The dawn brought no respite to the Wildscourge. The air was alive with the sounds of distant roars and chirping Etherion birds, each call a reminder of the forest's teeming dangers. Eragon woke to find Lunara already on her feet, her piercing golden eyes scanning the horizon.
"Get up," she called over her shoulder, her voice brisk but not unkind. "We've got work to do."
Eragon groaned as he pushed himself upright, his body aching from the previous day's exertions. The memories of the Feral Stalker and his first brush with Etherion energy were still vivid, a potent mix of fear and exhilaration.
"Work?" he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Lunara smirked, tossing him a bundle of dried meat. "You want to survive out here, don't you? Then you need to learn how to use the Etherion inside you. Properly, this time."
Eragon caught the food and began chewing, the salty taste reviving him. "And what's your plan for that?"
"Simple," Lunara said, her tone laced with mischief. "I'll teach you."
They began in a clearing, where the sunlight filtered through the trees in scattered beams. Lunara stood before him, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp.
"Etherion isn't just energy," she explained. "It's an extension of yourself. Your emotions, your instincts, your willpower—they all feed into it. If you want to control it, you need to understand it first."
Eragon frowned, clenching his fists. "Sounds abstract."
"It is," Lunara said with a chuckle. "But don't worry. I'll make it practical."
She raised her hand, and a faint glow surrounded her fingers. The light twisted and danced, forming intricate patterns in the air. "This is what controlled Etherion looks like. It's precise, deliberate. Now, let's see what you can do."
Eragon hesitated, then focused on the mark on his chest. He closed his eyes, reaching for the warmth he'd felt during his fight with the Stalker. The energy stirred, sluggish but present.
"Good," Lunara said softly. "Now, focus it. Imagine it flowing to your hand."
The Etherion obeyed, surging toward his outstretched palm. A faint blue light flickered around his fingers, unstable and sputtering.
"Not bad for a beginner," Lunara remarked. "But it's too chaotic. You need to center yourself. Breathe."
Eragon took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. The light steadied, forming a small, flickering orb.
"Better," Lunara said, nodding approvingly. "Now, try shaping it. Think of something simple—a sphere, a line, anything."
The task proved harder than Eragon expected. The energy resisted his efforts, twisting into erratic shapes before dissolving entirely. He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping.
"Relax," Lunara said, stepping closer. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle. "It's not about forcing it. Etherion responds to harmony, not brute strength."
Her proximity sent a strange warmth through Eragon, and he found himself acutely aware of her presence—the soft cadence of her voice, the faint scent of her hair. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
"Try again," Lunara urged, her hand lingering for a moment before pulling away.
This time, Eragon's movements were calmer, more deliberate. The Etherion formed a faintly glowing line, simple but stable.
Lunara smiled, a rare expression that softened her usual sharp demeanor. "There you go. You're getting it."
Their training was interrupted by a rustling in the underbrush. Lunara's smile vanished, replaced by a steely alertness.
"Stay close," she said, her voice low.
Eragon nodded, gripping his knife as his heart began to race. The rustling grew louder, and a moment later, the creature emerged—a massive, six-legged beast with iridescent scales and a tail tipped with venomous barbs.
"A Scaled Ravager," Lunara murmured. "Mid-tier. Fast and venomous."
"Mid-tier?" Eragon echoed, his voice tinged with panic. "How are we supposed to fight that?"
"We're not," Lunara said, stepping in front of him. "You are."
Eragon blinked. "What?"
"You need the experience," she said. "Besides, I'll be here if things go south."
Before he could protest, the Ravager lunged, its barbed tail whipping toward him.
Eragon barely dodged the attack, the tail slicing through the air inches from his head. He rolled to his feet, his mind racing.
"Focus!" Lunara called. "Use what I taught you!"
Gripping his knife, Eragon tried to channel Etherion into his movements. The energy flowed reluctantly, his inexperience evident, but it was enough to enhance his reflexes. He sidestepped another attack, slashing at the beast's side.
The Ravager roared, its scales shimmering as it turned to face him. Its eyes glinted with intelligence, a chilling reminder that this was no mindless predator.
Eragon felt a surge of panic but forced himself to stay calm. He recalled Lunara's words—Etherion responds to harmony, not force. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the mark on his chest, letting the energy flow freely.
The result was immediate. His movements became smoother, his strikes more precise. He dodged the Ravager's attacks with a grace that surprised even himself, landing several blows on its vulnerable underbelly.
Finally, with a well-placed strike, he drove his knife into the creature's neck. The Ravager let out a final, piercing screech before collapsing in a heap.
Eragon stood over the Ravager's corpse, his chest heaving. The mark on his chest pulsed faintly, a reminder of the energy he'd tapped into.
"Not bad," Lunara said, walking up beside him. "You're still rough around the edges, but you're improving."
Eragon turned to her, his exhaustion fading as he met her gaze. "Thanks. I wouldn't have made it without your help."
Lunara tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Don't get too comfortable. This was just the beginning."
Despite her words, there was a warmth in her tone that hadn't been there before. Eragon felt his cheeks heat up and quickly looked away, focusing on the Ravager's corpse.
"What now?" he asked.
"Now," Lunara said, "we harvest. Again."
As they worked, the tension between them softened. Lunara's sharp comments were tinged with humor, and Eragon found himself smiling despite the grisly task.
For the first time since entering the Wildscourge, he felt a flicker of something unexpected—hope. And, perhaps, something else.