Alex grit his teeth, sweat already beading on his brow. The five spheres twisted and clashed like stubborn animals, each tugging at his focus in different directions. Forcing them only made the pull sharper, more painful.
"Okay… don't fight," he muttered under his breath. He let out a slow exhale and loosened his grip, shifting from control to guidance.
Instead of trying to keep them perfectly apart, he pictured a river carrying many leaves. Each moved with the current, but his hand could nudge their paths when needed. Slowly, the violent jerks softened into smoother arcs, the collisions no longer shattering but redirecting, like ripples in water.
"That's it," Frigga said softly. "Do not command—anticipate. You are not their master; you are their partner."
Alex's arms trembled, but the rhythm was there. He began to sense each sphere as a distinct presence—one fast and darting, another sluggish and heavy, two circling with sharp precision, the last unpredictable, constantly testing his balance.
Then Frigga raised her hand, and the runestones flared brighter. Threads shot outward, weaving around the spheres, pressing against them with resistance. The orbs jerked and spun, fighting harder to break free.
Alex's eyes widened. "Wait—this wasn't part of the deal!"
"Chaos never asks permission," Frigga replied calmly. "Adapt, Alex. Let them resist, let them test you. Do not lose the rhythm."
The pull slammed against his mind like five ropes yanking him in different directions. His knees buckled, breath ragged. For a heartbeat, it felt like everything would snap. But then he remembered Frigga's words: listen as much as you act.
He stopped trying to balance everything perfectly and instead leaned into the rhythm. One sphere surged forward, so he let another give way. A third spun off course, but he redirected it by guiding the fourth into its path. Little by little, the chaos settled into a strange, tense harmony.
The weave pulsed in acknowledgment.
Alex gasped, sweat dripping down his jaw. "Feels like… juggling fireballs while blindfolded."
Frigga's lips curved in approval. "And yet, you did not burn. This is the lesson, Alex. Seidr is not about absolute control—it is about harmony with living chaos. The stronger you grow, the more the weave will resist you. If you learn to move with it, no resistance will break you."
Alex collapsed back onto the bench, chest heaving, arms limp at his sides. "So tomorrow… what, ten spheres? A full light show?"
Frigga's eyes gleamed knowingly. "Tomorrow, we will not simply add more. Tomorrow, the forms will think for themselves. They will act without your command—and you must guide them as if they were alive."
Alex groaned, dragging a hand over his face, but he couldn't hide the grin tugging at his lips. "Great. First juggling fire, now babysitting magic with a mind of its own. Can't wait."
The runestones pulsed once more, the faint hum of the weave echoing like applause in the chamber, acknowledging his growth.
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Alex. He spent hours meditating afterward, letting the rhythm of the spheres settle in his mind. Even when he wasn't actively guiding them, he could feel their echo in the weave—a faint, persistent hum that tugged at his thoughts.
By the evening, his muscles ached in ways he didn't know were possible, and his fingers were stiff from hours of fine control. But his mind felt sharper, almost electric, as if every neuron had been awakened. He found himself smiling despite the exhaustion, imagining how the forms would react tomorrow when they were given a measure of independence.
Frigga observed silently, leaning against a runestone. "You have done well today, Alex. Remember this feeling. Tomorrow, the weave will not wait for your instruction—it will challenge you to respond, to adapt, to think several steps ahead. What you did today was remarkable, but it is only a fraction of what mastery demands."
Alex groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fraction, huh? That's… comforting."
"It is necessary," Frigga said, her voice firm but kind. "Without challenge, there is no growth. Without resistance, no understanding. Tomorrow, the forms will have will. They will act as if alive. You must guide them, anticipate them, and maintain balance among them—or risk failure."
Alex let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes. "Alright… forms with minds of their own. I'll… I'll try not to get flattened."
Frigga's lips curved into a faint, approving smile. "Try, yes. But trust in what you have learned. Trust in yourself. The weave responds to confidence as much as skill. Remember that, Midgardian."
As Alex left the chamber, the last rays of sunlight catching the lattice of runestones, he felt a mixture of dread and exhilaration. Tomorrow, the dance would not be his to lead alone—the forms would have voices of their own. And for the first time, he felt ready to listen as much as he acted, to become part of the living rhythm of Seidr itself.
The next morning, Alex entered the chamber to find the runestones glowing faintly, their light pulsing in irregular beats as if impatient to test him. Frigga stood at the center, her posture calm but unmistakably tense, a signal that today would be unlike any previous lesson.
"Today," she said, voice steady, "the forms will have their own intent. They will move, resist, and respond without waiting for your command. You must guide them, not dictate. Anticipate, adapt, and maintain harmony—or they will unravel."
Alex swallowed hard, feeling his chest tighten. "So… I'm not just juggling chaos anymore. I'm… coexisting with it?"
Frigga nodded. "Precisely. You must become part of the weave itself, a participant, not an observer."
He extended his hands over the stones, summoning three spheres first. At once, they began moving with surprising autonomy—darting, spinning, and even veering toward each other. The pull of the threads tugged at him sharply, testing his reflexes. He could no longer rely solely on strength; he had to sense their intentions, respond before they collided, and let them move as they would while keeping them within the lattice.
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