The early rays of morning filtered into the training ground as Lucas sat cross-legged under the great oak tree. In his hands was the worn meditation book Tyrn had given him. He flipped through the pages, his expression skeptical as he studied the illustrations.
"Well, this looks... helpful," he muttered dryly. The book was sparse on words, containing mostly diagrams of meditation poses and annotated patterns of lines—timings for breaths, perhaps, though their exact meaning wasn't explained.
Lucas tapped the edge of the page thoughtfully. "A number for seconds? Or breaths? Who knows." He sighed, closing the book and placing it beside him. "Nothing wrong with trying, I guess."
Settling into the first depicted pose, Lucas straightened his back and crossed his legs. Following the breathing pattern on the page, he began taking slow, measured breaths. But his rhythm faltered quickly, and frustration crept in.
"This is ridiculous," he grumbled, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "How am I supposed to—?"
He stopped himself, inhaling deeply. Determined to see it through, Lucas closed his eyes and focused, tuning out the sounds of the world around him. He counted his breaths, matching the strange timing described in the book. In and out.
At first, it felt no different than normal breathing exercises—tedious and dull. But as he fell deeper into the rhythm, something shifted. The air seemed to grow warmer, vibrating faintly against his skin. He became aware of a sensation stirring in his core, like a gentle current swirling just beneath his stomach.
"What is this?" he thought.
It was faint but undeniable—something was there, responding to his controlled breaths, moving with a rhythm of its own.
But just as the feeling grew stronger, Lucas was jolted from his meditation by a loud, familiar voice.
"Lucas!"
Lucas opened his eyes with a start, blinking against the dimming light. His friends stood nearby, Dorian at the forefront with a look of concern etched on his face. Beside him were Ryssa, Bogo, and a small group of young hunters who trained with Lucas.
"What?" Lucas said, his voice rough from hours of silence. "Calm down, Dorian. I just got the hang of this meditation thing—"
"Lucas, do you know how long you've been sitting there?" Dorian interrupted, pointing west.
Lucas turned his head to follow Dorian's gesture and froze. The sun was dipping low over the horizon, the sky streaked with the deep oranges and purples of dusk.
Bogo crossed his arms. "You've been sitting there since morning."
Ryssa nodded. "We tried calling you. Even shaking you. But nothing worked."
"What?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowing. "No... I've only been at it for a second. I wasn't sleeping or anything."
"You weren't asleep," Dorian said firmly. "You were breathing really weird, but you definitely weren't out cold."
Lucas hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands as he flexed them slowly. The sensation in his stomach lingered, faint but undeniable, like an echo of whatever he'd just experienced. He glanced up at his friends, their concern clear in their eyes.
"I'm okay, guys," he said finally, forcing a smile. "Really. Let's just head home."
Dorian and Bogo exchanged wary looks, while Ryssa frowned, but none of them pushed further.
"Alright," Dorian said, slinging an arm over Lucas's shoulder as they began walking toward the village. "But if you keel over halfway there, we're not carrying you."
Lucas chuckled, his usual easy demeanor returning. "You wish."
As they left the training ground, Lucas chatted lightly with Dorian, keeping the mood casual. But behind him, Ryssa and Bogo lagged slightly, exchanging quiet whispers.
"Did you notice anything strange?" Bogo asked, keeping his voice low.
Ryssa nodded. "His aura feels... different. Like something shifted. But it's so faint, I'm not even sure."
Bogo rubbed the back of his neck. "Think we should ask him about it?"
"Not yet," Ryssa said after a moment of thought. "Lucas won't talk until he's ready. Whatever just happened... it's his to figure out for now."
Bogo glanced at her, his brows raised. "And if he never mentions it?"
Ryssa's gaze drifted toward Lucas, her expression softening. "Then we'll just keep an eye on him. He's our friend—we'll figure it out together."
With that unspoken agreement, the group continued their walk back to the village, the stars beginning to twinkle faintly above them.
The village quieted as dusk deepened, with the stars beginning to twinkle faintly in the velvety sky. Lucas lingered on the porch of his family's farmhouse, seated cross-legged on the weathered wooden steps. The faint scent of tilled earth and budding greenery filled the spring night, but Lucas barely noticed.
His hands rested loosely on his knees, his breathing still and measured as he tried to recall the feeling from earlier—the swirling warmth in his core. He focused, closing his eyes and taking slow, deep breaths, but it was gone, like a fleeting melody slipping away before it could be captured.
Lucas exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling to the surface.
"What even was that?" he muttered under his breath. "Was it real? Or did I imagine it?"
His fingers unconsciously brushed the meditation book lying beside him. Opening it, he traced a finger over the worn diagrams, each one depicting serene poses and structured breaths. The stillness they suggested felt so distant from the whirlwind of confusion inside him.
Lucas sighed, leaning his head back against the doorframe. Doubt clawed at the edges of his mind.
"What am I even doing?" he thought bitterly. "I'm not like Dorian or Ryssa. Magic doesn't just come to me."
His grip on the book tightened for a moment, before he forced himself to loosen it. His mind drifted back to the duel during the festival, where every step, every strike, had felt fluid and natural. He had felt confident, alive.
And yet, this... This was different.
The memory of his friends' faces flashed in his mind—Dorian's playful encouragement, Bogo's quiet support, Ryssa's unwavering belief in him. He couldn't ignore the warm pride they showed for him after the duel or their unspoken concern earlier today when they found him meditating.
They believe in me, Lucas realized, a faint warmth blooming in his chest.
Lucas let out a slow breath, lifting the meditation book again. The diagrams no longer felt like cryptic puzzles but instead like keys waiting to be turned.
"If I could figure out the stances in that other book," he muttered, "I can figure this out too."
He gazed out into the darkness, the stars above like scattered sparks. For a moment, the enormity of the unknown loomed in front of him—the mystery of the book, the strange sensation in his core, the path ahead.
But alongside it came a faint flicker of something else. Not just doubt, but determination.
"Maybe I don't understand it yet," Lucas admitted to himself, his voice quiet but firm. "But I can learn. I can grow. I can find my own way."
For the first time that evening, a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. The confidence he felt after his duel returned, mingling with a new sense of possibility. It wasn't a solution yet, but it was a start.
With that thought, Lucas stood, his movements deliberate. He tucked the meditation book under his arm, glancing back at the night sky before heading inside. The warmth in his chest lingered, like an ember waiting for the right moment to burst into flame.