Morning came without ceremony.
No birdsong announced it, no dramatic break in the sky. Light simply filtered through the trees and crept into the cave, brushing against stone and skin alike.
Vernon was already awake.
He sat cross-legged near the back wall, spine straight, hands resting loosely on his knees. His breathing was slow - measured not by comfort, but by intent. Each inhale felt like drawing a thin thread through his chest. Each exhale stretched that thread outward, testing how far it could go before fraying.
He didn't open his eyes.
He didn't need to.
The cave was louder than it had ever been.
Not in sound - no sudden noise, no crash or shout - but in presence. He could feel the air shifting when Melian adjusted her posture at the entrance. He could tell when Bruce rolled his shoulders outside, preparing for his morning routine. Even Derek's steady steps by the firepit had a rhythm now, a weight that pressed against Vernon's awareness like a distant drum.
It was too much.
And yet... it wasn't enough.
"Still pulling too fast."
Vernon flinched.
His breath stuttered, and the thin pressure in his chest scattered like startled birds. He opened his eyes and looked toward the entrance.
Melian stood there, arms folded behind her back, head tilted slightly. The early light caught in her hair, turning it pale gold. Her expression wasn't concerned. It rarely was. She looked more like someone commenting on the weather.
"I wasn't-" Vernon began, then stopped. He exhaled slowly. "How can you tell?"
She shrugged. "It feels... sharp."
"That's not helpful."
"It wasn't meant to be."
He huffed despite himself and closed his eyes again. "You said it would settle if I didn't force it."
"I said it might," Melian corrected. "You're still forcing it."
Before he could respond, a dull thump echoed from outside.
Then another.
Then a steady rhythm followed.
Bruce's training had begun.
Bruce's palms hit the ground, arms bending smoothly as he lowered himself. His breath stayed even. Controlled. He pushed back up without strain.
"One hundred twenty-seven," he muttered.
Derek stood a short distance away, arms crossed, watching without comment. He only spoke when something needed correcting - and today, Bruce's form was clean.
Too clean.
Bruce shifted into stance after the final repetition, feet planting into the dirt. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his grip on the dagger at his hip, and began moving through a familiar sequence. Step. Turn. Slash. Recover.
His body responded instinctively now. Qi flowed where it needed to without conscious effort, reinforcing muscle, sharpening balance.
And then-
Something tugged.
It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear. Just a sudden absence, like the air had thinned around him.
Bruce stumbled on the seventh motion.
He caught himself instantly, feet skidding only slightly, blade never leaving his grip.
Derek's eyes narrowed. "Again."
Bruce reset and repeated the form. This time it went smoothly.
Still, the feeling lingered.
Bruce glanced toward the cave.
Vernon sat inside, eyes closed again, face tight with concentration.
Bruce frowned.
"Dad," he said quietly, continuing his movements. "Does... does Vernon always feel like that?"
Derek didn't answer right away.
Bruce finished the sequence and lowered his arms. "Like he's pulling something too hard?"
Derek exhaled through his nose. "Focus on your form."
Bruce hesitated, then nodded. He resumed training - but his attention kept drifting.
Inside the cave, Vernon felt the pressure return.
It gathered near his sternum, warm and heavy, like something sleeping just beneath the surface. Each time he drew mana toward himself, it stirred faintly.
Not awake.
Not gone.
Just... aware.
His head throbbed.
He pressed his lips together and continued anyway.
Alice's notes lay open in front of him, diagrams etched into the page with careful precision. Circles within circles. Lines intersecting at exact angles.
This technique cannot be used while moving.
He remembered the line clearly.
He hated it.
Mana obeyed rules. His mother had proven that much. But rules existed to be
bent - tested - understood well enough to be broken.
A crackle whispered in his ears.
Not sound.
Pattern.
Vernon gasped and broke concentration, clutching his head. The pressure vanished instantly, leaving behind a dull ache.
"Too far," Melian said softly.
Vernon opened one eye. "You didn't stop me."
"You didn't ask."
He laughed weakly. "That's cruel."
She smiled faintly. "You're learning."
By late afternoon, Bruce had surpassed his previous limit.
"Four minutes," Derek said evenly.
Bruce's legs trembled, but he held the stance.
"Four minutes and 2 seconds," Derek added.
Bruce collapsed backward onto the dirt, laughing breathlessly. "I did it."
"You did," Derek agreed.
He crouched beside Bruce, studying him closely. "How do you feel?"
"Tired," Bruce said. Then paused. "But... sharper. Like I know where things are even when I'm not looking."
Derek's expression darkened slightly. "That's your awareness expanding. Not your senses."
Bruce blinked. "Is that bad?"
"No," Derek said slowly. "It's dangerous if you ignore it."
Bruce sat up. "I won't."
Derek nodded. "Good."
He hesitated, then added, quieter, "You learn faster than I expected."
Bruce smiled. "Is that bad too?"
Derek snorted. "Only for me."
That evening, they ate together.
Boar meat roasted over the fire, juices dripping into the flames. Derek passed around cups of crushed berry drink, and for a moment - just a moment - it felt like something close to normal.
Melian appeared beside Vernon without warning and accepted a piece of meat, though she barely touched it.
"You're both noisy," she said casually.
Bruce blinked. "We are?"
"Very."
Vernon sighed. "Sorry."
She tilted her head. "If you keep pulling like that," she added lightly, "it won't sleep next time."
The fire crackled.
Derek's hand tightened around his cup.
Vernon froze.
Bruce felt it this time - a cold ripple along his spine.
"What won't?" Bruce asked.
Melian smiled sweetly. "Eat before it gets cold."
She vanished.
No one spoke after that.
Night fell quietly.
The moon rose high, pale light spilling over the cave entrance. Derek remained awake long after the boys slept, sitting just inside the threshold, back straight, eyes fixed on the dark forest beyond.
Behind him, Vernon breathed evenly, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. Whatever slept inside him had gone still again - for now.
Derek didn't relax.
He rested his hand on the hilt of his blade and kept watch.
Between breaths.