In a village under the shadow of gigantic mountains lived a young apprentice named Arif. He was a child of the masses, bubbling with spirit that he could prove himself equal to a sorcerer as his master, the scholarly Sorcerer Azhar, did. Azhar’s magic was almost legendary, and his abilities could even shape the elements themselves. But Arif had yet to unlock the secrets of magic; his powers were weak and clumsy, a fact that often filled him with self-doubt.
On a clear night of dusk, when the last glow of the sun retreated behind the hills, Master Azhar summoned Arif. The tower over the ancient sorcerer’s stone, lined with historical tomes and glowing bottles, resonated with energy that Arif could only aspire to capture.
Tonight, you will receive the greatest lesson of them all,” Azhar replied, his tone gentle yet firm. ” Do not look for the raw power of magic, but the power to master it. The magic wand, the tool base, should not be underestimated, by no means. It represents the sorcerer’s deepest will.”
Arif gave a quick affirmative nod, his wand, dark and unstained wood, in stark contrast to Azhar’s gleaming staff.
Now,” Azhar went on, “hold up this crystal and squeeze it firmly in your hand. Focus your mind. I will teach you the spell to summon water.”
Arif’s heart raced. He had seen himself summon the sky’s misbehaving and the grand oceans by a single motion of his gesture for his greatest master. With his eyes closed, he muttered the incantation Azhar had explained to him, but rather than a soft wave of water his wand emitted a wash of blue light that broke across the room, toppling books and overflowing with potions. Arif did his best to regain mastery, but the magic was getting away from him, spiraling out of his control.
Azhar took a step closer, with a face expressing both sadness and acceptance. “You are too eager, Arif. You have to wait for magic to come by itself, it will come on its own, do not try to hurry it.
Arif lowered his head in shame. ” I apologize, Master. I only wanted to prove my worth.” Azhar sighed. “There is no need to prove anything. Magic is not a competition. It must be a symbiosis between sorcerers and the elementals of nature. You must trust the process.”
Arif spent the remainder of the evening in reverie, repeating the spell over and over. When the moon rose high in the sky, he was worn down, but not beaten.
The next morning, Azhar gave Arif a task. “I am leaving for a few days. When I’m not around, you shall be in charge of the magic of the tower, in such a way that everything remains in equilibrium. But remember, do not use the wand for anything other than what I’ve taught you. It is very dangerous to let the magic lead your impulses. “.
As soon as Azhar left, Arif’s curiosity began to stir. The temptation to prove himself, to show that he could handle the powers of a true sorcerer, was too great. He gazed at the shimmering wand on the table. What damage could there be from some experimentation? He had read all the books on the tower and learned all the spells, and yet, he still had a feeling that there was not a complete picture. A deeper understanding, a meeting with the wonder that could finish him.
Taking the wand in hand he felt the beat of his heart in his chest and uttered the incantation accompanying the water spell. At first, nothing happened. But then, a soft gurgle rose from the floor, and the room began to fill with water, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the walls of the tower began to shake. The blood in Arif’s chest thudded against his ribs as the water sloped in, overflowing from the ground, and climbing its way through the rest of the room.
Panicking, he tried to reverse the spell, but his hands trembled, and his mind was clouded with fear. The water was now rising faster than he could control, pushing against the walls and spilling out the tower’s windows.
He panicked frantically for an escape but when he found an opening he lost himself to it and also broke it in half.
The moment the wand broke, everything went silent.
Water in the air froze in mid-air, frozen in the blink, when it collapsed in an icy tsunami that engulfed the whole tower. Arif came down on his knees, breathless, experiencing the magnitude of his error. The broken wand lay on the floor beside him, its once-glowing tip now dim and powerless.
That evening, Azhar returned, footsteps in the empty and flooded tower whispering. He stood at the entrance, observing the destruction. Arif stared at his master, his face a mixture of terror and remorse.
“I… I’m sorry,” Arif whispered, his voice breaking. I gave in to my enthusiasm and things went too far. It went too far away from me. I thought I could control it.”
Azhar, after a pause of quite some seconds, sank upon his knee by his side (i.e., disciple). ” Magic is an uncontrollable force, Arif. It is a force of nature. Indeed, it is to be hallowed, understood, and (ultimately) sparingly, if at all, used. You went down a dangerous road because of your need to prove your worth. But this is a lesson to be learned, too.”
Arif nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “I understand, Master. I was foolish.”
Azhar laid his hand on his knapsack, soft but firm. “You are not foolish. You are human. But as a human, errors are bound to occur. However, it is how you err that will make the person that you are. ”
With a wave of his hand, Azhar restored the tower to its original state, the water evaporating and the room returning to its peaceful silence. The broken wand, however, remained in pieces.
We’ll have to make a new one,” Azhar said softly. But, of course, you will never forget what you learned this morning.
The next couple of days were peaceful and Arif made the most of using these quiet days to fix the tower and the damage he made. The pieces of the broken wand lay on the table, and with every passing day, Arif could feel the weight of the lesson he had learned.
As the time drew near for a new being to make one, a careful craft awaited Arif. He selected the very best natural raw materials, processing them from knowledge acquired in his master’s education. It was a slow, steady, meditative task, and finally, in the end, as the wand came to fruition (the wand was ultimately manifested), Arif was caught in an experience of deep serenity.
He retraced his steps and stopped in front of Azhar’s study, and he respectfully presented his master with the newly designed wand, with a quiet bow.
Azhar examined it carefully, a faint smile crossing his face. “You have learned much, Arif. Not just about magic, but about yourself. This wand is not only a device, but it is also an extension of your consciousness. You have acquired the thing of more value than any enchantment, knowledge. ”
Also Read: The Dragon’s Secret Hoard
Arif yielded a silent agreement and a heart that beat with a burgeoning love for the power that he possessed. He no longer aimed at proving himself by strength but by comprehension. Magic was, for him, not containment to one´s will of a designed or twisted world but an attunement to its balance.
Patience.