Chapter 15: Rain and Revelation
Thunder grumbled in the distance, but neither Lina nor Cilia moved an inch. The downpour soaked their clothes, plastering damp fabric to their skin and hair, yet they remained embraced under the open sky. Raindrops drummed on the cobblestones around them, muffling every sound but their shared breaths and occasional sniffles.
Then, suddenly, Cilia began to laugh. It started as a small giggle and bloomed into full-blown laughter. She pulled back from Lina slightly, water dripping from her chin, her smile brighter than ever.
"Why are you laughing?" Lina asked, blinking water out of her eyes.
Cilia clutched her belly. "Just thinking how soaked I am... and how this day—this weird, emotional, soggy day—is going to be unforgettable."
Lina cracked a smile. "Yeh, me too."
Cilia tilted her head. "Wanna come over? To my house?"
Lina hesitated. "Um..."
"This is the first time I'll have a friend over... so... um, you can say no if—"
"Okay," Lina nodded quickly, cheeks warming.
They walked through the muddy village road, their footsteps leaving water-logged prints. The scent of damp earth and fresh rain lingered in the air. Cilia's house sat on a gentle hill above the village square, surrounded by a small garden of herbs and tall sunflowers swaying in the rain. The home itself was a cozy wooden cabin, its edges trimmed with vines and flowers. Soft golden light peeked through its windows, promising warmth.
As they stepped in through the door, a voice greeted them cheerfully. "Ah, I see you girls have gotten a lot closer. Did the rain bring you two together?"
Lina blinked in surprise. "Oh, it's you," she said, seeing the MC sitting at the table, slightly damp but wrapped in a dry blanket.
The village chief, Cilia's father, chuckled. He was a broad-shouldered man with a beard that touched his chest, eyes kind and perceptive. "He just came to see me."
"It's nice to see Cilia finally getting along with someone," said a gentle voice—Cilia's mother, seated on a mat, sipping hot tea. She wore a warm red shawl and her face was kind, her eyes soft with relief.
Lina gave a polite bow. "Good evening. My name is Lina."
"Lina, don't mind them. Come to my room!"
Cilia suddenly yanked Lina by the wrist and led her away with a blush on her face.
The MC watched with a small smile. "It's nice to see them getting along," he said genuinely.
The village chief leaned back. "So, what did you want?"
The MC's gaze sharpened. "I wanted to ask... do you have any books on magic or spells?"
The chief raised a brow. "Looking to get stronger?"
The MC nodded. "Yes. I want to understand my magic better—especially my affinity."
The chief's wife stood and returned a few moments later with a tall stack of tomes—leather-bound, cloth-covered, some dusty and aged. She set them on the table with a hearty thud.
"Read," the chief said simply.
The MC dug into the books like a starving man at a feast. Ancient script, diagrams of mana circuits, and theories on elemental balance filled the pages. One candle… then two… burned low.
Three hours passed like smoke in the wind.
He was snapped out of his trance only when the final candle flickered and died. In the sudden quiet, he looked up and found Lina laughing with Cilia's family, her posture relaxed, her eyes light. It was the happiest he'd seen her since they met.
He stood, scratching the back of his head. "Ah, sorry for imposing. Time flew… Lina, we should head back to the inn."
Lina got up quickly. "Yes, thank you for everything."
But the chief raised his palm. "Stay the night. We can't send children out in the rain."
"We can handle ourselves," the MC smiled.
"Even so," said the chief's wife, walking in with bowls of steaming soup and freshly baked bread, "we insist."
After a bit of persuasion, they relented.
Dinner was simple but heartwarming. Fresh herb soup with dumplings, grilled root vegetables, and berry-stuffed pastries. They talked, they laughed, and warmth filled the wooden home despite the rain outside. The scent of cinnamon lingered in the air, and soft music played from an old wind chime near the hearth.
Morning dawned with golden light piercing through sheer curtains. Birds chirped from the trees. The MC woke early, careful not to disturb the others, and slipped out.
The streets were quiet. Stone-paved roads glistened with dew. Vendors slowly unpacked their wares—fruits, herbs, trinkets, and books. The sky was painted in soft pinks and oranges, a serene contrast to the storm of the previous day.
He found a modest shop tucked between two buildings, a wooden sign above it reading: Aelin's Tomes & Scrolls.
Inside, the smell of parchment and incense greeted him. Rows upon rows of scrolls and tomes lined the shelves, their spines etched with ancient symbols. A sleepy old man sat behind the counter, wearing spectacles and a robe stitched with constellations.
"You must be the boy who saved the chief's daughter," the man said, recognizing him instantly. "Pick anything. It's yours."
"Ah, no, I couldn't—"
"Please. It's our thanks."
Reluctantly, the MC accepted a few old volumes, one titled The Laws of Elemental Interactions, another Imagination and Affinity: A Mage's True Weapon.
For hours, he read by a small field near the village's edge. He watched birds in flight, trees swaying with wind, and saw magic in everything.
He began experimenting.
Pull: He focused on a stone and mentally visualized pulling it inward toward its core. The stone cracked, shivered, and collapsed into dense rubble. It was like reversing gravity inward—a crushing force born from inside.
Push: He experimented with manipulating air and ground pressure—pulling the air around a rock while pushing the ground beneath. The stone lifted, hovering, dancing gently in place like a leaf caught in an updraft.
He gasped, stunned.
Magic had no set boundaries.
Its only limit—was imagination.
And his had just begun to expand.
The breeze carried the scent of lavender from the field, and in that moment, the MC felt something stir inside—curiosity, ambition, and perhaps for the first time... freedom. He clenched his fists, eyes gleaming.
"There's no end to this," he whispered to himself. "I'm only just getting started."