Nothing happened.
That was the problem.
The forest did not shift. No messengers came running through the Rootwilds, no distant tremors of conflict rippled through mana or Qi. Even the birds remained quiet, watching from roots and branches like they always had.
Bruce hated it.
"Are we sure we didn't miss something?" he asked for the fourth time that morning, sitting upside-down on a thick, exposed root while sharpening his dagger. "Because this feels like the part right before something happens."
Derek, who was adjusting the straps on his pack for the third time despite not leaving yet, didn't look up. "That's because you're used to over reacting."
Vernon lay on his back nearby, staring up through the canopy. Leaves swayed lazily, sunlight breaking into fragments above him. His stomach twisted faintly - not fear exactly, but anticipation that didn't know where to go.
"I know i was pushing for this," Vernon said. "But now i don't know what to expect."
Bruce frowned. "I'm so excited i feel like ill pop! haha."
Melian drifted overhead, light dimmed to a soft glow. "Dynamic differs as always~," she said mildly.
Bruce sat upright. "Are you coming along Meliy?"
She didn't respond instead she grinned mischievously.
"Bro! look she's doing the thing again!" Bruce frowned.
Time passed quickly.
They didn't call it training.
Derek simply started asking for things.
"Vernon," he said one afternoon, "you've been shaping mana like it's a single thread. Try letting it spread."
Vernon blinked. "Huh? Spread how? threads feel more practical."
Derek gestured vaguely. "Like air."
That took longer than expected.
Wind, mana, Vernon learned, was uncooperative in an entirely different way than lightning. It didn't want to strike. It wanted to move. To slip, to slide, to redirect itself at the last second. most importantly of all it opened up Vernon's eyes on the differences on handling different elements through his own mana.
The first time he managed it, it came out wrong.
A sudden gust blasted sideways through the clearing, knocking Bruce flat and sending leaves spiralling violently into the air.
Bruce lay there, blinking. "...Okay. That was kind of cool."
"I didn't mean to-" Vernon started.
"Do it again," Bruce said immediately giggling.
Melian laughed at them.
Over the next days, Vernon learned restraint. Smaller currents. Gentle pulls. Enough to nudge, not shove. Enough to feel how air wrapped around obstacles instead of colliding with them.
Fire came later.
Much later.
Derek was very clear about this.
"Fire isn't power," he said. "It's responsibility. Or so that's what Alice told me - She told me its moving your own body heat as a base for it at first, until you learn to do it naturally."
So Vernon learned heat before flame. A controlled warmth that hovered just above his palm, barely visible, barely there. Enough to dry damp wood. Enough to feel dangerous without being destructive.
It made his skin prickle.
"I don't like it," Vernon admitted one evening.
Derek nodded. "Good."
Bruce's preparation was... stranger.
It started accidentally.
He was annoyed.
That, according to Derek, explained everything.
Bruce had been throwing pebbles at a tree, missing repeatedly, when one of them suddenly changed direction mid-air and snapped sharply against the bark.
He froze.
"...Did anyone else see that?"
Derek turned slowly. Melian tilted her head.
Bruce tried again.
This time, the pebble lifted slightly before launching forward - not thrown, not pulled, but pushed.
Bruce stared at his hand. "That didn't feel like ice."
"No," Derek said carefully. "First time I'm seeing something like that."
They spent the next week figuring out what it wasn't.
It wasn't Mana.
It wasn't ice.
It wasn't strength.
Bruce wasn't pulling objects toward himself - he was projecting Qi outward, forcing space to obey his will for a brief moment.
Small things at first.
Grass.
Pebbles.
Fallen leaves.
He could push them. Redirect them. Occasionally pin them in place for a heartbeat too long.
"Feels like I'm telling the world 'no'," Bruce said once, squinting in concentration.
Derek considered that. "...That's not wrong."
It exhausted Bruce quickly. His Qi drained faster than any other technique he'd learned, but it left him grinning every time it worked.
"I don't even have to touch them," he said, delighted.
Melian drifted lower. "I want to learn too," she murmured. "You two leave me in the dust with these things."
Derek didn't name it immediately.
That alone made Bruce nervous.
Eventually, one night while adjusting camp, Derek said, "It's not telekinesis."
Bruce sighed. "I know."
"It's not movement," Derek continued. "It's authority."
He paused.
"Call it Reach."
Bruce tested the word. "Reach."
Vernon nodded slowly. "wouldn't 'Force' sound cooler?."
Derek added, "he can only reach for now, divide it into a second part once you learn to bring and stop things as you wish. Then make the name 'Force'."
The Journey Begins (Quietly)
On the twenty-first morning, they packed.
No speeches. No final looks back.
The Rootwilds shifted subtly as they moved, paths bending just enough to remind them they were being watched - not threatened, not guided, simply observed.
Bruce walked ahead, eyes wide, absorbing everything.
Vernon followed more carefully, fingers brushing bark, stone, air - mapping what he could feel.
Derek walked behind them.
Not leading.
Not pushing.
Just watching their steps grow more confident with every mile.
The world didn't rush to meet them.
And for the first time, that felt right.