The morning fog had not yet lifted when Elias stirred again in the straw of the small hut. He flexed Cai's fingers, the small knuckles straining under his thoughts. Pain lingered in his side, but it was a reminder that the body was real, that he had weight and presence in this world. Every sensation screamed at him that he was not merely observing; he was participating. He took a slow, steadying breath, feeling the damp chill of the morning air on his skin. The faint scent of wet earth and smoke from the village hearth clung to the atmosphere. He shivered, not from cold, but from anticipation. Today, the mage had said, would be different.
"Focus," the mage had told him yesterday. "See with your mind. Feel the currents of life and magic. Begin."
Elias rose, legs trembling under him, and stepped outside. The village was quiet, save for a few early risers tending animals or fetching water. The light filtered through mist, casting a muted gold across the thatched roofs and dirt paths. Each sound—the lowing of cattle, the whisper of wind through the trees, the distant splash of water in the stream—resonated differently in this body. Every sensation seemed amplified, as if the world itself was aware of him, testing him.
The mage waited at the edge of the forest, a shadow among shadows, his robes flowing lightly in the morning breeze. He nodded as Elias approached. "Are you ready?" he asked. There was no impatience in his tone, only a calm certainty that unsettled Elias.
"I… think so," Elias said. "I'm ready to try."
The mage smiled faintly and gestured to the clearing. "Then begin. Close your eyes. Feel the world as it wants to be felt."
Elias obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the dew-soaked grass. He closed his eyes, drawing in slow, measured breaths. At first, there was nothing but the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat, the pressure of the grass beneath him, the sound of the stream nearby. He felt ordinary, fragile, small. And then, almost imperceptibly, a faint vibration ran through him.
It was subtle at first, a low hum beneath his skin, as if the earth itself were whispering. He concentrated, feeling it rise, coiling around his bones, slipping along veins, brushing the tips of his fingers like invisible wind. Energy… it's everywhere. Alive. Responsive. His mind raced, mapping it, trying to categorize the sensations. It was like electricity, but soft, warm, and aware, flowing in patterns that seemed to mimic the world itself.
The mage spoke softly, almost as if from a distance. "Do you feel it? Do you understand it?"
Elias's eyes remained closed. "I feel… something. A current. Not just in me… all around. In the trees, the animals, even in the air." His voice was barely a whisper, trembling with wonder and fear. "It… it responds. To me?"
The mage stepped closer. "Not yet. You can sense it. That is the first step. To shape it… to command it… requires understanding. You cannot force what you do not respect."
Elias opened his eyes slightly. He could see faint threads of energy weaving through the clearing, almost like silver threads drifting in the wind. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every creature seemed connected by a lattice of shimmering, subtle power. A bird took flight nearby, and the currents followed its motion, twisting and coiling with precision. He gasped. It's all alive. Patterns everywhere.
He focused on a small cluster of flowers near his hands. Extending his awareness, he let the currents touch him, brush him, speak to him. The mage's voice guided him, steady and patient. "Do not rush. Feel. Observe. Sense where it flows, where it retreats, where it gathers."
Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes—he could not tell. Time itself seemed to bend in the presence of this energy. The more he focused, the more he could feel its nuances: the strength beneath the soil, the warmth in the sunlight, the subtle shifts in magical currents as animals moved, as water flowed, as people walked. Every element of the world seemed interwoven with threads of life and power.
He leaned forward, stretching out a hand. Tiny sparks of blue light flickered over his fingers, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable. His heart leapt. I did it. Just a flicker… but I felt it. I touched it.
The mage nodded, silently approving. "Yes. That is the beginning. You cannot force more yet. But the fact you can feel it… that is rare. That is significant."
Elias closed his eyes again, letting the currents guide him deeper. He imagined shapes, lines, flow, patterns. He sensed the village again—the cattle, the blacksmith, the baker, the children, the flowing stream—and for the first time, he understood the connections. Everything touches everything. Every life, every motion, every heartbeat. He marveled at the complexity. And all of it is manipulable, if you know the rules.
The mage gestured to a small hill nearby. "Walk. Let your senses guide you. See the energy of the world as you move. Feel it shift. Observe the reactions of living things. Do not think. Just feel."
Elias obeyed, stepping lightly across the dew-soaked grass. Every step sent ripples through the currents. A squirrel darted up a tree, and the energy braided and twisted in response. Birds stirred in the branches, their flight patterns slightly altered. Even the wind seemed to carry the currents differently as he moved. I am part of this. I am not separate. Not yet. But I can become.
By mid-afternoon, Elias's mind was alight with discovery. He had felt currents in animals, plants, even rocks and water. He had begun to understand that every living being emitted energy patterns that could be sensed and, eventually, guided. The realization sent shivers down his spine. If I can master this… I could survive anything. I could protect myself. I could even influence those who think themselves powerful.
The mage watched him silently, his presence a calm anchor in the torrent of sensations. "Do not be afraid of the world, but respect it. Force it, and it will break you. Learn its rhythm, and it will serve you."
Elias sat beneath a tree, feeling the currents swirl around him. He let the sensations fill him, a thousand tiny sparks lighting the mind of a man inside the body of a boy. He thought of the palace, the queen, the emperor, and the enemies he did not yet know. If I can learn this… if I can master it… I will survive. I will rise. And I will see the truth of this world.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the village. Elias remained beneath the tree, silent, still, absorbing every pulse, every vibration, every hidden thread of life. The world was alive, and for the first time, he felt not like a victim, not like an intruder, but like a participant, a mind ready to claim its place in a reality far larger, far stranger, and far more dangerous than anything he had ever imagined.
And somewhere, deep within the weave of currents, a faint glow responded to him—not controlled, not yet, but waiting.
Waiting for him to understand.