He remembered his teacher’s lessons. He remembered them very well.
“Wizards share the blood of the ancient wyrms,” he was told repeatedly.

“What differentiates us from others is our ability to connect with that ancient ancestry, and tell our stories.”

The old wizard sat before his large mahagony desk, with many books piled before him, many of them sprawled open in a chaos only he can decipher, on his oaken chair with his staff leaning next to him, a steamy mug of tea hugged in his hands.

Recalling with the sour-sweet mixture of the warmth of love and the pain of learning, the old memories of his teacher came vividly to his mind.

“Words create” was the first great lesson he learned, and tirelessly perfected.

“Thoughts create” was his second great lesson, one learned with pain and reverence, as deep thoughts were unearthed and removed.

It was always pressed on to him that stories are all that is. The ancient dragons knew it, and spread their dreams across the elements. “What differentiates us wizards from the rest is our persistence in our storytelling” said the old master many, many times.

“What is required of you is persistence and focus,” his mentor said, “you must learn the rules of this world, and create stories which will chime best with those of ones greater than you – that is the only way your power will manifest itself.”

He was too young at the time to see the inherent caution that statement entailed.

Nevertheless, experience is often bought with mistakes, which in turn are bought with pain.

His mentor was never cruel to him. It was like shaping an image out of wood – many pieces need to be cut off for the creation to be complete. So did he need to study, believe and experience pain in order to carve anew his soul’s crystal.