After an hour of walking, the two entered a section of the forest where the trees seemed dead.
There, Elaruîn was teaching Fay how to walk properly.
The crunchy leaves were nearly impossible to step over without making noise, yet his teacher moved without a sound—and was even floating slightly, which somewhat defeated the purpose.
"How do you even do that?" Fay asked, wondering if he could eventually learn the same through training.
"Simple," Elaruîn replied calmly. "Live a few hundred years and learn to shape aether around your body. I'm only doing this to give you an idea of what you should be able to do in the future. Don't rely on brute strength like Nahrin…"
The elf looked a little sad but continued urging Fay forward. It was about half an hour later when Fay realized he was doing something wrong.
"Say… I've been trying this whole time, but I'm not getting any better. Were you maybe… waiting for me to use my creature or something?"
As he spoke, Fay wanted to facepalm.
Elaruîn raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. [Took you long enough, kid. You think we've got years to wait while you learn how to step on the right part of a leaf? I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't expect you to use your best tools. Now think—which creature can actually help you? I won't spell it out.]
Fay thought about his three creatures. He didn't believe it was Somni or Jolt—neither seemed suited for this. Something told him it was Grin, his teacher was referring to, mostly due to the illusion-based magic the Eluwyn were known for.
He summoned Grin to test his theory. The creature wasn't at full size since it hadn't eaten much in the past few days. However, it had absorbed more energy from the core Fay had given it, which granted it greater reserves of aether and allowed it to remain summoned for longer.
[Good. I see you're thinking this through properly. I won't waste my time. Think about the test: if you pass, I'll reward you. If you fail, we will stay here an extra day. Mind you—days for me are hours for you hums. So, choose wisely.]
Fay gulped at the warning and quickly refocused on the task at hand.
"Walk around, Grin. If possible, try not to make any noise," Fay instructed.
At first, the task seemed almost impossible. Grin was massive—easily the size of a large predator—and Fay could've sworn he weighed over a thousand pounds, especially considering he had once carried an entire tree on his back. There was no way something that big could move without making a sound.
Or so Fay thought.
He watched in disbelief as Grin stepped across the leaf-littered forest floor. Not a single crunch was heard; it was the first time Fay paid attention to this detail.
"How…?"
Fay blinked, then rushed over to stop him. Curious, he tried to lift one of Grin's legs—and realized with a jolt that the creature didn't weigh as much as he'd assumed. There was weight, sure, but nowhere near what it should've been.
He turned toward Elaruîn, still stunned.
The elf just chuckled. "Keep going. I want to see how far you can take this."
He gave a wave as he sat down—gracefully, as if settling into an invisible chair—and leaned back, completely at ease.
"Don't worry," he added with a faint smirk. "I was joking about keeping you here for days just to master this step. But I do need you to improve. So, at least figure this part out on your own."
Fay watched him in silence. There was something deeper going on—something about the way Elaruîn moved, how he performed feats that seemed effortless, impossible. And now this: Grin, somehow able to adjust his weight, the noise, and his very presence.
Fay had the creeping sense that it wasn't just about walking quietly. There was something more Elaruîn wanted him to grasp. But how was he supposed to mimic what his creature did—what even his teacher did—when he didn't understand how it was possible in the first place?
"Grin, give me some help here, buddy. How do you even use magic…?"
Fay crouched in front of his creature, hoping for some kind of sign—guidance, or maybe just a spark of understanding.
Grin wagged his tail and tried to lick his face.
"Okay, okay, stop—no face licking. Let me think for a second."
Fay took a breath and began examining the beast. He checked Grin's weight again, then his size. Ran his hands through the thick fur. Everything felt solid. Real. Not an illusion.
So how…?
He closed his eyes and focused. He knew the trick—how to sense the connection between himself and his summon. That faint, glowing red thread that tethered their souls together. It always pulsed lightly when he thought of Grin.
But this time, it wasn't helping. At least… not in the way he'd been using it.
Fay narrowed his focus. He let everything else fade away—the trees, the breeze, even Grin's hot breath—and zeroed in on the thread. That strange, invisible tether pulsing between them.
"Hm…"
He wondered—could he interact with it? Touch it, somehow?
Tentatively, Fay moved his hand in the direction of the thread, imagining his fingers brushing against its invisible form, but in real life.
Something responded.
The thread pulsed hard. A jolt shot through him—not pain, exactly, but a sharp pressure that made him flinch, as if one of his nerves was pinched.
"Agh—okay, not touching it."
He winced, rubbing his hand as the sensation faded. It felt like a warning.
"Hmm… not to touch, but to…"
Fay opened his eyes. The magic rod was still in his hand—the wand with the embedded jewel.
"A crutch, huh…" he muttered.
Closing his eyes again, he imagined the wand hovering near the thread—the invisible red line that connected him to his creature. This time, he focused on interacting with it without touching it, gently playing the wand close to the thread in his mind.
Then it happened. The jewel on the wand began to darken in his vision, turning a dull gray as if responding to his thoughts.
He concentrated harder, wondering what to do with the energy. The small gem pulsed once, dark and dense—something he hadn't seen before.
"Perfect," came Elaruîn's voice, calm but firm. "Exactly how you should have started. Now, let me handle this part so it doesn't explode in your face. Keep your eyes closed and stay focused."
Fay obeyed, not daring to open them. Something deep within warned him that now wasn't the time to break concentration.
Then he saw it: a current of energy moving from the wand to his chest. He felt it, warm and alive, sinking into his body.
"Did you see it?" Elaruîn asked. "You need to transfer the energy you took from your creature into your wand and then through your hand, all the way into your core. In your case, it's easier—you've got the Aetherfang Piercing the Ravari gave you. That will do the job of the wand eventually. Still, don't rely on it too much. You need to learn how to gather aether directly, so the effect becomes almost instant."
There was a pause, then:
"Now, use the magic I've just helped guide into your core. It should be enough for you to walk properly, at least for a few seconds."
Fay focused. He kept his eyes closed, visualizing the swirling gray mist in his core. With intent, he guided that energy downward—toward his legs, then his feet.
And in that moment, something shifted.
It was subtle, but unmistakable: a lightness in his limbs, like the weight of his body had lifted slightly.
He took a step, then another.
They were two of the quietest steps he had ever taken in his short life.
Just like that of a ninja.