For two days following his initial experiments with the Nexus, Arthur was a quiet, contemplative child. To his family, he was the same as ever. He was their serene, watchful youngest, content to sit for hours on a sun-drenched balcony or to play silently with his carved wooden bird. They could not see the storm of calculation and analysis taking place behind his placid blue eyes. He was processing, collating, and planning.
He had the data. He knew the light of the Two Trees was a quantifiable energy source. He knew his own body was a vessel with a near-bottomless, untapped reservoir of potential. He knew his mother, Ilwen, was a living example of that potential fully realized, a being in perfect, harmonious resonance with the world. He had seen the blueprint, and he had seen the finished cathedral.
But a blueprint is not a building. The distance between what he was and what he could be was a chasm wider than any ocean he could remember from his past life. The Nexus's primary suggestion, repeated in its silent, logical way every time he reviewed his own status, was the only possible answer. [Commence foundational training.]
It was a daunting prospect. He was three years old. His limbs were short and clumsy, his balance was tenuous, and his ability to affect the world was limited to the range of his own small arms. How could he possibly begin a task of such magnitude? Yet, the alternative was unthinkable. To have this knowledge, this incredible tool, and to do nothing with it? To simply wait for centuries to pass, hoping to mature as slowly and passively as any other elf? It was anathema to the man he had been and the anomaly he now was.
On the morning of the third day, as the pure, silver light of Telperion washed over the white towers of Tirion, Arthur made his decision. He sat up in his bed, his small hands balled into determined fists. The time for observation was over. The time for action had begun.
Nexus, he projected with a new and resolute firmness. Present the optimal foundational training routine for my current condition.
[๐๐๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐๐๐ ๐๐. ๐๐๐ง๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ขng ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐ ๐ข๐ฆ๐๐ง...]
[๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ฆ๐๐ง ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐. ๐๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐จ-๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ญ๐ก ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐ฆ๐๐ฑ๐ข๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐๐๐๐ข๐๐ข๐๐ง๐๐ฒ.]
The information flowed into his mind, organized with the clean elegance of a masterfully designed program.
[๐๐๐ซ๐ญ ๐๐ง๐: ๐ รซ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐ฆ๐จ๐ง๐ข๐ณ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ญ๐จ๐๐จ๐ฅ.]
[๐๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐: ๐๐จ ๐๐ฐ๐๐ค๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐๐ง๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐๐ญ๐ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ฌ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฌ๐จ๐ซ๐ฉ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฆ๐๐ข๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐ข๐จ-๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ ๐ซ๐๐๐ข๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง.]
[๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ - ๐๐ก๐๐ฌ๐ ๐: ๐๐ก๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ฆ๐ข๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ . ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ง ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ง๐๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฌ๐. ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ฎ๐ญ๐๐ฌ.]
[๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ - ๐๐ก๐๐ฌ๐ ๐: ๐๐๐ง๐ฌ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ ๐จ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ. ๐๐จ๐ง๐๐๐ง๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ข๐๐๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ฌ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฌ' ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฌ๐ค๐ข๐ง.]
[๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ - ๐๐ก๐๐ฌ๐ ๐: ๐๐ง๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฒ ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง. ๐๐จ๐ง๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฎ๐๐ญ ๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐๐ญ๐ก๐ฐ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฉ๐จ๐ข๐ง๐ญ ๐จ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ง๐ฌ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐จ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐.]
[๐๐๐ซ๐ญ ๐๐ฐ๐จ: ๐๐ก๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐จ๐ ๐ข๐๐๐ฅ ๐ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐.]
[๐๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐: ๐๐จ ๐๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ ๐ฉ๐ก๐ฒ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐จ๐ ๐ข๐๐ีฌ ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ, ๐๐ง๐ก๐๐ง๐๐ ๐ง๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐๐ญ๐ก๐ฐ๐๐ฒ๐ฌ, ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐๐๐๐ญ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐๐ฅ๐ฏ๐๐ง ๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฐ๐๐ซ.]
[๐๐ฑ๐๐ซ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ ๐: '๐๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ๐๐ข๐ง'๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ญ.' ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐-๐๐จ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐ฌ.]
[๐๐ฑ๐๐ซ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ ๐: '๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ'๐ฌ ๐๐ฎ๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ฌ.' ๐๐ฒ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ญ๐๐ก๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ข๐ง๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฌ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฑ๐ข๐๐ข๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ ๐จ๐ ๐ฃ๐จ๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ.]
[๐๐ฑ๐๐ซ๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ ๐: '๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ซ'๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ.' ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ, ๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฏ๐๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฌ๐ข๐ ๐ง๐๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ง๐๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐ข๐ณ๐ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐ ๐ ๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฉ๐ฌ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ง๐ก๐๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐ซ๐จ๐ฅ.]
Arthur reviewed the plan several times. It was brilliant. It was elegant. And it was highly conspicuous. He could not simply start performing strange yoga poses and meditative breathing exercises in the middle of the royal palace. Even among the Vanyar, who were prone to artistic and spiritual pursuits, a three-year-old engaging in such a disciplined, repetitive regimen would be an object of intense curiosity and concern. Secrecy was paramount. He needed a sanctuary.
He spent the next few days on a quest. During his designated play times in the vast royal gardens, he explored. He crawled past fountains that sang with the sound of captured starlight and toddled through fields of flowers that never faded. He was looking for a place that met a specific set of criteria, a list he kept in his mind. It needed to be secluded. It needed to be quiet. And most importantly, it needed to have direct, uninterrupted access to the light of the Trees.
He finally found it on the fourth day of his search. Tucked away behind a row of ancient, sweet-smelling flowering bushes whose silver leaves shimmered in the light of Telperion, was a small, circular clearing of soft grass. It was a forgotten place, an alcove of nature that the gardeners seemed to have overlooked. It was perfectly shielded from the main pathways, and a small gap in the canopy of the larger trees above created a natural spotlight that moved across the clearing as the hours passed. It was perfect. This would be his laboratory.
His new life began the next morning. He woke long before anyone else, a feat for a child, but his adult determination was a powerful stimulant. He slipped out of his bed and, with the practiced silence of a spy in training, padded on soft feet through the sleeping palace and out into the cool, silver-lit gardens.
His first attempt was a spectacular failure.
He sat cross-legged in the center of his clearing, the dew-kissed grass cool beneath him. He closed his eyes and began the Fรซa Harmonization Protocol. Phase one: Rhythmic Breathing. He tried to align his breaths with his heartbeat, but his toddler lungs were small and his focus was easily broken. His mind, so used to constant analysis, rebelled against the simple stillness. Thoughts of his past life, of the Nexus's data, of his family, all intruded.
After several frustrating minutes, he moved to his physical routine. The Mountain's Root stances, which sounded so simple, were a nightmare of wobbling limbs and lost balance. The Willow's Suppleness stretches were limited by his still-fusing bones and short ligaments. He fell over more times than he could count, his small body tumbling softly onto the grass. He felt a wave of frustration so intense it almost made him cry, a purely childish impulse that his adult mind furiously suppressed.
Day after day, he returned. Before the palace woke, and during the quiet hours when he was supposed to be napping, he was in his sanctuary, practicing. The Nexus was his tireless, unforgiving coach.
[๐๐จ๐ซ๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ซ๐ก๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฎ๐ง๐ฌ๐ญ๐๐๐๐ฒ. ๐๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐.]
[๐๐จ๐ซ๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐๐๐ง๐ญ๐๐ซ ๐จ๐ ๐ ๐ซ๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ง๐๐ ๐ข๐ง '๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ๐๐ข๐ง'๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ญ' ๐ฌ๐ญ๐๐ง๐๐.]
[๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐ ๐จ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ญ๐๐ง๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ข๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐๐ฅ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฆ๐๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐๐ข๐ง ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐.]
Months passed in this slow, grinding routine. It was the hardest work he had ever done, in either of his lives. It was a war waged on two fronts: a battle for control over his own clumsy body, and a battle for silence within his own overactive mind.
One afternoon, during the golden age of Laurelin, he was deep into his meditation. He was sitting perfectly still, his breathing finally approaching the steady, rhythmic cadence the Nexus had prescribed. He was so focused that he did not hear the soft footsteps approaching his alcove.
"Little brother? What are you doing?"
Arthur's eyes snapped open. His older sister, Lirien, stood at the entrance to his sanctuary, framed by the sweet-smelling flowers. She was a vision of the Vanyar's grace, with hair like spun silver and a gentle, curious expression on her face. Of all his siblings, she was the one who paid him the most attention, fascinated by her quiet, watchful baby brother.
Panic seized him for a split second. His secret was discovered. He forced it down, his mind racing for a plausible explanation. What would a normal three-year-old say?
"I'm playing," he said, his voice small and childish, a perfect disguise.
Lirien tilted her head, her kind eyes full of amusement. "A very quiet game. You were as still as a statue. What is it called?"
He had to build on the lie. He looked up at the golden light filtering through the leaves. "I'm listening," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I'm listening to the light."
Lirien's expression softened. She did not see a secret prodigy performing a complex spiritual exercise. She saw a strange, poetic child with an overactive imagination. She came and sat beside him for a moment, her presence a calming balm. "And what does the light say to you, little star?" she asked, her voice a melody.
"It sings," Arthur replied simply. It was not even a lie, not really.
She smiled, a radiant expression of pure affection. "You are a funny one, Arthur." She gently ruffled his hair. "Do not be late for the evening meal." With that, she rose and departed as gracefully as she had arrived, leaving him with a wildly beating heart.
The close call was a stark reminder of the tightrope he was walking. But it did not deter him. It only strengthened his resolve.
The breakthrough came nearly a year after he had begun. He was four years old now, his body more coordinated, his focus more disciplined. He sat in his sanctuary under the golden light of Laurelin, deep in his Fรซa Harmonization Protocol. For months, he had been trying to complete Phase 3, to visualize the pathway for the energy to enter him, but it had always felt like an abstract exercise.
Today was different. After the scare with Lirien, he had redoubled his efforts. He breathed. He focused on the warmth of the light on his skin. And then, he reached out with his mind, with his Fรซa itself, not with a demand, but with a quiet invitation. For the first time, he did not just think about the pathway, he felt it.
And something answered.
It was not a flood, not a wave. It was a single, impossibly thin thread of golden warmth that detached from the ambient light and flowed gently towards him. It touched his skin and then sank deeper, traveling along the pathway he had built in his mind. It reached his spiritual core, and a sensation of pure, electric warmth bloomed in his chest. It was a tiny spark, a single drop of life-giving nectar in a vast, empty vessel. It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt.
The Nexus confirmed it instantly, its text a glorious validation of his year of effort.
[๐ รซ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐ฆ๐จ๐ง๐ข๐ณ๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐๐๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ. ๐๐ฆ๐๐ข๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐ง๐๐ซ๐ ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฌ๐จ๐ซ๐๐๐: ๐.๐๐๐ ๐ฎ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ฌ.]
[๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ (๐ รซ๐): ๐๐.๐๐๐% ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ง๐ญ.]
He let out a shaky breath and fell back onto the soft grass, a huge, genuine smile spreading across his face. The number was almost insultingly small, a rounding error. But it was not zero. The progress bar had moved.
He lay there for a long time, exhausted, triumphant, with the lingering warmth of that single spark in his soul. The path ahead was impossibly long, a journey of a thousand miles. But he had the map, he had the engine, and he had, with his own will and effort, just taken the very first step.