Training magic

Ash followed a step behind Aria, watching her carefully. She wasn't in her usual sharp, confident stride.

Her steps were quicker, a little tense. Normally, she had a way of walking that almost felt like she was gliding—fluid, controlled—but now, she seemed weighed down.

The night air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of the ceremonial incense and fresh earth. Around them, elves moved through the village paths, their faces glowing with the warmth of the successful birth.

Soft laughter and hushed conversations filled the spaces between the trees. It was in contrast to Aria's mood.

Ash quickened his pace, closing the small gap between them. "Hey," he started, keeping his tone casual. "How did the harvest go?"

Aria slowed, exhaling sharply. "That's actually the problem," she admitted, running a hand through her hair.

Ash frowned. "What do you mean?"

They wove through the crowd, stepping aside to let a group of elves pass. The warm glow of lanterns cast flickering light over Aria's troubled expression.

"It was bad," she said simply. "The worst we've seen in… I don't even know how long. The crops were withering, turning black before we even touched them. Some plants looked fine from a distance, but the moment we harvested them, they crumbled like ash in our hands." She shook her head. "We don't know what's causing it. It's not rot, it's not a regular disease. It's just… decay."

Ash's mind sharpened. "Have you noticed any patterns?" he asked. "Is it affecting all crops equally, or just certain kinds?"

Aria glanced at him, a little surprised by his question. "It's worse in the eastern fields. But it's spreading. At first, it was just the lower-growing plants—herbs, small vegetables—but now, even some of the trees are suffering. Their leaves turn brittle overnight."

Ash nodded, absorbing the information. "And the soil? Any changes in color, texture, or smell?"

Aria blinked. "You sound like a scholar."

"I like to understand things before I start panicking," Ash said dryly.

She sighed. "The soil… yeah, now that you mention it, it does feel different. It's drier than usual, but not in the way drought makes it dry. It's like it's… lifeless."

Ash's stomach tightened. "That's not normal."

"No," Aria agreed. "It's not."

They continued walking, the sound of the elves' conversations fading as they moved toward quieter paths. The forest stretched around them, the trees swaying slightly under the cool night breeze.

"What's being done about it?" Ash asked after a moment.

Aria rubbed her arms, her breath visible in the cold. "The head of our group has decided to report it to the Queen."

Ash's brows furrowed. "The Queen?"

"It's too strange to ignore. If this keeps spreading, it won't just be our fields—it'll reach the heart of the kingdom. We need answers, and if anyone can provide them, it's her." Aria's expression darkened. "Or… at least, it should be."

Ash caught the shift in her tone. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "She wasn't at the ceremony."

Aria stopped walking.

The night pressed in around them, the sounds of the village now distant. She turned to face him fully. "What?"

"She wasn't there," Ash repeated. "Apparently, she's never missed a ceremony before. But tonight, she was absent."

Aria's brows drew together in deep concern. "No, that doesn't make sense. The Queen is always present for births. It's one of the oldest traditions."

Ash crossed his arms. "That's what Lira and Naya said. But the elders didn't give any clear answers about why she wasn't there."

Aria exhaled slowly, her breath steadying as she processed his words. Then, under her breath, she whispered something in Elvish—a prayer.

Ash tilted his head. "What did you say?"

"I prayed for her well-being, wisdom and all," Aria murmured. "I don't know what's going on, but something doesn't feel right."

Ash couldn't argue with that.

They reached home not long after. The cottage was quiet, nestled at the edge of the village, where the trees thickened into the deeper parts of the forest. A soft golden glow from the windows welcomed them, but inside, it was still and calm.

Aria stretched her arms, exhaustion finally catching up to her. "I'm going to sleep," she mumbled. "Too much to think about."

Ash nodded. "Yeah, get some rest."

She didn't even make it to her bed properly—just collapsed onto the soft furs near the fireplace, curling into herself. Within minutes, her breathing had deepened into sleep.

Ash, however, wasn't tired.

His thoughts spiraled. The Queen's absence. The dying crops. The whispers of dark elves possibly being involved. The balance of power shifting.

He had spent so much time just trying to survive in this world, to adapt to its strange customs, but now… he needed to figure out where he fit in.

His mind drifted back to the ceremony. The way the elves wielded energy so naturally, the way life itself seemed to respond to them.

And then, earlier… in the bath with Aria.

For a brief moment, he had felt something. A spark. It wasn't just the warm water or the closeness—it had been something else entirely. A connection to something deeper.

He needed to test it.

Carefully, he pushed himself up and made his way outside.

The night was colder than before, the kind of chill that settled in when the warmth of the day had fully faded. The air smelled of damp earth and fresh pine, and the sky above stretched dark and endless, stars flickering between gaps in the tree branches.

Ash stepped further from the cottage, his boots pressing lightly into the soft grass. It was silent out here, away from the main village. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

Perfect.

He took a deep breath.

How had it felt earlier?

Like a current, like something just beyond his grasp.

Closing his eyes, he focused.

At first, nothing happened.

He tried again, reaching inward, searching for that same spark—

And then, a flicker.

It was faint, almost nonexistent, but he felt something stir beneath his skin. A whisper of energy curling at his fingertips, just enough to make his breath hitch.

There.

Ash opened his eyes, exhaling slowly. He focused on that feeling, coaxing it forward. The sensation was strange, like trying to move a limb that had been asleep—tingling, sluggish, but undeniably there.

He extended his hand toward a nearby rock.

Nothing happened.

He frowned.

Again, he reached, trying to will the energy to move, to take shape—

A sharp pulse jolted through him, shooting up his arm.

Ash stumbled back, heart pounding. The rock hadn't moved, but something had shifted. He felt it in the air, the faintest ripple.

His fingers tingled.

Not much, but it was a start.

Ash steadied his breathing, determination settling into his bones.

One thing was clear—whatever this was, it wasn't going to come easily.

But that had never stopped him before.

He rolled his shoulders, shaking out the tension.

Alright, he thought. Let's try this again.