The next day, Elarion didn't go to the academy.
Instead, he chose to practice again.
The forest behind his house was quiet. Wind whispered through tall, grey trees, and the ground was damp from last night's rain. Fog clung low around the roots, glowing faintly under the half-moon.
Elarion walked slowly into the clearing he always used for training.
He wore his old dark jacket, torn near the sleeves, and carried a small notebook—the same notebook that had begun filling itself with strange drawings and steps he didn't remember writing.
He stopped at the center of the clearing and placed the notebook on a flat rock.
"Arc Step Two," he muttered.
He flipped the page open.
Lines, arrows, and precise markings mapped out foot movements—far too deliberate to be random. He studied them, then looked down at his feet and took a breath.
Cold air hit his lungs like metal.
"Alright… this time I don't fall."
He took his stance.
Right foot back.
Left slightly forward.
Knees bent.
Shoulders loose.
Elarion closed his eyes and remembered the feeling from his last practice—the pull in the air, the faint pressure of something invisible beneath his steps. It felt as if the world itself was breathing with him.
"First step," he whispered.
He shifted his weight forward.
Slow. Silent.
The air shivered.
Nothing happened.
He exhaled sharply. "Again."
He tried once more, smoother this time. His feet slid across the wet ground, barely making a sound.
Another step—
He slipped.
"Ugh!" He hit the ground hard and sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Damn it… again."
A voice drifted softly through the air.
"You're pushing too hard. You don't listen."
Elarion frowned. "Then tell me how to do it."
"You already know. You just don't remember it yet."
A small misty wisp floated near a tree. A golden eye blinked slowly within it.
Elarion shook his head. "You keep saying that. All I see are random drawings."
Remn's voice stayed calm.
"The body forgets, but the soul does not. You are trying to teach your body something it once knew."
Elarion stood again.
"Then I'll keep teaching until it remembers."
He reset his stance.
This time, he didn't rush.
His breathing slowed—steady in, steady out. He focused on the weight beneath his feet, the faint vibration in the air, the subtle pull as he moved his leg forward.
Then—
A flicker.
A thin golden line flashed beneath his foot.
Elarion froze.
"Was that…?"
He tried again.
Step.
Shift.
Twist.
Golden light flared under his other foot.
He gasped and stumbled back, nearly falling. The glow vanished instantly.
Remn drifted closer. "You touched the resonance."
"It felt like the air wasn't air," Elarion said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Like something solid was moving with me."
"That is the Arc," Remn replied. "You are walking the edges of existence. Each step bends space."
"I know," Elarion cut in. "My body isn't ready."
"And you still ignore it."
Elarion didn't answer.
He stared at the faint golden marks in the mud as they shimmered… then faded.
He tried again.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Strain burned through his legs. Each attempt made the light linger longer.
By the thirteenth try, faint trails of golden dust followed his movement.
He stopped, panting. His heart hammered in his chest. Pressure built inside his skull—but his eyes burned with focus.
"Almost…" he whispered. "I can feel it."
One more breath.
He stepped forward.
This time, the motion flowed—smooth, precise, silent.
Golden light stayed beneath his feet as he glided across the clearing, as if walking on invisible strings. He twisted and pivoted into the next stance, matching the notebook perfectly.
For a split second—
He was weightless.
The ground cracked softly beneath him.
The glow flared, sharp and brilliant.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Elarion stopped.
Golden trails remained behind him, marking his path like fireflies.
He exhaled slowly.
"I did it."
The light began to fade.
Then—
Pain.
Sharp. Deep.
His vision blurred. He stumbled, clutching his face. Something warm ran down his cheeks.
Blood.
His eyes were bleeding.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Remn's voice rang louder now, edged with anger.
"I warned you. Your resonance is rising too fast. Your flesh cannot hold it yet."
Elarion looked up at the moon through the fog.
Even bleeding.
Even shaking.
He smiled.
"I finally moved like in my dream."
Silence.
Then Remn spoke quietly. "You're reckless."
Elarion laughed weakly. "Maybe. But it worked."
His hands trembled, fingertips glowing faint gold. The resonance hummed softly through him—alive.
The forest fell silent again.
Elarion picked up his notebook and wiped blood from his cheek. He flipped the page, drew a shaky line beneath the notes, and wrote:
"Step Two — Completed. Bleeding is normal."
He snorted. "Well… kind of normal."
Remn floated before him, golden eye narrowing. "You're changing faster than expected. That is dangerous."
Elarion met its gaze, exhausted but steady.
"Then I'll just have to get stronger faster."
He stood, wobbling slightly.
The golden trails were gone. Only blood stained the dirt.
"Let's go home," he said softly. "Before the forest decides to eat us too."
Remn didn't reply. Its glow dimmed—almost like a sigh.
They walked back through the fog.
The forest felt awake now. Every rustle lingered. Elarion's steps were light but unsteady, golden flashes swimming at the edge of his vision.
At the forest's edge, he looked back.
The clearing was empty.
Calm.
Still.
Then—just for a moment—he thought he saw a faint golden outline of himself standing there.
Watching.
He blinked.
Gone.
He turned and walked home.
"You won't stop, will you?" Remn asked quietly.
Elarion shook his head.
"If I stop, I'll never find out what I really am."
The fog swallowed the path behind them.
Far away, deep within the forest, the ground where Elarion trained glowed once more—
Just for a heartbeat.
And somewhere far beyond the forest, something ancient opened its eyes—
because Elarion had just taken his first real step.