A hush fell over the room as both Myrel and Sylven held their breath, watching closely. Cyrus bit his lip, waiting for something to happen. A second passed, then another, and yet still no movement. As a minute slipped by, Cyrus frowned, and glanced at Myrel.
"Did I say the words wrong?"
Myrel shook his head. "No… you got them right. Try again, but do your best to will the seed to move. Your desires affect how the aether reacts, and the more powerful your desire, the more powerful the magic."
"Is that why the connection is formed?" Cyrus asked. He focused his gaze on the seed, and pictured it growing into a small flower. "Eisren ilvine."
Once again, they waited in silence, and once again, the seed remained motionless. After a full minute, Cyrus sighed, and lowered his hand.
"I don't think this is going to work. I haven't felt a single thing," Cyrus said. He tapped the seed. "Is there another way? Something else I could try?"
Sylven cleared his throat. "Perhaps if you were to recall the feelings you had when you were in the market. As the guards closed in, and the merchant held you back, what were you feeling?"
Cyrus lowered his gaze. "I was afraid, overwhelmed by the people."
Memories of the merchant gripping his arm, and the knights gleaming armor, shining through the roaring crowd. As the shouts of Galeden's citizens echoed in his ear, they changed into the roar of the boar, its snapping jaws tearing through his mind.
Cyrus jumped when Sylven gasped, and parted his eyes. His body tensed as he noticed the seed rocking beneath his hand. With a shuddering breath, he focused on the seed, and pictured small tendrils growing from its sides.
From deep within, a warmth rose through his chest, and swirled through his body. As his skin began to prickle, a crack formed along the seed and a spider web of golden roots wriggled out, digging into the stone table.
The grey mist of Myrel's eyes whirled as he stroked his beard. Beside him, Sylven shifted his feet, his keen gaze fixated on the seed. The room was eerily quiet as the seed split further, and a thick emerald stalk rose, twisting into the air.
As a brilliant crimson flower blossomed, Myrel's eyes widened. "This is… incredible. The seed is still brimming with aether. In fact, it's almost overflowing with it. How? How are you doing this?"
"I- I don't know," Cyrus said. Excitement flooded him and he half laughed. "This- This isn't so bad. I can feel the aether flowing through me, following my commands."
Myrel frowned, and straightened his back. "You feel it flowing through you? What do you mean?"
Cyrus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You know. A warmth spreads through my body, and into the seed. Isn't this how you do it?"
"No. Normally, you would only be able to sense a connection to the aether, like a stream flowing through your mind. I've never heard of anyone actually feeling it before," Myrel said. His frown deepened.
Cyrus winced as the soothing warmth inside his chest grew hotter, lashing out like a whip. Soon, it felt like he was standing in front of a fire, unable to move away as it scorched his veins. On the table, the flower shook, and the roots thickened, fracturing the stone table.
Sylven stepped back, as Myrel reached out a steadying hand.
"Easy there, Cyrus. You must calm down. You'll lose control at this rate."
"I'm- I'm trying," Cyrus said, gritting his teeth. He fought against the flow, but it felt like a dam had broken, and all the aether was flooding through it. "Help. I can't stop it. Someone do something!"
Before them, the flower rapidly grew, its stalk thickening to the size of a pole. As the roots spread out, they knocked the vial of seeds off the table. It shattered as it hit the floor, and the seeds within sprouted roots of their own.
A loud crack echoed off the walls as a section of the table broke, and clattered to the floor. Cyrus stumbled back to keep his feet from being crushed, his body weakening with each second. He gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest as his sight grew blurry.
"I can't- I can't breathe!" Cyrus rasped. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to break free from the aether. Someone grabbed his shoulder, holding him steady, and Myrel's voice slipped through his ears, soft and calm.
"Cyrus. You need to listen to me. Calm your breathing, and relax. You can do this. I know you can. Don't fight the aether, allow it to flow freely. Trust it and it will respond to you."
Cyrus lurched to the wall, and grabbed ahold of the stone. Ignoring the pain, he closed his eyes, and forced his muscles to relax. His body sagged, but Myrel's firm grasp held him, allowing him to focus on the inferno raging through him.
'I- I have to follow the flow! This magic is mine. I will not allow it to control me!' Cyrus thought. He took another deep breath, sensing the aether surging through him, and fixated on it. With all his strength, he willed it to slow down, until finally the heat cooled enough for him to focus.
'Enough.'
With that thought, the heat radiating through his veins ebbed away, and Myrel helped him sit. Pushing back his hair, matted with sweat, he glanced across the room. By now, the seeds had grown still, but their roots encased the table, and cloaked the floor.
Sylven stepped cautiously over them, and crouched in front of Cyrus. "Are you alright?"
"I- I think so," Cyrus said, his skin pale and clammy. "What happened? Why couldn't I stop my magic?"
"It appears your emotions affected the flow of aether, and when you got scared, you lost control," Myrel said. "When Sylven told me what happened in the market, I was surprised, but I simply assumed your connection to aether was better than most, allowing you to call upon it more. I never imagined you would provide the aether yourself."
"I take it that's odd," Cyrus said, rubbing his head.
"Well, I've heard rumors of it being possible, but never by a human. Your ability would also explain why you keep blacking out. Unlike those of us who use the aether around us, yours comes directly from you."
Cyrus studied the array of roots. "What do we do now? Is it even possible for you to teach me?"
"Perhaps… I'll need some time to go through my notes, but I have a few ideas," Myrel said, making his way over to the table. He pulled the roots away, and picked up his books. "Your magic intrigues me. Who knows what you could do with a bit of teaching. However, we'll save that for later, once you've rested, and calmed yourself."