The cave was silent.
Only the faint hiss of the fire and the distant howl of the wind whispered through the frozen stone.
Azrael sat cross-legged before the flame, his eyes half-lidded, his breath steady.
Every exhale rose in thin white tendrils that shimmered briefly before vanishing into the chill.
The world around him was still, but inside that stillness… something pulsed.
Mana
It wasn't visible, not to the eye, but he could feel it, endless, formless, like mist drifting between continents.
It filled the air, seeping through the stone walls, swimming through the cracks in the ice, and brushing against his skin like faint static.
Each particle carried with it the echo of the cold, not lifeless, but ancient, patient, like a whisper that had been waiting for centuries to be heard.
"Focus on your breathing," Olivia murmured from across the fire. Her voice was soft, but it carried weight.
"Mana is wild, but it listens to will. Breathe with intent. Let your body become the path, not the cage."
He nodded faintly, exhaling.
Every breath he took pulled a trickle of mana toward him. It slipped into his lungs like frost-laced air, spreading through his body in faint ripples.
It wasn't enough. It brushed the surface of his being but never stayed.
Too weak. Too distant. He had to pull more.
Azrael straightened his back and concentrated. He reached out, not with his hands, but with something deeper. The invisible muscle of his spirit flexed.
The air shivered, and the mana answered.
It came rushing toward him in invisible threads, swirling from the walls and the snow outside the cave.
The faint light of the fire bent, flickering toward him as if drawn by gravity itself.
And then he felt it.
The first wave hit him like plunging into a frozen lake.
A cold so sharp it burned. It tore through his veins, filling his chest, slamming into the core of his being. His body trembled.
Frost began to bloom on his skin, curling along his arms and neck like pale veins of ice.
"Good…" Olivia whispered, watching him closely. "But don't pull too hard.
If your core can't keep up you'll invite more impurities and eventually you'll turn into something well… something repulsive."
Her words were distant, muffled by the roar of blood and mana in his ears.
He could feel it now. The mana wasn't just cold, it was alive. It pulsed, breathed, whispered.
It slid around him in invisible waves, a thousand faint tendrils brushing against him like wind over water.
He realized it wasn't angry. It wasn't kind either. It simply was.
His teeth clenched. He steadied his breathing, letting the pain of the cold wash over him without resistance. He didn't fight it this time. He guided it inward.
Slowly, the wild surges began to form a pattern. The mana followed his breath, spiraling in through his chest, spreading through his limbs, then circling back toward his center.
A deep, rhythmic hum began to fill the air, low and resonant, like the air itself was breathing with him.
The ground trembled faintly.
Frost crept outward from where he sat, spreading across the stone floor. Each crystal gleamed faintly blue, resonating with the pulsing flow of mana in his body.
Olivia's eyes flicked to the frost listening to his breath. Her expression softened. "He's syncing with it…" she whispered.
Azrael's awareness deepened further. He could see it now, not with his eyes, but within his mind.
The mana flowed like rivers of light. Thin, silvery-blue streams, some even orangey red weaving through the world, bending toward him.
The closer they came, the heavier they felt, as though they carried the weight of the entire sky.
His own body became a vessel, his blood turning to channels, his bones to pathways.
Each breath drew in more of that silvery flow, condensing it in his chest.
His heart pounded. The mana pressed against his veins like iron bands. The air crackled around him.
"Steady," Olivia said softly, inching closer but not touching him. "Let it spiral. Let it compress. Don't break, refine."
Her words were like a thread pulling him back from the edge.
He focused inward, toward that point of unbearable pressure. The mana within him twisted, collided, then folded into itself.
Every pulse sent vibrations through the cave. Tiny flakes of frost fell from the ceiling.
The light from the fire dimmed, bending toward him.Then, silence.
Azrael inhaled.
The mana obeyed.
It flowed in a perfect spiral, no longer resisting, no longer wild. The frost that had crept up his arms cracked and fell away, replaced by faint glowing lines, veins of cold light pulsing beneath his skin.
Each vein throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat. The air around him shimmered.
Olivia's lips curved into a faint smile.
"There it is… the flow of resonance. The world's heartbeat meeting your own."
Azrael's breathing steadied. His expression softened into calm concentration.
He exhaled, and the frost that hung in the air swirled into a gentle spiral before fading as if bowing to him.
Olivia leaned back slightly, satisfied. "Now," she said quietly, "we move on to the true breakthrough.
Sit still, Az. Cross your legs, clear your thoughts, and focus your senses inward. Follow the mana in your body to where it's going right beside your heart.
Azrael nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Ok."
He shifted slightly, legs folding neatly beneath him. His hands rested together, palms up.
And as the fire in the cave dimmed, the firelight danced around the fur that still lingered on his shoulders, keeping him as warm as they could while he tried to undergo his breakthrough