Morning sunlight spilled across the field, soft and gold. For the first time in days, the air didn't hum with tension. It smelled of, fresh grass, and faint smoke from breakfast.
Damon rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed. His limbs ached, but the pain wasn't the usual sharp exhaustion — it was steady, controlled. He smiled faintly. "Guess I didn't break myself this time."
Downstairs, Lily was already waiting. She moved quietly, setting a bowl of porridge on the table. The faint scent of spice hung in the air.
"You're early," she said.
"Couldn't sleep," Damon replied, grabbing a spoon. "Figured I'd eat before Arthur comes looking for a new way to humiliate me."
"Your humor returns with your strength," Lily said lightly. "A good sign."
He ate fast, almost inhaling the food. When he glanced up, she was watching him with that calm, unreadable expression.
"What?" he asked through a mouthful.
"You eat like someone who expects to lose the meal."
"Force of habit," he muttered, pushing back his chair. "See you outside."
The others were already gathered in the field when he arrived.
Cedric stood near the treeline, his posture relaxed but precise, every movement deliberate. Luna was at his side her gaze serene. Imogen sat cross-legged beneath the oak, back straight, her hair catching the morning light. Luke was sprawled on the grass beside her, tossing pebbles toward a distant stump.
Arthur turned as Damon approached. "You're late."
"By two minutes," Damon said.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Then two minutes of failure to make up for."
The others gave faint smiles — not mocking, but knowing. It felt… almost like inclusion.
Arthur folded his hands behind his back. "Today we refine control. Levitation first. Balance and movement after. If you are careless, the current will reject you like yesterday and the day before."
Damon nodded, inhaling slowly. The others watched but didn't interrupt. He focused on his chest — the pulse of mana there was easier to reach now, warm and steady. He let it spread, slow and controlled, into his limbs.
This time, he rose cleanly — no sparks, no instability. Just quiet lift.
Luna's lips curved. "Smooth. You're learning to listen."
Damon opened one eye. "Listening's easier when it's not trying to kill me."
Imogen's voice was dry. "Don't get sentimental. Mana isn't kind — it's obedient to will, not emotion."
Cedric nodded. "True. But will without calm becomes force. You'll need both."
Damon exhaled. "So, calm and control. Got it."
"Not got," Arthur said. "Practiced."
He moved a step closer, his tone measured. "Now, movement. Shift your center. Let mana flow where you need it."
Damon focused, tilting forward slightly — and drifted forward a few feet before landing lightly. It felt… natural.
Arthur gave a curt nod. "Better. You may not embarrass yourself today."
"I'll take that as encouragement," Damon said under his breath.
Luke smirked. "You should. He doesn't hand those out."
The next exercise came by surprise. Arthur gestured toward the narrow stream running along the field's edge. The water sparkled in the sun.
"Balance," he said simply. "Mana must respond to your intention. Walk."
Damon frowned. "On the water?"
"Yes," Arthur said. "Do not sink."
"That's—" Damon stopped himself, sighing. "Fine. No pressure."
"Only balance," Arthur said.
He stepped toward the stream, taking a steadying breath. His boots touched the surface — ripples spread outward, but he didn't sink. The water felt solid beneath him, like glass under tension.
He took another step. Then another. He made it halfway across before losing focus and splashing in with a grunt.
Luke's laughter was instant. "Almost impressive."
Luna smiled softly. "Almost counts for something."
"Not in combat," Imogen said, though her tone was more observation than scold.
Cedric extended a hand to help Damon up. "You'll get there. Everyone falls before they stand."
Arthur's voice carried across the water. "Again."
And he did — over and over, until the slips turned to steps, and the surface barely rippled beneath his feet.
When he finally made it across, Arthur said only, "Acceptable."
But there was something like quiet approval in his eyes.
The afternoon drifted into sparring drills. Luke and Cedric stepped into the clearing, facing each other with practiced familiarity.
"Try to keep up," Luke said, cracking his neck.
Cedric smiled faintly. "Try to stay standing."
They moved — fast. Damon barely followed their hands, let alone their bodies. Each strike was clean, efficient, every step placed with precision. When Luke swung, the air cracked; Cedric deflected with calm grace, his counters fluid as water.
Luna's eyes gleamed. "Their mana is synchronized with muscle and breath. Each movement flows through the current."
Imogen watched, arms folded. "Luke's reckless. Cedric's deliberate. But they adapt to each other. That's why it works."
Damon nodded, awed. "It's like watching a dance. A really violent one."
Cedric pivoted low, swept Luke's legs, then stepped back as Luke flipped upright, laughing. "Still think you're faster?" Cedric asked.
Luke grinned. "Always."
Arthur's voice cut through, calm as ever. "Enough. Save your strength. Training resumes tomorrow."
Both of them stepped back, breathing hard but smiling. Damon could see the mutual respect between them — rivalry, but not resentment.
For once, he wanted to reach that level.
Dinner came at sunset. The kitchen glowed with firelight, filling the house with warmth and quiet laughter. They ate simply — bread, stew, fruit — but it felt like a feast.
Cedric recounted a sparring mishap that left Luke covered in soot. Luna laughed until she cried. Even Imogen smirked. Arthur said nothing, but his silence felt less like disapproval and more like peace.
When Damon caught Luke's eye, there wasn't mockery — just a nod. "Not bad today," Luke said. "You're starting to look like one of us."
"Starting," Imogen echoed, sipping her drink.
Luna nudged Damon's arm. "That's high praise, coming from her."
Damon smiled faintly. For the first time, he didn't feel like an outsider.
That night, the house was quiet again. Damon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, but his mind hummed — not with confusion this time, but with purpose.
He was getting stronger. And that terrified him.
Down the hall, the candlelight flickered in Arthur's study. Lily stood near the window, arms folded, her voice low.
"How long can you keep this up?" she asked. "He's learning too quickly. You know what that means."
Arthur didn't look up from the papers in front of him. "I do."
"The Council won't accept this. We can't bring a mortal back, not one who wields mana. It's unheard of."
Arthur exhaled, tired. "Then we won't tell them. Not yet."
Lily's voice sharpened. "And when they find out? When he finds out?"
Arthur's jaw tightened. "Then I'll handle it."
"You can't protect him from everything," she said softly.
Arthur's eyes darkened. "No. But I can make sure he's worth the risk."
Lily's gaze lingered on him. "You mean to use him."
"To save him," Arthur said quietly. "And maybe, through him… the rest of us."
She hesitated, then nodded. "The Council won't wait forever."
"I know," he said. "Which means neither can we."
The candle burned lower, shadows stretching long across the room.