Sitting upon a raised platform, Noah sat cross-legged, his eyes closed like a meditating monk. He remained motionless, a deep, intense focus etched across his face.
"Feel the energy run through you."
A voice echoed around him.
"Feel the pulse—it pumps from your heart. Feel its smoothness as it flows through your body. Understand that it's like water in a river—once it finds direction, it's hard to change. Learn to adapt. Turn with the river."
Standing beside him, a robed woman walked slowly in circles around Noah. Her flowing white robes emphasized the length and elegance of her seemingly natural silver hair.
'Feel the flow. Feel the flow.'
Noah repeated the words in his mind like a mantra.
Deep within, he reached for the mana.
At his core, a bundle of energy stirred—nestled deep in his chest like a second heart. He felt it move, flowing through his veins, reaching toward the furthest edges of his body.
"Understand its nature. Honor your mana. Your affinity holds the behavioral pattern meant for you—feel its strength, its adaptability, its resolve."
The robed woman's voice sliced through the silence, steady and certain as she paced around him. She spoke not only of his power, but its nature. She named its qualities: adaptability, strength, and resolve. And with unwavering clarity, she revealed a truth:
"Runes can become whatever you set them to be.
Whatever you shape them into… they become."
Because Noah bore affinity over such potential, he would need to learn to adapt—to shift on instinct—and do it well.
Listening closely, he turned inward once more.
He focused. Studied. Felt.
The mana was there—alive, pulsing—present enough to guide him. It wasn't still. It wanted something.
To change.
To grow strong.
To affect the world.
To understand it.
Following that pull, Noah nudged the energy toward his fingertips—slowly, deliberately, a little at a time.
A soft, silver-blue glow began to bleed from his fingers, glistening faintly beneath the warm, flickering light of the platform below.
Breathing steadily, he willed the mana to wrap around his hand like a glove. Bit by bit, the glowing energy formed a tight, seamless veil across his skin.
But then—at the edges—it faltered.
The surface rippled. Wavered. Tiny tears began to creep across the veil like cracks in glass.
Noah's expression sharpened.
"Do not lose focus. Remember the quantity—and the quality—of your mana."
Holding onto the robed woman's wisdom like an anchor, Noah drew a deep breath and summoned all the strength his mind could muster, pushing on.
The mana veil clung tighter to Noah's hand. He grits his teeth, focusing everything he had into holding it together.
The glow pulsed—silver-blue, like the color of moonlit steel—coiling up his fingers, wrapping his palm, his wrist. The veil shimmered, nearly complete.
'Just a little more.'
He focused on the edges, willing the tears to close. They fought back—rippling like water against a dam. His breathing grew ragged.
Hold.
Focus.
Then—
Crack.
The light twitched.
The veil wavered again—and this time, it collapsed.
The silver glow fizzled out, vanishing into the air like smoke in the wind.
Noah's shoulders slumped.
He exhaled hard, the tension draining from his body. "Damn it," he muttered.
Silence followed. Only the soft hum of mana remained, gently pulsing from the runes beneath the platform.
Then—
A voice, warm and even, drifted to his ear.
"…You did well."
Noah looked up.
The robed woman had stopped pacing. She now stood still, her silver hair glinting faintly in the flickering light. As he young 30 year old face glistens in the warm light.
"For a first attempt," she said, "you came closer than most do in their first week."
Noah blinked. "Wait… seriously?"
She nodded. "Mana is like breath. Like muscle. It must be trained before it obeys without thought. And your mana… listens. That is rare."
Noah wasn't sure how to respond. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the sweat on his skin.
"Still felt like I failed."
"No." She tilted her head slightly. "You learned. That is not failure."
Her eyes glinted beneath the shadows of her hood. "Tomorrow, you will try again. And the next day, again. Until your runes do not falter—and your will does not shake."
She turned away, the hem of her robe brushing the smooth stone. "For now… rest."
Noah let out a quiet sigh.
"Yes, ma'am," Noah said as he stood, his muscles aching. He gave a small bow toward his teacher and then turned away from the glowing platform.
As he stepped outside, the quiet hum of voices reached his ears. The common hall was alive with low chatter—groups of students scattered across tables and benches, some sharing food, others half-laughing about something that probably wasn't funny.
For a moment, Noah just stood there, eyes adjusting to the softer light. The shift from that focused, sacred space to this noisy, casual one felt… weird.
"Noah!" a voice called out.
He turned to see Ricky waving him over, half a sandwich in one hand. "Yo, how'd it go?"
Noah let out a short breath and walked over.
"It was… something," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Almost got the mana to form a full veil around my hand."
Ricky blinked. "Wait, seriously? Like a whole wrap?"
"Almost. It cracked right at the end."
"Wow, dude, that's sick! I couldn't even get mana to leave my hand. How'd you do it?" Ricky asked, eyes wide, clearly fishing for tips.
"Well," Noah replied, scratching the back of his head, "I just really listened to Lady Seraphine and followed her advice to a tee. It worked out. Now I just gotta piece together what she taught me with my own findings."
"I hear you, man. Anyway, I also wanted to say thanks for yesterday. You really saved my ass." Ricky said, offering a grateful nod.
"No problem, dude. I'd do the same for you—just like anyone else would've."
"Oh yeah, of course. Uh… anyway, enjoy yourself. I'm gonna head back to my sandwich."
"Alright. Enjoy," Noah replied with a small chuckle.
He watched as Ricky walked off, then glanced around the room. More than a few people were staring at him, some with wide eyes, others whispering behind their hands like he was some kind of pop star or celebrity.
'I guess James was on to something…'
Before Noah could spiral too far into that thought, movement caught his eye. Amanda was approaching, her steps light but steady. She wore simple training clothes—rolled-up sleeves, dark pants, worn boots. Her braid was a little frayed, and sweat clung to her neck. Clearly, she'd just wrapped up a session training her mana.
Noah waved as Amanda approached. "Hey, Amanda. How was your training?"
She stepped up beside him, a light layer of sweat still clinging to her forehead. "Good. Sir Smith pushes me really hard, but I know he means well, so I don't mind."
"That's good to hear," Noah said, watching her draw closer. "Were you able to make any progress? First time controlling your mana and all."
Amanda nodded casually. "Yeah, you could say that. I managed to make a veil around my hand."
Noah blinked. "Wait… on your first try?"
She shrugged like it was nothing.
He grimaced. "That's… so wonderful," he said, trying—and failing—to hide the sarcasm.
Amanda grinned. "It wasn't that bad. What about you? I'm sure you did it too."
Noah stiffened. "Yeah. Actually, I did. No problem. I even managed to coat my whole body."
Amanda raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across her face. "Yeah, right. And I'm sure you blew up the training platform too, since you're just that strong, huh?"
Noah smirked. "It was like you were right there."
Amanda rolled her eyes, but the smirk stayed. "You're so full of it."
Noah chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "What can I say? I like to keep my ego healthy."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the distant sounds of training and village life buzzing in the background.
Then Amanda shifted her weight, glancing sideways at him. "Hey… so, there's a little get-together happening tonight. Some of the others are putting it together—nothing crazy. Just food, talking, maybe someone tries to pretend they know how to sing."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Wait, seriously? After everything that happened?"
Amanda gave a small shrug. "I think that's the point. People need something normal. Something not soaked in blood and goblin stink."
He considered that. "Makes sense."
She looked at him again. "You thinking of going?"
Noah hesitated. He'd spent most of the day keeping his head down, letting his arm heal, trying not to overthink everything. The idea of being around a bunch of people again…
"I don't know," he admitted. "Still kind of wrapping my head around… all of it."
Amanda nodded, not pushing. "Yeah. I get that."
She turned like she was going to leave, but then paused. "Still… if you do come, it might be good for you. Talk to people. See the ones you helped save. Remind yourself that today, you did something right."
Her words lingered in the air a moment longer than they needed to.
Noah gave her a look—something caught between surprise and appreciation. "Are you going?"
Amanda nodded. "Probably. Not for long. But I think some of them need to see that things can still be… a little normal."
Noah exhaled slowly, then gave a small nod. "Alright. Maybe I'll stop by."
A corner of Amanda's mouth lifted. "Cool. I'll see you there, then."
She gave a small wave before turning and walking off down the path, braid swaying behind her.
Noah watched her go, then looked down at his bandaged arm.
"Maybe things aren't totally falling apart yet," he muttered.
Then he turned, heading toward his lodging, the weight on his chest feeling just a little bit lighter.