Dawn broke gently over the Imperial Palace.
Mist clung to the lower terraces as the sun crested the distant hills, its light spilling across white stone spires and gilded rooftops in slow, deliberate bands of gold. Banners stirred lazily in the morning breeze. Somewhere high above, bells rang the hour—soft, ceremonial, timeless.
The palace woke as it always had.
But today, something new stirred within its walls.
The view drifted downward, past balconies and archways, past quiet corridors still half-asleep, until it reached the eastern training grounds—an enclosed expanse of stone and earth set apart from the Academy's more public arenas. Old wards etched into the ground glimmered faintly, layered atop one another in dense, careful geometry. These were not sparring wards meant for spectacle.
These were containment wards.
Anna stood at the center of the circle.
She wore simple training clothes—no royal finery, no ceremonial colors. Her braid hung down her back, tied tightly to keep it out of the way. Her boots were planted shoulder-width apart, hands clenched at her sides, posture stiff with nerves and determination in equal measure.
A few steps away, Brom Ironhart loomed like a carved statue come to life.
Broad shoulders. Thick arms crossed over his chest. Scars etched across sun-darkened skin like old stories that refused to fade. He looked less like a court-appointed trainer and more like someone who belonged on a battlefield rather than within palace walls.
He studied Anna in silence for a long moment.
Then he grunted. "All right, Princess," he said, voice rough but not unkind. "First lesson."
Anna swallowed. "Okay."
Brom gestured to the warded stone beneath her feet. "You're not here to use your power today."
She blinked. "I'm… not?"
"Nope." He cracked his neck once, then again. "You're here to feel it. To notice where it sits. Where it pushes. Where it hurts."
He stepped closer, boots thudding against the stone. "Power like yours doesn't need encouragement. It needs boundaries."
Anna nodded slowly, heart thudding.
Brom pointed to his own chest. "Close your eyes," he said. "And tell me—without forcing anything—where it is."
Anna hesitated only a second before obeying.
She closed her eyes.
And somewhere deep inside her, something listened.
Anna drew in a slow breath.
At first, there was only the familiar quiet—the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the cool morning air against her skin, the distant cry of birds beyond the palace walls. Brom's presence felt like an anchor nearby, solid and unmoving.
Then she noticed it.
A warmth, low and steady, resting beneath her ribs. Not sharp. Not wild. Just… present. Like embers banked under ash, patient and watchful.
"It's… there," Anna said softly, eyes still closed. "Not loud. Not angry. Just… waiting."
Brom's voice came calmly from somewhere to her left. "Good. Don't chase it."
The warmth pulsed once, as if responding to being acknowledged. Threads of sensation spread outward—along her spine, through her arms, down into her legs. Not overwhelming, but impossible to ignore.
"It feels… heavy," she added. "But not in a bad way. Like something leaning against me."
"Weight means responsibility," Brom replied. "Not danger. Yet."
Anna swallowed, focusing harder. Beneath the warmth, she felt something else—a faint tension, like a cord pulled too tight and wrapped around the glow. A pressure that didn't belong to the warmth itself.
"There's… resistance," she murmured. "Like it wants to move, but something's holding it back."
Brom went very still.
"Don't push," he said immediately. "Just observe."
Anna nodded, even though he couldn't see it. She let the sensation be what it was—neither fighting it nor inviting it. The warmth steadied, settling into a quiet, contained hum.
For the first time, it didn't scare her.
"I can feel it," she said, voice steadier now. "And it's not hurting me."
Brom stepped back, arms folding again as he nodded once. "Good. Then here's how this week goes," he said. "No casting. No shaping. No clever tricks. You're going to observe your mana. Track it. Learn its moods. When it rises. When it settles. When it strains."
Anna opened her eyes. "So… you mean like meditation?"
Brom blinked.
"…Medi-what?"
Anna winced, then tilted her head, thinking. "Um. Meditation," she repeated. "It's a focus practice. You sit, breathe, quiet your thoughts, and listen inward instead of pushing outward. It's not about control at first—just awareness."
Brom stared at her like she'd just spoken a foreign language.
Anna shifted on the stone, suddenly self-conscious under his stare. "I—okay. Simpler," she said quickly. "It's… slowing down. You breathe steady, relax your body, and let your thoughts pass instead of chasing them. When your mind calms, your mana does too."
She pressed a hand lightly to her chest. "It helps you notice what you're feeling before it turns into something dangerous."
Brom's eyes narrowed, not in doubt—but in consideration.
"My grandma used to do it," Anna added softly. "She said power gets loud when you're afraid or angry. Meditation makes you quiet enough to hear it without it shouting back."
There was a long silence.
Anna hesitated, then glanced toward the path leading back into the castle. "I… I could show you," she said carefully. "The book, I mean. My grandmother's."
She looked back at him, a little hopeful, a little unsure. "It's not long. I can grab it, if you don't mind waiting a moment."
Brom studied her for another heartbeat—then let out a low huff that might've been a laugh. He waved a hand and dropped onto a nearby stone bench, bracing his elbows on his knees.
"Princess," he said, "after what you just told me? I can wait."
Anna's face lit up instantly. "I'll be quick!" she promised, already turning on her heel. She took off down the stone path, braid bouncing behind her as she disappeared toward the castle doors, light on her feet in a way she hadn't been weeks ago.
Brom watched her go, brows lifting slightly.
"…Huh," he muttered.
He leaned back against the bench, folding his arms as he waited—then felt it. A familiar presence, calm and observant. Brom turned his head to the left.
Empress Selene sat on a nearby marble bench beneath a flowering arbor, posture composed, hands folded neatly in her lap. Beside her, curled with surprising elegance for something so young, was a small dragon—purple-black scales gleaming softly in the morning light.
Alistar.
The dragon lifted his head, bright eyes locking onto Brom with open, curious scrutiny—head tilting just slightly, as if measuring him.
Selene met Brom's gaze and offered a small, knowing smile. "She's been teaching you already, hasn't she?"
Brom exhaled slowly, something like respect settling into his expression. "It seems," he replied, "I'm the one being trained today."
Selene's smile softened, eyes never quite leaving the path Anna had taken. "She tends to do that," she said quietly. "Teach without meaning to. Lead without realizing she's doing it."
Brom glanced back toward the castle, thoughtful. "Doesn't strike me as an accident."
"It isn't," Selene replied. Her fingers laced together in her lap. "Anna's Grandmother—Aeloria—was much the same. She believed knowledge was something you shared, not something you hoarded. She taught Anna to ask questions before accepting answers… and to listen before acting."
Brom grunted. "That explains the cunning."
Selene's lips curved faintly. "Aeloria used to say that power roars, but wisdom whispers. Anna learned early which one to pay attention to."
Selene let out a slow breath, her gaze distant for a moment, touched with memory. "I couldn't be more thankful for that," she said softly. "For all the nights Aeloria spent with her, all the lessons she never wrote down but somehow passed on anyway."
Her eyes returned to Brom, steady and sincere. "Without that… without her… I don't know how Anna would be facing any of this now."
Brom nodded once, deeply. "Then the old Empress left her mark where it mattered."
Selene's hand rested briefly over her heart. "She did," she said. "And she's still protecting her… just in quieter ways."
Footsteps thundered along the stone path.
"I GOT IT!"
Anna burst back into the training grounds at a full run, one arm lifted high with a thick, leather-bound book clutched triumphantly overhead. Her braid had come loose again, strands of pink hair escaping around her face, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Mr. Brom, I found it!" she called, waving the book as if it might vanish if she didn't keep it in sight. "It was exactly where Grandma hid it—behind the star charts!"
She skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing hard but grinning, then carefully brought the book down like it was something precious.
Brom's brows rose as he took in the cracked leather cover, the faintly glowing sigils etched into its spine.
"Well I'll be damned," he murmured. "You weren't exaggerating."
From the bench, Selene watched with quiet pride as Anna held the book out, eyes shining.
"This is it," Anna said softly. "This is how she taught me."
Brom took the book carefully—far more carefully than anyone who'd ever seen him wield a hammer or break a training post in half would expect. The moment his fingers touched the cover, the faint sigils along the spine pulsed, responding as if recognizing a familiar intent.
He flipped it open.
Once. Twice.
Then his eyes slowed.
His breath hitched.
"…No," he muttered, leaning closer. He turned another page, then another, scanning faster now, beard bristling as his expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief.
"By the Forge…" he breathed.
Anna shifted anxiously. "Is it… bad?"
Brom didn't answer her at first. He snapped the book shut and looked up, eyes wide and almost—reverent.
"This—this is it," he said, voice rough with something dangerously close to excitement. "This is the piece I've been missing for decades."
Selene's brows lifted. "Missing?"
Brom laughed, a deep, startled sound. "Every cultivation method I know teaches force. Expansion. Endurance. Observation. But this—"
Brom shook his head slowly, still staring at the book as if it might vanish. "But this—" he continued, tapping the cover with a thick finger, "—this teaches harmony."
He opened it again, flipping to a marked page. "Not forcing mana to obey. Not muscling it into shape. This is about resonance—pure resonance. A give and take between the body and the power. You listen, it answers. You push, it pushes back. You respect the balance, and it flows."
He looked up, eyes bright. "This is how you grow strong without tearing yourself apart. How you let power settle instead of explode."
Brom exhaled, almost a laugh. "I've spent my life teaching people how to survive their magic. This teaches them how to live with it."
Brom closed the book slowly, then looked at Anna as if seeing her for the first time all over again.
For a heartbeat, the training grounds, the schedules, the warnings—everything else simply… vanished.
"…So," he said, rubbing a hand over his beard, eyes alight with genuine excitement, "where do we start?"
Anna blinked—then laughed, a bright, surprised sound. "Uh… page one?"
From the bench, Selene smiled, watching the two of them—teacher and student—already leaning over the book together, the morning light catching on old ink and new possibilities.
Anna shifted, sitting cross-legged on the stone. "Well… first you sit," she said, patting the ground in front of her. "Comfortable, but straight. Like this."
Brom stared at her legs. Then at the ground. Then back at her.
"…Right."
He lowered himself with the careful precision of a man who had never once been asked to sit quietly in his life. His knees protested. Loudly. He adjusted. Then adjusted again.
"Like this?" he asked, posture stiff, back ramrod straight, hands braced on his thighs like he was preparing to be struck.
Anna winced. "Um. Less like you're about to fight the floor."
Brom huffed and relaxed—just a fraction. "The floor's shifty," he muttered.
She smiled. "Okay. Now breathe. Slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Brom inhaled deeply.
Exhaled.
"…I feel ridiculous," he said.
"That means it's working," Anna replied seriously.
From the bench, Selene lifted a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she stifled a laugh.
The sight before her tugged at something deep and tender.
Anna sat calm and centered, posture relaxed, eyes gentle but focused—patient in a way far beyond her years. And across from her sat Brom Ironhart, one of the Twelve Pillars of Astoria, built like a fortress and breathing like a man afraid the air might challenge him.
It was achingly familiar.
For a moment, Selene didn't see her daughter at all.
She saw Aeloria.
She saw her mother seated in a sunlit study years ago, voice soft, hands folded, guiding a much younger Anna through the same quiet breaths. And opposite her—small, stubborn, powerful in all the wrong ways—had been Anna herself, scowling, fidgeting, insisting it was pointless while secretly listening to every word.
Now the roles had shifted.
Anna was the steady presence. Brom was the restless one.
Selene's smile softened, eyes shining as she watched history quietly echo itself—wisdom passing not by blood alone, but by patience, kindness, and the rare strength it took to listen.
"Just breathe," Anna said gently.
Brom grunted, exhaled again, and muttered, "…I hate how calm this is."
Selene laughed quietly to herself.
Aeloria would have loved this.
Selene's laughter faded into something softer, more wistful. Her gaze lingered on Anna—on the quiet confidence in her posture, the gentle certainty in her voice—and her chest tightened.
Aeloria would have enjoyed this. Immensely.
She would have watched from the shadows with that knowing smile, eyes alight with mischief and pride, already planning which lesson came next. She would have said nothing at first—just let the moment exist—because this was the kind of teaching that didn't need commentary.
The kind that meant it had taken root.
To see Anna guiding someone else now—guiding a man renowned for strength, feared for his power—without force or fear… it would have delighted her mother beyond words. Proof that the quiet lessons had endured. That resonance, patience, and balance still had a place in a world obsessed with spectacle.
Selene exhaled slowly, a hand resting over her heart.
"Thank you," she whispered to no one at all.
And somewhere deep beneath the castle, the ley lines hummed—soft, steady, and very much in agreement.