Thained watched him calmly as the vapor slowly dissolved into the air, as though it had never been there at all.
"Now, try to do the same," he ordered, with an almost indifferent calm.
Fares looked at him with determination and copied his movements.
In truth, he had no idea what the man had done.
He improvised.
He raised his hand and applied force; his muscles tensed, as if physical pressure could tear out that invisible thing he was trying to release.
Nothing happened.
The air remained unchanged.
He could only feel the strain building up in his own arm.
Thained did not intervene.
He waited.
Seconds began to turn into minutes.
Fares' arm trembled.
Not from power.
Not from contained energy.
From effort.
He clenched his teeth and forced the movement even harder.
The surroundings remained indifferent.
Only his body reacted.
And it was beginning to fail him.
The silence grew heavy.
Thained's stillness did not reassure him; it exposed him.
He explained nothing.
So... was it supposed to be obvious?
He tried copying him again.
Same gesture.
More concentration.
More force.
Something was wrong.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember the vapor surrounding Thained's body, moving naturally.
If it needed no explanation...
if it was that simple...
Then the mistake was not in the air.
It was in him.
Until a soft voice sounded beside his ear. A faint warmth brushed against it.
"Fares... he's here to guide you. Why don't you ask him?"
Fares jerked away in surprise. He opened his eyes and saw her beside him.
Lyrastrid stood upright, wearing the same serene expression as always. A faint smile rested on her lips.
She took a step back, as though she had not interrupted anything important.
"Well... you would know."
She turned naturally and began walking toward the exit.
Before crossing the doorway, she raised a hand in a light farewell and left without adding anything else.
Fares remained silent, staring at the door of the enclosure.
His face felt hot.
An uncomfortable sensation spread through his chest.
He could find no explanation for it.
He only knew that staying there without making progress felt unpleasant.
But the idea was already there.
He sighed, as though that gesture cost him more than the previous attempt.
He lowered his gaze.
"Sir... could you explain how to do that?"
Thained looked at him.
To Fares' surprise, there was no reproach in his eyes.
Only a deep calm.
"You're doing it wrong," he said, without changing his tone.
The statement landed directly.
Fares felt his jaw tighten and lowered his gaze.
"I was only... imitating you."
"I wasn't doing that. At no point did I tense my muscles."
Silence returned, but it no longer weighed the same way.
"Boy, lift your head."
Fares obeyed instantly and held his gaze, waiting.
For a moment, something changed in Thained's eyes.
It was not mockery.
Nor impatience.
It was genuine attention.
"The key is not strength. Calmness is the key."
The word hung between them.
Calmness.
He had heard it before.
Aida had used it as well.
If both of them insisted on it, then it had to be important.
Thained moved his hands again, this time without tension, with an almost lazy naturalness.
"Close your eyes. Silence your senses. Listen to your heart."
Fares inhaled carefully and exhaled slowly.
At first, his pulse remained uneven.
Then something changed.
The noise of his thoughts began to fade.
The discomforts stopped demanding attention.
The surroundings lost their weight.
His heartbeat steadied.
The air no longer pressed against his chest.
Thained's presence, the grass beneath his feet, the entire environment began to blur in his perception.
It did not disappear.
It simply stopped imposing itself.
And, for the first time since he had raised his arm, he was not trying to do anything.
At that precise moment, he felt it.
A warmth was born in his torso.
It was not a fever.
It was different.
The boy frowned.
Thained noticed the change in his expression and continued firmly:
"Now that you can feel it, try to release it. Guide that warmth toward your skin with your will."
The man's voice sounded distant, yet clear.
Fares thought he understood.
If strength did not work...
then the method had to be something else.
He felt it.
The warmth was not moving through his body...
it was simply there.
Present.
Waiting.
He frowned slightly.
He observed the sensation for a few moments.
It did not seem to move.
It did not seem to react.
Even so, he tried to release it.
But he did not know how.
There was no method, no path, no structure.
Only the sensation...
and his own intention.
He tried.
And the warmth did not respond.
It remained there.
Dense. Contained.
As though it obeyed not his will...
but something else he did not yet understand.
The temperature gradually increased.
First in his chest.
Then it spread to his arms, his back, his neck.
It felt as though fine burning lines were running through his body.
Thained spoke again to guide him:
"It will burn you, but do not lose your calm."
Fares nodded.
He continued.
But the burning sensation began to grow.
Beneath his skin.
In his muscles.
As though that warmth was searching for an exit through any possible opening.
But the burning intensified.
His skin began to burn.
Sweat formed on his fingers, and the heat continued to spread, becoming fiercer and fiercer.
His skin reddened, first on his hands, then on his arms.
The pain tore through him from within, as though his own body were burning.
Even so, he continued.
His muscles tensed.
His breathing grew heavy.
Then Thained's voice cut through the moment.
"That's enough."
Fares stopped.
The heat was still coursing through him, sharp and persistent.
He looked up at the man, confused and still trembling.
Thained was watching him seriously.
"It's enough. Don't force your body like that. You'll injure yourself and won't be able to continue."
Fares frowned.
Fares blinked.
He had not expected that order.
Until now, every limit had been something he was supposed to overcome.
But Thained seemed to consider this a mistake.
He kept the observation to himself and obeyed.
The man spoke calmly.
"Stand up."
Fares obeyed without thinking. He rose slowly, still sore from the burning sensation that lingered beneath his skin.
"We'll start with the physical training."
As soon as he finished speaking, vapor began to pour from his body.
It was not violent.
It was steady.
The gas peeled away from his skin as though it had always been there, spreading through the air... and then stopping.
It gathered in front of him.
It concentrated.
The mass began to compress slowly, as though an invisible force were forcing it to occupy less space.
Fares frowned.
The vapor stopped dispersing.
It became dense.
Compact.
It took shape.
At first, indistinct.
Then defined.
A long structure.
Horizontal.
"..."
Fares narrowed his eyes.
A bar...?
Then the change happened.
The surface stopped fluctuating.
The gas collapsed in on itself.
It hardened.
The shine appeared first, faintly... then firmly.
The vapor had vanished.
In its place remained a solid bar.
Iron.
Rough. Cold. Real.
Thained did not look at it.
As though it were nothing worth taking pride in.
"Get up," the man ordered.
Fares did not answer.
His eyes remained fixed on the bar.
Iron.
Solid.
Impossible.
"Get up."
This time, it was not an order thrown into the air.
It was directed at him.
Fares reacted.
He approached stiffly and, after a brief moment of hesitation, jumped and grabbed the bar.
His hands closed around the metal.
Cold.
Firm.
Real.
The contact ran through his body like an uncomfortable confirmation.
It was not an illusion.
He held himself up.
Thained raised three fingers.
"Three eins."
Fares did not ask.
He tightened his grip.
Tensed his arms.
Pulled himself upward.
The movement was clumsy.
Heavy.
Barely controlled.
His muscles protested immediately.
But it was not only that.
The warmth.
It was still there.
It moved beneath his skin in a disorderly way, as though reacting to the effort.
It reached his arms.
His hands.
His fingers burned.
His grip became unstable.
His body trembled.
He held on.
One second.
Two.
His breathing began to break apart.
The heat pushed from within.
Three.
When he finally lowered himself, his arms gave out more than he expected.
His feet hit the ground with a dull thud.
The burning did not disappear.
"Do seven more," he ordered.
Fares looked at him.
For a moment, he did not react.
His arms were still trembling from the previous effort.
"Seven... more?"
There was no answer.
Only Thained's steady gaze.
Fares clenched his teeth.
He grabbed the bar again.
One.
The movement was slower.
Two.
The pain came sooner.
Three.
His hands trembled, irritated by the strain.
Four.
He had to let go.
He dropped down, breathing heavily.
He remained below for a few seconds.
His chest rose and fell unevenly.
He pulled himself up again.
Five.
His arms were failing.
Six.
His grip trembled.
Seven.
He barely managed to complete the last one.
When he dropped down, this time he did not move immediately.
His body felt heavy.
"..."
Thained gave a slight nod.
Then he walked away.
Between two trees hung a pair of cloths.
He took one.
Then another.
He approached and tossed one to Fares.
"Imitate me."
Without another word, he draped it over the bar.
He gripped both ends.
And lifted himself.
The movement was clean.
Fluid.
Without any apparent effort.
He moved up and down as though weight did not exist.
Fares watched him silently.
The contrast was obvious.
Thained lowered himself.
"Six eins."
Fares did not answer.
He was still staring at the towel.
Then at his hands.
Red.
Trembling.
The burning had not disappeared.
And now...
he had to do something even worse.
The boy approached the bar.
He jumped.
Grabbed both ends of the towel.
The moment he held it, he understood.
It was not the same.
The grip gave way.
The cloth deformed beneath his fingers.
His hands immediately began to slip.
He frowned.
He clenched his jaw.
The pain in his fingers returned immediately, sharper than before.
And the rest of his body was no help.
His arms were already exhausted.
Even so, he pulled.
He tried to lift himself.
His muscles responded late.
Poorly.
But they moved.
Barely.
His body rose a few centimeters.
Then—
His grip failed.
The towel slipped through his fingers.
And vanished from his hands.
The world tilted.
The bar moved away.
He fell.
The impact was clumsy.
Heavy.
The air escaped his lungs the moment he hit the ground.
He remained seated for a few seconds, motionless.
Pain coursing through his arms.
His hands burning.
"Damn it..."
The word came out low and weighted.
The boy breathed heavily.
He raised his hands.
His skin was red.
In some places, small blisters were beginning to form.
Fares stared at them in silence.
His breathing remained uneven.
He assessed the condition of his hands.
Blisters.
Pain.
Loss of strength.
The result was obvious.
Even so, he could still move.
Even so, he stood up.
He looked at the bar.
Then at the towel.
He jumped.
Grabbed it tightly.
Clenched his teeth.
Inhaled.
And pulled.
His body responded violently.
Pain surged from his fingers, ran through his forearms, and buried itself deep in his arms.
His muscles trembled.
His grip was slipping.
But he did not let go.
He tried to climb.
He barely advanced.
A few centimeters.
His body would not follow.
But he persisted.
Then—
"Enough."
Thained's voice cut through the movement.
It was not louder.
But it was firmer.
Fares let go immediately.
He fell.
This time, he did not try to get up.
He remained standing where he landed, motionless, his gaze lowered.
He was still short of breath.
"If you continue like this, you'll injure yourself."
There was no harshness in the tone.
Only certainty.
Fares did not answer.
"You must know when to stop."
Silence fell between them.
Fares pressed his lips together slightly.
He nodded.
Thained turned around.
"We'll continue."
He began walking without looking back.
Fares hesitated for a second.
Then followed him.
The training did not stop.
Pull.
Push.
Hold.
His body began to divide itself into parts.
His hands failed first.
His grip gave out too soon.
Then his arms.
Heavy.
Slow.
Useless.
His legs trembled under their own weight.
Each descent was clumsier than the last.
His balance broke easily.
His core no longer responded.
His body could not stay stable.
But he kept going.
The warmth did not disappear either.
It moved with him.
To his arms.
To his legs.
To his torso.
Pressing.
Building.
Growing more intense.
More unstable.
His breathing was uneven.
"Stop."
Thained's voice was not louder.
But this time... it was not a correction.
It was an ending.
Fares did not react immediately.
His body needed a moment to understand that it no longer had to move.
When he finally stopped, silence fell all at once.
Heavy.
Thained watched him for a few seconds.
Then he spoke.
"Now, release it."
He did not explain.
He did not point.
He did not repeat himself.
Fares lifted his head slightly.
He understood what the man meant; he had already tried before.
He had failed.
He did not question it.
Not anymore.
He swallowed.
Then lowered himself to the ground. He closed his eyes.
He tried to remember the man's words.
Calm.
Silence.
Breathe.
He tried.
He truly tried.
But his body was not calm.
It hurt.
It trembled.
It was failing from the previous exertion.
His pulse was still racing, his breathing uneven.
The warmth did not appear.
It was already there.
It always had been.
But now... he could feel it.
Not as before.
Not as a vague or uncomfortable sensation.
It was clear.
Present.
And yet... it did not respond.
It did not flow.
It grew dense.
It tightened beneath his skin, as though it were being forcibly contained.
Unstable.
...
Stopping... changed nothing.
His fingers tensed.
Despite the pain.
Despite the trembling.
He inhaled.
And decided.
To release it.
"..."
Nothing happened.
Fares frowned.
He tried again.
The warmth responded.
But it did not obey.
He could find no pattern.
No structure.
No way to guide it.
The warmth increased.
It was not responding to his will.
It was reacting to something else.
And Fares did not understand what it was.
Then—
the balance broke.
The Zau responded.
Not to his control...
but to his desperation.
It overflowed.
It was not coming out...
It was escaping.
It was not release.
It was escape.
The air in front of him distorted.
Vapor appeared.
Violent.
Unstable.
Formless.
It tried to hold itself together...
and failed.
Fares opened his eyes.
But it was already too late.
He had released it.
But he was not controlling it.
The flow did not respond.
It simply poured out.
And the cost came immediately.
The burning intensified beyond anything he had felt before.
The pain concentrated in his fingers.
Climbed up his arms.
Blisters began to form.
Burns.
His body was not prepared to sustain that release.
His balance vanished.
The world tilted.
Sound became distant.
And then—
the light began to fade.
Fares' body collapsed against the ground without resistance.
The vapor dissolved into the air.
As though it had never been there.
Silence.
His skin was red.
Marked.
Still warm.
Thained did not move immediately.
He watched.
One second.
Two.
"You felt the flow..."
"You released it... without understanding it."
"What you do not understand, you do not control."
"And what you force... breaks."
The boy did not respond.
He could not.
The warmth... was still there.
Weak.
But very present.