Helena moved through the chaotic market with purpose, her senses alert for any useful information. The noise was overwhelming, a cacophony of voices haggling, shouting, and arguing over goods. The smell of unwashed bodies and rotting food was almost unbearable. Helena kept her head down, her eyes scanning the crowd from beneath the hood she had pulled low over her face.
As she navigated through the throng of people, she noticed a figure that stood out—a tall man with a rugged demeanor and a scar running down the side of his face. He moved with a confidence and ease that marked him as someone different from the rest of the downtrodden souls in the Gulag. Helena felt a strange pull toward him, sensing that he might be the key to her escape.
She followed him discreetly, weaving through the narrow alleys and keeping a safe distance. The man eventually entered a dilapidated building, and Helena paused, weighing her options. Gathering her courage, she decided to take the risk. She approached the building cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of dampness and decay. The room was dimly lit, with only a few shafts of light penetrating through the cracks in the walls. The man was standing near a rickety table, examining a worn map spread out before him. He looked up sharply as she entered, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of a dagger at his waist.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
Helena took a step back, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean no harm," she said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "I just need help."
The man's eyes narrowed, his grip on the dagger tightening. "Help? From me? Why should I trust you?"
Helena took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "You don't have to trust me. But I have information that might be valuable to you. We both want to get out of here, don't we?"
The man's expression remained guarded, but he didn't move to attack. "What kind of information?"
Helena hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I know about the escapee. The former royal executioner."
The man's eyes flickered with interest, but he quickly masked it. "And what do you know about him?"
Helena stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know how he escaped. And I think we can use that information to our advantage."
The man studied her for a moment, then slowly released his grip on the dagger. "My name is Jaxon," he said grudgingly. "And you are?"
"Haelon," she replied, relieving that he was willing to listen. "I've been living in the Gulag for years. I've learned a lot about this place, and I think we can find a way out together."
Jaxon's expression remained skeptical, but he nodded for her to continue. Helena quickly explained her plan to create a massive distraction to cover their escape. As she spoke, she noticed Jaxon's interest growing, his eyes lighting up with the possibilities.
When she finished, Jaxon leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "It's a bold plan," he admitted. "But it might just work. We'll need to gather supplies and find trustworthy allies."
Helena nodded, her mind already racing with the details. "I also need to teach you something important. It is a necessary skill among elite swordsmen, and if you're going to be in my party, you must know it," she said, recalling the meditation ritual she had read about. "It's called the Aether Focus Technique. It involves focusing on the mind, body, and surroundings to generate an aura-like invisible energy that surrounds you."
Jaxon raised an eyebrow. "Aura-like energy?"
"Yes," Helena insisted. "Completing the Aether Focus Technique envelops you in this energy, which enhances your relaxation and focus. But it's not just for meditation. This aura increases your power and reflexes in battle."
Jaxon's skepticism was evident, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "And how does it work?"
Helena guided him through the first part of the ritual, focusing on the mind. "Close your eyes and clear your thoughts," she instructed. "Focus on your breathing, in and out, slowly and steadily. Let go of all distractions."
Jaxon complied, his rough exterior softening slightly as he followed her instructions. Helena continued, guiding him through the second part, which involved the body. "Now, concentrate on your physical sensations. Feel the ground beneath your feet, the air on your skin. Be aware of every muscle, every movement."
As Jaxon immersed himself in the exercise, Helena moved on to the final part: the surroundings. "Now, extend your awareness outward. Listen to the sounds around you, and feel the energy of the space. Become one with your environment."
Jaxon's breathing slowed, and Helena could see a change in his demeanor. He seemed more centered, more focused. When he opened his eyes, there was a new intensity in his gaze.
"This aura," she explained, "grows stronger the more you practice. Even doing it once provides some benefit, but the more you do it, the bigger and more controlled your aura becomes. With a strong aura, you'll be more powerful and your reflexes sharper in battle."
Jaxon looked intrigued but unconvinced. "Alright, show me."
When Helena repeated the steps, she could sense that Jaxon was beginning to understand the technique; his breathing became steadier, his presence more commanding, and his aura more stable. When Helena had finished meditating and opened her eyes again, she found there was a newfound determination in Jaxon's eyes.
"This could work," he said, his voice tinged with newfound respect. "If we can master this technique, it might give us the edge we need to escape."
Helena smiled, feeling a surge of hope. "We can do this, Jaxon. Together, we can escape the Gulag and find a better future."
Jaxon nodded a determined glint in his eyes. "Alright, Helena. Let's get to work."