The Alchemist's Assistant

Ilia ducked as a glass vial went whizzing by her head, the foul-smelling contents splattering against the stone wall behind her. She grimaced and waved the noxious fumes away from her face as the cacophony of the potions classroom erupted around her.

"Idiot apprentices!" Master Alchemist Varrus bellowed, his voice booming over the chaos. "How many times must I remind you to handle volatile components with the utmost care?"

Ilia shrank back against her small desk in the corner, trying her best to become invisible. As the lowly assistant, her job was simply to clean, organize supplies, and stay out of the way of the prestigious alchemists and their students. She knew better than to draw Varrus's ire.

Another vial shattered, this time releasing a thick cloud of sickly green smoke that quickly filled the room. Ilia covered her mouth and nose with her apron, fighting back a coughing fit. Through the hazy smoke, she could see Varrus's enormous silhouette gesturing angrily as he chastised his bumbling students.

"Ventilus!" he roared, and Ilia felt a powerful rush of wind blast through the chamber, clearing away the noxious fumes in an instant.

As the smoke cleared, a strange tingling sensation prickled at Ilia's fingertips. She looked down at her hands in surprise as tiny arcs of emerald energy danced across her skin. The smoke must have reacted with her—but how?

Her thoughts were interrupted as a heavy book went sailing across the room, striking her squarely in the chest and knocking the wind from her lungs. She gasped for air, casting a fearful look at the incensed master alchemist.

"You there, girl!" Varrus shouted, his beefy finger pointed directly at her. "Are you just going to stand there gawking, or do you intend to clean up this mess?"

"A-At once, Master Alchemist," Ilia stammered, still trying to catch her breath. She hurried to find a broom and dustpan, hoping to make herself useful and avoid further wrath.

As she swept up the shards of broken glass, her mind raced. What was happening to her? She knew better than to dabble in the magical arts—those were forbidden for a lowborn like herself. And yet, she could still feel that strange energy pulsing within her.

Over the next few days, the odd sensations only grew stronger. Her hands would crackle with emerald sparks whenever she traveled through the castle's winding corridors. Gusts of wind would ruffle her hair if she focused her concentration. She even thought she heard whispers on the breeze, voices from nowhere urging her to unleash the power growing inside. What was this strange magic, and why did it awaken within her?

"Your chores are lacking, girl."

Ilia snapped out of her trance at the sound of Master Varrus's gruff voice. The burly alchemist frowned down at her disapprovingly.

"S-Sorry, Master," she replied quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight tremble in her voice. "I'll redouble my efforts at once."

"See that you do," Varrus said gruffly. "I will not have my workplace disgraced by amateur levels of cleanliness and organization."

He leaned closer, narrowing his beady eyes as he inspected her. Ilia felt a light sheen of sweat form on her brow as she fought to remain calm.

"And what's this?" he asked, plucking a stray emerald spark from the air next to her head. "Sloppy enchanting in my classroom? I'll have no such nonsense."

"N-No, Master, that wasn't me!" Ilia stammered. "I would never—"

Varrus raised a meaty hand, silencing her protests. "Enough. I'll not listen to your petty excuses. You are confined to the storeroom until you learn some respect. Perhaps some quiet time will clear your mind."

"But Master, please..." Her words fell on deaf ears as the furious alchemist stormed away, the heavy door to the storeroom slamming shut behind him.

Ilia sank to the cold stone floor, surrounded by shelves piled high with jars, bottles, and books of arcane lore. Tears stung her eyes as despair washed over her. If she couldn't control this bizarre magic, she risked far worse than a stint in the storeroom.

The whispers soon returned, their otherworldly voices carried by unseen winds.

"Embrace your destiny..."

"Such glorious power..."

"You can be so much more..."

Ilia shook her head firmly, trying to shut them out. "Be quiet! I want no part of whatever you are."

But the voices persisted, growing more insistent by the moment.

"Do not resist..."

"Let the magic flow through you..."

"Become one with the emerald energy..."

The sparks danced more feverishly around Ilia's hands as the voices reached a fever pitch. Her heart raced as the power built up inside, screaming to be released. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to make it all stop.

With a deafening roar, the energies erupted forth in a massive blast that shook the entire storeroom. Shelves toppled, jars shattered, books burst into emerald flame. The door was blown off its hinges as the verdant shockwave tore through the chamber.

When the chaos finally subsided, Ilia was left crouched in the ruins, her entire body smoldering with arcane energy. She looked down at her hands, eyes widening in shock and awe at the power now coursing through her veins.

The whispers grew triumphant.

"Yes...YES! You have awakened!"

"Such unbridled power!"

"You are no longer a meek assistant..."

"You are so much more..."

In that moment, Ilia knew her life would never be the same.

* * *

The door to Master Varrus's chamber flew open with a deafening crash. The startled alchemist and his students whirled around in surprise as Ilia strode into the room, emerald fire flickering in her eyes.

"You..." Varrus spluttered, rage quickly overtaking his shock. "How dare you interrupt my lesson, you insolent little—"

"Enough," Ilia said firmly, her voice rippling with ancient power. "I will no longer be spoken to in such a manner."

She thrust out her hand, unleashing a torrent of verdant energy that struck Varrus squarely in the chest. The force of the blow lifted the master alchemist from his feet and hurled him across the room to crash against the far wall. His students scattered in terror as Ilia approached, emerald fire dancing in her wake.

"I have awakened to my true potential," she declared, her voice booming with otherworldly might. "I am the heir to an power as old as the realms themselves. And you, Varrus, have sorely underestimated me."

The hulking alchemist pulled himself from the rubble, blood dripping from his brow. "What...What are you?" he gasped.

"I am so much more," Ilia replied, the whispers of power now voices of command. "I walk the path of the Emerald Mage, and none shall stand in my way."

With a gesture, she conjured forth a maelstrom of raging winds that ripped apart Varrus's classroom, sending books, potions, and students tumbling in its wake. As the alchemists fled in terror, Ilia stood alone amid the cyclone's eye, reveling in the intoxicating rush of her newfound abilities.

She was no longer a lowly assistant. She was something far greater.

And this was only the beginning...