Myrel tugged on his thick beard. "No… you got them right. Try again, but do your best to will the seed to move. Your desires affect how the aether reacts, and the more powerful your desire, the more powerful the magic."
"I'll- I'll try harder," Cyrus said. He focused his gaze on the seed, and pictured it forming a vine which rose from the stone. "Eisren ilvine."
Once again, they waited in silence, and once again, the seed remained motionless. After a full minute, Cyrus sighed, and lowered his hand.
"I don't think this is going to work. I haven't felt a single thing," Cyrus said. He tapped the seed. "Is there another way? Something else I could try?"
Sylven cleared his throat. "Perhaps if you were to recall the feelings you had when you were in the market. As the guards closed in, and the merchant held you back, what were you feeling?"
Cyrus gazed at the stone. "I was afraid, overwhelmed by the people."
Memories of the day rushed through his mind. The merchant's iron grip on his arm, tight enough to leave a bruise. The knight's gleaming armor, shining through the roaring crowd. The cries and screams erupted like a fire through his body, rampaging from his head to his feet.
Cyrus jumped when Sylven gasped, and parted his eyes. His body tensed as he noticed the seed rocking beneath his hand. With a shuddering breath, he focused on it, picturing small tendrils growing from its sides.
With a crack, the seed split open, and several golden roots wriggled out, digging into the stone's cracks. Cyrus's skin tingled as the warmth whirled through him, and a thin green stalk rose from the seed, covered with small thorns.
'This… this is my magic?' Cyrus thought. He tilted his head as a faint whisper flitted through his ears. It reminded him of a rustling forest, waving in a warm summer breeze. The room blurred as he leaned forward, drawn in by the noise. 'What? What is it you're trying to tell me?'
"Easy there, Cyrus. You don't want to do too much," Myrel said, snapping Cyrus back. His grey eyes brimmed with excitement as he leaned against the table. "Still, this is quite impressive. How do you feel?"
"I- I feel fine," Cyrus said. Excitement flooded him and he half laughed. "This- This isn't so bad. I can feel the aether flowing through me, following my commands."
Myrel frowned, and straightened his back. "You feel it flowing through you? What do you mean?"
Cyrus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You know. A warmth spreads through my body, and into the seed. Isn't this how you do it?"
"No. Normally, you would only be able to sense a connection to the aether, like a candle flickering in your mind. I've never heard of anyone actually feeling it in their body before," Myrel said. His frown deepened.
Cyrus winced as the soothing warmth inside his chest grew hotter, lashing out like a whip. On the table, the vine shook, and the roots thickened, fracturing the stone. Sylven stepped back as Myrel reached out a steadying hand.
"Hold on. You must calm down. You'll lose control at this rate."
"I'm- I'm trying," Cyrus said, gritting his teeth. He fought against the flow, but it felt like a dam had broken, and all the aether was flooding through it. "H- help! I can't stop it. Someone do something!"
Before them, the vine rapidly grew, its stalk thickening to the size of a fist. As the roots spread out, they knocked the glass vial off the table, shattering it. Sylven jumped back as the seeds within sprouted roots of their own.
A loud crack echoed off the walls as a section of the table broke, and clattered to the floor. Cyrus stumbled back to keep his feet from being crushed, his body weakening with each second. He gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest as his sight grew blurry.
"I can't- I can't breathe!" Cyrus rasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to break free from the aether. Someone grabbed his shoulder, holding him steady, and Myrel's voice slipped through his ears, soft but firm.
"Cyrus. You need to listen to me. Calm your breathing, and relax. You can do this. I know you can. Don't fight the aether, allow it to flow freely. Trust it and it will respond to you."
Cyrus lurched to the wall, and grabbed ahold of the stone. Ignoring the pain, he closed his eyes, and forced his muscles to relax. His legs sagged, but Myrel gripped his shoulders, allowing him to focus on the inferno raging inside his body.
'I- I have to follow the flow! This magic is mine. I will not allow it to control me!' Cyrus thought. He bit the side of his mouth until the iron taste of blood filled it, and fixated on the aether surging through him. Gathering his strength, he slammed his mind down on the flow.
'Enough!'
By his command, the aether swirled away, leaving him panting for breath. As Myrel helped him to the ground, he pushed back his matted hair, drenched with sweat. Across the room, the vines slowed to a stop, but their roots stretched across the floor, and a thorny bramble enveloped the table.
"I'll need my dagger to clean this up," Sylven said. He made his way around the vines, and crouched in front of Cyrus."How are you feeling? No signs of a headache, or loss of rationality, right?"
"Not- not that I can tell. I'm just a bit weak," Cyrus said, his skin pale and clammy. He glanced at Myrel, who was keenly studying the plants. "What happened? Why couldn't I stop my magic?"
"I'm not sure. It seems there is a lot left to learn about you," Myrel said. He knelt beside the vines, and ran his fingers over them. "From what I can tell, the aether you used came from you, instead of the world. That's why you felt yourself growing weak. Your strength is directly tied to how much magic you can use."
Myrel scanned the room, then made his way over to the shelves, and grabbed an old leather journal. After prodding and picking at a few more of the vines, he scribbled something down. "Fortunately, there appears to be one upside to this, but it comes with a downside as well."
"What might the upside be?" Cyrus asked, picking his head up.
"The lack of madness. With the amount of aether you just used, you should definitely feel something, but you're fine," Myrel said. He snapped his journal shut. "We'll need to try a few more times, before I'm certain, but I don't think you'll ever need to worry about succumbing to the pull of magic."
"That's… good," Cyrus said. He studied the thorny vines. "So what's the problem?"
"You'll die if you ever use more magic than your body can handle. It's why you passed out before. It was your body protecting itself before you went too far."
Sylven cleared his throat. "I think we can discuss that more later. Why don't you wash up and rest for a while. We'll see how you're feeling afterwards."
"Oh, right. Yes, that's more than enough for today," Myrel said. He gestured towards the corridor. "Please, take some time to think about what you've learned. I'll spend the day going through my books, to see if I can learn anything else about your magic, or the people you're looking for."