful, almost serene.
Then a jet of red light shot past his face.
He barely had time to roll to the side before another blast of magic struck the ground where his head had been. Dirt and grass exploded into the air, and Carter scrambled to his feet, heart pounding.
"Oh, come on!" he shouted, still half-asleep. "Are we seriously doing this right now?"
Ronan stood a few feet away, wand lazily held at his side, looking as unbothered as ever. "You need to learn how to wake up fast."
Carter scowled, brushing dirt from his shirt. "That doesn't mean you get to murder me first thing in the morning."
Ronan tilted his head. "If I wanted to murder you, you'd be dead."
"Oh, great! That's so reassuring."
Another spell came flying at him, and Carter barely managed to throw himself behind a nearby tree, pressing his back against the bark. His brain was still trying to catch up—he hadn't even had time to stretch, let alone mentally prepare for an ambush.
"You gonna hide all morning?" Ronan called.
Carter peeked out just in time to see another spell heading straight for him. He didn't think—he reacted. His hand shot out, and a shimmering blue shield flickered into existence just in time to absorb the impact. The spell shattered against it like glass before fading into nothing.
Carter exhaled. Okay. He could do this.
Ronan didn't give him a chance to breathe. He moved fast, sending another spell—this one crackling with energy. Carter ducked, rolling across the ground, his fingers scrambling for his wand. He managed to grab it just in time to fire off a return shot, but Ronan easily deflected it.
"Sloppy," Ronan remarked.
"Rude," Carter shot back.
Ronan flicked his wand again, and the ground beneath Carter's feet suddenly shifted. His legs were swept out from under him, and before he could stop himself, he landed flat on his back with a thud.
Carter groaned. "You really enjoy humiliating me, don't you?"
Ronan strolled over, looming over him. "You're relying too much on reacting. You have instincts—that's good. But instincts alone won't win you a fight."
Carter propped himself up on his elbows, panting. "Then what will?"
Ronan knelt beside him, meeting his gaze. "Control."
Something in the way he said it made Carter pause. It wasn't just about magic—it was about him. About the way his magic sometimes flared up without warning, how it pulsed beneath his skin like something alive.
Carter swallowed, pushing himself upright. "Alright," he muttered. "Again."
Ronan's lips twitched upward, just slightly. "Good."
The next hour was pure hell.
Ronan didn't hold back. He kept Carter constantly on the move, forcing him to dodge, counter, and attack. By the time they finally stopped, Carter was covered in dirt and sweat, his limbs aching like he had been hit by a truck.
He dropped onto the ground, breathing heavily. "I think I hate you."
Ronan sat down across from him, perfectly composed, like he hadn't just spent the past hour terrorizing him. "Good. That means I'm doing my job."
Carter groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "I don't suppose there's a magical spell that just… makes me better instantly?"
Ronan snorted. "If there was, you wouldn't be worth training."
Carter peeked out from under his arm. "You do know I'm eleven, right?"
"Eleven and capable," Ronan corrected. "Don't use your age as an excuse. You want to get stronger? Then act like it."
Carter sighed but didn't argue. He hated to admit it, but Ronan was right. Complaining wouldn't change anything. He had to push himself.
He sat up, rubbing his sore arm. "So what's next?"
Ronan studied him for a moment before nodding. "We move on to the next level."
Carter raised an eyebrow. "Which is…?"
Ronan's expression darkened slightly. "Control."
Carter blinked. "Didn't we just do that?"
"No," Ronan said. "What we did was discipline—training your body to react. Now, we train your magic."
Carter frowned. "I am training my magic."
"You're using your magic," Ronan corrected. "That's not the same as controlling it."
Carter hesitated. He didn't like the way Ronan said that, like there was something else lurking beneath the surface.
"…Okay," Carter said slowly. "How do we do that?"
Ronan reached into his coat and pulled out a small, smooth stone. He tossed it to Carter, who caught it with a frown.
"What's this?"
"A conduit," Ronan said. "It reacts to magic. If you can focus enough, you should be able to manipulate it without touching it."
Carter stared at the stone. "Wait, wait—so you're telling me I get to learn telekinesis?"
Ronan rolled his eyes. "Call it whatever you want. Just try it."
Carter grinned. This was awesome. He set the stone on the ground in front of him, taking a deep breath. He focused, willing his magic to move through him, reaching out toward the stone.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the stone trembled.
Carter gritted his teeth, pushing harder. The stone lifted—just barely—before dropping back down.
He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Alright. That's harder than it looks."
"Of course it is," Ronan said. "If it were easy, everyone would do it."
Carter scowled but tried again. This time, he didn't just push—he pulled.
The stone wobbled, then—finally—floated into the air.
Carter's eyes widened. "Holy—"
The stone suddenly shot forward, narrowly missing Ronan's head before embedding itself into a tree.
Ronan sighed. "Control, Carter."
Carter winced. "Uh. My bad?"
Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to take a while."
Carter grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, but admit it—that was kind of cool."
Ronan shook his head, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. "Again."
Carter exhaled, rubbing his hands together. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
But for the first time, he wanted to keep going.
Carter's arms felt like lead, his brain foggy with exhaustion, but Ronan wasn't letting up. The training had shifted from dodging spells to something much more problematic—control.
Or, as Carter was starting to call it in his head: trying not to explode things by accident.
The stone exercise had been only the beginning. After finally managing to keep the stupid thing floating for more than a few seconds without launching it into a tree, Ronan had made him move on to other objects—leaves, twigs, even a small cup. The cup had lasted about five minutes before shattering.
"Focus," Ronan said for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
"I am focusing!" Carter snapped. "It's just—hard, okay? My magic doesn't like sitting still."
Ronan crossed his arms. "That's because you're fighting it instead of directing it."
Carter clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up. "And how exactly do I direct something that feels like it has a mind of its own?"
Ronan considered him for a moment before kneeling down to his level.
"Magic is like a river. You can't stop it from flowing, but you can control where it goes. Right now, you're trying to build a dam instead of guiding the current."
Carter frowned. "So… instead of holding it back, I need to shape it?"
"Exactly."
He let that sink in. Every time he used magic, it always felt like something wild—untamed. His instinct was to suppress it, to push it down, and only let out as much as he thought he needed. But maybe that was the problem.
Maybe he needed to stop fighting his magic and start working with it.
Carter exhaled, letting his shoulders relax. He reached out again, this time focusing on a pebble sitting a few feet away. Instead of forcing the magic, he let it flow, guiding it with his mind.
The pebble lifted smoothly, hovering in the air like it was weightless.
Ronan gave a nod of approval. "Better."
Carter grinned. "I am a genius, after all."
Then the pebble exploded into dust.
Carter coughed as the remnants of rock rained down on him. "Okay. So maybe a little too much flow."
Ronan smirked. "At least you're learning."
By the time Ronan finally called for a break, Carter was drenched in sweat, his limbs trembling from exhaustion. He collapsed onto the grass, staring up at the night sky.
"I hate you," he mumbled.
"Good," Ronan said. "That means we're making progress."
Carter groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. His whole body ached, but beneath the exhaustion, he felt something else—something deeper. A sense of understanding.
He was starting to get it.
Ronan sat down beside him, resting his arms on his knees. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the forest filling the air around them.
Carter finally broke the quiet. "So… is this it? Just throwing rocks around until I learn not to blow them up?"
Ronan chuckled. "You're impatient."
"Uh, yeah? I'd kind of like to know when I get to the cool magic."
Ronan glanced at him. "What do you think we've been doing?"
Carter raised an eyebrow. "Please. Lifting rocks? Basic." He waved a hand dramatically. "I want to learn actual spells. Fireballs. Lightning. Teleporting." He paused. "Ooh, or turning invisible. That'd be sick."
Ronan sighed. "You're not ready."
Carter sat up, frowning. "Why not?"
Ronan met his gaze. "Because you don't have control yet. Magic isn't just about power—it's about discipline. If you can't even handle simple exercises without losing control, how do you expect to handle something stronger?"
Carter looked away, jaw tightening. He hated to admit it, but Ronan had a point. As cool as magic was, it was also dangerous. He had felt it—how easily it could slip out of his grasp, how quickly it could turn from something helpful to something destructive.
But that didn't mean he wasn't frustrated.
Ronan must have sensed his mood because he continued, "There's more to magic than just throwing spells around. It's not a game, Carter."
Carter sighed. "I know that."
"Do you?"
Carter shot him a look. "Yes. I just… I don't want to feel helpless anymore."
Ronan's expression softened, and for a second, Carter thought he might actually say something reassuring. But instead, Ronan stood and dusted off his coat.
"Then stop acting helpless," he said simply. "Get up. We're not done."
Carter groaned dramatically but forced himself to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. He wasn't going to quit now.
Not when he had so much more to prove.
The night stretched on, and Carter kept pushing himself. He practiced the exercises until he could make objects float without sending them flying, until he could channel his magic without feeling like it was slipping through his fingers.
By the time Ronan finally allowed him to stop, exhaustion was dragging at his limbs like lead weights.
Carter sat down hard on a tree stump, letting out a heavy breath. "So… did I pass?"
Ronan smirked. "You didn't die. That's something."
"Oh, wow, what an achievement," Carter muttered.
Ronan ignored his sarcasm. "Tomorrow, we take the next step."
Carter blinked up at him. "There's more?"
"There's always more."
Carter groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I regret everything."
Ronan chuckled. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
Carter grumbled something unintelligible but didn't argue. His body was beyond exhausted, and as much as he wanted to keep going, he knew he had hit his limit for the night.
He lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky.
Magic wasn't just some fun trick—it was work. But despite the exhaustion, despite the frustration, he felt something else beneath it all.
Excitement.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't just some kid with bad luck and a missing father.
He was something more.
And he was just getting started.
Carter sat up again, rubbing his temples. "So, if tomorrow's the next step, what exactly does that mean?"
Ronan gave a cryptic smile. "You'll see."
"Why do you always have to be all mysterious and vague?"
"It builds character."
Carter scoffed, but he was too tired to argue. He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. His body felt like he'd been hit by a train, but his mind was already buzzing with anticipation.
As much as he hated to admit it, he liked the training. He liked feeling his magic take shape, even if he hadn't completely mastered it yet.
Tomorrow, he'd get better.
And after that?
He'd be unstoppable.
Carter woke up feeling like he'd been trampled by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs. Every muscle in his body ached, and even the effort of opening his eyes felt like a monumental task. He groaned, rolling onto his side, only to be met with the sight of Ronan standing over him, arms crossed.
"Up," Ronan said flatly.
Carter groaned louder, pulling the blanket over his head. "No. Dead. Come back later."
"Dead people don't snore," Ronan countered. "Get up."
Carter peeked out from under the blanket, narrowing his eyes. "You have no proof of that."
Ronan didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he kicked Carter's mattress—not hard, but just enough to make him jolt upright with a yelp.
"Alright, alright! I'm up!" Carter threw his hands in the air. "But for the record, this is cruel and unusual punishment."
Ronan smirked. "Welcome to training."
Carter muttered something rude under his breath as he dragged himself out of bed. His legs wobbled slightly, still sore from the previous night's exercises.
"So, what fresh hell are we doing today?"
Ronan gestured toward the door. "Come outside and find out."
Carter didn't like the sound of that, but he followed anyway, if only because he didn't think Ronan would let him crawl back under the covers.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. They had been staying in a secluded cabin deep in the woods—far from civilization, far from anyone who might question why a teenager was throwing magic around like an overexcited firework.
Ronan led him to a clearing where the remains of last night's training session still lingered—scorched grass, scattered pebbles, and a few unlucky tree branches that had snapped under the force of Carter's learning experiences.
"Today's about endurance," Ronan announced.
Carter blinked. "Oh, good. That's what I was hoping for. More suffering."
Ronan ignored him. "Magic isn't just about power. It's about control, precision, and stamina. You're improving, but you still burn out too fast."
Carter stretched his arms above his head, wincing as his shoulders protested. "And how do we fix that? Meditation? Yoga? A nice nap?"
Ronan smirked. "Running."
Carter froze. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Ronan said, already walking to the edge of the clearing. "You're going to run laps around the perimeter. Then you're going to cast spells while exhausted, so you learn how to channel magic when you're not at your best."
Carter's jaw dropped. "That sounds awful."
"Good. Then it's working."
Carter groaned but knew arguing was pointless. He resigned himself to his fate and started jogging.
For the first few minutes, it wasn't so bad. His legs protested, but he pushed through, focusing on keeping a steady pace. But after the third lap, his lungs felt like they were going to burst, and his limbs turned to jelly.
"Alright, I get it," he wheezed. "Endurance is important. Lesson learned. Can I stop now?"
Ronan didn't even look up from where he was leaning against a tree. "Keep going."
Carter groaned and stumbled through another lap. By the time he finally collapsed onto the grass, he was pretty sure his soul had left his body.
"Done," he gasped.
"Not yet," Ronan said, tossing a small stone at his feet. "Lift it."
Carter let out a weak laugh. "I can't even lift myself right now, and you want me to lift that?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving up?"
Carter glared at him. "Oh, you suck."
Still, he reached deep—past the exhaustion, past the burning in his muscles—and focused. He called on his magic, guiding it the way Ronan had taught him.
The stone lifted. It wobbled slightly but didn't explode this time, which Carter counted as a win.
Ronan gave him an approving nod. "Not bad."
Carter grinned tiredly. "See? Genius."
Then he promptly passed out face-first into the dirt.
When Carter came to, he was still lying in the clearing, a face full of grass and dirt. Ronan, unsurprisingly, hadn't moved an inch.
"Did you seriously just let me nap in the dirt?" Carter groaned, rolling onto his back. His limbs felt like lead, and he was pretty sure he'd never be able to move again.
Ronan shrugged. "Figured you needed a break."
"A break? I think I died."
"Then you're back to life, so stop complaining," Ronan said, tossing a waterskin at him.
Carter barely managed to catch it. He sat up, chugging the water down like it was the elixir of life itself.
"So, is my suffering over for the day, or do you have more fun planned?"
"Training isn't just about the physical," Ronan said. "You need to work on your spell control, too."
Carter groaned. "Can't I have a single day off?"
"You had a break when you passed out."
"That was not a break, that was a system shutdown."
Ronan ignored him again. He flicked his wand, and suddenly, several objects levitated into the air—a series of stones, a few twigs, and, somehow, a tiny frog that looked very confused about its sudden predicament.
"Your task is simple," Ronan said. "Use controlled bursts of magic to move these objects without losing focus or destroying them."
Carter eyed the frog warily. "Should I feel bad for this little guy?"
"If you do it right, nothing will happen to him."
"If?"
"Start."
Carter sighed, wiping his hands on his pants before extending his fingers toward the floating objects. His goal was simple: shift them without making them explode. Easy enough, right?
Except it wasn't.
The first rock he tried to move wobbled violently before shooting off like a slingshot into the trees. The second one just turned to dust. The third one—Carter didn't even know what happened to the third one, but he was pretty sure it was in another dimension now.
Ronan sighed. "You're pushing too much power into it. Control, Carter. You don't need brute force for everything."
"Tell that to my legs," Carter muttered.
Still, he tried again, this time focusing on gentler movement. He reached out, letting his magic trickle into the air, guiding it instead of forcing it.
The fourth stone hovered smoothly.
Carter's eyes widened. "Hey! I did it!"
"Now do it with all of them at once."
Carter's excitement faded. "You are the worst."
But he did as instructed, reaching deep to grasp control over all the objects. Slowly, hesitantly, the stones, twigs, and yes, even the poor frog, hovered in the air.
And then—because life hated him—something exploded.
Carter coughed, waving smoke away from his face. "So… about that control thing."
Ronan shook his head, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. "Again."
Carter sighed. "I hate training."
"Funny, because it loves you."
And so, training continued, with Carter cursing every minute of it, knowing that if he wanted to survive, he had no choice but to get better.
Carter lay sprawled on the ground, arms and legs spread out like he was trying to make a dirt angel. His whole body ached, every muscle screaming in protest, and he was pretty sure if he tried to move, his limbs would just refuse.
He groaned dramatically. "I think I might actually be dying this time."
Ronan, the inhuman, merciless drill sergeant that he was, stood a few feet away, watching him with his usual air of amused disinterest. The man hadn't even broken a sweat. It was infuriating.
"You're not dying," Ronan said, rolling his shoulders. "You're just exhausted."
"Ah, yes. Just exhausted. Just a little bit of casual near-death experience," Carter muttered. "Glad to know my suffering is so trivial to you."
Ronan smirked, tossing his knife from one hand to the other like he was bored. "If you had real stamina, you wouldn't be lying in the dirt complaining."
Carter peeked one eye open and glared at him. "Oh, I apologize for not having the supernatural endurance of an unkillable warlock."
"You should be apologizing for how slow you are."
Carter groaned and flopped onto his stomach. "Why are you like this?"
Ronan crouched beside him, resting his arms on his knees. "Because if you're too slow, you die. And you don't get to be slow, Carter. Not in the world you live in now."
Carter was quiet for a moment, staring at the dirt. He knew Ronan was right. He hated that Ronan was right. He had spent weeks training under him, growing stronger, faster, more aware of how much he didn't know. And it still wasn't enough.
With an exaggerated sigh, he rolled onto his back. "Fine. What's next? You gonna have me wrestle a bear? Fight a demon? Jog to England?"
Ronan tilted his head thoughtfully. "Wrestling a bear would build strength..."
Carter sat up immediately. "That was sarcasm!"
Ronan chuckled. "Get up."
Carter groaned, but he pushed himself to his feet, every bone in his body protesting the movement. "Alright, sadist. What's next?"
Ronan gave him a slow, calculating look. "You're going to fight me."
Carter blinked. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just suggested I fight the fully trained, very dangerous battle wizard who has been kicking my ass for weeks."
"You heard correctly."
Carter nodded slowly. "Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So… you do want to kill me."
Ronan smirked. "Think of it as a test. You've improved. Now let's see what you can actually do in a fight."
Carter exhaled, shaking out his limbs. "Okay. But if I win, I get a day off."
"You won't win."
"Wow, way to believe in me."
Despite his complaining, he planted his feet, took a deep breath, and focused. His magic thrummed inside him, waiting, ready.
"Alright," Carter said, flexing his fingers. "Let's do this."
Ronan didn't hesitate. With a flick of his hand, a blast of energy shot toward Carter.
Carter barely dodged, rolling to the side before throwing up a shield. The magic pulsed outward, deflecting the next attack just enough for him to retaliate with a force wave of his own.
Ronan sidestepped like it was nothing.
Before Carter could react, an invisible force yanked his legs out from under him, and he landed hard on his back.
"Ow," he wheezed.
"You're hesitating again," Ronan said. "React."
Carter rolled back to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. "Excuse me for not having my murder instincts fully developed yet."
Ronan didn't reply—he just attacked again.
This time, Carter didn't think. He moved. He ducked under the blast, spinning to the side and throwing up another shield before sending a burst of energy straight at Ronan's feet. The ground cracked, forcing Ronan to jump back.
Carter grinned. "Ha! Got you!"
"Did you?"
Before Carter could react, a force hit him from behind, sending him sprawling into the dirt again.
"Ow," he muttered. "Again."
Ronan extended a hand. Carter took it, letting himself be hauled up.
"You lasted longer that time," Ronan admitted.
Carter smirked, brushing dirt off his clothes. "I am a fast learner."
"Not fast enough."
Carter groaned. "I hate training."
But despite his complaints, he got back into position.
They fought again. And again. And again. Each time, Carter improved. He started predicting Ronan's movements, reacting faster, dodging more effectively. His magic felt sharper, more controlled.
By the time the sun dipped below the trees, Carter was panting, covered in dirt, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"You're improving," Ronan said, and Carter could tell from his tone that this was as close to a compliment as he was going to get.
"Yeah, well," Carter gasped, leaning on his knees. "I'd better be, considering the number of times I've died today."
Ronan chuckled. "You're not dead yet."
Carter collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the sky. "I might as well be."
Ronan tossed him a waterskin. "Drink. Tomorrow's going to be harder."
Carter groaned but didn't argue. He downed the water, feeling exhaustion settle deep in his bones.
Despite everything, he could feel it—he was getting stronger. He wasn't the same clueless kid who had started training weeks ago. He was faster, sharper, and more in control.
And soon, he'd be ready.
For what? He wasn't sure.
But he had a feeling he'd find out soon enough.
Carter groaned as the first rays of sunlight crept through the trees, piercing through his closed eyelids like tiny, infuriating daggers. He barely had time to process the fact that he was awake before a boot nudged his side—not hard enough to hurt, but just firm enough to be annoying.
"Up," Ronan said.
Carter cracked one eye open and squinted at him. "Why?"
"Training."
"Why?" Carter repeated, his voice muffled as he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his arms.
Ronan sighed. "Because you need to be able to function without whining about it."
Carter waved a lazy hand in his direction. "No promises."
Another nudge—this one slightly more insistent.
"Alright, alright!" Carter groaned, forcing himself upright. Every muscle in his body protested, stiff and sore from the previous day's beating. He blinked blearily, rubbing his face. "You do know I'm human, right? Like, regular ol' flesh and bone, not some magical war machine that can just get up and go after getting obliterated the day before?"
Ronan tossed him a piece of bread and some dried meat. "Eat. We leave in fifteen minutes."
Carter chewed reluctantly, shooting Ronan a suspicious glance. "Leave? Where exactly are we going?"
"You've been training well enough in controlled environments. Now it's time for the real thing."
Carter swallowed, suddenly more awake. "Real thing?"
Ronan just smirked.
Fifteen minutes later, Carter was still convinced this was some elaborate scheme to get him killed.
They stood at the edge of a crumbling, abandoned village, the ruins half-buried in creeping vines. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something old—something wrong.
"Alright," Carter said, rocking back on his heels. "Gonna take a wild guess and say this place isn't exactly prime vacation real estate."
"It's an old wizarding outpost," Ronan explained, scanning the area. "Long abandoned. But something has been stirring here lately. Your job? Find out what."
Carter stared at him. "My job?"
"You need practical experience."
"And you need to consider my very fragile mortality," Carter shot back.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "If you want to go to your death completely unprepared, be my guest. Otherwise, get moving."
Carter groaned but stepped forward, keeping his senses sharp. The village was eerily silent, except for the occasional rustling in the trees. His footsteps crunched against the stone paths, and he caught sight of faded symbols etched into the ruins, long forgotten by time.
The further he walked, the heavier the air felt, like something unseen was watching, waiting.
Then he heard it.
A whisper—soft, just barely there.
He froze. "Okay. Nope. Hate that."
Ronan, of course, said nothing.
Carter swallowed hard and moved toward the sound, heart hammering against his ribs. He was not about to be one of those idiots in horror stories who ignored the obviously bad signs.
He rounded a corner and stopped dead.
A figure stood at the end of the ruined street, shadowed, its face obscured by the hood of a tattered cloak.
Carter's fingers twitched toward his wand. "Uh… hello?"
The whispering grew louder.
Carter took a slow step back. "Cool, cool, cool. Totally normal. Definitely not about to die."
The figure suddenly moved—fast.
Instinct kicked in. Carter barely managed to throw up a shield as a surge of dark energy lashed toward him, slamming into the magical barrier with enough force to send him stumbling.
"Hey!" he yelped. "Ronan, any time you wanna step in—"
But Ronan was gone.
Carter cursed under his breath. "Great. Just fantastic."
The figure lunged again. Carter dodged, rolling to the side before flicking his wand. A burst of energy shot forward, but the figure absorbed it, the magic vanishing into its cloak like it had been swallowed whole.
"Oh, that's cheating," Carter muttered.
The whispers grew louder, pressing into his skull, making his vision swim. He clenched his jaw, trying to focus. His magic flared inside him, ready, waiting.
Fine. If regular magic wasn't going to work, he'd have to get creative.
He gathered the energy in his palm instead of casting it outward, letting it pulse through him, sharpening his mind. The figure lunged again, but this time, Carter was ready. He sidestepped at the last second, twisting around and slamming his hand into the figure's chest.
The energy exploded outward.
For a split second, the whispering stopped. The figure jerked, its form flickering, unstable.
Then, with a final, hollow echo, it vanished.
Carter exhaled sharply, his pulse racing.
"Okay," he panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That sucked."
A slow clap echoed through the ruins.
Carter turned to find Ronan leaning against a broken pillar, looking far too pleased with himself.
"You," Carter growled, marching up to him. "You left me!"
"You handled yourself," Ronan said, completely unconcerned.
"I could have died!"
"But you didn't."
Carter narrowed his eyes. "I hate you."
Ronan smirked. "Then we're making progress."
Carter was still fuming as they made their way back through the dense forest. Ronan, of course, remained infuriatingly silent, like throwing his student into a nightmare village was totally normal behavior.
"You knew something was there," Carter accused, kicking a rock off the path. "You knew, and you let me walk into that alone."
"It was necessary."
"For what?"
Ronan glanced at him. "For you to stop hesitating."
Carter scowled. "I don't hesitate."
"You do. You second-guess your instincts, overthink your moves. Today, you didn't. You reacted."
Carter clenched his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ronan was right. He had been so caught up in thinking during training—analyzing every move, every spell, every possible consequence. But when he had been thrown into real danger, there hadn't been time to think. He had just acted.
And he had survived.
"Still hate you," he muttered.
Ronan smirked again. "I'd be concerned if you didn't."
They walked in silence for a while longer, the only sounds being the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the occasional chirp of unseen creatures.
"Alright," Carter finally said. "What was that thing?"
"A wraith," Ronan replied. "A remnant of old magic, tied to whatever happened to that village. It fed on fear, thrived on hesitation."
Carter frowned. "So if I had panicked—"
"It would have consumed you."
Carter swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very lucky to still be breathing.
"Good news," Ronan said, almost amused. "You didn't."
Carter shot him a glare. "Oh, yeah. Fantastic news. Definitely not something that's gonna haunt my nightmares forever."
Ronan ignored his sarcasm. "You've proven you can hold your own. Now we push forward."
Carter sighed. "Yay. More suffering."
But, deep down, a small part of him—one he'd never admit aloud—felt ready.
Carter wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that Ronan had thrown him headfirst into a fight with some terrifying wraith without warning, or the fact that he had actually won.
That second part? That was the real problem.
Because now Ronan had expectations.
And Carter had the sinking suspicion that whatever came next was going to make fighting a fear-eating ghost look like a pleasant afternoon stroll.
The moment they returned to their camp, Carter barely had time to sit before Ronan tossed a bundle of fabric at him. He caught it awkwardly, squinting at the rough material.
"What's this?"
"Your new uniform."
Carter snorted. "Wow, thanks. Always wanted to dress like a medieval hobo."
Ronan ignored him. "It's enchanted to regulate temperature and deflect minor spells. You'll need it for your next round of training."
Carter groaned, flopping back onto the grass. "I just fought a wraith—can I get, like, a snack break? A nap? Maybe a hug?"
Ronan arched an eyebrow. "Do I look like the hugging type?"
Carter eyed him. "Not even a little."
"Then get up."
Carter muttered something unflattering but begrudgingly pulled himself upright. He examined the clothing again—dark, simple, but surprisingly sturdy. It felt heavier than normal fabric, like it was woven with something else. He shrugged it on, adjusting the sleeves.
"Alright," he said, stretching. "So what fresh nightmare are you throwing me into today?"
Ronan smirked. "Dueling."
Carter blinked. "Wait. That's it? Just dueling? No death traps? No nightmare creatures? Just good, old-fashioned wand combat?"
Ronan nodded.
Carter relaxed. "Okay, see, this I can do."
Ronan's smirk deepened. "We'll see."
Carter regretted everything.
He had assumed dueling meant sparring with Ronan. Maybe some fancy spellwork, a few new tricks, possibly even learning how to dodge like a cool action hero.
What he had not assumed was that Ronan would summon a literal horde of training dummies—ones that moved.
And dodged.
And attacked back.
"Are these things alive?!" Carter yelped as he barely ducked a spell.
"No," Ronan said. "But they are enchanted to adjust to your skill level. The better you fight, the harder they get."
Carter threw him a look. "Oh, fantastic. Can't wait to get my skull caved in by a glorified mannequin."
One of the dummies lunged, swinging a wooden staff. Carter yelped and threw up a shield charm just in time. The force rattled his bones.
"Okay," he panted. "No big deal. I got this."
He pivoted, blasting one of the dummies with a stunning spell. It staggered but didn't fall. Instead, it adjusted, shifting its stance.
"Wait—wait, why is it learning?" Carter asked, ducking another blow.
Ronan crossed his arms. "Because if you only know one way to fight, you'll lose to anyone smarter than you."
Carter rolled his eyes. "And what happens if I'm the smart one?"
"You wouldn't be asking that question."
Carter groaned but focused, adjusting his footing. If the dummies were learning him, then he had to do the same.
He let his instincts take over, sidestepping an attack and countering with a disarming spell. A different dummy lunged, and he ducked, rolling to the side and sending out a concussive blast.
The fight turned into a dance—a brutal, exhausting dance that left Carter panting, arms burning. But slowly, he started to see it—the way the dummies moved, the tiny openings in their defenses.
And for the first time, he wasn't thinking.
He was just doing.
With a final, sweeping motion, he slammed his wand downward, sending a wave of energy outward. The dummies toppled, rolling across the dirt. Silence filled the air.
Carter stood there, chest heaving, before glancing at Ronan. "So… I win?"
Ronan tilted his head. "For now."
Carter groaned. "You suck."
But Ronan wasn't smirking. He was watching Carter with something almost like approval.
And that, somehow, made the pain worth it.
Later, as Carter sat by the fire, nursing his sore limbs and stuffing his face with food, he caught Ronan watching him.
"What?" he asked, mouth full.
"You're improving."
Carter snorted. "Yeah, well, near-death experiences are a great motivator."
Ronan didn't respond immediately. Then, after a long pause, he said, "You have potential."
Carter froze mid-chew. That was probably the closest thing to a compliment he had ever gotten from Ronan.
He swallowed. "You're not secretly dying, are you? Because that almost sounded nice."
Ronan rolled his eyes.
Carter grinned. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of emotions eventually."
Ronan muttered something under his breath.
Carter just laughed.
Carter had barely gotten a night's rest before Ronan had him up at the crack of dawn.
"Seriously," Carter grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Are you allergic to letting me sleep?"
"You're wasting daylight," Ronan replied.
"I'm wasting sleep," Carter shot back.
Ronan ignored him, motioning toward an open clearing. "Today, we push your dueling further."
Carter sighed, dragging his feet to where Ronan stood. "Great. More evil dummies?"
"No," Ronan said. "Me."
Carter blinked. "Oh. Oh, that's—wait. Wait, no. That's a terrible idea."
Ronan took a stance, wand at the ready. "Scared?"
Carter raised his hands. "Oh, no. I'm just acknowledging the obvious fact that you're a million times stronger than me and this will probably end with me unconscious."
"You'll adapt," Ronan said simply. "That's the point."
Carter groaned. "I hate this training method."
But he raised his wand anyway.
Ronan didn't wait. A jet of red light shot toward Carter, and he barely had time to react, throwing up a shield charm. The impact sent him skidding back.
"Too slow," Ronan said.
"Yeah, yeah," Carter muttered.
He flicked his wand, sending a quick stunning spell. Ronan deflected it with ease, stepping forward with a counterspell. Carter dodged, rolling to the side and retaliating.
The duel escalated fast. Ronan wasn't holding back, and Carter could feel it. Every time he thought he had an opening, Ronan was already three steps ahead. It was like fighting someone who could see the future.
And Carter was losing.
"Alright," he panted. "I officially hate you."
"Good," Ronan said, dodging another blast. "Use that."
Carter gritted his teeth, frustration burning in his chest. He needed an edge. Something Ronan wasn't expecting.
Then it hit him.
Mid-dodge, Carter flicked his wand—not at Ronan, but at the ground. A small explosion of dirt and smoke erupted between them.
Ronan hesitated for half a second.
And that was all Carter needed.
He shot forward, wand slashing through the air, and sent a stunning spell right at Ronan's chest.
It connected.
Ronan staggered back, blinking. Then, after a beat, he smirked.
"Not bad," he said.
Carter collapsed onto the ground, gasping. "If I die," he wheezed, "put 'trained to death by a lunatic' on my tombstone."
Ronan just smirked.