Chapter 21: Borrowed Light (Part 2 of 3)

  The difference showed up the next morning—not during training, but during the walk there. Laurent noticed it when Cael slowed halfway up the steps leading to the outer grounds, breath sharp, one hand braced against the stone.

  “Still sore?” Seris asked, not unkind.

  Cael let out a short laugh. “Everything hurts.”

  Aila rolled her shoulders once, carefully. “That’s normal. Crystal or not.”

  Laurent nodded along because it was normal. He felt it too—the ache, the stiffness, the faint protest in his joints when he moved too quickly. What he didn’t feel was the lag.

  By the time they reached the training ground, most of the group had loosened slightly. Enough to function. Not enough to forget. Laurent felt… ready. Not fresh. Not strong. Just available. He didn’t mention it. Neither did anyone else.

  That day’s session focused on repetition. Controlled lifts. Short bursts. Measured recovery between sets. The crystal stations were already active when they arrived, essence density raised evenly across the ground.

  Ms. Eira walked the lines as they worked, correcting posture, tapping wrists, adjusting stance. Mr. Irel watched from the edge, slate in hand, silent.

  Halfway through the second cycle, someone dropped to one knee—not collapsed, but choosing to stop.

  “Reset,” Mr. Irel said calmly.

  The student pushed themselves back up, jaw clenched. Laurent finished the set at the same time as Aila. He set the weight down and waited, breathing steady. Aila noticed. She didn’t comment. Not yet.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  It was after dismissal that things shifted. Students gathered in loose clusters, stretching, sitting, lying back against the stone with eyes closed. Crystal stations powered down one by one, the air thinning almost imperceptibly as ambient density returned to normal.

  Cael groaned as he sat. “I swear it’s worse today.”

  “Because it is,” Seris replied. “Your body adapted yesterday. Today it’s rebuilding.”

  Laurent crouched nearby, retying his bootlaces.

  “You’re not shaking,” Cael said suddenly.

  Laurent looked up. “What?”

  Cael frowned. “Your hands. You’re not—” He gestured vaguely. Like this. They held them up. Trembling faintly.

  Laurent glanced down at his fingers. They were steady.

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I feel it. Just… not as much.”

  Aila watched him more closely now. “How did you draw during the session?” she asked.

  Laurent hesitated. “I didn’t. I just… stood there.”

  There was a pause.

  “You didn’t actively draw?” Seris blinked.

  Laurent frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  Cael stared at him. “Then how were you keeping up?”

  Laurent opened his mouth, then closed it again. Silence—not hostile. Just recalibrating.

  Aila spoke first. “You’re absorbing,” she said slowly. “Just… badly.”

  Laurent stiffened. “Badly?”

  “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “No direction. No control. You’re not guiding it, you’re just… letting it flow through.”

  Cael let out a short laugh. “No wonder you looked like you were dying the first week.”

  Laurent didn’t argue. “I didn’t know there was a method.”

  That earned him a look.

  Seris tilted her head. “You’re serious.”

  “I thought,” Laurent said carefully, “that absorbing was just… being here.”

  A beat. Then Cael laughed properly. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” Laurent replied.

  Aila exhaled through her nose. “Laurent, even farmers know basic draw.”

  “I didn’t grow up here,” he said quietly. That ended the laughter.

  Aila studied him for a moment longer, then crouched down across from him. “Alright,” she said. “Then we start there.”

  She demonstrated—not dramatically, just posture. Breathing. Intent.

  “Don’t pull,” she said. “Invite. Let it answer, then close.”

  Laurent tried. This time, something shifted. Not power. Direction.

  Essence moved—not faster, not stronger—but where he meant it to go. His breath caught.

  “There,” Aila said. “That’s it. That’s absorption.”

  Laurent sat back slowly, heart beating harder than it should have. Around them, the others watched in silence. No one laughed now. Because for the first time, it wasn’t weakness they were seeing—it was untapped structure.

  And somewhere at the edge of the ground, Mr. Irel made another mark on his slate.