Morning came with the kind of calm that feels suspicious.
Birdsong.
Soft sky.
No screaming bandits echoing behind them.
Which honestly felt wrong.
Aiden walked silently for a while, staring at his hands like they might confess something.
He didn't feel powerful.
He didn't feel like a cosmic force.
He felt like someone who accidentally leaned on a lever labeled "REALITY" and nobody had told him where the brakes were yet.
Senior drifted beside him, dignified as always, like a floating patience sermon wrapped in expensive smugness.
They didn't speak at first.
The world had opinions about silence, though.
A rock rolled into the middle of the path.
Aiden tripped.
Fell.
Face-first.
Senior blinked.
"…Hm."
Aiden lay in the dirt.
"I refuse," he said into the ground. "I refuse to believe reality hates me personally."
Another rock fell off a slope.
Specifically onto the back of his head.
Senior's lips twitched.
"It does not hate you. It is simply… fond of your reactions."
Aiden sat up, shoving pebbles out of his hair.
"I want a refund on existence."
"Yes," Senior nodded. "Most promising cases say that early on."
He floated closer.
Then, tone shifting serious:
"Today, we begin training."
Aiden perked up slightly.
"Training. Good. Training sounds structured. Orderly. Helpful. Safe."
Senior placed both hands on his shoulders like someone preparing to deliver bad news politely.
"No. It sounds like that. It is not that."
Aiden squinted.
"This feels like another metaphorical wildfire conversation, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
Of course it was.
They moved off the road to a quiet clearing.
Senior lifted one hand and the air shifted.
Not violently.
Not magically.
Just… respectfully.
Like the world knew who was speaking.
"Aiden," Senior said, "you are not merely able to grant. You are called to respond. Desire resonates with you. You shine in the dark where desperation lives."
"That sounds like a terrifying dating profile," Aiden muttered weakly.
Senior smiled faintly.
"You may laugh now. You will scream later. Balance."
He snapped his fingers.
Light appeared.
Not glowing.
Not dramatic.
Just present.
Not blinding brilliance.
Not holy radiance.
Potential.
Aiden felt it hum inside him.
"Lesson One," Senior continued. "Restraint is power. Anyone can answer. Masters choose when."
"I didn't choose anything yesterday."
"No," Senior said gently. "The universe chose for you. Because you left it room to."
He motioned.
Energy curled around Aiden like an untrained muscle twitching.
"Right now, you are instinct. Reflex. Reaction. If desperation yells loud enough, your soul answers before your mind keeps up."
"So how do I stop that?" Aiden asked quietly.
Senior's smile softened.
"You do not stop it. You shape it."
Aiden swallowed.
He didn't like that answer.
He also didn't hate it.
That was worse somehow.
Training looked… unimpressive.
No loud spells.
No dramatic explosions.
No glowing runes.
Senior had him stand.
And breathe.
And feel.
Desires brushed at the edges of awareness like faint whispers.
Loneliness somewhere.
Hunger far away.
Tiny wishes.
Petty wishes.
Quiet hopes.
Enough to drown in if he didn't learn to narrow the flood.
Aiden clenched his jaw.
"Feels like drowning sideways."
"Good," Senior said serenely. "That means you are aware."
"That is NOT reassuring."
"No. It is honest."
Time blurred. The world thinned. The universe hummed.
By the end, Aiden was trembling and sweating like he'd run a marathon.
Senior nodded approvingly.
"Better."
"I feel like mashed potatoes," Aiden muttered.
"Excellent. You are softening properly."
Evening arrived.
They camped.
Senior conjured fire with the effortless flick of someone who had long ago negotiated an understanding with physics.
Aiden leaned back.
Stared at the sky.
"…Do you ever get used to this?"
Senior considered.
"To the power, yes. To the responsibility? Rarely. To the consequences?"
He smiled faintly.
"Absolutely not."
"That is terrible encouragement."
"You asked honestly. You deserve honest answers."
They sat in quiet companionship.
Not awkward anymore.
Still heavy… but shared.
Aiden let his mind rest.
Senior… did not.
He tilted his head slightly, gaze drifting past the treeline into a direction Aiden never noticed.
Like someone listening to another song.
A heartbeat passed.
Senior's lips curved.
Ah.
There she was.
Quiet footsteps in the world.
A careful mind.
Professional suspicion wrapped around calm.
Seris Valen.
The little investigator shadowing fate.
Senior knew.
He had known.
He had known for quite some time.
He did absolutely nothing about it.
Not a warning.
Not a barrier.
Not the faintest attempt to stop her.
Why would he?
Mortals rarely received front-row seats to myth.
And he very much wanted to watch her expression when she realized certain fairy tales were not metaphors… merely underfunded in academic circles.
He turned his attention smoothly back to Aiden as if he had never looked away.
"Aiden," he said warmly, "you are progressing."
Aiden smiled tiredly.
He had no idea.
Far back along their path, Seris paused, fingers brushing a faint ripple in the air.
She frowned slightly.
"…Closer."
She did not know he knew.
She did not know she was tolerated rather than successful.
She did not know she was walking toward a truth most people were sensible enough never to learn.
She adjusted her cloak.
And continued.
Back in the clearing…
Something shifted.
Not threatening.
Just mischievous.
Aiden's stomach dropped.
"Senior," he said slowly, "did you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Is it bad?"
"It is… opportunity."
That was never comforting.
The wind rustled.
Aiden could feel a wish being born somewhere nearby.
Small.
Ridiculous.
Intense.
He closed his eyes.
"I hate this part."
Senior grinned.
"I know."
The universe prepared another joke.
Aiden braced.
Senior waited.
Seris walked closer.
And fate cheerfully flipped to the next problem.