Midarion blinked at Theomar, still sitting cross-legged on the tangled roots. The jungle seemed to hold its breath around them, the distant roar rolling like an echo of some primeval heartbeat. Keel perched nearby, tail flicking nervously, eyes scanning every shadow.
"So…" Midarion started, hesitant. "You said… Kosmo and Aura. I mean, I feel something, but… I don't really get it."
Theomar's grin was small but sharp. "Good. That means you're awake up here." He tapped Midarion's forehead. "Listen carefully. Kosmo is the spiritual energy inside all living things. The essence that lets you move, feel, fight, dream."
Midarion tilted his head. "So… like stomach energy?"
Theomar squinted. "Absolutely not. If your stomach powers anything, it's your farts."
Keel chirped like he agreed.
"Kosmo," Theomar continued, "is your inner force. You can't see it at first, but you feel it when you focus. That spark inside you? That's Kosmo."
Keel nudged Midarion's shoulder. Midarion scratched under the tiny dragon's chin. "Even dragons have it?"
"Absolutely, all living beings possess it," Theomar replied.
Keel puffed up proudly.
"Kosmo comes from three sources," Theomar said, raising three fingers. "First—the soul. Your emotions, your identity, your convictions. Cosmo surges when you feel deeply. Rage, love, grief, fear—they make it spike.
"So, if I am angry at someone for hurting Keel, my Kosmo spikes?" Midarion muttered, cheeks heating.
Theomar raised a finger. "Exactly. But always try to focus it. Otherwise, it's a mess. Second—the body. Life force flows through Astral Veins, invisible pathways. Think of them like… spiritual rivers inside you. Third—the stars. They amplify Kosmo during awakenings or turning points."
Midarion rubbed his chin. "So Kosmo is like… feelings, blood, and… outer space?"
Theomar stared. "That is the worst explanation I've heard. But… somehow yes."
Midarion grinned.
"What does it actually do, then?" he asked.
"That," Theomar said, eyes narrowing with satisfaction, "is where it gets interesting. Kosmo is the bridge to spirits. A spirit can't just jump into a body—it would destroy it. Kosmo… translates, filters, stabilizes. It lets you channel power safely, survive resonance, manifest techniques without dying."
Midarion swallowed. "So, without Kosmo, no Filandra. No me."
"No power. No strength. Nothing." Theomar let that settle before continuing.
"Even a tiny bit of Kosmo matters, even the smallest spark can keep you alive. But it won't stay small if you train it. Strengthen it. Sharpen it. You need it strong. Hard. Resilient. And awakening it… is usually the hardest part."
Midarion looked down at his hands. "Wait… then… how did I…? I used Filandra's power before. My Kosmo… wasn't awake?"
"Because something in your past forced a partial awakening." Theomar's voice softened. "Trauma. Instinct. Survival. Filandra must've seen that spark and took the gamble."
"Oh." Midarion frowned. "So I wasn't cheating… just lucky?"
"Lucky," Theomar repeated with a smirk. "But luck dries fast. It isn't enough. You need strength. Control. Mastery."
The jungle hummed with distant roars and rustling leaves. Midarion sensed something buzzing under his skin—like nerves waking up.
"And," Theomar continued, lowering his voice, "Kosmo isn't a simple tool. It adapts. It shifts with you. But I'm not saying it's alive. Don't romanticize it. It's your spirit's echo, nothing more."
Midarion nodded quickly—then froze. "Wait… so if my Kosmo is my echo… does that mean people can hear my embarrassing thoughts?"
Theomar stared at him like he had grown a second head. "What? NO. Kosmo is not mind-reading smoke."
Midarion sighed in relief. "Good. Because I think a lot of—"
"Nope," Theomar cut in. "Not listening."
Keel snickered. A tiny spark of humor cut through the tension.
Midarion cleared his throat. "Then… what about Aura?"
Theomar lifted one hand, palm up. "Aura… is Kosmo made visible. If Kosmo is the engine, Aura is the exhaust. It shows your strength, your emotions, your resonance with your spirit. Everyone's Aura is unique. It's… beautiful and yet terrifying."
Midarion's eyes went wide. "So when people glow in fights… that's just… Kosmo?"
"That's exactly it. And a trained eye can see everything from Aura."
He paused. "It can be used as a weapon too. Pressure waves, aura blades, stuns, shields… It's a fighting language."
Midarion swallowed. "So, it's… alive, it's power, it's me… it's everything?"
"Let me just show you." Theomar said.
"Watch."
He inhaled slowly. For a heartbeat—
the air thickened.
Then—
FWOM
A sharp, concentrated energy burst at the center of his palm. Not bright, but dense—like a star compressed into a drop. The air rippled around it. Leaves bent. Keel squeaked and hid behind Midarion.
Theomar closed his fist, and the energy vanished instantly.
"That," he said calmly, "was Aura focused into a single point. A flicker. Enough to kill a beast if I wanted. I know that you could not see it but, you at least felt it."
Midarion's jaw hung open. "Can I do that?!"
"No," Theomar replied before Midarion even finished the sentence. "You'd blow your arm off."
Midarion coughed. "Okay. No palm explosions. Got it."
"Aura," Theomar said, "shows your strength, your emotions, your spirit's influence. A trained eye can read your intentions from it."
"Like… if someone is angry, the Aura can get bigger?" Midarion said.
Theomar blinked. "That is… surprisingly accurate."
Midarion pumped a fist. "YES!"
"It's still not mind-reading," Theomar added quickly.
Midarion deflated.
Theomar stood, shadow long against the mossy ground. "Once your Kosmo fully awakens, you'll feel it. And Aura will come naturally. But you must train. Hard."
Midarion felt the tingling spreading through his arms now, warm and strange. Something was waiting inside him, tugging at his ribs like a small flame begging for air.
"What do I do now?" he asked.
Theomar crouched, meeting his eyes. "Now? You breathe. You focus. You fail. You rise. You sharpen your spirit until Filandra herself acknowledges your growth."
The leaves rustled overhead. The jungle seemed to watch. Keel chirped softly, curling his tail around Midarion's arm.
Midarion swallowed hard. "I… think I'm ready."
A slow grin carved across Theomar's face. "Good. Just remember: the spark inside you is real. But whether it becomes a flame—" He tapped Midarion's chest. "—depends on you."
Something thrummed in Midarion's core. Not a roar, not a heartbeat—just a vibration, faint and steady, like the hum of a blade.
Keel nudged him proudly.
Midarion clenched his fists. "Then let's wake it."