The morning sun spilled over the hills of Lowreach, painting the village in gold and amber.
Eryndor Vale stepped outside his home, the weight of yesterday's awakening still heavy in his chest. The wind brushed against his face, teasing, patient, almost aware. He clenched his fists, feeling the pulse beneath his skin. Steady. Deliberate. Alive.
Kael was already at the edge of the training field, hands glowing faintly with the residual warmth of his Fire core. His movements were smooth, almost practiced, as he ran small arcs of fire through the air.
"You ready?" Kael asked, smirking. "No more hiding behind late awakenings. Time to see what you can do."
Eryndor swallowed. "I… I don't even know where to start."
Kael laughed softly. "Start simple. Feel it, guide it, don't force it. The wind talks differently from fire. Let it answer you." He paused, then added, almost casually, "I've had a bit of practice. My siblings at Zephyra Academy gave me pointers before today—how to control the flow, keep it steady. Fire's tricky, but it listens when you know the rhythm."
Eryndor's eyes widened. Kael had siblings in the academy? That explained a lot about how controlled his Fire core already was.
The field was small, bordered by cracked stones and a few withered posts, but it felt expansive to Eryndor.
He closed his eyes, drawing in the pulse of his Wind core. The air brushed against him, curling along his arms and chest. He reached out mentally, coaxing it into shape, coaxing it into obedience.
A swirl of dust lifted from the ground. A few strands of straw spiraled into the air.
"Good," Kael said, stepping back to watch. "That's already better than most first-timers."
Eryndor opened his eyes. A small circle of air hovered in front of him, imperfect but alive. He could feel it, faintly, waiting to be guided.
"Feels… alive," he muttered. "Like it knows what I want, but only if I convince it."
Kael's brow lifted. "Thinking, huh? That's new. Most people never feel that." He flicked his wrist, sending a small controlled spark of fire toward a stray leaf, making it spin. "Here, try shaping your wind around that. Treat it like a partner, not a tool."
Hours passed in a rhythm of experimentation. Eryndor lifted small objects, guided dust and straw, learning to shape the currents without forcing them. Kael's fire danced, controlled and precise, creating obstacles and moving targets. He gave small pointers as he went:
"Keep your focus steady. Watch how the wind moves when it's free, not when you're forcing it."
"Anticipate its motion; guide it, don't push it."
"Balance your breath with your heartbeat. Let it sync."
Kael's movements were flawless, honed from years of advice from siblings at the academy, who had trained him in advanced control even before he came of age. Eryndor noticed how natural Kael's fire was—never too strong, never spilling out of control, always responsive.
Eryndor struggled, sweat beading his brow, hands red from effort, but he began to form small, controlled currents that twisted and spiraled with intention. Kael's fire arced around them, weaving like dancers in a complex choreography.
At a distance, Elder Marrec watched quietly from the edge of the field, hidden behind a clump of trees. He said nothing, merely observing, noting Eryndor's unusual affinity and Kael's refined control. A late awakening who could coax his element… rare. A naturally skilled Fire core user, polished by subtle guidance… impressive.
By late afternoon, Eryndor had managed to create a small, stable whirlwind that hovered, spinning steadily. Kael's fire circled it like twin currents, synchronized but independent.
"You've come a long way today," Kael said, lowering his hands. "Not many would attempt that on their first real session."
Eryndor smiled, exhausted but proud. "I'm not many people."
Kael laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know. And now you've got a head start. Just remember, the wind's patient, but it will challenge you—more than fire ever will."
As they walked back toward the village, the wind followed Eryndor, curling around him like a living companion. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the pulse of his core and the subtle tug of potential.
The late awakening, the whispers, the doubt—they no longer felt like burdens. They were challenges, a call to grow.
And far beyond Lowreach, beyond hills and forests, the wind shifted, answering the silent vow forming in Eryndor's mind:
I will not be ignored. I will not be ordinary. I will become more.