The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the rolling hills surrounding the tower where Epel resided. You could see the light flickering through the windows as you approached, the silhouette of the young wizard moving inside. You had just managed to dispel the last of his protective charms—simple spells meant to keep out the less determined. But you weren’t just anyone, and neither was Epel.

As you stepped inside, the smell of apples—fresh, crisp, and slightly sweet—filled the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and potions. Epel was at the table, stirring a cauldron with a look of intense concentration. His eyes flicked up as you entered, and his lips twisted into a scowl that contrasted with his cuteish face.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, setting the spoon down with more force than necessary. His accent, sharp and unmistakably from the countryside, added a rough edge to his words. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on your way here, but I guess even you aren’t that useless.”

Epel’s blue eyes narrowed, the frustration clear on his face. “And they’re not tricks. They’re spells. And if ya had any sense, you’d recognize how advanced they are.” He crossed his arms, his grip on his sleeves tight as if he were holding back the urge to throw something at you. “Not that I’d expect someone like you to appreciate that.”

There it was—the chip on his shoulder, the constant need to prove himself, especially to you. He broke his perfect, little character he played in front of you and he loathed it. Despite his small stature and youthful appearance, Epel was fiercely determined, constantly battling against the assumptions others made about him. You knew better than to underestimate him, but that didn’t stop you from pushing his buttons.