The forest was quieter now. Kael stood barefoot in the mossy clearing, the same one where he'd spent countless hours training. Dawn light filtered through the dense canopy, casting muted golds across the scene. His breath came in slow, measured huffs.
Rook's voice broke the silence. "Form. Again."
Kael adjusted his grip on the Moonsteel blade - a far cry from the soft birch staff he'd started with. The silvery metal hummed faintly in his hands, as if it were alive, ready to channel aether. He could feel the energy flowing through it, the same way he could feel it in the air and the earth beneath his feet.
"Your body resists what your mind already knows," Rook said from the sidelines, arms crossed, his gaze sharp. He stood off to the side, watching both Kael and Selene.
Selene was graceful as always. Her daggers moved in elegant arcs, aether clinging to the weapons like water to skin. It wasn't just movement - it was as if the world itself bent around her.
Kael exhaled, his breath shaky. He tried again.
The blade sliced through the air, each movement deliberate, controlled. He could feel the aether now, pulsing just beneath the surface of reality. It was everywhere - in the air, the earth, even in the old trees that surrounded their training ground, standing like silent sentinels.
But resonance? That was different. That was a challenge.
Kael paused and turned to Oren, who was sitting on a nearby stump, lazily conjuring a floating spiral of chalky dust.
"Explain it again," Kael said, breathing hard. "Resonance. What does it even mean?"
Oren smirked, not looking up. "Aether is music. Resonance is harmony. Mages from the Empire just pull aether like water from a well. It works. But the Verde Way - our way - is different."
"Different how?" Kael asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
Oren finally met his gaze, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Surrender."
Kael grimaced. That word again.
Oren stood, moving closer. He raised one hand, and a flicker of light coalesced above his palm - a swirl of green and gold. "You don't take aether. You listen to it. You open yourself to it. And if you're truly in tune, it lends you its voice."
He lowered his hand, letting the energy drift down into a dry leaf at his feet. It glowed faintly, then bloomed into a vivid red flower, warm and alive.
Selene lowered her daggers and glanced at Kael. "You're still thinking like a weapon."
He turned to her. "And you're not?"
She shrugged, her eyes glinting. "I am. But I know when to be a tuning fork instead of a hammer."
Rook chuckled, the sound low and rich. "She's right. Kael, you can't force resonance. Even your Devourer has to listen. If you try to control it, it'll turn on you."
Kael nodded slowly, his chest tightening. It wasn't about strength, was it? It was about presence. About being part of the flow instead of fighting against it.
The next few weeks were hell.
Oren doubled their training schedule. Rook introduced an exercise called threadwalking - a brutal test where they had to maintain resonance while moving across suspended wires without falling. Selene took to it like she was born for it, balancing with natural grace, her connection to aether almost effortless. Kael, on the other hand, fell. A lot.
But slowly, something changed.
Kael began to sense the tone of the aether in different places - the dry crackle of dead trees, the deep thrum beneath the stones, the whisper of the wind. It wasn't just everywhere anymore. It was alive.
And when his blade flickered with violet light for the first time, he almost couldn't believe it. It wasn't spectacular - just a faint glimmer - but Rook nodded in approval. Selene said nothing, but that, to Kael, meant more than anything.
They moved on to resonance forging next.
Oren explained the concept, his voice steady. "When you learn to resonate with aether, your weapon becomes more than just an extension of yourself. It becomes a channel. Not just for attack - but for your very essence. Every resonance weapon is an echo of the one who wields it."
Kael's first forging came on a stormy night. He knelt beneath the massive Tree, the ancient tree where Selene had awakened her Stigmata. Its bark shimmered faintly in the moonlight, veins of green and gold running through it like the veins of the earth itself. The air felt charged, full of energy.
He placed his hands on the cold Moonsteel blade, whispering Lorel's name into the storm.
The blade pulsed with black and violet light. For a moment, Kael felt her - his sister, her strength, her protection. The pain that drove him. The vow he carried.
The aether surged, wrapping itself around the blade, sealing into its form.
It wasn't beautiful. The blade was jagged, rough - crude, even. A fusion of hunger and memory. But it was his. The first step on a path he couldn't turn back from.
Selene's forging was different. Sleek, fluid - her dagger was a work of art, forged from Moonsteel and glassleaf, etched with shimmering runes that glowed faintly when she breathed. She never spoke of the process, but Kael could see it in her eyes: the same grim pride he felt.
And then, time passed.
***************************************
One Year Later
Kael stood in the same clearing, but it had changed. The ground was scorched from failed training blasts, littered with broken posts and stones cracked from impact tests. He stretched his arm, slow and deliberate, feeling the familiar burn in his muscles.
His body was stronger now - not just leaner, but more resilient. His bones seemed to anticipate pain before it came, his body honed through endless hours of training.
He wore a sleeveless jacket now, trimmed with Moonsteel accents. The sword on his back was an extension of him, the black leather grip familiar, worn in places from constant use.
Selene stood beside him, adjusting the wrappings on her forearms. Her hair was tied back, her eyes focused on the horizon. No words passed between them. They didn't need to.
Oren stepped forward, holding his gnarled staff of living wood, his expression unreadable.
"Year two," he said, his voice low. "Today, we begin communion with your Stigmata."
Kael's pulse spiked.
Oren circled them like a judge, his eyes glinting with quiet intensity. "You've learned to resonate with the world. Now you must learn to resonate with the monster inside."
He stopped in front of Kael.
"The Devourer is older than you can imagine… It won't yield easily."
Kael nodded, the weight of those words sinking deep.
"Selene," Oren said, turning. "Your Stigmata is tied to a fragment of the Primal Mind Shard. It's proud, volatile… It'll push you harder than most."
Rook appeared beside them, silent as ever.
"In the days ahead," he said, his voice sharp, "you will no longer fight as students. You will fight as those becoming weapons. Your enemies won't be kind. So neither should you."
Kael swallowed, his hand drifting toward his sleeve, still dark with the residual mark from the awakening.
Selene closed her eyes. A faint mist shimmered around her, her Stigmata glowing behind her neck like a distant star.
Kael watched her, feeling the thrum of his own mark stir in response. For a breath, everything felt still. Centered.
Then Oren's expression shifted.
He paused mid-step, eyes narrowing, his head tilting like a wolf catching a strange scent.
"…We're not alone," he said quietly.
Kael tensed. Selene's eyes snapped open - sharp now, aware - and her daggers slid into her hands without a sound.
Rook shifted beside Oren, the air around him pulsing as his mask formed - bone-white, faceless, and still.
Oren tapped his staff once against the earth. A faint crack echoed out like a ripple through water.
The clearing shimmered.
Then it tore open - an invisible veil splitting like cracked glass.
Figures emerged from the woods, dressed in matte black. Silent. Precise.
Kael recognized them instantly - just like the ones who had come tracking a woman before.
Dozens of them. Watching.
Kael's breath hitched. His grip tightened around the hilt of his blade.
Oren's mouth curled slightly, just short of a smile. He chuckled.
"Well now," he murmured. "Would you look at that… One of them even carries a Stigmata."
He raised his staff overhead.
"Let's see what the last year has taught you."
"Perfect training partners have presented themselves to you."
Then he brought the staff down.
The ground rippled. The pressure snapped.
And the battle began.