"Bloodlines of the Unknown"- A witcher tale

Mira was silent for a long time, watching the fire crackle before her. Then, with a slow breath, she turned to Kael.

"You're forcing it," she said.

Kael frowned. He had been trying to summon the ice again, stretching his fingers, willing the cold to return. But every attempt had ended in failure—nothing but a numbing chill before the energy faded.

"It worked before," he said.

Mira smirked, tilting her head. "No. It happened before. That's different."

She stepped closer, her pale hands reaching toward the flames. "Magic isn't about force, Kael. It's about connection. When I was younger, I thought of it as something I could control—a tool, a weapon. But that's wrong." She wiggled her fingers, letting the firelight dance over her skin. "Magic is a source. Like a river. You don't force a river to flow; you shape yourself around it. You let it carry you."

Kael crossed his arms. "Witcher signs don't work like that."

"No," she agreed, turning to face him. "Signs are shortcuts—runes burned into your body, fueled by instinct. That's why they're crude. Limited." She pointed at his hand. "But that? That wasn't a sign. That was something else."

Kael flexed his fingers. He could still remember the sensation from the fight against the dead—the rush of cold surging through him, the ice responding as if it had always been there, waiting.

"Try again," Mira said.

Kael exhaled, then focused. He spread his fingers, trying to summon the frost as he had before. The air chilled slightly, a faint shimmer forming in his palm—but then, just like before, it faded.

Mira shook her head. "You're pulling too much."

Kael scowled. "And what does that mean?"

Mira considered him, then knelt beside the fire. "You're treating magic like a well. Like something you have to dig into to reach. That's not how it works. It's everywhere." She gestured at the trees, the wind, the flickering flames. "The world is already full of magic. It's in the air. The ground. The ice, the fire, the storm. You don't create it—you let it flow through you."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "That easy?"

Mira laughed softly. "No. But it's a start."

She turned back to the fire, her gaze distant. "I used to love magic, you know." Her voice was quieter now, tinged with something Kael couldn't quite place. "Not because of power. Not because of control. But because it made the world feel… alive."

Kael watched her carefully. "And now?"

She held up her hand, fingers trembling slightly as she reached toward the flames. Nothing happened. No spark, no warmth, no flicker of magic.

Her hand dropped.

"Now I'm empty."

Kael said nothing. He could see it—the way her body had thinned over the past weeks, the slow, steady drain of her lifeforce. She was fading. And yet, even now, she was trying to teach him.

He clenched his fist. "Then let's try again."

Mira blinked, startled, then smirked. "Not giving up?"

Kael shook his head. "No."

Mira exhaled, then stepped closer. "Alright," she murmured. "Then listen. Feel the air. Don't pull—let it come to you. Like a breath."

Kael closed his eyes. This time, when he reached for the cold, he didn't force it.

He let it flow.

A slow breath.

Kael didn't pull, didn't force—he simply let the cold come to him.

For a moment, nothing happened. The night air was still, the fire crackling softly beside them. But then, just at the edges of his senses, he felt it—a shift, a whisper of something waiting beneath the surface. It wasn't like drawing a Sign, not a push of willpower or muscle memory. It was… natural. A current, just as Mira had described.

He let it flow.

Frost shimmered over his palm, faint but unmistakable. Thin veins of ice formed at his fingertips, curling like the edges of frozen glass. It wasn't the raw, instinctual power he had unleashed in battle—it was smaller, controlled. But it was there.

Mira's breath caught. "You did it."

Kael opened his eyes, watching as the ice faded, melting into the warmth of his skin. It hadn't lasted long, but he had felt the difference. This was magic. Not just a Sign, not something crude and forced. This was his.

He exhaled slowly. "It's weak."

Mira shook her head. "It's a start."

She stepped forward, studying his hand closely. "The first time, it was instinct, raw emotion. This time… you connected with it. That means you can learn."

Kael flexed his fingers, already thinking of how to refine it. Could he shape it? Could he focus it like a Sign?

Mira seemed to sense his thoughts. "It'll take time," she said. "Signs are simple because they're brute force. Magic is delicate—it reacts to emotion, to intent." She tilted her head. "What were you thinking when you first used it?"

Kael hesitated. The fight. The moment when everything had been on the edge of disaster. The souls, the dead, the desperation to stop it all—

"I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "I just… acted."

Mira smiled faintly. "Then that's what we work on. Making it something you can think about."

Kael glanced at the fire, the warmth contrasting against the memory of ice. He wasn't a sorcerer, wasn't even supposed to be capable of real magic. And yet… something in him had changed.

And he intended to master it.

Mira stretched, rolling her shoulders. "Again?"

Kael nodded. "Again."

This time, he reached for the cold with intent.