Morning came quietly.
The forest light filtered through the gaps in the wooden walls as it always did, soft and pale, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and leaves. By the time the village truly stirred awake, I was already on my feet, moving through the familiar motions that had become routine over the past two years.
The training ground greeted me with the same worn earth and scattered footprints. I drew my sword and began again, slow swings at first, then sharper cuts, footwork steady and deliberate. Each movement was watched closely by Kal, Rokar's friend and the swordsman who had taken it upon himself to correct my form whenever it strayed.
"Again," he said, his voice rough but not unkind.
I adjusted my grip and repeated the sequence, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease as the blade followed the correct arc. Kal circled me once, eyes sharp, then nodded faintly when I finished.
As the sun climbed toward its peak, the heat settling into my muscles, I finally lowered my sword. Sweat ran down my temples as I wiped my brow and slid the blade back into its sheath, my arms heavy but steady. The familiar rhythm of training faded as I turned to leave the ground.
Kal noticed at once.
"Arthur," he called, tilting his head slightly, his sharp eyes already reading my intent. "Skra-leaving?"
"Yes," I replied, drawing in a deep breath to steady myself. "From now on, I'll head back around this time. I need to focus on cultivating."
He studied me in silence for a moment, then he gave a single nod.
"Skra-fine."
As I made my way out, Rokar's voice stopped me next. He stood with his massive arms crossed, eyes fixed on the younger warriors as he barked orders and corrections. Without looking away from them, he spoke.
"Skra-leave?"
I gave him the same answer.
He let out a short grunt, neither approval nor objection, and waved me off without another word. For Rokar, that was as close to agreement as it ever got.
The walk back felt calmer than usual. Beneath that calm, excitement stirred restlessly, coiled tight in my chest... the urge to sit down, to try the cultivation technique for myself, to see whether I could truly take that first step on my own. My steps quickened without me realizing it, anticipation pushing me forward as my thoughts fixed on nothing else.
When I reached the house, the smell of food reached me before I fully stepped inside. Charlie had already prepared lunch, simple but warm, the kind of meal that didn't try to impress yet always felt grounding. I sat and ate without rushing, letting the food settle the lingering ache in my body.
When I finished, I wiped my hands and turned to Charlie.
"I'm going to cultivate now," I said, my voice steady. "Please don't disturb me."
Charlie inclined his head at once, his expression calm and understanding.
"Understood, young master."
I moved toward the base of the tree and lowered myself to the floor, settling into a cross-legged position. I straightened my spine carefully, letting the rough bark rest against my back as a point of support. I closed my eyes and drew in a slow, deliberate breath, willing my body to relax.
In the quiet that followed, I replayed Elder Thryssa's guidance again and again. The warmth of her palm against my spine. The calm, steady flow that had followed. The way the energy had risen along my back, split at my shoulders, and traveled down my arms to my fingertips. I tried to remember not just the sensation, but its rhythm, how it moved, how it felt to exist within it rather than chase it.
With that memory clutched firmly in my mind, I reached outward with my awareness, searching for the same presence in the world around me.
Nothing.
I tried again, this time pouring more focus into it, pushing past the quiet stillness of the house and reaching into the space around me. I adjusted my breathing, slowing it deliberately, letting each inhale and exhale stretch longer than the last. I searched for that familiar sensation, the same subtle presence Elder Thryssa had guided through my body.
Still nothing.
I shifted my approach, concentrating harder, replaying the memory of how the energy had moved within me. I tried to follow that memory like a trail.
Nothing answered.
Time slipped by without my notice. Somewhere beyond the walls, the light changed, shadows creeping across the floor and climbing slowly up the trunk of the tree. With every failed attempt, frustration tightened its grip around my chest, sharp and persistent. No matter how many times I reached, no matter how carefully I focused, I couldn't grasp even the faintest trace of it.
By the time evening settled in, my jaw was clenched tight, teeth grinding as impatience and irritation wore away at my resolve.
Charlie watched me quietly from across the room for some time, his presence steady and unobtrusive as always. Eventually, he spoke, his voice gentle enough not to startle me.
"Young master," he said, "what happened?"
I opened my eyes and let out a slow breath, the tension in my chest escaping with it. My shoulders sagged slightly as I looked toward him.
"No matter how many times I try," I admitted, my voice low, "I can't feel the nature energy. Not even a little."
A faint smile touched Charlie's lips, not mocking and dismissive, but understanding.
"That is to be expected," he replied calmly. "Did you truly believe it would be that easy?"
I shook my head, frustration creeping into my expression.
"No… but I thought I'd feel something, anything at all."
Charlie fell silent for a moment, considering my words. Then he spoke again, his tone thoughtful.
"Let me give you one piece of advice," he said. "When you try to sense nature energy, don't treat it as something foreign. Don't chase it or try to seize it."
I straightened slightly, listening more closely.
"Feel it the same way you feel your breathing," he continued. "You don't force your breath. You don't reach out and grab it. You simply become aware of it... and it's there."
His gaze met mine, steady and reassuring.
"Do the same here. It will be difficult in the beginning," he said, "but you will get there."
I nodded slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a bit.
"Thank you, Charlie," I said sincerely.
I closed my eyes once more and settled back into my posture, letting my shoulders drop and the tension drain from my body. This time, I didn't strain or force anything. I didn't reach outward or chase after a sensation that refused to come. Instead, I focused on the quiet, simple rhythm of air entering my lungs and leaving again.
I let my awareness expand gently, the way breath naturally fills the chest without effort. I tried to exist within that calm, neither expecting nor demanding anything in return.
Still… nothing.
Time slipped by unnoticed. At some point, Charlie called out softly, telling me dinner was ready. I shook my head without opening my eyes, unwilling to break the fragile state of focus I had managed to maintain.
Hours passed after that. Eventually, I heard Charlie move about the house, his footsteps quiet and familiar, before the soft sound of him lying down to rest. The house grew still, wrapped in silence.
I drew in a deep, steady breath and tried again.
This time, I let my body relax completely, sinking into the floor, my breathing slow and unforced. I focused on the space around me, not as something separate, but as if I were breathing it in along with the air itself.
And then, something brushed against my skin.
It was so faint I almost dismissed it as imagination. A whisper of sensation, like countless tiny particles grazing the surface of my body, barely there yet unmistakably real.
I froze.
Even my breathing slowed, fear and anticipation tangling together as I stilled myself completely, afraid that even the smallest movement or thought might disturb it.
I steadied my breathing and focused again, holding on to that fragile sensation without trying to grasp it. This time, it didn't vanish.
More sensations followed, subtle, yet unmistakable. Countless tiny touches brushed against my skin, light and drifting, like fine dust carried on an invisible current. It was the same feeling I remembered from Elder Thryssa's guidance. The same presence. The same quiet certainty.
My heart skipped.
Carefully, I guided the energy, just as she had shown me. I didn't rush it or force its path. Slowly, patiently, I gathered the faint currents and let them rise along my spine. The movement was gentle but deliberate, tracing upward until it reached the base of my neck. There, I divided it, directing the flow down both arms, guiding it through my shoulders, elbows, wrists, until it finally reached my fingertips.
The sensation deepened.
It wasn't overwhelming, but it was clearer now, more defined, as if my body were beginning to remember what it had learned before. I repeated the process, again and again, each cycle smoother than the last. Time slipped away unnoticed as my awareness narrowed to nothing but the flow within me.
Sweat began to bead on my skin, soaking into my clothes and clinging uncomfortably to my back, but I didn't stop. I didn't dare. The exhaustion crept in slowly, muscles aching from holding the posture for so long, yet beneath it all was a quiet exhilaration.