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Under Seraphine's guidance, Kaelen found himself trying something he'd never thought he'd do: meditation. They had settled deeper into the woods, away from prying eyes, and Seraphine instructed him to sit cross-legged on the ground, close his eyes, and "let the storm come to him naturally."
Garak snorted from a distance. "Our great warrior hero, sitting quietly in a forest. If this actually works, I'll start knitting scarves."
Lira chuckled, giving Garak a playful nudge. "At least give him a chance. If it helps Kaelen stop sparking every time he sneezes, I'd say it's worth it."
Elara raised an eyebrow, half-teasing. "I wouldn't mind seeing Garak knit, though. Something tells me he'd be oddly good at it."
Kaelen resisted the urge to smile and instead focused on Seraphine's voice.
"Close your eyes," she said gently. "Picture the storm within you, not as a force of chaos, but as a vast ocean. The waves are powerful, yes, but they respond to you. Try to see yourself in control, standing at the center of it."
Kaelen let himself sink into the exercise. He imagined the storm swirling within him, a tempest of clouds and lightning flashes, powerful and unrestrained. As he concentrated, he visualized himself standing in the center, calm and steady.
"Good," Seraphine continued softly. "Now, breathe. With each breath, imagine the storm quieting, responding to your calm."
At first, it felt impossible—like trying to hold back a raging river. But as he focused, the storm began to shift. The flashes of lightning softened, and the thunder faded to a distant rumble. He felt a strange sense of peace, a stillness he hadn't known was possible.
But just as he felt the calm taking hold, a sharp jolt of anger sparked through him, breaking his concentration. The storm flared up again, and a crack of lightning shot from his hand, scorching the ground.
"Whoa!" Garak jumped back, looking both impressed and mildly singed.
Kaelen opened his eyes, frustrated. "This is harder than it looks."
Seraphine knelt beside him, her expression understanding. "You're doing well. Control takes time. The storm is a part of you, but it's also independent. You're learning to find balance with it."
Lira offered him a small smile. "It's a start. You might be a natural when it comes to fighting, Kaelen, but it's not like you have to win against the storm. Maybe… just learn to live with it."
Kaelen considered her words. There was wisdom there, even if it was hard to accept. The storm wasn't something he had to conquer; it was something he needed to understand.
Seraphine rose, gesturing for them to continue their journey. "You'll have plenty of time to practice as we go. The storm may be patient… but it won't wait forever. We'll need to move quickly to reach the High Grove."
They gathered their things, setting off down the forest path. As they walked, Kaelen felt a growing sense of purpose, the weight of the storm becoming less of a burden and more of a challenge he was determined to master.
The journey continued with Seraphine sharing bits of wisdom along the way. She taught him techniques to ground himself, ways to focus his thoughts, and even some arcane knowledge about the storm's ancient origins. The others listened, too, their expressions a mix of curiosity and cautious optimism.
By sunset, they had reached a hillside overlooking a vast valley, the horizon painted in hues of orange and pink. Kaelen felt a strange connection to the beauty before him, like he was finally beginning to understand the harmony Seraphine spoke of.
Lira walked up beside him, nudging him with her shoulder. "Feeling better?"
Kaelen took a deep breath, feeling the storm settle within him. "Yeah. A little. It's like… I can feel it breathing, almost. Like it's more of a companion than a curse."
She smiled. "Good. Because we're all here to help, storm or no storm."
As they set up camp for the night, Kaelen felt an unusual calm settle over him. The storm was there, a steady hum in his veins, but it was quiet, waiting. And for the first time, he realized it wasn't trying to overtake him—it was waiting for him to be ready.
That night, as he drifted off to sleep under the stars, he felt the faintest whisper from the storm, almost like a promise.
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