Awakening The Ether (2)

The morning sun hung low, casting golden rays across the reinforced stone of the Sillon Estate's training grounds.

Dew clung to the grass at the edges of the open space, shimmering like tiny jewels.

The air was crisp, fresh—almost misleadingly peaceful.

Nox stood in the center of the field, his hands clenched at his sides, his heartbeat steady but heavy.

Across from him stood Evelyn—his new instructor, a woman he had met mere a day ago but who already carried an air of unsettling familiarity.

It wasn't that he knew her personally.

But he knew her type.

The kind that never wavered.

The kind that didn't care for excuses.

She observed him now, arms crossed over the midnight-blue coat that draped over her leather armor.

Amethyst eyes locked onto his form, scanning, dissecting—judging without a single word.

His father had chosen her.

That alone made her dangerous.

Because Aldric Sillon did not choose people lightly.

Nox exhaled, letting the tension in his shoulders loosen—just enough to keep his muscles ready.

Finally, Evelyn spoke.

"You're tense."

He scoffed.

"I wonder why."

She smirked.

"Still sarcastic. Good. Means you haven't given up yet."

He clenched his fists.

"I don't have the luxury of giving up."

She stepped forward, boots pressing into the stone.

"Then prove it."

His eyes narrowed.

"What do you want me to do? Meditate? Channel some 'inner energy'?"

"No."

She lifted a hand.

No incantation.

No gestures.

But the air shifted.

A pulse rippled outward—subtle, but undeniable.

It wasn't power.

Not exactly.

It was presence.

Like standing before an approaching storm.

She lowered her hand.

*Ether isn't something you force, Nox. It's something you remember."

His jaw tightened.

"That doesn't make sense."

Her smirk deepened.

"Then I guess we'll be here a while."

*****

Evelyn circled him like a predator, her boots making no sound against the stone.

"The problem with nobles,"

She began,

"is that you're all taught the same rigid approach to Ether. That it's some external force that needs to be mastered, commanded, controlled."

She stopped behind him.

"But that's not how it works."

Nox frowned.

"Then what is Ether?"

Evelyn stepped closer, her voice lowering.

"What do you think it is?"

He exhaled slowly.

"Power."

She tilted her head.

"Power is a result. Not the source."

"Then what's the source?*

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she tapped his chest—right above his heart.

"This."

Nox stiffened.

"That's—"

"Not poetic nonsense,"

She interrupted.

"It's reality."

She stepped back, gesturing to the open field.

"Tell me, what happens when a child takes their first breath?"

He blinked.

"What?"

*It's a simple question."

She raised an eyebrow.

*What happens?"

"They… start breathing?"

"Exactly."

She extended a hand, palm up.

"And do they force themselves to do it? Do they struggle? Command their body to inhale?"

Nox frowned.

"No."

"Then why do it?"

*…Because they have to.*

Evelyn's smirk returned.

"Because they remember."

His frown deepened.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does."

She folded her arms. "You're thinking like a noble. Like someone who has been taught what Ether is instead of feeling it."

His fingers curled into fists.

"I don't have Ether."

She stepped closer, eyes gleaming.

"You do."'

He swallowed hard.

"How do you know?"

Evelyn lifted a single finger—then flicked it forward.

The air exploded.

Nox barely had time to react before an invisible force slammed into his chest, sending him staggering backward.

Not an attack.

Not a spell.

Just pressure.

It was suffocating, drowning, like being plunged into deep waters with no surface in sight.

And then—

Something inside him shifted.

It was faint.

A flicker.

But it was there.

Evelyn's gaze honed in on him like a hawk.

"There it is."

Nox gasped, grabbing his chest.

"What the hell was that?"

"Your Ether."

"No, that was—"

He hesitated.

"That was something else."

She chuckled.

"Oh? Then tell me—where did it come from?""

His breath hitched.

Because he didn't know.

Or rather, he did.

It came from inside him.

Not from the air.

Not from magic.

From him.

Evelyn smirked.

"Still think you don't have Ether?"

He clenched his teeth.

"That wasn't enough."

"Of course it wasn't."

She turned away.

"But it was something."

Nox exhaled slowly.

And for the first time in years—he felt a spark of something dangerous.

Hope.

*****

The next hour was brutal.

Evelyn didn't let him rest, didn't let him dwell on failure.

Every time he struggled—she pushed harder.

"Again."

Nox gritted his teeth.

His limbs ached, his lungs burned, but he refused to stop.

He reached inside himself, trying to find that flicker again.

Trying to remember.

The feeling of suffocation returned—pressure, weight, like something buried deep.

He reached for it.

Nothing.

"Not like that."

Evelyn's voice was sharp.

"You're trying to grab it. You don't grab it."

"Then what do I do?"

He snapped.

She smiled.

"You let go."

Nox stiffened.

Let go?

That was the opposite of everything he had been taught.

Letting go meant losing control.

Letting go meant weakness.

But Evelyn had no doubt in her gaze.

And his father had chosen her.

Which meant…

She was right.

Nox exhaled.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time—he let go.

The shift was immediate.

A pulse rippled through his body, not strong, not violent—but real.

It was there.

Waiting.

And then—

The training grounds trembled.

*****

Evelyn watched, her smirk widening.

"There it is."

Nox's eyes snapped open.

For the first time—he could feel it.

Not magic.

Not something forced.

Something innate.

Like breathing.

Like remembering.

His Ether.

Evelyn crossed her arms.

"Took you long enough."

Nox exhaled, his pulse steadying.

His chest no longer felt hollow.

For the first time in his life—

He was awake.

And he would never be the same again.

*****

(Evelyn POV)

I stood outside the door, fingers brushing the cool brass handle.

Inside, I could hear them speaking.

Lord Aldric Sillon.

A man of few wasted words and fewer wasted actions.

His reputation preceded him—strict, methodical, and dangerously intelligent.

He was not known for sentimentality or indulgence.

If he called for me, it was with purpose.

And then, there was him.

Nox Sillon.

The noble boy without Ether.

I had never seen him before today, but I knew of him.

Everyone did.

The whispers, the rumors—they painted him as a defective heir, a disgrace to his lineage, a noble-born without power.

A bird with clipped wings.

A failure.

I knew how nobles worked.

When a child was born into a family, they were expected to manifest their Ether—power that defined status, strength, and worth.

And yet, by some cruel twist of fate, the heir of House Sillon had none.

I had met many kinds of people in my life—those gifted by birth, those who clawed their way forward, and those who gave up before they ever had the chance to fight.

I wondered which one he was.

Taking a slow breath, I straightened my coat, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Not the heavy kind, but the expectant kind—the kind that follows something unspoken.

Lord Aldric sat behind his grand metal desk, fingers drumming idly against its surface.

His expression was unreadable, but his presence alone filled the room with authority.

And then, there was the boy.

He sat across from his father, hands pressed together as if in deep thought.

His posture was composed, but I noticed the stiffness in his shoulders—the tension just beneath the surface.

He was good at masking it, but not enough to fool me.

His gaze met mine.

Cold.

Unreadable.

Sharp.

Not the gaze of a broken boy.

Interesting.

"You're earlier than expected,"

Lord Aldric said, his voice even.

"You said it was urgent,"

I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

I turned to the boy.

So this was Nox Sillon.

He looked nothing like what I had imagined.

The rumors painted him as a pathetic figure with great mind who learns things fast but without ether—a noble failure, a hollow heir, a weakling.

But the boy sitting before me did not look weak.

There was no desperation in his eyes.

No silent plea for recognition.

Instead, there was defiance.

"Your new student,"

Lord Aldric said, gesturing toward him.

I tilted my head slightly.

"So this is the boy who doesn't have Ether."

It was not a question.

It was a statement.

A simple truth.

I expected him to flinch.

To react.

But he didn't.

Instead, he met my gaze, unwavering.

"That's what they say,"

He said evenly.

"And what do you say?"

He exhaled, slow and measured.

"I say I'm still here."

For the first time, something flickered in my mind—amusement.

Maybe approval.

He was interesting.

Most people I met—especially nobles—were predictable.

They either bragged about their talents or wallowed in their failures.

But this boy… he simply existed between those extremes, as if he refused to be defined by either.

I turned back to Lord Aldric.

"We'll need the training grounds."

He nodded.

"You will have whatever you require."

I finally returned my attention to Nox, studying him one last time.

"Come,"

I said, motioning for him to follow.

"Let's see if you're really as hopeless as they say."

*****

The Sillon Estate's training grounds stretched before us—wide, open, reinforced with spell-etched stone meant to withstand real Ether combat.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the field. The air was still, thick with the scent of morning dew.

Nox stood before me, silent, waiting.

I crossed my arms.

"First things first,"

I said, watching his posture.

"You already have mana, and you've been trying to force your Ether awake, haven't you?"

He frowned.

"Isn't that the only way?"

I shook my head.

"No."

Stepping closer, I pressed the tip of my boot lightly against the stone floor.

"Ether isn't something you force,

"I said, keeping my tone even.

"It's not a tool. Not an object you command. It's alive."

He narrowed his eyes, but I could see the gears turning in his mind.

He was listening.

I lifted my hand.

No incantations.

No gestures.

But the air shifted.

A ripple, faint but undeniable, pulsed outward—not a spell, not a trick, but presence.

"You don't tell your lungs to breathe,"

I murmured.

"They just do."

He clenched his fists.

"I've tried that."

"No,"

I corrected, stepping closer, lowering my voice.

"You've tried to control it."

Without warning, I reached out, fingers barely brushing against his wrist.

For a split second, something stirred inside him.

Not power.

Not force.

Something else.

Something raw.

Then it vanished.

His breath caught.

I stepped back, watching him carefully.

"There it is,"

I said.

He exhaled sharply, gaze locked onto me.

"What was that?"

"Proof,"

I answered simply.

"Your Ether is there."

"Then why won't it awaken?"

I smirked slightly.

"Because you're still thinking like a noble."

His expression hardened at that, but he didn't argue.

I turned away, hands behind my back, glancing up at the sky.

"Tomorrow,"

I said.

"We do this again. No swords. No training drills. Just you and your Ether."

"And what if I fail?"

I looked over my shoulder.

"Then you were never meant to wake it."

For the first time, I saw something in his expression that wasn't doubt.

It was determination.

I had come here expecting a waste of time. A desperate noble clinging to false hope.

But Nox Sillon…

He was different.

And that made things far more interesting.