The next morning, Reema arrived at the training camp, where Xyana and her classmates had already begun their morning exercises. It was shortly after dawn.
The camp stood on a hill west of the city, south of the library, its slopes covered with rows of reddish tents. Beyond it, on a flatter stretch of land, lay a wide dirt field where the training sessions took place. It was far enough from the city that nobody complained about the noise.
Reema took off her jacket and walked straight toward her instructor.
The woman had long red hair and wore a white shirt adorned with a black ribbon. She usually preferred a black leather jacket embroidered in gold with her family's crest, but during training supervision she dressed more lightly.
A sword stood planted firmly in the ground beside her as she watched over the students.
«Instructor, can we have a few words?»
Xyana blinked once, then let out a small sigh through her nose, half amused.
«Oh, Reema. That's unusual coming from you. Having trouble?» - she tilted her head slightly - «And I've told you already, just call me Xyana.»
Reema did not react to the correction and kept her attention fixed on her.
«What happened during the discussion with the council?»
Xyana glanced toward the training field where the students continued their exercises, then back at her.
«That's not something you should be worrying about.»
Reema stepped half a pace closer.
«The Xer flow did not stabilize after the expedition. It became more unstable.»
Xyana's sword remained planted in the ground beside her, her hand hovering briefly near the hilt before relaxing again.
«What you are sensing is not a standard measure.»
«It is consistent. It is still present. It is increasing.» - Reema held her gaze.
Xyana turned slightly, placing herself between Reema and the open field.
«You experience it differently from most people. That does not make it a conclusion.»
Reema adjusted the strap of her jacket and looked past Xyana toward the horizon.
«Ahjer experiences it as well.»
Xyana's expression tightened slightly at the mention, then returned to neutral.
«A few individuals can perceive fluctuations at that level. That still does not define what the council has determined.»
«Then the council is not observing it.» - Reema looked back at her.
«The council observes through agreed instruments and consensus. Not individual sensation.» - Xyana answered immediately.
«Then what I am sensing has no place in their system.» - Reema's eyes remained steady.
«It has a place. Just not as authority.» - Xyana exhaled once.
Reema shifted her weight once, then lowered her hands to her sides.
«If my perception cannot be used as confirmation, and their system does not register it in the same way, then the inconsistency remains unaddressed.»
Xyana did not respond.
The wind passed through the training field, moving the grass in slow waves.
Reema continued. - «So either the fluctuation is irrelevant, or the method of observation is incomplete.»
Xyana finally spoke, voice firm but controlled.
«You are not qualified to resolve that contradiction.»
Reema stopped speaking for a moment. Then she adjusted her stance, eyes still on Xyana.
«Then I will test it against someone who is.»
Xyana's gaze sharpened slightly.
Reema's eyes dropped briefly to the sword planted in the ground beside Xyana, then returned to her face.
«Duel.»
Xyana remained still, then rested her hand lightly on the sword hilt without drawing it.
«What you are proposing is not a duel.»
Reema did not look away.
«It is a controlled confrontation. If I am wrong, I accept correction and stop pursuing this line of interpretation. If I am correct, then the inconsistency must be acknowledged.»
Xyana straightened slightly.
«That is still not equality of terms. That is you attempting to validate your perception through force of comparison.»
Reema adjusted her footing once. - «Then define equal terms.»
Xyana did not answer immediately. Her eyes shifted briefly toward the training field again, then back to Reema.
When she spoke, her voice stayed calm.
«Go train.» - she said - «If you still want a duel, you will ask again when you are not trying to turn perception into proof.»
Reema remained still for a moment, then lowered her gaze briefly toward the sword hilt before stepping back half a pace.
Her hand adjusted her shirt's collar once, then stopped. - «Understood.»
She turned, but did not fully disengage from the thought as she left the immediate space.
Xyana stayed where she was, sword still planted in the ground, watching until Reema joined the training field path.
The wind moved through the grass again.
«Too sensitive.»
Reema returned to the training field without breaking pace.
The morning exercises were already underway, spread across the dirt ground in structured rows. Most students worked with bare hands, guiding Xer through controlled sequences of motion breath regulation, circulation, release. Among them, a smaller group trained with short wooden implements, not as weapons in combat, but as extensions to stabilize flow under external resistance, their movements slightly more advanced and deliberate.
Wooden dummies stood at intervals between them, marked and worn from repeated impact. The sound of practice filled the field in uneven rhythm, shifting between silence and bursts of coordinated motion.
Xyana stood near the center, observing without interruption. Her sword rested at her side, untouched, more a presence than a tool. Her attention moved across the field in measured intervals, tracking posture, timing, and flow consistency.
Reema stepped into her position without announcing herself and aligned with the group. The sequence began again: stance adjustment, breath intake, guided circulation of Xer through the body, then release through motion.
Her execution remained precise. The structure of the exercise was intact. But the external flow did not align with it.
The disturbance persisted.
It did not rise or collapse, nor did it fluctuate in any recognizable cycle. It remained steady, as if something in the surrounding field of Xer was displaced and holding its new position without correction.
Reema repeated the sequence once more, then again, adjusting nothing beyond the required motion. The deviation remained identical in structure, as though it existed independently of her actions.
Her gaze shifted briefly toward the horizon beyond the camp. The scar itself was not visible from this angle, but the direction of the distortion felt consistent with it, as if the imbalance was anchored somewhere above or beyond what could be directly seen.
She lowered her hands at the end of the cycle and reset her stance.
A nearby student moved through a weapon-assisted sequence, rotating a short wooden rod to stabilize their flow before striking a dummy, but did not react to her pause. The group continued uninterrupted.
Xyana's voice cut across the field.
«Again.»
Reema resumed.
The training continued through another cycle, then another, until the morning session gradually shifted toward its end.
As the students dispersed toward water stations and the outer tents, the field slowly lost its structure. Conversations replaced coordinated rhythm, and the sound of movement thinned into scattered activity.
Reema did not leave her position.
She remained until Xyana approached and stopped a few steps away. The instructor's gaze moved briefly across the field before settling on her. - «Your timing broke twice during the mid-cycle transitions.»
Reema nodded once. - «The external Xer flow shifted during execution.»
Xyana's attention lingered on her for a moment before she answered. - «There was nothing unusual. Nothing beyond what we'd expect from a seasonal transition.»
Reema adjusted her stance slightly, turning just enough to face her directly.
«It's still present. Please, believe me.»
Xyana stepped closer, closing the distance between them without urgency. - «You are basing that conclusion entirely on your own perception.»
Reema lowered her hands. - «My perception is consistent.»
Xyana adjusted the strap at her waist, a small, controlled motion before speaking again.
«Consistency does not establish validity.»
«Then what does?» - Reema's gaze remained steady.
«Repeatable observation under controlled conditions.»
Reema looked briefly across the field where the last students were leaving, some still practicing slow stabilization drills near the wooden dummies before stepping out of formation.
Then she returned her attention to Xyana.
«Then let me prove it.»
Xyana's eyes narrowed slightly, in calculation.
«Stay after the training.» - With that said, Xyana returned to her position. For a moment, she seemed to be speaking to herself. Shortly afterward, a small eagle made of fire emerged beside her, spread its burning wings, and flew toward the city.
Dusk came, and the sky grew darker as the sun sank toward the horizon.
As requested, Reema stayed behind, helping tidy the training ground and putting the training dummies back into storage. She was preparing the area for the measurements. She could still feel the Xer draining, so she chose not to use any until it was required for the experiment.
Right about the time she was finishing, Xyana appeared with another figure.
«You're putting a lot of effort into this experiment.»
«It's necessary. I suspect it won't be something temporary.»
«To be honest, I suspect the same, Reema.»
«Then why-»
«It wasn't the right time to talk, nor did we have any proof.» - Xyana looked at the woman beside her.
The other woman stood slightly behind her. She looked young, with messy dark gray hair and eyes almost white. Reema recognized her immediately: Asra, the instructor's assistant. Almost blind, she relied on Xer to perceive people and objects, her awareness of it often more precise than most who actively trained it.
Reema narrowed her eyes at the sight of Asra. - «What do you mean, proof? You have more testimonies than actual counterproofs.»
«I know.» - Xyana answered more calmly, without dismissal. - «And I'm not ignoring them. But the council can't move on testimonies alone, no matter how many there are.»
«So you're saying consistent reports don't matter.»
«I'm saying they do matter,» - she replied - «but they're not enough on their own to justify action at council level.»
«Tsk... Useless Council...» - Reema exhaled slightly and looked at Xyana. - «So, what's the plan?»
«Asra»
«We will apply for the Box test.»
«The what?» - Reema asked confused.
«The experiment applied by the group of Aurora during the research of a suitable site for Bhavalia 10 years ago» - Replied Xyana
«The Filter experiment?»
«Indeed» - Xyana glanced briefly at Asra - «Asra prefer different names.»
«It's more similar to a box than a filter.»
«No doubt,» - Xyana answered - «but we still need to use the name it is commonly known by.»
Xyana briefly glanced across the training ground, where the last traces of activity were fading into dusk.
«This will be a hassle… Asra, begin.»
Asra stepped forward without hesitation. Her pale eyes lost focus as she extended her perception outward, mapping the space through Xer itself. The training ground was already quiet and cleared; now it was being defined again, not as a place of training, but as a controlled isolation zone.
This method was not new. It had been used once before, ten years ago, during the original Aurora group analysis that determined a viable site for Bhavalia. Back then, it had been referred to as the Filter experiment. Now it was being implemented again under a more literal application: containment and depletion.
A heavy metal cube frame had been assembled at the edge of the marked area, large enough that it still felt incomplete, its panels held open as final alignment was prepared.
Once sealed, the space inside would be fully isolated. No exchange, no replenishment. Only decay.
Xer within would be forced to collapse under its own absence, burned down to residue within a fixed boundary and a strict time limit.
A controlled burn, without flame or escape.
«Let's get inside, Reema.»
The objective was not observation.
It was compression, forcing the field to exhaust itself until only what could not be erased remained.
The same principle from ten years ago, applied again, not to find a location, but to expose what refused to disappear.