Morning came softly through the misty forest. No sunrise — just a slow lifting of the silver haze, revealing the soft glow of the moss and the quiet shimmer of dew across giant leaves. The air smelled of pine and old earth, fresh and ancient at once.
Aerin was already awake, sitting cross-legged by the stream. Tiny ripples formed around them, moving to the rhythm of their breath. But every so often, the water would shudder — a faint flash of uncontrolled energy rippling through it.
Lira watched for a moment before stepping closer. "You're trying too hard," she said gently.
Aerin blinked up at her. "It keeps slipping. I want it to listen, but it doesn't."
Lira knelt beside them and dipped her fingers into the stream. The water glowed faintly around her hand, turning from chaotic shimmer into calm circles. "You're giving it commands," she said softly. "But water doesn't obey. It follows what it feels."
