The next morning, Lena changed the rules.
Instead of the cave, she led him into the open woods. The air was sharp with pine, and she moved as if she owned every root and shadow. In a sun-dappled clearing, she turned to him, hands on her hips.
"Today you learn to turn it inward. Not the world. You."
Before he could question it, she bent, snatched a thick, knotted branch, and shoved it into his hands. "Break it."
Kai stared. "I can't. It's too—"
"Not with your hands," Lena interrupted, a sly grin on her face. "With the Well. You've been drawing it out. Now, pull it in." She rolled up her sleeve, exposing her forearm. "Channel it into your bones and muscle. You'll be faster, stronger, harder to break. But it hurts."
She demonstrated. Closing her eyes, the pale skin of her arm shimmered, faint silver lines surfacing under the flesh. She struck her own forearm with her other hand. The sound was like stone hitting stone. She winced but didn't flinch.
"Your turn. Try it on your leg. Just for a second."
Kai crouched, focusing on his thigh. He found the familiar hum of the Well, but this time, he envisioned it flowing up his arms and down his legs like liquid iron. The sensation was immediate and violent—a thousand needle-pricks of fire and ice searing his muscles. He gasped, his knees buckling, but he held on, pushing through the pain.
The change was instant. The thin cords of his arms hardened. He gripped the branch, and with a sharp, clean crack, it splintered in two.
He stared at the broken pieces, breathless. A wild, disbelieving laugh burst from him. This was the strength he'd craved, the power he'd thought only Lumina could provide. He had achieved it not through discipline, but through release.
Lena's eyes sparkled. "See? You are the weapon."
"It's like my whole leg turned to iron," he breathed.
"Next, try both. We'll race."
She marked a line in the dirt. The moment they started, Lena was a silver streak, her limp vanished. Kai pushed, drawing from the Well, the pain lessening as he surrendered to the flow. Suddenly, he was flying—each stride a blur, the air cracking in his ears. He slammed into the finish tree just ahead of her, and they collapsed in a heap, laughing until it hurt.
"You're a natural," Lena panted.
They spent the day testing limits. He infused his legs to run faster, his senses to hear a beetle scuttle across leaves. He held rocks over his head and jumped logs that should have been impossible. It was exhausting, each use leaving him trembling and ravenous, but it was the most alive he had ever felt. The old aches from training, the constant sense of being not-enough—they were gone, replaced by a hunger to see how far he could push.
Between drills, Lena told stories of the old world, of Sages and warriors who saw the body as the first and finest vessel for magic. The more he learned, the more the Knights' doctrine felt like a cage he'd narrowly escaped.
As dusk bled into purple, they lay in the grass, spent. Lena offered him a sip from her flask; it tasted of licorice and fire.
"Is it always like this?" he asked, half laughing, half crying from the sheer physical overwhelm.
"For the lucky ones," she said, her voice heavy. There was no nod, only the grim set of her jaw.
That night, settled by the lantern in the cave, Lena watched him, her expression soft.
"You're better at this than you think," she said. "Most break after the first taste."
Kai shrugged. "I was never good at much else, except for struggling to the bitter end."
He thought of Maya, and the guilt twisted in his gut again.
"You don't have to give them up," Lena said, her voice quiet. "You just have to figure out who you want to be."
Just before sleep, she reached over and squeezed his hand. "Rest. Tomorrow, we try something even dumber."
He laughed, the sound echoing in the stone. He wasn't sure what scared him more: pushing his body until it broke, or the realization that he didn't want to stop. He closed his eyes, the world's colors vivid behind his lids.
***
The weather turned colder, even in the shelter of the cave. The damp crept in through cracks in the stone, and Kai found himself shivering even before the sun went down. He missed the kitchen at the orphanage, the way Maya would heap embers under the stove and let the warmth seep up through the whole house. Even the old blankets seemed thinner now, the wool scratchy and insubstantial against the chill.
Lena noticed. She caught him hugging his knees to his chest, teeth chattering, and tossed him a strip of dried meat. "You're burning through fuel faster than you can eat," she said. "Don't be stubborn. If you pass out, I'll just drag you to town and sell you to the apothecary for parts."
Kai snorted, but took the food. He chewed in silence, watching Lena sketch her endless sigils in the dirt. Her energy never flagged, no matter how tired she seemed.
That night, she asked him to try something new.
"Close your eyes," Lena said. "And this time, I want you to find the Well, but don't touch it. Just… observe."
He did as told. The world faded to darkness. He listened to his breath, the drip of water on stone, the faint, echoing beat of his heart.
He could feel the Well now, as familiar as his own bones—a vast, thrumming expanse just out of reach. This time, he tried to keep his distance, to study the currents without diving in. But the longer he watched, the more the energy seemed to notice him, coiling closer, hungry for contact.
He felt dizzy, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind trying to tip him over. He clutched at his shirt, seeking an anchor, and his fingers closed around the pendant at his neck. The metal was cold, but in the dark of his mind it glimmered—a tiny, stubborn point of light.
Without thinking, he poured his focus into it, letting the Well's pressure squeeze down through the chain and into the disk.
The change was instant. The pendant grew warm, then hot, and a blue-silver light leaked out between his fingers, brighter and more alive than any spark he'd managed before. It pulsed, a heartbeat matching his own, and the world went utterly still.
He opened his eyes, breath shuddering.
The cave was dark except for the glow radiating from his hand. The pendant blazed, casting shifting lines of light on the ceiling. Lena stared, mouth open, her eyes reflecting the strange, ghostly flame.
"Kai," she said, voice shaky. "What did you do?"
He didn't know. He only knew that the hollow steel disk felt different now—heavier, vibrating with a power that resonated all the way up his arm and into his chest. It was like holding a live animal, or a promise.
Lena reached out, hesitant, and touched the pendant with one finger. The light flared, then settled into a steady, shimmering glow.
"You've… infused it," she said. "That's impossible. That's—" She shook her head, grinning in disbelief. "No one's done without a ritual, or at least without chanting a spell. Not on accident."
Kai let the chain slide into his palm. The pendant was still hot, but no longer painful. It felt like a piece of him, something he'd made without even meaning to.
He looked up at Lena, waiting for her to scold him or laugh, but she just stared, eyes wide.
"That's real Sage work," she said, awe creeping into her tone. "They used to say the greatest warriors could make their own foci. That a true Wellspring could turn anything into a conduit, even their own bones."
Kai tried to imagine that, the power of it.
He slipped the pendant back over his head. The warmth settled in his chest, a comfort against the cold.
Lena sat beside him, unusually quiet.
"Do you know what this means?" she said after a long while.
He shook his head.
"It means we have to move. Soon. If you can do this without trying, then it won't be long before the old orders sense you. The Well is a beacon. And there are many vultures out there that would love to take a sip of your power."
She scooted closer, her shoulder pressed to his.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I wish we had more time."
Kai swallowed, thinking of Maya, of the faces back in Shenya. He'd wanted to show them he was worth something, that he could be more than just a failed experiment. Now, he might not even get to say goodbye.
He touched the pendant again, letting the warmth settle his nerves.
"It's okay," he said, and truly meant it.
They sat together, watching the light fade from the pendant, until the only glow left was the echo of magic in the dark.
Kai closed his eyes, knowing sleep would be fitful, but comforted by the strange, fierce certainty that he was finally on the right path.