The Garden of?
Chapter eight:
The family:
The morning sunlight fell softly on the village of Tern, painting the small cottages with a warm golden glow. Leif stretched his arms, feeling the familiar ache of muscles he had pushed to the limit the day before. At fourteen, his body had grown stronger, leaner, and more precise with every movement, yet the constant grind of training still made him groan quietly. Airen, his father, stood a few paces away, his green eyes steady and calm, watching as Leif adjusted his stance. The early morning air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves, and even in the quiet of the village, there was life—people starting their daily chores, and Rufius somewhere in the distance, giggling as he chased a stray chicken.
"Focus, Leif," Airen's voice cut through the morning calm, firm but not unkind. "Your footwork is sloppy. Again."
Leif inhaled deeply, centering himself. His hands gripped the hilt of his sword, feeling the weight and balance, the subtle hum of the Aethersteel coursing through it. He had come so far. At this age, most boys were still learning the basics, but Leif's coordination, precision, and spirit control were already exceptional. He could feel the flow of Aether within him, channeling it smoothly into his blade with each strike. Yet, as perfect as this training made him, there was still one thing missing—magic. The ability to cast spells, to manipulate raw energy beyond the steel and spirits, was something he could not yet grasp. That gap gnawed at him quietly, a small shadow over his otherwise bright progress.
Despite this, Leif had grown confident. Each swing of the blade, each controlled movement, was proof of his progress. He could now strike with speed and accuracy that even Airen had once found surprising, and with his spirit training under Ferexia, he had begun to synchronize his energy with the world around him. Leaves would stir before his strike, shadows seemed to bend subtly as he moved, and at times, he could feel Rufius's presence in the air long before hearing his laugh. That connection made him sharper, more aware, and at the same time, more protective.
Speaking of Rufius, the little boy was already running toward the training yard, his tiny feet kicking up dust as he ran. Four years old and already fearless, he had inherited Airen's black hair and sharp features but had those startling blue eyes that mirrored Leif's. Pale skin, mischievous grin, and a natural glow of energy around him—it was clear to everyone that Rufius was special. Ferexia had smiled the first time she noticed his innate connection to spirit flow. "He doesn't need to learn yet," she had whispered to Airen. "He already feels it."
Rufius bounced into the yard, stopping just short of Leif, and raised his small hands. "Fight me, Lei! Fight me!"
Leif allowed a small smile. "You're too little, Rufius. You'll get hurt."
"But I want to!" Rufius insisted, stomping his tiny feet. His enthusiasm was infectious. Leif knelt slightly, bringing himself to eye level with his brother. "Alright," he said softly. "But don't get in my way."
And so, the morning began in its usual blend of discipline and chaos. Leif's swings were precise, his Aethersteel humming as he practiced, while Rufius darted around, attempting to mimic him. At first, the little boy's movements were clumsy, wild, and completely uncoordinated, but Leif noticed something extraordinary. As Rufius raised his tiny hands, a faint shimmer of light followed his motions, a subtle glow that suggested he was naturally channeling spirit energy even without knowing it. Leif paused mid-swing, astonished.
"Rufius…" he muttered, lowering his blade. "You… you're controlling it?"
Ferexia, standing at the edge of the yard, smiled gently. "He's gifted, Leif. More than most at his age."
Rufius looked up, innocent and proud. "I'm helping!"
Airen, observing silently, raised an eyebrow. "He is indeed talented," he said slowly. "But raw talent isn't enough. He will need guidance."
Leif's heart swelled with pride and something else—responsibility. He had trained so hard to reach this point, yet here was his little brother, naturally touching the same currents of spirit that he had struggled to harness. And now, it was Leif's duty to guide him.
Training continued through the day, broken occasionally by Rufius's interruptions. He would dart under Leif's arms, tumble near the sword strikes, or burst into laughter, disrupting the flow of combat. Each time, Leif had to adapt, redirecting not only his Aethersteel control but also his awareness of the environment. By the afternoon, both brothers were exhausted, but in very different ways. Leif's muscles ached from exertion and focus, while Rufius's laughter had finally ebbed into quiet breathing as he sat next to Ferexia.
As the sun began to set, painting the village with amber light, Leif sheathed his sword and wiped sweat from his brow. He could feel the spirits around him more clearly now, their presence more fluid, more obedient to his will. He was no longer merely wielding Aethersteel; he was harmonizing it with spirit energy, guiding both with precision and control. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought that magic—the missing component—was still just out of reach.
Ferexia approached, brushing her hand over his hair. "You're ready for more, Leif," she said softly. "You control the spirits well. You control your Aethersteel. But there is always more to learn."
Leif nodded, staring at the fading sunlight. "I'll get there, mama. I'll figure out magic too."
Her hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "I know you will. But don't rush. You've grown so much already. Your heart is strong, and that matters more than any power you seek."
Night fell, and the yard emptied. Rufius had already dozed off in a small blanket near the porch, his tiny hands curled around a wooden training stick. Airen and Ferexia watched him sleep for a moment before turning their attention to Leif.
"You're hard on him," Ferexia said quietly, referring to Leif's training that day, not the younger boy. "Every day, the drills, the corrections… sometimes I worry you push him too much."
The next morning was cool and crisp. The village was waking up, merchants calling out, the smell of fresh bread drifting from the ovens. Leif and Rufius walked through the streets, the younger one holding tightly to his brother's hand. Villagers stopped them, eyes lighting up as they noticed the pair. "Leif! Is this the little Rufius I've heard so much about?" one woman called, smiling.
Leif knelt slightly, holding Rufius's shoulder gently. "Yes," he said calmly. "This is Rufius. He's a handful, but he's my little brother."
Rufius grinned, bouncing slightly. "I'm strong too!"
The villagers laughed, adoring the scene. Leif looked down at his brother and felt something bloom in his chest—a protective pride that rivaled his desire to grow stronger. Training and battle were important, but so was this.
As the weeks rolled into months, Leif's mastery only grew. His swings became fluid, precise, and effortless. He could summon Aethersteel and guide it as if it were an extension of his own body. The spirits around him no longer simply followed; they danced in perfect harmony, responding to his intent without hesitation. His father watched quietly, noting the perfection of his form, while Ferexia smiled at the way his connection to spirit energy strengthened with each passing day.
Rufius, meanwhile, surprised everyone daily. His Spirit Flow talent was uncanny. Even at four, he could manifest minor spirits, coaxing them into playful shapes or gentle movements. Villagers would often gather to watch, murmuring in admiration at the boy who could summon such energy naturally. Leif, despite his own near-perfect control, could only marvel at the ease with which his brother handled the flow.
Days turned into months, months into seasons. The village of Tern became used to seeing the two brothers together—the elder, focused and calm, wielding his blade and spirits with unmatched skill for his age; the younger, chaotic and playful, yet radiating power that promised a future as extraordinary as his sibling's. And through it all, Airen and Ferexia guided them, offering discipline when needed and love without condition.
Finally, the day arrived. The morning sun bathed the village in a soft golden light. Leif stood on the training field, Aethersteel in hand, Rufius at his side, cheeks flushed with excitement. Airen and Ferexia watched from the porch, pride evident in their expressions. Leif took a deep breath, feeling the familiar hum of Aether and the gentle pulse of spirit energy flowing through him.
"I'm ready," he whispered to himself, though his eyes flicked briefly to his brother.
As the sun reached its zenith, Leif executed a perfect sequence of strikes, combining Aethersteel and spirit energy, a demonstration of everything he had mastered over the past year. Rufius clapped enthusiastically, bouncing up and down, laughing, and shouting, "Big brother! You're amazing!"
Airen's lips curved into a rare smile. "You've done well, Leif. You've surpassed what I expected for your age."
Ferexia stepped forward, brushing Leif's hair from his forehead. "And your heart is still as strong as ever. That's what matters most."
Leif looked at both of them, feeling warmth flood through him. He had achieved so much, yet he knew this was only the beginning. He glanced down at Rufius, who beamed up at him, and for a moment, everything felt complete—the family, the village, the bond they shared.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Leif closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the energies of the world around him. Spirits, Aether, the laughter of his brother, the quiet pride of his parents—it all surrounded him like a protective shield. And in that peaceful moment, he realized he was ready. Not just for combat, not just for mastery, but for the life that awaited him.
As the first stars appeared in the sky, Rufius tugged at his sleeve. "Happy birthday, Lei!"
Leif opened his eyes, smiling. "Thanks, little one."
The family stood together, the village around them calm and warm, the bonds of love and growth stronger than ever. Leif's fifteenth year had begun, and with it, a new chapter of strength, mastery, and the endless journey ahead.