The first light of dawn filtered through the dense forest canopy, dappling the ground with pale, trembling patches of gray. Kaelen awoke with a start, his muscles taut and sore, the memory of the Void Devourers' red eyes and the icy hiss of Lyra's sword still vivid in his mind. For a moment, the unnatural stillness of the cave confused him, until the weight of the previous night's events returned with full force. He sat up with a stifled groan, every fiber of his being protesting the effort.
Lyra was already awake, as always. He found her seated near the cave entrance, a still silhouette against the growing luminosity outside. Her long white hair fell over her shoulders, and though her face was in shadow, Kaelen could sense the alert stillness in her posture, that of a sentinel who never truly lowered her guard. The air around her seemed to vibrate with a contained energy, a calm that was almost palpable.
"Did you sleep at all?" Kaelen asked, his voice sounding rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat.
Lyra slowly turned her head, her blue eyes meeting his in the semi-darkness. There was no trace of fatigue in them, only that fathomless depth that both intrigued and intimidated him. "Enough," she replied with her usual laconism. "The forest has been quiet since those creatures fled or were destroyed. I detect no other immediate hostile presences."
They ate a sparse breakfast in silence: a few strips of dried meat and a handful of wild berries Lyra had identified as safe the day before. As Kaelen chewed the tasteless but necessary food, he couldn't stop replaying the fight.
"They were… terrifying," he finally admitted, breaking the silence. "But you… you moved as if you knew their every move before they made it."
Lyra finished her portion before answering, wiping her hands with methodical efficiency. "Void Devourers are predictable in their ferocity, Kaelen. Their hunger is their primary driver, and that makes them reckless. They hunt by instinct, drawn to emanations of anima energy—especially potent or uncontrolled ones, like your awakening in Oakhaven." She paused, her gaze becoming more penetrating. "The 'Void-stench' they leave upon death can also attract other scavengers, or beings more sensitive to such corruptions. That is why it was important to leave no trace."
"And my… my own energy," Kaelen said, remembering Lyra's words from the previous night. "Is it still a beacon?"
"Less so than before," Lyra conceded. "The effort you made yesterday, that instinctive… 'repulsion,' though it exhausted you, also seemed to burn off some of the more volatile residual energy from your awakening. But your anima-core is still inherently powerful and, to the right senses, remarkably distinct. Therefore, the most important lesson you must learn on this journey, even before we reach the sanctuary, is the art of the 'anima veil'."
"Anima veil?"
"Precisely," Lyra assented. "It's not about suppressing your power; that would be like trying to stop a river with a sand dam—it would eventually overflow with greater force. It's about containing its outward radiation, softening your signature so you don't stand out like a bonfire in the night. Think of it as learning to speak in whispers instead of constantly shouting your presence to the world."
As they gathered their things and prepared to resume their march, Lyra gave Kaelen his first formal instructions on this technique. "Close your eyes for a moment. Feel your anima-core, that source of heat and light within you that you've begun to perceive. Now, visualize yourself enveloping it, not with a wall, but with layers of soft mist, as if you were blurring the edges of a flame to make its light more diffuse, less piercing."
For the next several hours, as they pushed on through barely trodden paths, Kaelen tried to follow Lyra's instructions. It was frustrating work. Every time he tried to "envelop" his energy, he felt it either slip through his mental fingers or, conversely, that he was smothering it, causing a feeling of tightness in his chest. The effort of concentration left him sweaty and with a slight headache.
"You are too tense, Kaelen," Lyra observed without breaking her steady stride. Her voice, though not loud, seemed to reach him clearly above the whisper of the wind through the trees. "It is not a fight against your own soul. It is a dance, a persuasion. You must convince your energy to gather itself, not force it. Feel its flow, and then, gently guide it inward."
Kaelen sighed but tried again. He focused on the sensation of his anima-core, on that warmth he had learned to recognize. He imagined it as a sphere of liquid light, and instead of trying to build walls around it, he attempted to persuade that light to become denser, more concentrated at its center, like a forming pearl.
After what felt like an eternity, he sensed a subtle shift. A slight lessening of the feeling of "radiation" that had often accompanied him since his awakening. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"Better," Lyra said suddenly, and Kaelen nearly stumbled in surprise. He hadn't realized she was monitoring his attempts so closely. "Your anima signature is fainter. Less… obvious. Keep practicing. In time, it must become as natural as breathing."
The rest of the day passed in a mixture of grueling hiking and these intermittent exercises in anima control. Lyra, meanwhile, took opportunities to impart more practical knowledge. She taught Kaelen to identify certain plants whose leaves, when burned, produced a smoke that could temporarily mask their scent and anima trail from less perceptive creatures. She showed him how to read the subtle signs of the forest: a branch broken in a certain way could indicate the passage of a large beast; the sudden silence of insects could warn of a nearby predator.
"A Portador does not rely solely on raw power, Kaelen," she explained as they examined strange tracks in the mud beside a streamlet. "True mastery lies in the harmony between inner power and an understanding of the outer world. Your anima senses will give you an advantage, but you must never neglect what your ordinary eyes and ears can teach you."
As the day wore on, Kaelen began to feel more in sync with his mentor's rhythm. There were fewer clumsy questions on his part, and more attentive observation of how Lyra interacted with the environment. She seemed an extension of the forest itself, moving with a certainty he could only admire.
On one occasion, they stopped before a circle of moss-covered stones, so ancient they seemed to have sprouted from the earth. An aura of stillness and ancient power emanated from them.
"An old Portador circle," Lyra murmured, her fingers brushing the cold surface of one of the stones. "Places like this are rare. They were used for rituals, for meditation, or to amplify certain types of energies. Most have been forgotten or destroyed."
Kaelen closed his eyes, trying to feel what Lyra described. At first, he only perceived the coldness of the stones and the smell of damp earth. But then, as he focused his intent as she had taught him, a new layer of sensations revealed itself. He felt a faint echo, like the memory of a distant chant, vibrating within the stones. And beneath that, a deep sadness, a millennial loneliness.
"I feel… as if they're waiting for something," Kaelen said quietly, surprised by his own perception. "And there's a great sorrow here."
Lyra looked at him, and this time, the approval in her eyes was unmistakable, accompanied by a hint of surprise. "Your affinity with anima echoes is… remarkable for one so new to this, Kaelen. Yes, these stones hold the memory of those who imbued them with their power. And the sadness you perceive is the echo of their passing, of lost knowledge." She fell silent for a moment, her gaze lost in the distance. "Many things were lost in the Dark Ages."
That brief moment of connection, of shared understanding over something so subtle, strengthened the respect Kaelen felt for Lyra, and perhaps, sowed a seed of something like confidence in Kaelen's own ability. Lyra wasn't treating him like a useless burden, but as an apprentice with potential worth cultivating.
As evening fell, they found a small rocky shelter for the night. The air had grown colder, and the wind carried a strange, metallic scent. Lyra, after securing the perimeter, stood looking at the western horizon, her expression gradually becoming more serious.
"We are approaching 'The Thin Veil'," she announced finally, her voice tinged with a gravity Kaelen hadn't heard before. "It is a stretch of land where the barriers between our world and other planes, including echoes of the Void, are unstable and porous."
Kaelen felt a shiver. "Is it dangerous?"
"It can be," Lyra replied. "The energies there are chaotic. Your anima perception could be overwhelmed or deceived by false echoes. Void creatures sometimes find it easier to cross in such zones. And unwary Portadores can become lost, literally or spiritually." Her gaze rested on Kaelen. "Your practice with the anima veil will be tested tomorrow. You must keep your energy contained and your mind focused. It will be a difficult passage, but necessary to reach the region where the sanctuary lies."
Kaelen nodded, a mixture of apprehension and a strange excitement forming in his chest. Each day was a new lesson, each step a new challenge. He looked westward, where the sky was rapidly darkening, imagining that land of thin veils and unstable energies. The adventure he had embarked upon with Lyra was far more than he could ever have conceived in the dusty tranquility of Oakhaven's library. And though fear was a constant companion, so too was a growing determination to face what came, to learn, and to perhaps, one day, truly understand the extent of the gift that now burned within him.