The rain had stopped sometime before dawn.When Ezra woke, the smell of damp earth still clung to the air, but the fire was newly stoked, its warmth brushing across her face.
She sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders and the lingering heaviness behind her eyes.She didn't bother removing the bandages. It wasn't as though anything would be different underneath them.
A steady footstep approached. Malachi's voice, quiet but not soft, reached her."Up. We start now."
She swung her legs off the cot, following the faint rustle of his robes as he moved. "You're serious about training me at first light."
"I told you I would."
"Right," she muttered, standing. "Where?"
"Outside."
The morning air was cool as they stepped beyond the hut. Ezra could hear water moving somewhere nearby, the low rush of a current against stones. Birds called faintly in the distance.
Malachi stopped a few paces away from her."Mana perception is not about replacing what you've lost," he began. "It's about connecting to what was always there, ignored because your eyes told you the world was solid, separate, and distant. Mana is not separate. It is the current beneath the skin of reality."
Ezra crossed her arms. "That sounds like a lecture."
"It is. You need it."
"Fine. Then what?"
"You will close your eyes—not that it changes anything for you now—and you will reach out with your mana. Think of it as… breathing outward, not inward. Extending yourself, not pulling in."
She tried. At first, it felt ridiculous — like trying to hear through her elbows. But after a few slow breaths, she felt something: a faint prickle at the edge of her awareness, like the brush of grass against bare feet.
"There," Malachi said. "You found it."
"It's weak," she admitted.
"It will be," he said. "Your mana has never been asked to listen before. Now — find me."
She focused on that strange prickle, tracing it through the air. It was different than sound, not direction exactly, but… density. A weight in the air that shaped itself into something roughly human.
"I think… you're right in front of me."
"Yes," Malachi said, sounding faintly amused. "Now — focus deeper. Try to feel the edges, the way my mana moves."
Ezra reached further — and froze.
There was something wrong.Everyone she'd ever fought beside had a signature — a rhythm in their mana, steady or erratic, faint or forceful, but alive. Malachi's… was like a still pond with something vast and coiled at the bottom, hidden just out of reach.
She stepped back instinctively."That… doesn't feel right."
Malachi's tone didn't change. "Trust your instincts. But don't mistake unfamiliar for dangerous."
"It doesn't feel unfamiliar," she said slowly. "It feels like you're hiding something."
The silence that followed stretched too long.Finally, Malachi said, "You will learn in time that the current holds many shapes. Some are born to hide in it. That does not make them your enemy."
Ezra frowned, but she let it go — for now.
"Again," Malachi said. "The more you practice, the more you'll feel without touching."
They repeated the exercise until her temples throbbed.By the end, she could sense Malachi's position and the faint shimmer of mana in the trees around them — birds, insects, even the river itself seemed alive when she reached for it.
When they returned to the hut, she felt like she'd run a mile uphill. She collapsed onto her cot, breathing hard.
"You're not bad for a first day," a familiar voice teased from beside her.
She turned her head. "Caleb?"
"Who else has a voice this charming?" he said, dragging a stool over.
Ezra snorted. "Charming is one word."
Caleb leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know… you learning this mana perception thing might fix more than just your blindness."
"How so?"
"Well," Caleb said, grinning in his voice, "remember the time you tried to hit that Shade Stalker with a mana burst and instead nearly cooked Gideon's coat off?"
Ezra groaned. "I told you, that was one time—"
"And the time you accidentally blasted the cart we were hiding behind instead of the enemy?" Caleb continued, clearly enjoying himself. "And who could forget when you tried a barrier spell, tripped over your own boots, and almost flattened me with it?"
She tried not to laugh — and failed. "Those were… beginner mistakes."
"They were life-threatening mistakes," Caleb said, mock-indignant. "But the point is — if you can actually feel where everyone is before you cast something, maybe you won't almost kill us by accident."
Ezra shook her head, still smiling despite herself. "I guess that would be an improvement."
"There you go," Caleb said, patting her arm. "See? Blind or not, you're still dangerous — just… hopefully in a more targeted way."
The laugh faded into a softer silence. Ezra's smile lingered, but so did the ache in her chest. "I don't know, Caleb… I keep thinking about what Malachi said. About this being a different way to see."
"And?"
"I'm scared that if I learn it… I'll start forgetting what it was like to actually see with my eyes. That I'll lose something else."
Caleb's tone softened, serious now. "You're not replacing your sight, Ezra. You're adding another way to fight, to live. You'll remember the old way — but you'll survive with the new one. And that's what matters."
She let his words settle in the space between them.
From across the room, she could faintly feel Gideon's mana signature — restless, like a predator pacing. Eliakim's was steadier, quieter, almost blending into the background unless she looked for it. And Malachi… Malachi was still that still pond, impossible to read fully.
Ezra didn't know yet whether learning to sense him more clearly would make her trust him… or fear him.
But as Caleb said, one step at a time.