A soft mist clung to the surface of the Audhild River as dawn's first light brushed the treetops. Østberg, Elara, and Famed stepped barefoot onto the moss-spattered stones of the riverbank, each carrying a leather-bound journal and a small lantern.
Their breaths mingled with the cool morning air, sending tiny tendrils of vapor into the pale sky. Across the water, willow branches dipped into the current, their leaves swaying like quiet sentinels welcoming the trio to today's lesson. In the hush before speech, the gentle lap of water against stone seemed to whisper age-old secrets.
Master Oscar awaited them at the water's edge, robes trimmed with river-green embroidery that caught dew in its fabric. She held a carved wooden staff tipped with a blue crystal that refracted the morning glow into dancing motes of light on the rippling water.
Her presence felt at once serene and powerful. As if, in her, the river's own spirit had taken form.
"Good," she said, voice low and steady. "You have learned to awaken the Flame, very well. But magia is not only fire. Today, you will learn to guide your Conduct through water. Watch closely."
For a moment, none of them moved. They drank in the sight of her standing poised between earth and element, the rising sun gilding her hair in copper. Each felt a ripple of anticipation, today's lesson would draw them deeper into the living world of energia.
She placed her staff across two stones to form a narrow bridge above the river and stepped onto it. The blue crystal pulsed, and the surface of the water beneath rippled in concentric circles that spread outward.
Tiny whirlpools formed and subsided, like the river testing her touch. Mist curled around her ankles, and for a heartbeat, it seemed as if the water itself were breathing in time with her
Elara leaned forward, eyes wide. "Is that… the water answering you?"
Oscar nodded. "Water is shape-shifting energy. It reflects intentions without resistance. But you must learn to listen before you command." She swept a hand through the air, teasing more ripples into existence.
"Observe how it yields to a gentle will, how it whispers back if you attune yourself to its flow." She motioned to Østberg.
"You first. Recall your exercise at the cottage, the ember in your palm. Now, close your eyes and breathe, feeling your Conduct in every vessel of your body. Then, direct that awareness to the water."
Østberg swallowed and shut his eyes. He inhaled deeply, heart calm. His mind drifted back to the flickering ember he had coaxed into life, tiny red sparks dancing against darkness. He felt a hum beneath his skin: the thrum of energia coursing through his veins like an underground stream.
He opened his eyes. Raising his hand slowly, he let the lantern's light fall across his palm. No ember glowed yet. He focused on the current at his feet, imagining his Conduct flowing outward like a tributary meeting the main river.
For a heartbeat nothing happened. Then the surface of the water directly beneath his hand shimmered. A solitary leaf drifting by curved toward him, carried by an unseen pull.
Østberg's breath caught as the leaf pirouetted in a small circle, tracing the shape he had drawn in the air. The world around him fell away, there were only him, his will, and the responsive water.
A hush fell over the bank. Even the willow branches seemed to hold still, their leaves trembling as if in awe.
"That is Conduct," Master Oscar said. "You have guided external energy without force. Now withdraw your focus gently."
Østberg exhaled. The leaf drifted back to the main current. He lowered his hand, heart pounding. "I… did it."
Elara stepped forward, journal cradled in both hands. "Let me try."
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Focus on the pulse of the river." She placed her palm flat against a smooth rock at the edge.
For a moment, nothing stirred. Then, in the pool around the rock, concentric ripples pulsed outward in her likeness, three perfect rings, like stone dropped into calm water.
Famed watched in amazement, chewing his lip. When Elara withdrew her hand, the circles persisted until an eddy swallowed them.
"That was… beautiful."
Famed hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other. "It's my turn," he said at last.
"But I… I'm not as graceful."
Master Oscar's crystal staff glowed azure. "Grace is not required. Intention is. Close your eyes and find the rhythm of your heartbeat. Let each pulse echo through your limbs."
Famed shut his eyes and placed both hands on the rippling water. He felt the cold rush, the current tugging at his fingers. He pictured a single drop of water moving upstream, impossible, yet he willed it.
At first, nothing. Then a faint vibration traveled up his arms, as if the river itself recognized his effort. A small wave recoiled against the bank, as though nudged by a giant's finger, then settled back.
Famed opened his eyes, astonished. "I… I moved it." He grinned sheepishly.
"Barely, but I did!"
Master Oscar smiled, satisfaction softening her features. "Remember this, Conduct is dialogue, not domination. The river teaches patience and cooperation. But now, for your next test, combine what you know of Core and Flame with your Conduct." She gestured to a pile of fallen leaves and petals collected at the water's edge.
Elara picked one up, a silvery blossom from an alder tree. "What should I do?"
"Create a circle of light around the petal, suspended above the water," Lyria instructed. "Use your Conduct to lift it, then your Flame to hold it aloft."
Elara closed her eyes, breathing steadily. She lifted the blossom, visualizing a cradle of energy beneath its petals.
Slowly, it hovered an inch above the water's surface, illuminated by a soft red glow, tracing a perfect ring around it. The petal quivered but did not fall.
Famed clapped softly. "That's incredible."
Østberg followed, selecting a bright yellow leaf. He inhaled, closed his eyes, and felt the ember still resting in his palm.
He directed it downward, weaving it into a ring of light. The leaf lifted, encircled by a dim red glow. It drifted above the current, hovering as though in defiance of gravity.
They held their breath until the leaf and blossom settled gently back onto the water. The circle of light winked out like a dying star.
Master Oscar lowered her staff. "Well done. You have tasted the harmony of all three layers of energia. Take a moment to record your observations."
They spread their journals on a flat stone. Østberg sketched the leaf suspended by glowing runes, labeling each line with Core, Conduct, and Flame.
Elara wrote a brief poem about the water teaching them to 'bend without breaking.' Famed drew a comic-style sketch of himself struggling, complete with sweat droplets and a triumphant smile. Laughter eased the last tension from their shoulders.
When they had finished, Lyria cupped her hands and scooped a handful of river water. She closed her eyes and let it trickle through her fingers.
"Water holds memory," she said softly.
"Each current carries traces of every stone it ever touched, every emotion it ever felt. Danger and hope flow together in its depths. One day, you may need to listen to its story."
Østberg glanced at the river's quiet surface, half expecting to hear a murmur or see a flicker of red. But only the normal whisper of the current answered.
As the sun climbed, they packed their journals and lanterns. The morning's stillness had deepened something within them, a sense that magia was not simply power to wield, but a living bond between themselves and the world around them.
"Elara," Famed said, brushing river mist from his hair, "do you think we'll ever understand all the memories the water holds?"
She smiled at him, warmth in her eyes. "Perhaps not all. But we'll learn to read the ones we need."
Østberg lifted his journal. "Let's return to the village before the others frets. And tonight… we watch the sky."
They retraced their steps along the riverbank, boots clicking on sun-warmed stones. Behind them, Master Oscar remained at the water's edge, staff in hand, as if she were still guiding the currents themselves. The willow branches bowed in farewell, and the river carried their echoes downstream.
When they reached the first cottage, Østberg paused. He looked back over his shoulder at the gentle curve of the river, the dancing willows, and the lingering aroma of pine and damp earth. A sense of stillness settled in his chest, a resting place for all they had learned so far.
In that quiet moment, he felt something akin to promise, an understanding that this river, this magia, and the friends beside him were all part of a story far greater than any prophecy.
And as sunset bled into the sky, casting a rosy glow on the Audhild River, they carried those whispers on the water in their hearts, ready for whatever tomorrow's currents would bring.