Pervoick sat on a rock in the open fields, waiting for his student. The morning air was bitter and gripped him with cold, but he believed that discomfort gave more merit to his meditation.

  Even so, he struggled to focus.

  The events of the previous day had once again shaken his courage—a fault he knew all too well and knew he had to face. He was reaching for confidence, even as his mind wavered with every decision he made.

  But the thought of his men—looking to him with determination—helped him stay committed to their goal.

  He spotted Sil approaching. Sliding down from the rock, he stepped forward to greet her. Something about her had changed—that much was clear—but it made sense, all things considered. The day before had been a close call.

  He felt bad for her, but Pervoick knew she’d grow stronger from it.

  “Feeling alright?” he asked.

  “We have a man with a chewed-up arm, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

  Pervoick rolled his eyes. “That’s all relative, you know. You’ve every right to be upset.”

  “True. He could’ve avoided it if he were less stupid.”

  “I could say the same for all of us.”

  Sil chuckled. “I guess. Even so, he needs to get those dreams of adventure out of his head.”

  Pervoick raised a brow. “Can’t say I expected to hear that from you.”

  Sil looked uneasy. “No? Why not?”

  “Weren’t you the one dreaming of adventure when you first got here?”

  “That was when I was a child—with a child’s dreams. The world looks different at our age.”

  “Oh yeah? Maybe that’s even more reason to keep childish dreams alive.”

  “Now who sounds out of character?” Sil scoffed.

  Pervoick considered that. Memories of Shown and his father crossed his mind.

  “Maybe that’s one of my flaws,” he admitted, looking Sil in the eyes. “Because there’s more to life than just this village, just these people—much as we love them.”

  Sil looked away, deep in thought.

  “…I want to join your team,” she said suddenly.

  Pervoick blinked. “Attacking the nest? Alright. But—if you don’t mind me asking—what made you change your mind?”

  “That group already has plenty of heavy hitters. I’d rather be with everyone else… just in case they need me.”

  Pervoick rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. “Is that so? Sounds very like you. But I’m not convinced that’s the only reason.”

  Sil’s expression fell. “I… I know this might sound selfish, or maybe counterproductive… but I can’t let myself fall behind. If I join the Guardian team, I might just fade into the background—overshadowed. I need to do something big. Something I can own. I want to be the one to take out the Queen!”

  The silence that followed made her shift uneasily, her passion fading as though she’d said something wrong. Pervoick paused, carefully choosing his next words.

  “That’s not a bad thing to want, Sil. Why would you think it is?”

  “Because thinking like that… makes it sound like I don’t trust anyone else.”

  “Look at it this way,” he replied with a smile, “you’re doing it so they can trust in you. Right?”

  A new light appeared in Sil’s eyes—something familiar to those who truly knew her.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “I think it’ll do you good to be a bit more selfish every now and then,” Pervoick added.

  Sil smiled back.

  “It’s about the outsider, isn’t it?”

  Sil nodded. “I remember having dreams like his. I guess… I’m just fascinated that he can still cling to them, even after everything he says he’s been through.”

  A slight warmth spread through the air as light from the sky spilled across the grass.

  “Come on,” Pervoick said, tilting his head for her to follow. He walked into the tall grass, blades brushing his waist.

  “I know what I’m training you for now.”

  And to his delight, Sil followed—with enthusiasm.

  A breeze stirred the leaves and loose cloth among the equipment in the training area. A crowd of students had gathered to witness the spectacle, and Slye watched closely to ensure nothing went awry. Yig, muscles taut, had held his aura active for nearly two minutes.

  As those around him cheered, his body slowly shifted. With a scream, he drew back his fist, straining under the weight of the mana surrounding him. With a powerful thrust, he punched down on the plank before him, smashing through its center and cracking an imprint into the concrete below.

  The crowd erupted in applause, amazed by how far he had come. Yig collapsed to his knees, panting heavily. Slye stepped over and helped him up, guiding him to a spot to rest. Yig's eyes were watery, and he avoided meeting Slye’s gaze. The young man was clearly exhausted. A bandage now wrapped his left forearm, matching the one on his right—though the left was far more bloodied. The doctors had told him to let it rest, to keep the wound from reopening. But damn, he felt good. His aura pulsed with a thrilling intensity. He wanted to head into the woods right then and find a bear to fight.

  “Hey,” Slye said, concerned. “Are you going to tell us what happened last night?”

  Yig opened his mouth, only to hesitate and draw in his breath. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. But this time, he wouldn’t forget her.

  “Sil told Pervoick and me about Chestnut,” Slye continued. “How long ago was that?”

  “Nearly a month,” Yig replied, voice worn.

  The other students glanced at one another, unsure what Slye was talking about.

  “And they killed your friend?”

  “It was The Storm, Slye. I know it was!”

  “How’d you surv— Never mind. I’m sorry that had to happen.” Slye sat beside his student. “Can you remember what they looked like? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

  “It wasn’t how they looked that scared us. It was how they felt—the aura around them. It was like the bears.”

  “The Chief said the same thing. The old texts say Surath’s power can pierce the World Tree in small amounts, corrupting whatever it touches.”

  Yig’s aura suddenly flared again as he sprang to his feet, tears in his eyes, face burning with rage. The other students backed away, regarding him like they would a bear. Slye simply placed a hand on his shoulder. Yig snapped out of it, breathing quickly to regain control. Since last night, he had felt like he did after the attack. But this time, it was different. This time, he knew what to do. He’d remember her—and he’d smile.

  “Don’t lose yourself,” Slye pleaded. “I know you want to feel confident in your strength again. I get that. But it’ll come faster if you find balance.”

  Host stepped forward. Everyone had been too distracted to notice her arrival, despite her tall, broad frame. “Anger is good,” she said. “But you need to control it—not the other way around. You understand?”

  Yig nodded stiffly. Then, a thought visibly crossed his mind. He turned to Host and met her gaze. “Can I come with you for activation training?”

  Slye raised his eyebrows. “Actually… that’s a good idea. Host rarely uses any of the stealth arts, so she’s the best fit to push your activation forward.” He leaned in and whispered sarcastically, “To be honest, I think it’s because she couldn’t use the arts if she tried.”

  “Hold on,” Host replied. “Which of us can craft clay again?”

  Yig turned to his tutor. “You can’t do the clay stuff?”

  “My version is… unique, that’s all.”

  Host rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you’re right. I can help boost your activation—especially if you’re already progressing.”

  Then, without another word, she walked away.

  Several confusing minutes passed before Host returned, a small boulder hoisted on her shoulder. The crowd stared at first, but as she approached with eyes fixed on Yig, panic set in. Students began pleading with her to reconsider. Slye voiced concern too, but when she didn’t stop, he stepped back to respect her method.

  Host stopped a few feet from Yig. He rose to meet her gaze—only a couple of feet shorter. He seemed the least concerned, perhaps because he hadn’t yet realized what she was about to do.

  With considerable effort, Host tossed the boulder toward Yig, showing no concern for what might happen. Yig, with far more to lose, activated his aura in a split second, catching the rock with both hands and holding it on his back as one knee buckled beneath the weight.

  His face contorted under the strain. The weight was harsher than anything he’d ever endured. He glared at Host with bloodshot eyes, breathing so hard it sounded like a roar. Host stood still, arms crossed, indifferent to the outcome.

  And at that, Yig smiled.

  He shifted the tingling sensation of his aura to his back and arms—still active—and took a step forward, transferring the weight to his other leg.

  Now closer to Host, he let out a scream so loud others stepped forward to help, but Host signaled them back with one hand. In a final push, Yig rose to both feet and tossed the rock back at her. She stepped aside, letting it crash to the ground.

  Yig couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I felt it,” he said. “Like when I punched the bear.” He looked to Host, eyes gleaming. “Can you make me feel that again?”

  She smiled back. “I can—only because you appreciate the thrill.”