A few days has passed. The sun was already climbing when Gauis led them back to the training clearing behind the hut.

  The ground was still marked from yesterday — footprints, dragged lines in the dirt, a few fresh scuff marks where Gray had tripped Tamemoto with a plank.

  The Tile River flowed steadily nearby, its murmur mixing with the distant sounds of Camp Tile waking up: the clang of Old Jek’s hammer at the repair stall, the low voices of travelers haggling in the market square, and the occasional shout from the watch post as another caravan approached from the east.

  Gray could hear it all. The world never stopped moving, even when they trained.

  Gauis stopped in the center of the clearing and turned to face them. His good eye was sharp this morning, the old scar on his left arm hidden under fresh cloth.

  “Today we try to wake it,” he said quietly. “This is the first time, Gray. No rushing. No forcing. We’re going to see if the spark is even there.”

  Tamemoto stood a little to the side, stick in hand, watching with wide eyes. He was still quiet after yesterday’s trip to the scrap yard, but he listened harder than ever.

  Gauis motioned for Gray to stand in front of him.

  “Feet apart. Breathe like I taught you yesterday. Feel for the heat in your chest. Don’t push. Just… look for it.”

  Gray closed his eyes.

  The river sounds faded. The market noise became a distant hum. He focused inward — searching for the warmth Gauis kept describing. For a long moment, there was nothing. Just his heartbeat. Just his breathing. Then — a tiny flicker. Like a dying ember buried under ash. It was so faint Gray almost missed it.

  Gauis’s voice stayed low and steady. “Found it?” Gray nodded once.

  “That’s the first stage of Awakening,” Gauis said. “Most people never feel it. Some feel it once and never again. You’ve got it now. Don’t grab it. Let it breathe.”

  Gray tried to focus on the flicker. It pulsed once — weak, unsteady — then vanished.

  Pain stabbed through his chest like a hot needle.

  “Agh—!” Gray gasped, the sound escaping before he could stop it. His knees buckled slightly. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

  Gauis’s hand landed on his shoulder — firm, grounding.

  “Easy. Breathe through it. The pain is the door. You don’t kick it down yet. You learn where the handle is.”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Gray clenched his teeth. The pain lingered, a low burn under his ribs. He forced air in. Out.

  The flicker returned — barely a glow.

  He tried again. Focused harder.

  The ember flared brighter for two heartbeats… then collapsed.

  “Hngh—!” Gray grunted, doubling over slightly. His channels felt like they were being scraped raw from the inside. Copper taste filled his mouth.

  Gauis didn’t flinch. “That’s normal. The first few times it will always hurt. Your channels are damaged — old scars from before we found you. But they can heal. Slowly.”

  Tamemoto watched with wide eyes, gripping his stick tighter.

  Gauis turned to him. “Your turn, little brother. Not aura yet. Tactics. Show me how you’d defend against someone bigger than you.”

  Tamemoto swallowed. He dropped into the low stance Gauis had shown them yesterday. His movements were still clumsy, but he tried.

  Gray watched while he recovered his breath.

  While Tamemoto practiced dodging and countering with the stick, Gray kept trying to call the flicker back. Each attempt hurt more than the last — sharp stabs in his chest, burning lines down his arms. He didn’t shout again, but every failed pulse drew a low, involuntary groan from his throat.

  “Ngh…”

  Rebecca sat on the porch steps nearby, watching them. She had a small basket of river herbs in her lap, but her hands had stopped moving. Her eyes were soft, distant.

  “Reminds me of the old days,” she said quietly. “When we used to train under the Avalon banners. The knights would drill for hours…”

  Gauis shot her a quick look. Not angry. Just… careful. “Rebecca,” he said gently. “Not now.”

  She smiled sadly and looked down at the herbs again. “I know. Gray’s not ready for those stories yet. He’s still figuring out the world we gave him.”

  Gray heard every word.

  He didn’t react outwardly, but inside his mind turned the pieces over. Gauis always stopped her when she started talking about their past life. The framing. The ambush. The fight that saved Tamemoto and broke them both. Gray knew pieces of it — enough to understand why they lived here now instead of inside Ashfall or behind Avalon walls.

  He kept trying until his arms shook and his vision blurred.

  Gauis noticed and nodded.

  “Enough for today. You felt it. That’s the first step. Most never do.”

  Tamemoto was breathing hard from his drills, but there was a small, proud look on his face. He had managed to trip Gauis once with a low sweep — not clean, but good enough.

  The three of them walked back toward the hut together.

  In the distance, the sound of the market grew louder. A new caravan had just arrived from the east — heavy wagons, armed guards, and the low murmur of traders shouting prices. Gray caught fragments of conversation on the wind: something about a big ley stone shipment heading to Rift Spire, rumors of Bone Queen collectors moving closer to the outskirts, and a group of righteous disciples from a sect in Orihara looking for rare herbs near the river.

  The world kept moving.

  Caravans came and went. Bounty hunters passed through lookin

  g for wanted men. Knights and disciples stopped for the night before continuing their hunts for resources or criminals.

  Camp Tile breathed with every new arrival. Gray felt it all.

  He looked at Tamemoto walking beside him — small, determined, still carrying the stick like a sword. Then at Gauis and Rebecca ahead of them, moving slower than they used to.

  His thoughts were quiet but sharp.

  The world is scary. It took their strength. It almost took Tamemoto. But we’re still here. And I’m getting stronger.

  He flexed his fingers. The faint burn from the aura attempts lingered.

  One day at a time.

  One flicker at a time.

  The Tile River kept flowing.

  And somewhere far beyond the badlands, the world kept turning.