"Now," He said as he paced lightly in front of the boys, "I must educate you in the ways of Kernar magic."
The boys glanced at each other, anxious to begin.
"As with all forms of magic, it requires physical energy in order to use. However, i have some cheats for us." From his pocket, he pulls out two chains nearly identical to his own, and two very small rubies dangled from the chains in their own gold cages. These were much smaller than the one which the boys' father possessed. "Rubies are a source of power for us, boys. Early in our existence, it was discovered that they enhance our magical abilities when worn with gold. The larger the stone, the more energy it will give you. We will start small. Here." He handed the boys their necklaces, and they tried their best not to show their eagerness.
"How does it work, Father?" Feindar asked, admiring his red jewel.
"Well, let me show and tell, now shall i?" Feindar's Father replied. "In order to summon your magic, boys, it will be difficult, as you have never used it before. The rubies will help you this first time, so you may have more than one chance to perform correctly. Without those chains, you would only have enough energy for one attempt. Understood?"
the boys nodded their heads. Dreatox looked into his ruby and noticed that there was a reflection of himself on the shiny surface. He gazed at his grey eyes, soon to be black with the gain of powers, as is with all Kernar Sorcerers. He observed his thick black eyebrows, his straight black hair that hung over his forehead in a jagged, messy fashion. The scar on his cheek from the lash of a whip was still very visible, and he frowned at it, turning away from the amulet and to his Father.
"I want you to imagine the most hated thing in your lives. Something you wish death upon, something that drives your anger and fuels your fire." He looked at his sons; watched them close their eyes and think.
Dreatox closed his eyes and suddenly saw a vision of his Father. He opened his eyes, looking up at him. No... he thought. He closed his eyes again, and the vision returned. He saw his father with the red whip, lashing Dreatox in the morning to wake him, lashing him when he couldn't beat Feindar during training, lashing, the torture, the hate, the hate, the hate, and the pain and the blood, all the blood...Dreatox opened his eyes, panting. He looked down, and saw his palm glowing red. Both Feindar and his father were looking at him.
"Well done, Dreatox."
Feindar just stared in awe, mesmerized by the magic. Dreatox could see the envy in his brother's face. His father's face was hiding the satisfaction, and was still in its stone frown. Dreatox let go, allowed his muscles to calm from their tensed state, and felt a wave of weakness consume him. He watched Feindar try again. His face contorted in concentration, and his fists clenched. He opened one eye to peek at his right hand, but to only see pale flesh. He was panting as well. He tried again, but to no avail. He was becoming frustrated, Dreatox could tell. Feindar tried quite a few more times before he collapsed, out of breath and shaking.
Dreatox wanted to smile, but he knew that doing so would either leave him with more lashes or an attack from the (much weakened) Feindar. He decided against it.
Dreatox spent the rest of the afternoon bringing forth his magic. He practiced periodically as so he did not become too weak.
Feindar could still not create the red glow by nightfall, and was extremely tired by the end of the day, and fell asleep before he could even eat supper.
The next two weeks were practice with magic. Feindar finally was able to summon his after the first week of attempts. In that time, Dreatox was learning how to control his magic, transferring it from one hand to another, suspending it in midair for a short amount of time before he had to let go and it disappeared. Fatigue is what stopped him each day, and at night he would wake up and play with the red glow, make it flicker, grow, and shrink.
Feindar had much difficulty with it all. For once, his weakling of a brother Dreatox could do something that he could not. In order to "help" Feindar, his father would talk him through it. He would recall their history, provoke anger in his son, would remind of Dreatox's success with the magic, and there was no doubt in Dreatox's mind that the hated being in Feindar's mind was him.