It’s been a little over three years since I reincarnated in this now familiar body of a pup.

  Turns out, wolfkin grow up much faster than humans do. My infancy was unremarkable (not that I could remember any of it) and lasted about a year, but after that, I shot up in size. By the time I was four, I towered over human children my age and looked more like a nine-year-old. At first, I worried this meant I wouldn’t live as long, but Uncle Flo reassured me that wolfkin normally outlived humans. He’d thump his chest and grin, claiming our active lifestyle of chasing prey through forests and feasting on fresh game and herbs keeps us healthy, unlike human peasants who slouch inside taverns most days.

  Incidentally, I learned Uncle Flo wasn’t my biological parent. One autumn night, I noticed him by candlelight, flipping through an old leather journal with faded drawings of a wolfkin couple. When I asked about them, he remarked that I got my fur color from my actual father, and my light-blue eyes and the crescent marks around them from my mother. No one knows what happened to them, a pair of renowned rangers, to whom Uncle Flo owed his life. When he talked about them, though, sadness dimmed a shine in his eyes, forcing him to squeeze his mug with enough zeal to make it creak, betraying how much it hurt him.

  Aunt Estrah knew my parents as well. After they vanished, she decided to stay with us. For elves, a few years likely pass like a weekend, so she remained not just out of selfless kindness. She genuinely enjoyed our company. She loved playing with me, teasing Uncle Flo, and telling me tales of ancient heroes, usually right after poking my uncle some more. Honestly, I suspect she’s in denial, but it’s clear she’s smitten with him and just masks it with playful torment. I wonder if I’m the only one who sees it.

  Contrary to her exceedingly extroverted personality, Aunt Estrah is actually a prominent researcher at the Morne Grand Academy. So, each afternoon, starting shortly after my second birthday, our cottage would become a classroom. My paws cramped from hours of practicing grammar and math. That last part was obviously easy for me because of the education I received in my past life, but once she saw I could keep up, she intensified the lessons, mixing in history, geography, and now the Primordial language.

  Apparently, fairies and even dragons speak this language. The local language most people use is nothing like what I knew before, but it still felt somewhat familiar. Phonetically, it reminded me of French, but it obviously had its own writing and numeral system. After three years passed, I ultimately picked it up word by word. The primordial language, however, was something else entirely. It felt so strange, almost like it wasn’t meant for my vocal cords, but after a lot of effort, I absorbed some bits of it as well.

  My days followed a simple routine. In the mornings, I went with Uncle Flo to track animal prints and learn about herbs and mushrooms. He also trained me to use a javelin, favored by wolfkin hunters. Every few months, we visited a nearby human town to trade herbs and pelts for flour and tools. Most afternoons began with lessons from Aunt Estrah. Afterward, I’d run to the clearing behind our cottage. There, I leapt from mossy stone to stone to practice my balance, strength, and flexibility. To Uncle Flo, it looked like playtime. In truth, I was training my body and reviewing fighting techniques from memory.

  In my past life, I learned martial arts like Aikido and Taekwondo. Even so, I suspect Krav Maga would prove most useful in this world. It’s a practical self-defense system, used by police and the military. Most techniques start the same way: if attacked, whether barehanded or with a knife, you first stop the immediate danger. What happens next depends on who you are. Civilians are taught to kick the attacker in the groin and run. A policeman obviously can’t run away and needs to detain the attacker, while soldiers eliminate the threat entirely.

  That’s why both civilians and professionals learn many of the same techniques from the same instructors. Unlike most martial arts, Krav Maga doesn’t expect your opponent to follow the same rules. There are no bans on hitting weak spots, which is a big no-no in competitions. This makes it effective against bigger opponents and multiple attackers. I was still small and not very strong, but the least I could do was to etch these movements into my muscle memory for later.

  As it happened, my potential extended far beyond mere physical training. One crisp summer afternoon, while I was hunched over my studies, Aunt Estrah appeared in my doorway. Her emerald eyes gleamed with mischief as she announced, “Hey, Zar, come outside. It’s time to learn magic.”

  My quill clattered against the inkwell as I sprang from my desk, toppling my chair. My tail whipped so hard it swept a stack of parchment to the floor. I dashed past her in three bounds, my claws skidding on the wooden porch as I spun, ears perked, waiting. From the outside perspective, I probably looked like a cartoon character. I didn’t care.

  At last, magic! I’d seen Aunt Estrah use it a few times. Uncle Flo also operated different magic items around the house, but she could produce magic from her literal fingertips. Best of all, since I first met her and saw her strange ring trick, I realized I could sense magic too. It felt like having a sixth sense, hard to describe, in the same way I could smell or hear, as soon as I was born in this world, I could sense places where magic gathered. Now I was finally going to learn how to control it.

  “My, my,” she said, tucking a curl behind her pointed ear. “I haven't seen you move that fast since Florent made berry tarts last solstice. So much enthusiasm!”

  I straightened my clothing, determined to seem dignified despite my heart pounding against my chest. Excitement made my words tumble out. “Yes, magic is very cool. When do we start?”

  Aunt Estrah flicked my ear playfully. “Right now, you silly boy! Why else would I have called you?” She settled cross-legged on a bench and continued. “First, we begin with the foundations. There are several theories about magic. Some scholars believe it’s an inherent quality of the world, like gravity that keeps us grounded, or the sun’s warmth. Others believe it’s artificial, a lingering echo of a bygone civilization whose towers once pierced the clouds. One thing we know for certain is that mana makes magic possible, and mana can be found all around us. I noticed you developed mana-sensitivity early on, so you can tell.”

  Tsk, she figured it out. “Can’t just anyone sense mana?” I tried to play dumb.

  “It depends on the race. About one in ten humans can sense and manipulate mana. Most people can be taught to use magic items, but if they can’t sense mana, they can’t create or recharge them. Nearly every elf can sense mana, but as for beastkin… one in a thousand. So, yes, in your case, it’s rare.”

  “Gee, well, I guess I am lucky! Could… could my parents sense and manipulate mana?” I asked, trying to hide my nervous curiosity behind a forced casualness. If I’m a rare case among beastkin, others might probe me about it later. I needed answers prepared.

  “Yes, your mother had that power. Most assume magic is hereditary, but there’s little evidence to support this. Even Archmages’ children are often born without talent. The wisest do not stigmatize those without magic. Instead, they remind us to appreciate those who can use it. Remember this.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Good, moving on. It is important to understand that there are several types of mana. For now, you need to know the difference between wild and contained mana.” She explained in her own words. The way I understood it clicked once I recalled a similar concept from Earth.

  Wild mana exists everywhere, but it only responds to basic commands in Primordial, like [create light] or [move rock]. Contained mana, however, once trapped in crystals, could learn more intricate instructions. Scholars are befuddled about the reason why, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

  My theory was that wild mana functions as one massive neural network spanning the world. Each particle acts as a node, grouped in clusters, yet they are all connected. Training it required countless repetitions across the entire network. Something that was probably achieved by ancient neanderthals, who gave simple enough commands across the globe and eventually reprogrammed the whole system.

  Once contained, however, mana is isolated from the larger network and becomes a private network of sorts, making it easier to train. At least that is how machine learning models worked in computer science. And those were supposed to replicate nature, from what I recall. Theory was elegant but seemed best kept to myself for now.

  “We will first start with a contained mana example. Take this ring and put it on your finger.” I did as instructed, and a moment later, easily enough, I could sense mana reverberating inside.

  “This is a simple ring that travelers buy to start a fire on the road. It is more convenient, takes up less space than flint and steel, and works in any weather. Try to make a spark now by focusing on the mana inside the ring. Visualize it creating a spark and say [create spark] in Primordial.”

  “[Create Spark!]” … Nothing happened.

  “Keep practicing, since you can sense mana, it should work without a long chant. People without mana sense can't establish a mental connection with the ring, so they have to take extra steps for it to work. I will go make us some tea meanwhile.” Aunt Estrah's footsteps faded as she disappeared into the house.

  I stared at the ring, my finger trembling. "[Create spark!]" I shouted, but nothing happened. Was I doing it wrong? "[Create spark,]" I tried again, softer this time, doubt creeping in. Still nothing. The metal band remained cold and accusatory on my finger. I closed my eyes, torn between frustration and determination. I could feel the mana inside the ring, flickering like a tiny flame. Part of me wanted to rip the ring off and throw it, but instead, I pictured a fragile connection from my thoughts to that flame. The ring grew a bit warmer on my skin as I whispered, “[create spark.]”

  Suddenly, the mana inside radiated energy, and a shower of amber sparks erupted from its surface. It felt like one of those sparkler fireworks people burn during celebrations. Relief crashed through me like a wave, followed immediately by a strange disappointment. Was that really all there was to it?

  “Nicely done, Zar! Though slightly over enthusiastic,” Estrah said as she emerged from the house, balancing two steaming cups of tea. “Next time, aim for fewer sparks or you’ll drain the ring too quickly, but excellent first attempt.” As she put the cups on the bench beside us, she dusted her hands and continued.

  “Let’s move beyond the ring now. With wild mana, you must first gather what’s scattered in the air.” She lifted her hand, fingers spread as if she were feeling for rain. “Watch carefully. First, locate a concentration, there.” Her eyes narrowed at a spot I could sense humming with energy. “[Move.]” Her fingers traced an invisible line through the air. I could sense energy following her command. “Then,” she continued, “you give it purpose. [Create spark.]” Immediately, her finger produced a spark.

  “See. It takes an extra step, but on the plus side, you don’t need a magic item. Later, we’ll explore containment techniques and gradually build toward more intricate spellwork. For now,” she gestured toward the spot where her spark had flared, “try to replicate what I’ve shown you.”

  I spent the next hour with my arm outstretched, fingers trembling from exertion as I tried to coax the wild mana into obeying. Each failure left a hollow feeling in my chest until finally, on my seventeenth attempt, I felt something click into place. The mana gathered around my fingertips like invisible dew, tingling against my skin before erupting into a cascade of golden sparks that danced briefly in the air before winking out of existence.

  Looking satisfied with my progress, Aunt Estrah twisted a sapphire-studded ring on her index finger and gave me a mischievous look. “Now for something with more… impact.” The ring caught the sunlight, sending blue reflections dancing across her weathered knuckles. “Combat magic. It is too early for you to try, but I believe a demonstration would do you good.” She pivoted toward an ancient pine tree that towered at the edge of our clearing, its bark furrowed like an old man’s face.

  “[Water Blade!]” The words tore from her throat, sharp and commanding, as liquid materialized from the humid air, not a splash but a pressurized ribbon that hummed like a plucked string. It sliced through the tree’s trunk with the ease of a hot knife through butter, leaving behind the sharp scent of pine resin and disturbed earth. For a breathless moment, nothing happened. Then came a deep, mournful creak followed by a thunderous crash that sent birds scattering into the sky.

  “Whoa. How do you even protect yourself from something like this?” I whispered, my mouth dry.

  Aunt Estrah smiled, flexing her fingers as the ring’s glow subsided. “Deflection wards, counter-spells, shields that absorb magical energy. Even non-mages can wear specially treated armor.” She gestured at the fallen giant. “But what’s your honest impression?”

  “It is a big responsibility, isn’t it?” I said, suddenly feeling the weight of it settle on my shoulders. A surge of pride mixed with uncertainty. “Magic can be dangerous in the wrong hands, can’t it?”

  “Absolutely, I am glad you get it. Magic was our biggest strength in the Ashen War you know. The Imperial Forces had many advantages: more and better-trained troops, top-notch gear. But they, for some reason, lacked magic entirely. That’s why many civilian mages, including myself, served in the Morne Volunteer Corps. I’m not exaggerating when I say magic tipped the war in our favor.”

  “Wait, you served in the army? First time I hear of this, I thought you were just a scholar?”

  “We wear different hats when we have to. If a conflict broke out between the Isle nations, I wouldn’t even lift a finger. Border changes between neighbors affect daily life very little. An outside force taking over, though, is a different matter. They rarely hesitate to drain people dry, using them up and then abandoning them. But enough of that. We can revisit history and politics another day. For now, let’s focus on more magic.”

  And so my first day of learning magic was a resounding success. For the next couple of weeks, I practiced manipulating wild mana, memorized new simple spells, and learned how to use various magical devices in our cottage. By all definitions of the word, I was now a mage. Little did I know how soon these newfound abilities would be tested, as the time for my coming-of-age trial approached like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

  1.1 - I finished a thorough line editing of this entire chapter. Completely rewritten about a third of it to make it less of a lore dump, feels better now.

  1.1.1 - Shortened the explanation about how magic works even more. It seemed to spook a lot of readers away. Those who are interested, keep reading. I will explain it in more detail during the Academy story arc. Also fixed a mistake where Zar was sweating for some reason. He can't. He is a canine.