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(Chapter : Fireside Lessons)
The conversation had drifted into easier tides.
Yotel and Oliver sat on the slope near the lake, the sun dipping lower, tinting the sky with streaks of amber and mauve. The two of them talked casually, skipping from random topics to light jabs.
"You've been a Traveler for, what, a year now?" Oliver asked, tossing a pebble into the water.
"Yep. Anniversary's coming up." Yotel grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. "Turned seventeen last week. Funny, right? You'd think I'd have my life together by now."
Oliver gave a dry chuckle. "At least you made it this far. I've barely been here a month."
"That's wild." Yotel tilted his head, watching Oliver. "One month, and you're already in the middle of camp wars and Player Kings. You're speeding through the rookie phase, man."
Oliver shrugged, his usual guardedness softened in the relaxed air. "Traveling's been… pretty cool, honestly. Adventurous, unpredictable. I don't hate it."
Yotel nodded, smirk widening. "That's the spirit. First it's campfires and merc hunting, next thing you know, you're knee-deep in sector politics and rare loot hunts."
Their laughter was quiet, unforced. The kind of rare, unspoken bond that forms when people understand the chaos around them but choose to appreciate the pause.
A few meters away, by a flat patch of earth, Fern was at work.
She knelt, palm pressed to the soil, his Vita flowing outward. Tiny vines spiraled from beneath her fingers, curling into delicate stems that bloomed into luminescent flowers, their light pulsing with life. Fern's control over nature was always precise, always calm—a contrast to the wild, untamed energy of most Travelers.
She glanced over his shoulder toward Oliver. "You should be practicing, Oliver."
Oliver turned, raising an eyebrow. "Practicing?"
Fern stood slowly, brushing her hands clean of dirt. "Your Vita. You're heavily underpowered. All the adventuring in the world won't compensate for weak control over your own energy."
Oliver frowned. "I've been getting stronger through experience."
"That's part of it." Fern's tone was stoic, but there was a firm undertone now. "But raw experience without foundation is like swinging a dull blade. You may cut, but it won't be deep."
Yotel snorted. "He's got a point. You've got instincts, Oliver, but your Vita output is paper-thin."
Fern gestured to the sprouting plants at her feet. "Vita isn't just about force or strength. It's harmony, flow, understanding how life breathes. You're pushing through every fight on willpower alone. That won't last. The next clash could break you."
Oliver looked at his hands. His grip tightened.
Yotel watched, then nudged Oliver's shoulder. "Don't overthink it. You've got the guts; now you need finesse. You'll get there."
Fern stepped closer, her gaze level. "We'll begin training at dawn tomorrow. No excuses."
Oliver nodded, a faint smirk forming. "Alright, Fern. Guess I don't get to slack anymore."
Yotel leaned back, hands behind his head. "Better you than me, man."
The lake reflected the evening sky, and the camp behind them crackled with the glow of small fires. Laughter, the smell of cooking, and the soft murmur of plans for tomorrow wove through the air.
But for Oliver, tomorrow now meant something else.
Training. Growth. Preparing for whatever storm would come next.
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