Upon hearing Aurus's words, William's face froze. A cold sweat ran down his back as his mind plunged into a storm of possibilities. Had he been discovered? Was he in danger? Was it a trap? His brain worked at full speed, evaluating escape routes, plausible lies, any way out that would take him away from danger.
But then, the professor's voice sounded again, serene and without a trace of threat.
"Calm down. I have no intention of harming you. But we must be honest with each other."
The tension in William's body did not disappear, but it transformed. Still distrustful, he watched him in silence, waiting.
Aurus sighed and took another sip of tea before speaking.
"I come from the Magic Continent," he said naturally, as if telling an anecdote. "Many years ago, during a dispute over an extremely rare plant, the Crimson Midnight Flower, I was seriously wounded. That wound halted my progress and I was demoted from Level 2 Mage to Level 1."
His gaze was lost for an instant in the steam rising from his cup.
"Since then, my progress stagnated. No technique, no meditation, no catalyst worked. I tried everything... until, eventually, I was expelled from the elite circle of my hometown. Then, I had another conflict with a powerful organization. I will not go into details for now, but... it was serious enough that I had to flee again."
He fell silent for a few seconds. William did not interrupt him.
"I wandered for years across the Magic Continent," he continued, "until I found refuge as a professor in a minor academy. That was my salvation, for a time. But sooner or later, everything moves, even alliances. There is a network of magical academies that dominates this region of the world, an alliance that maintains some control over magical education. Every hundred years, one of us must be sent to supervise this remote area, crossing the Sea of Death. Now, that supervisor is me."
Aurus looked up and at him calmly.
"Originally there were three of us. But a complicated situation caused the others to abandon their posts. For some years now, I am the only one left."
The story left him stunned. William did not expect to find links with a magical organization so soon. He had his suspicions, yes, but he believed he would only make contact with them when he was a high ranking knight, or at least part of the nobility's inner circle.
He cleared his throat, lowered his head a little, and decided to speak.
"My family... also comes from the Magic Continent," he said softly. "We were persecuted. One by one, my ancestors died, until only I was left. A few days ago... the last branch of my lineage was annihilated."
Aurus did not interrupt him. He just listened, with a serene expression.
"My grandfather taught me some ancient languages," William continued. "He did not have original books or papyri, only manuscripts he wrote himself. He was not a scholar, and what little he knew was fragmented, incomplete. But I valued it. It was all I had left."
When he finished, Aurus smiled. A slight, almost paternal smile.
"Thank you for sharing. Your story is valuable. You cannot imagine how much."
He paused again, then placed his cup on the table and leaned back slightly in the chair.
"What happened yesterday was a test. One of the oldest we have in the academy. It is usually used in the admission ceremonies of magic apprentices. When reciting that spell, each listener enters a trance state, where they experience personal visions. They are reflections of their hidden talents, of their dormant potential. It is a tool to determine if someone is fit or not for the magical path."
William frowned.
"And why did it hurt so much?"
Aurus nodded, as if he had anticipated the question.
"Good observation. That test should not cause pain. It requires an almost insignificant amount of mana, something any aspirant can bear. But here..." he looked out the window, at the clear sky, "here there is no mana. Not a speck. This place is magically dead. That is why the spell causes fatigue. Headache. In severe cases, like yours... collapse."
William remembered the sensation of his mind burning from within. The bleeding. The darkness.
"That is why the tea," Aurus added. "The leaves I used are called Dew of Calm. They are rare, cultivated in fields of perpetual mist. They not only calm the soul and heal minor wounds, but they contain a minimal amount of mana. Enough to relieve fatigue without harming a common human body."
William looked at his empty cup. He no longer felt the pain. Nor the weight on the back of his neck. Only a strange clarity remained... and a new suspicion.
Aurus slowly stood up, walking to a bookshelf where old dust-covered volumes rested. He ran his hand over one of them, thoughtfully, and then returned to his seat.
"There are still a couple of things to explain," he said as he took his cup again. "For example... what you saw upon waking."
William blinked, surprised to see the content of the book.
"Every person who goes through that test experiences something different. Some see fire dancing in the air. Others feel a sea breeze whispering secrets to them. There are those who even see food descending from the sky. It is not just any hallucination. Each of those visions has a meaning, a resonance with their magical essence."
He paused to observe William's reaction, but he remained silent, attentive.
"Those who see food," Aurus continued, "for example, tend to have a special sensitivity towards the elements present in plants and animals. They usually excel in alchemy, in the manipulation of natural ingredients. Some even become what we call 'magical chefs.' Believe me, their art is not limited to preparing a good stew."
A slight smile appeared on William's face at the comment, but he said nothing.
"Those who witness natural elements," Aurus continued, "like fire, water, or wind, usually have a remarkable aptitude for elemental combat. They can manipulate those powers more easily, even without structured training."
He paused, then fixed his gaze on him.
"In my case... I saw a book descending from the sky. Do you know what that means?"
William shook his head with a look of complete concentration.
Aurus narrowed his eyes, as if searching for the right words.
"If the book was open and its pages empty... that symbolizes an inscriber. A runic master. Someone whose soul is destined to write new paths, to trace symbols that give shape to magic. But..."
He made a gesture with his finger.
"If the book was full, overflowing with words you could not understand, then it represents something different: a soul with an affinity for absorbing arcane knowledge, for learning spells with an unnatural speed. I will let you discover which one I am over time."
Aurus leaned towards him, his voice now softer.
"No one can claim to know all the secrets hidden under the sky," he murmured. "But sometimes... we can glimpse a fragment of them."
He settled back in his seat, took another sip of the now lukewarm tea, and then stared at him intently, as if casting a spell older than words.
"Now tell me, William... what did you see?"