The spark did not return the next morning.
Vernon woke before dawn, the echo of it still lingering behind his eyes. He sat up slowly, hand hovering where the warmth had been the night before, half-expecting to feel it again.
There was nothing.
Instead, his body felt heavy.
Not sore - drained.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately had to brace himself against the stone wall. His breath came shallow, uneven.
"...That's new," he muttered.
From across the cave, Bruce stirred. "You okay?"
Vernon forced a nod. "Just tired."
Bruce squinted at him. "You always say that."
Before Vernon could answer, Derek's voice cut through the dimness.
"Up. Both of you."
Training didn't stop just because something felt wrong.
It never had.
Derek watched Vernon closely as they warmed up - closer than usual. The boy's movements were clean, precise, but slower. Every step looked deliberate, as if he were choosing it instead of letting it happen.
"You're compensating," Derek said finally.
Vernon stiffened. "For what?"
"For something you're not telling me."
Bruce glanced between them. "He's been weird since last night."
"I'm fine," Vernon said quickly.
Derek didn't argue - which somehow felt worse.
They moved on to drills.
Daggers first.
Bruce flowed through the motions with growing confidence, blade an extension of his intent. He adjusted instinctively when terrain shifted, when footing slipped, when angles closed.
Derek nodded. "You're reading the space before it moves."
Bruce grinned. "Is that good?"
"It's dangerous," Derek replied. "To your enemies."
Then he turned to Vernon.
"And you," he said quietly, "are forcing precision where flexibility should be."
Vernon clenched his jaw. "I don't have Qi."
"No," Derek agreed. "But you have a body. And you're treating it like something disposable."
That struck deeper than Vernon expected.
By midday, the cost made itself known.
Vernon collapsed the moment Derek called for rest.
Not dramatically - no cry, no stumble. He simply sat, breath hitching, vision dimming at the edges.
Bruce noticed immediately. "Hey-Vern?"
"I'm okay," Vernon said again - weaker this time.
Melian came closer than usual, her glow sharp, restless.
"He's burning too much," she said.
Derek froze. "Burning what?"
She hesitated. "Himself."
Vernon laughed weakly. "That sounds worse than it is."
Derek knelt in front of him. "Look at me."
Vernon did - and nearly swayed.
"How long," Derek asked, voice tight, "has this been happening?"
Vernon hesitated.
Bruce crossed his arms. "That's not an answer."
"...Since the spark," Vernon admitted. "It doesn't hurt. I just.. get tired faster."
Derek exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Mana always takes," he said. "It never asks nicely."
That night, Melian sat with Vernon while Derek and Bruce worked outside.
"Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly.
Vernon blinked. "Regret what?"
"Trying."
He considered the question longer than he expected.
"No," he said finally. "I regret not knowing how much it would take."
She watched him carefully. "Your body heals faster than it should."
"I know."
"But it doesn't heal for free."
Vernon looked down at his hands. "I know, that's why i started training along side Bruce."
He paused. "mm.. if i were to say one thing, if i carry on studying diligently i might find a way to alter the thing that allows me to heal with a cost."
Melian frowned. "That sounds dangerous."
Vernon smiled faintly. "Everything worth doing seems to be."
Three days later, Vernon overdid it.
He slipped during drills - a shallow cut along his forearm where stone met skin. Nothing serious.
It sealed shut in seconds.
The aftermath wasn't.
Vernon barely made it back to the cave before his legs gave out. He slept for nearly a full day afterward, waking only to drink water Derek forced into his hands.
Bruce hovered nearby, restless. "That cut wasn't even bad."
"It wasn't the cut," Derek said quietly.
He didn't finish the sentence.
Bruce's progress accelerated as Vernon slowed.
Qi began to move through Bruce not as effort, but as instinct. He learned how to guide it into his muscles without wasting motion, how to let it reinforce rather than strain.
"You adapt frighteningly fast," Derek admitted one evening.
Bruce scratched the back of his head. "Is that bad?"
"No," Derek said. "It's rare, but good."
Bruce smiled - then glanced toward the cave. "What about him?"
Derek's gaze followed.
"I don't know how to guide that path," he said after a moment.
The admission tasted bitter.
"I can teach Qi," Derek continued. "I can teach how to survive, how to fight, how to endure pain."
He clenched his fist.
"But I don't know mana."
Bruce frowned. "Does that make you a bad teacher?"
"...It makes me a bad father," Derek said softly.
Vernon woke one night to Derek sitting nearby, Alice's notes spread across his knees.
"You can't fix everything," Vernon said quietly.
Derek looked up sharply. "You shouldn't be awake."
Vernon smiled tiredly. "See? Still healing fast."
Derek closed the book. "Your mother would've known what to do."
Vernon's smile faded - but he didn't look away.
"Then I'll learn," he said. "The way she would've wanted."
Derek studied him - really studied him - and saw not weakness, but resolve sharpened by cost.
That frightened him more than any enemy ever had.