After breakfast, Aleistar and his father went to a smaller room, where fewer candles and oil lamps burned. In the center was a large black mark, left from some failed experiment with fire, but otherwise the floor of the room was bare. With its vaulted ceiling and beautiful stone carvings, the room had been a place for rich nobles to be buried. Now, it was Aleistar's training room.
"Today, I am teaching you hydrokinesis. You will learn to master water, in all its forms," his father said, as he raised his arms to be at ninety degrees to the rest of his body. Murmuring softly, soon the water in the air around his hands turned to liquid, and landed with a soft splash. "Try it," he told his son. "The words are reko, aquari hajine."
Aleistar repeated the words to himself before infusing magic with them and repeating it. Focusing all his attention on the words and what was supposed to happen, he pushed until it began hurting, even going so far as to hold his breath. When he could no longer, he let it out, breathing hard. Glancing inti his cupped hands, he saw no water, and let out a sigh.
"You pronounced it incorrectly. The word is a-ku-a-ri," his father said, renunciating ththe syllables. Aleistar nodded before repeating the same ritual as before.
Thus time, he could feel his magic bonding with the words, and within moments his hands were full of water. Smiling, he let the water drop, before his father told him, "Do it again."
At Aleistar's groans, he added, "Good mages practice until they get it right. Great mages practice until they never get it wrong. Keep practicing." With that, he left, and Aleistar sat down, cupping his hands and starting over, grumbling in between incantations.