The morning light filtered through the forest leaves, painting dancing patterns over the damp grass.Ren awoke in the attic of the cabin to the sound of something moving below.
He carefully climbed down the improvised rope ladder and found Anastasia meditating in midair, floating above a stone.
—"You don't have a bed?" he asked, scratching his head.
—"I don't sleep when I can avoid it," she replied, eyes still closed.
—"Sounds... exhausting."
She landed gracefully, as if the ground itself had pulled her down gently. She turned and looked him over from head to toe.
—"You're training with me today."
Ren blinked.
—"Is that... good or dangerous?"
—"Both."
The clearing where they trained was surrounded by ancient stones, covered in moss and runes. Gilda watched from a boulder, sipping something steaming from a black mug.
—"Your body has no natural Flux channel," Anastasia explained. "But your presence disrupts its flow. It's like you're a crack... or a catalyst."
—"That sounds like I might explode."
—"Maybe."
—"Great!"
—"Focus. Close your eyes."
Ren obeyed. Anastasia raised her hand, and a wildflower sprouted in front of them within seconds. Then she spoke—not with words, but with her aura. The flower changed color.
—"That's growth manipulation. Wind and Aether magic can influence the rhythm of living things. Try to replicate it."
—"Just like that?"
—"Just like that."
Ren reached out his hand. Nothing happened.
He frowned. Focused. Still nothing.
—"I think the flower hates me."
—"It's not the flower. It's your mind. Too much noise. In Aurora, magic isn't forced. It's requested. Understood. Felt."
Ren sat down, frustrated. He looked at his empty fingers.
—"What if I'm just not cut out for this?"
—"Then you'll die. And the world will keep turning."
Gilda coughed to hide a laugh. Anastasia only looked at him, cold as ever.
—"But something tells me you're not as useless as you seem."
That night, the forest felt different. Quieter. As if it were holding its breath.
Ren couldn't sleep. There was a restlessness in his chest, as if something invisible were calling to him from the trees.He walked into the mist, alone, following an impulse he couldn't explain.
Then he heard it.
A low growl, like wood creaking. Then—eyes glowing in the brush.
A creature emerged, the size of a bear, covered in living bark and moss. Its name surfaced in Ren's mind, unspoken:Tharnok.
A Root Spirit
Tharnok sniffed him. The Flux in the air trembled, as if it recognized him... or rejected him.
Ren stepped back, feeling the ground quake beneath his feet. His heart pounded in his temples. The roots stirred.Tharnok growled, a hollow sound, like a forgotten language.
—"I don't want to fight," said Ren, voice trembling.
But something inside him burned. Not from fear.Something else.
Instinct.
Tharnok lunged.
Ren shouted and raised his arm on instinct. The ground beneath the Spirit burst, and black roots—unlike those of the forest—coiled around Tharnok, responding either to Ren's fear… or his will.
Tharnok fell. It writhed, but didn't strike again. It simply stared.
Anastasia arrived like a gust of wind, landing beside Ren.
—"What did you do?" she demanded, eyes blazing.
—"I don't know... it just... happened..."
With a solemn and fluid motion, Anastasia raised her hand, fingers straight like branches aimed at Tharnok. Her eyes shimmered with ethereal light, and the air around her grew dense, electric.
Her lips moved in silence, as if speaking an ancestral tongue only spirits could hear.
Tharnok did not resist.
Then its body began to unravel—threads of moss, bark, and light.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Ren collapsed to the ground, gasping. His body trembled, not from cold...
Something he didn't understand.
Anastasia knelt in front of him.
—"You shouldn't have been able to summon that kind of response from the Flux. Tharnok is an ancient creature. It doesn't appear by accident."
Ren looked at her.
—"Then what am I?"
She didn't answer.
But for the first time, her gaze wasn't cold.It was concerned.And very, very intrigued.