The air was warm and clear that morning, and the riverbank had the smell of fresh weeds.
Kael came earlier than usual. They wanted to be alone for a while before Ryn arrived, because today they were going to try something new.
Not just the little glow-spell.
Something more.
---
Inventing a spell
They sat on the stones and closed their eyes, thinking about everything they had learned from testing their mana.
> Spells weren't locked boxes.
They were keys, built from rhythm and meaning.
If you chose the wrong words, the lock didn't open.
If you chose the right words, and the rhythm fit… the world listened.
---
Kael whispered the glow-spell first, letting the small light bloom in their hands. Then, instead of letting it fade, they spoke a different haiku over it:
Like wind on dry leaves
let a flicker dance to flame,
grow brighter, burn warm.
---
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the glow flared hotter, golden-white, almost like a small candle flame in their palm.
Kael gasped.
It worked.
---
The strain on their mana doubled, but it held. The light was warm enough that it stung their skin if they held it too close.
When it finally faded, Kael was trembling, but smiling so wide their cheeks hurt.
---
A new idea
Encouraged, they decided to try something completely different.
Something that moved.
They picked up a pebble, balanced it on their fingertips, and whispered:
Carry this small stone,
lift it like the wind holds leaves,
just an inch or two.
---
The pebble shivered, almost like a startled insect.
Kael clenched their teeth, willing the words to be enough.
It lifted—barely, but it lifted—floating the width of a finger before plopping back into their palm.
---
Kael almost laughed out loud. Levitation. Weak and small, but real.
---
Mana drained faster with these spells. By the time they had tried the lifting three times, their head buzzed. They stopped, remembering what had happened when they overreached before.
---
Ryn's arrival
"You look like you just stole something," a voice said.
Kael spun around, startled.
Ryn stood a few feet away, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat from running.
Kael quickly hid their hands. "I was… thinking."
Ryn squinted. "You're terrible at lying."
---
Kael shrugged, trying not to grin. "I just like the mornings here."
"I like them too," Ryn said, and dropped onto the stones beside them.
---
They ran their usual loops, climbed the fences, and collapsed in the shade afterward, breathing hard.
"Do you think there's a trick to not feeling like your lungs are going to die?" Ryn asked.
"Running more," Kael said.
"That's a terrible answer."
---
Ryn lay on his back and stared at the sky. "You know… I thought I'd get bored, running and climbing the same things every day. But it's different when I'm doing it with you."
Kael tilted their head. "Why?"
"Because," Ryn said, "you're not like anyone else here."
---
The poem
He sat up, pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pocket, and looked suddenly nervous.
"I… wrote something," he said. "Don't laugh."
"I won't," Kael said softly.
---
Ryn cleared his throat, holding the paper like it might fly away.
---
When I see you
I see the sky at the edge of spring,
bright and cold and full of promise.
I see the shape of trees that lean into the wind,
and light that doesn't care who looks at it.
You are not a sword or a shield,
but something between them—
a branch that bends when storms come,
and roots that refuse to break.
I see a hundred roads in your eyes,
and every one of them is wider than this town.
---
By the time he finished, his ears were burning red.
---
Kael didn't laugh. They couldn't. The words left them still.
"Ryn," they said softly, "that was… good."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted you to know how I see you."
---
Kael smiled faintly, and something in their chest ached.
They couldn't tell him the truth.
That what he saw wasn't really them at all.
---
Questions about training
Later that day, while carrying water back from the well, they passed two Branch adventurers walking out of the Annex.
"I heard Sef is letting younger kids watch the drills," one said.
"Yeah. Even if you're not ready to train, watching is worth it. You pick up things."
---
Kael slowed, heart pounding.
Watching was allowed.
---
At home, they asked their father carefully, "Do you know where Sef's yard is?"
Tarren looked surprised. "Back of the east quarter, near the old walls. Why?"
"No reason," Kael said too quickly.
Tarren's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.
---
Another try at new magic
That evening, Kael couldn't resist another experiment.
They crouched in the corner of their room, whispered the glow haiku, and when the light came, they changed the words again:
If stone can carry,
then let this light follow too,
come and float with me.
---
This time, instead of a pebble, the light itself lifted, like a small lantern, drifting just above their hand.
It wobbled, shaky, and fell the moment they lost focus, but for those three heartbeats it felt like holding a star.
---
Mana drained hard. Their breath came ragged. But the idea had worked.
---
Watching the yard
The next afternoon, Kael and Ryn walked to the east quarter.
Sef's training yard was bigger than Kael expected: a fenced-off space with a packed dirt floor, wooden dummies, climbing frames, and a shaded bench where an older man sat, watching.
Half a dozen children and teenagers ran drills, swinging sticks, ducking, climbing.
---
Kael and Ryn sat outside the fence, quiet.
They watched the way the drills worked:
Footwork first.
Balance second.
Stamina always.
It wasn't just swinging. It was control.
---
"I want to try," Ryn whispered.
"Me too," Kael said.
---
When the drills ended, Sef looked up and saw them. His gaze lingered.
"Curious?" he asked.
Kael swallowed. "Yes."
"You can watch as much as you like," Sef said. "But if you want to do more, you'd better be ready to work."
---
They nodded, their heart pounding.
---
Returning home
That night, Kael whispered to the glow in their hands again, and for a moment they imagined themselves years from now, strong enough to join those drills—not just watch them.
---
Magic in one hand.
Strength in the other.
One step at a time.