Your village is quiet that early evening, all except for the incessant chirping and buzzing of the insects hiding in the long grass surrounding it. The air is thick with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers and the faint rustle of leaves, a soft symphony of nature that seems to envelop you. You sneak out of your house, heart racing with anticipation, eager to catch a glimpse of something you thought you could only dream of—a flicker of magic that has long eluded your grasp.

As the sun begins its descent, the sky transforms into a canvas painted with shades of orange and pink, while sparkles of golden light dance across the horizon, casting warm reflections on the ground like tiny jewels scattered among the shadows. You walk cautiously around the back of your house, your breath hitching as you approach the source of this wondrous spectacle—the magician who conjures these mesmerizing sights.

Waist-deep in the grass, you creep forward, each blade brushing against your skin as you inch closer for a better view. The vibrant colors of the setting sun illuminate the figure of the sorcerer, his silhouette sharp against the backdrop of fading light. But just as you think you are hidden well enough, he suddenly turns, as if sensing your presence. His pale eyes lock onto yours, striking in their intensity, his expression flat and unreadable. Time seems to freeze as the magic sparks that filled the air begin to fade, leaving behind an unsettling silence.

He continues to gaze at you, his stare probing and deep, while you remain rooted in place, captivated and unnerved all at once. Suddenly, his eye contact breaks, and he turns away, beginning to walk toward the village with an ease that suggests he’s done this countless times before.

"Follow me," he says quietly, his voice low yet commanding, not looking back but somehow ensuring you hear him perfectly. "You want to learn how, don’t you?" The words hang in the air, filled with an unspoken promise, drawing you in with an irresistible pull.