The morning air bit sharp as Violet waded into the pond, pot clutched against her chest.
A week had passed since her breakthrough. Seven days of sitting in freezing water, channeling mana with painstaking precision, learning to guide molecular movement rather than force it.
Her fingers were perpetually numb now. Her lips had taken on a permanent blue tinge that worried Maria endlessly.
But she'd gotten better. Faster. More consistent.
Today, she could hold the temperature stable for nearly ten minutes before her concentration slipped.
Footsteps on the shore.
Kari emerged from the tree line, moving with that distinctive grace that made her seem to float rather than walk.
"Time," she called.
Violet released her focus and waded out, presenting the pot with trembling hands.
Kari opened the lid.
Steam rose immediately—lazy curls that spoke of properly heated water. She dipped one finger in, testing. Her other hand plunged into the pond, comparing.
"Good," Kari said simply. "The pond is still freezing. The pot is warm. You've managed the balance between mana and aura."
Pride bloomed in Violet's chest—small but genuine.
"It was faster than I thought," Kari continued, studying Violet with those sharp yellow eyes. "Most take twice as long to grasp the concept. You have good instincts."
"So next comes the daggers?" Violet couldn't keep the eagerness from her voice.
She'd been patient through all the groundwork—the breathing exercises, the footwork, the endless sitting in frozen water. But finally, finally, she'd get to learn actual combat.
"Nope."
The word dropped like a stone.
Violet's excitement deflated. "What?"
"First comes forging your flesh." Kari sealed the pot and set it aside.
"Forging my what now?" Violet plopped down on the shore, legs giving out from a combination of cold and disappointment.
"Your flesh." Kari crouched beside her. "I could teach you daggers now. But it would be like giving a knife to a monkey—dangerous for everyone involved, mostly the monkey."
She gestured at Violet's thin frame. "You're stronger than you were. The training has helped. But you're still weak. Your muscles are underdeveloped. Your bones are brittle from years of illness. Your stamina is pitiful."
Each word was clinical. Factual. Devastating.
"Before I teach you to kill," Kari continued, "I need to make sure your body won't break the first time you try."
"How long?" Violet asked quietly.
"Until your physical abilities are at least three times what they are now." Kari stood, offering a hand to pull Violet up. "Strength, speed, endurance—all of it needs to improve."
"That could take months."
"Yes."
Violet stared at the pond, at the pot, at the evidence of all her hard work that apparently still wasn't enough.
"Tomorrow," Kari said, voice gentler than usual. "We begin conditioning. Real conditioning. What we've done so far was just preparation."
She turned to leave, then paused. "You've done well, little one. Better than I expected. Don't mistake delay for failure."
Then she was gone, melting back into the forest.
Violet sat alone by the pond for a long time, trying to swallow her disappointment.
***
The walk back to the cottage was slow.
Her body ached in the familiar way—cold settled deep into bones, muscles trembling from extended exertion. But beneath the physical discomfort, frustration burned.
Three times stronger. That's the standard. That's what I need to be useful.
The cottage appeared through the trees, smoke curling from the chimney in welcoming spirals.
Inside, warmth and the smell of cooking meat.
Maria stood at the stove, humming softly as she stirred something in the large pot. She looked up when Violet entered, concern immediately flooding her features.
"You're blue again," Maria said, already moving to wrap a blanket around Violet's shoulders. "Sit. Food's almost ready."
Violet obeyed, sinking into her chair with a grateful sigh.
Maria ladled stew into a bowl—thick with vegetables and chunks of rabbit, steam rising in fragrant clouds. She set it before Violet with that particular intensity mothers reserved for children they were convinced weren't eating enough.
"How was your day?" Maria asked, returning to her own preparations.
"Fine." Violet wrapped her hands around the bowl, letting the heat seep into numb fingers. "Made progress. Kari says I'm learning faster than expected."
"That's wonderful." Maria smiled, but her eyes held that worried crease they'd developed over the past weeks. "Are you pushing yourself too hard? You look exhausted."
"I'm fine, Mama." Violet took a spoonful of stew, the warmth spreading through her chest. "Just... there's still so much to learn."
She ate in silence for a moment, then looked up. "Mama?"
"Mm?"
"Have you ever learned magic?"
Maria's knife went still against the cutting board.
The silence stretched for three heartbeats. Four.
Then Maria resumed cutting, movements careful and deliberate. "I was a bad student. So I stopped."
The answer came too quick.
But before Violet could press further, Maria was already moving—setting food in front of her, brushing hair from her forehead, changing the subject with the skill of someone who'd done it many times before.
The door opened.
Garrett entered, game slung over his shoulder—a deer, fresh kill, blood still bright against brown fur.
"Papa," Violet said as he set his burden down. "Can you teach me how to use aura to strengthen my flesh?"
Garrett paused mid-motion. Then he straightened and looked at her directly.
"I don't know how."
Violet blinked. "But you were a warrior. You must—"
"I never needed to learn it." He moved to wash blood from his hands. "And there was no one to teach me."
"Then how did you get so strong?"
"Different path." He dried his hands methodically. "But I can teach you something similar. Not the same, but it might help."
Violet stood immediately. "Show me. Please."
Garrett glanced at Maria, who nodded reluctantly.
"After you finish eating," he said. "And dress warmer. We'll be outside a while."
***
The clearing behind the cottage was small but sufficient.
Garrett stood in the center, axe planted in the ground beside him like a marker. Violet faced him, dressed in her warmest cloak, breath misting in the cold air.
"Close your eyes," Garrett instructed. "Imagine water falling on you from a waterfall."
Violet obeyed, picturing the sensation—weight, pressure, constant flow.
"Not just falling," Garrett continued. "Moving across your skin in uniform motion. Covering every part of you at once. Constant. Unending."
His voice was steady, grounding. "That's your aura. Not stored inside like mana, but flowing across your surface. A river with no beginning or end, just perpetual movement."
Violet tried to feel it. To sense that flow.
Nothing at first. Then—barely perceptible—a tingle across her skin. Like the moment before lightning strikes, when the air itself becomes charged.
"Now maintain it," Garrett said. "Don't force it. Don't strain. Just let it flow. Continuously. It'll drain your aura reserves, but they'll recover. The more you practice, the less it costs."
"Is this how you killed the Wyvern?" The question slipped out before Violet could stop it.
Garrett went still.
"Yes," he said finally. "That technique kept me alive long enough to find its weak point. Burned through my reserves in minutes, but minutes was all I needed."
Violet focused harder, trying to maintain the flow Garrett had described.
"It's barbaric," Garrett admitted. "Uses too much aura, leaves you vulnerable if the fight goes long. But it's manageable. And for someone learning, it's better than trying to master complex techniques you're not ready for."
They practiced in silence for several minutes, Violet learning to feel that constant flow, to maintain it without thinking.
Then, carefully casual: "Papa... how was Mama before she married you? Was she really that bad at magic?"
Garrett's posture shifted—subtle but noticeable. Tension creeping into shoulders that had been relaxed.
"No."
The word came quiet.
Violet's eyes opened. "No?"
Garrett stared at nothing—or perhaps at memories only he could see.
When he spoke again, his voice carried something she'd rarely heard from him.
Regret.
"If she'd gotten the chance..." He paused, jaw working. "If things had been different... she would've been the greatest enchanter this kingdom had ever seen."
The words hung in the cold air between them, weighted with unspoken history.
Violet's breath caught. "What happened?"
But Garrett had already turned away, moving back toward the cottage with deliberate steps.
"Practice the flow," he said without looking back. "We'll continue tomorrow."
Then he was gone, leaving Violet standing alone in the clearing with questions burning hotter than any training could answer.