The capital-bound road beyond Emberwatch Crossing opened into broad, rolling meadows broken by sparse woodland and patches of wildflowers swaying in the early breeze. The sky, though cloudless, bore a pale hue, and the distant sun painted the road with long shadows. Maera led the group with quiet confidence, her eyes scanning the distant rises and dips in the terrain.
Kieran rode beside Thorne and Ysolde, his posture relaxed but senses alert. The warmth of mana in his body was less a roar now and more of a whisper beneath the skin. Even so, the moment his focus drifted, he could feel the flames stir and crackle, impatient. But today, something was different.
As he let his awareness expand, practicing the mana sense taught to him long ago by his father during those grueling morning regimens back at home, the world around him sharpened. Faint threads of energy stirred at the edge of perception—like the echo of a heartbeat he couldn't quite hear. Then, a flicker.
Ysolde, riding just ahead of him, glimmered faintly in his senses—not with light, but with something deeper, something living. Her mana, faint and steady, coiled within her like a quiet reservoir. He blinked, startled, then focused again. The nearby trees shimmered slightly in his perception—one older oak pulsing with a subtle presence, more alive than the others. Not sentient, but different, charged. Evolved.
He turned his attention to Thorne, curious. At first, he felt nothing. But then, the slightest flicker—barely there, like a spark waiting to be born. It wasn't true mana yet, not awakened, but it was potential. A seed.
The revelation stirred something in Kieran. This breakthrough wasn't just new—he realized he'd encountered the first glimmers of it back home during his father's rigorous training regimens, when he was pushed to meditate and concentrate beyond exhaustion. Back then, he had sensed echoes, anomalies he couldn't explain. Now, they made sense. The awareness had grown sharper, more deliberate.
He was sensing more than just presence. He was sensing potential.
A bird passed overhead, and for the briefest instant, he caught a flicker of something unfamiliar—an aura not quite beast and not quite human. It was gone in an instant, but it left his heart racing.
He wasn't just sensing the ambient flow of mana anymore. He was beginning to sense it within things—people, flora, perhaps even the beasts they'd heard about. The implications swirled in his thoughts. It was a breakthrough. And with it came questions he couldn't yet answer. He glanced toward Thorne, still pondering the faint flicker he'd sensed in him earlier, and curiosity nudged at him again.
"Hey Thorne," Kieran asked, nudging his horse closer, "how do you plan on passing the entrance exams at the academy?"
Thorne gave a slight shrug, his expression thoughtful. "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. I've been training myself with old books and sparring in the yard whenever I could. I'm hoping my swordsmanship and whatever I've picked up on my own is enough."
"That's bold," Ysolde said with a chuckle, riding up alongside them. "But I admire it. Most people train for years with proper tutors."
Thorne laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I figured I'd make up for the lack of fancy tutors with determination. And maybe a bit of luck."
Kieran smirked. "Luck's good. But don't underestimate how much determination can carry you. You've made it this far already."
Thorne grinned back at him. "Coming from you, I'll take that as encouragement."
Ysolde leaned forward on her saddle, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Just don't think about slacking now that you've got us around. We'll hold you to higher standards."
"Wouldn't expect anything less," Thorne replied, laughing.
Kieran tilted his head toward him. "Would you be interested in joining me for some of my training sessions along the way? Might be a good way to sharpen your skills before we get there."
Thorne's eyes lit up with interest. "Seriously? Yeah, I'd like that. Beats just reading about it or swinging at trees."
Ysolde chuckled. "Just don't burn anything—or anyone—in the process. Especially not each other."
Kieran grinned. "No promises. But we'll keep it mostly safe."
They hadn't seen trouble since the last skirmish on the Emberroad, but there was no comfort in that silence. Not when the world was beginning to speak to him in a language he barely understood.
Thorne adjusted the straps of his satchel as he rode, glancing at the horizon. "The land here… it feels different. Quiet, but not safe."
Ysolde nodded. "It's too quiet. Like it's holding its breath."
Maera turned slightly in her saddle. "You're both right to be wary. We're entering the lower reaches of Ashenfell territory. The lords here once patrolled these roads, but they've grown isolated since the last succession war. Less oversight means more danger. Raiders, rogue beasts… and worse."
Kieran glanced at her, brows slightly furrowed. After a pause, he asked, "Maera, how much do you know about mana sense?"
She looked over her shoulder at him, the wind tugging strands of hair from her braid. "Some. It's a rare skill to develop, and harder still to master. Why?"
"I think... I'm starting to sense things. Mana inside people, creatures, even plants," Kieran admitted. "It's subtle, but it's there. I didn't know it could work like that."
Maera nodded thoughtfully. "It can. Though most who have the gift never take it that far. It requires intense discipline. And danger—because you start to see the world as it truly is. Not everyone is ready for that."
Kieran frowned, recalling the strange sensation he'd felt earlier that morning—like a tug in his chest, or a whisper brushing past his ear. It wasn't the first time since his awakening that he'd felt that eerie pull, but it was growing stronger, more frequent. He hadn't shared it with the others yet. Not until he understood it himself.
The group rode until the sun was well past its zenith, breaking only to water the horses and eat a quick meal of dried meat and fruit Maera had purchased before they left the Crossing. As they resumed their journey, the land began to slope downward toward a low basin of hills, their path winding between old, twisted trees that formed canopies overhead.
It was there, as shadows began to stretch and the light dimmed, that Maera raised a hand, bringing the group to a halt.
"Listen," she said.
Kieran held his breath, narrowing his focus as he reached out with his mana sense. At first, there was nothing but the ambient hum of life around them. Then, faint and rhythmic—like ripples in a still pond—he detected the tremor of movement. The ground quivered in his awareness just a moment before the sound reached his ears: the distant echo of hoofbeats. Fast. Urgent. Not theirs.
Maera dismounted in a fluid motion, signaling them to do the same. "Off the road. Now."
They ducked into the underbrush, crouching low as the hoofbeats grew louder. Moments later, a small caravan burst into view around the bend—two wagons pulled by lathered horses, flanked by guards with drawn weapons. Shouts followed in their wake, accompanied by the clatter of wheels and panicked voices.
A scream.