V2C8 - Breath and Balance

The Following Day – Veyren’s Cottage

The morning came slower this time.

Lucen stirred from his bedroll inside the mage’s wooden loft, muscles stiff and aching from yesterday’s sparring. Outside the window, a soft rustling of wind carried through the trees, and the scent of pine and damp moss drifted in.

He sat up slowly, blinking toward the open doorway.

Veyren stood at the edge of the clearing, arms folded, cloak fluttering slightly behind him. His expression, as always, was unreadable—but his voice carried when he spoke.

“You’ve touched wind and light. Time to see if you can control them.”

Lucen groaned quietly, stretching his sore arm.

From the side of the porch, Nyari was already perched on the railing, tail flicking lazily as she bit into a plum.

“Morning, sword boy,” she said with a grin. “Hope you got rest. You’ll need it.”

Forest Clearing Behind Veyren’s Cottage

Lucen stood barefoot in the clearing, early mist curling around his ankles like waiting smoke. The forest was still quiet, sun barely piercing through the high canopy. Across the field, Veyren stood motionless, arms folded behind his back, eyes sharp as ever.

Nyari leaned lazily against the side of the cottage, chewing on a stalk of grass, her tail flicking like a metronome.

“Wind magic is deceptive,” Veyren began, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not loud like fire, or dramatic like lightning. It’s not meant to overwhelm. Wind exists to guide—subtle, swift, and precise.”

Lucen nodded slowly. He could still feel the faint pulse of mana left over from yesterday’s spar with Nyari. His muscles ached—but his instincts had started to click.

“Today, we shift from casting to channeling,” the mage continued. “Your goal is not to summon gusts. It’s to feel the wind. Let it move through you—without throwing off your balance.”

Veyren walked forward and tapped Lucen’s chest with the tip of his staff.

“Don’t push. Don’t command. Breathe. Let the wind agree to carry you.”

Lucen took a slow breath.

He closed his eyes. Listened. The wind rustled the leaves. Swirled past his ears. Brushed his collarbone.

Focus. Flow.

He felt it stir.

Nyari called from the side. “If you fall on your ass, I’m not catching you, sword boy.”

Lucen’s concentration twitched.

The breeze around him wobbled, flared up—and threw him half a step sideways.

He caught himself, but only barely.

“Tch.”

Nyari grinned. “Too tense. You’re clenching everything except the right muscle.”

“You want to come show me how it’s done?”

“Please. I was dodging border patrols before I could read.”

Veyren raised a brow, but said nothing.

Lucen rolled his shoulders, exhaled, and tried again.

This time, he didn’t try to control it. He listened. Let his breath sync with the breeze, his feet stay light, the mana swirl—not burst.

And it worked.

A flicker. A pulse. Wind stirred at his calves and lifted him—not off the ground, but into the step. He moved forward—not fast, but smooth.

Nyari straightened, eyes flicking up.

Lucen blinked, surprised. “I… moved?”

“Still looked like a baby deer,” Nyari said. “But a fast baby deer.”

Lucen laughed, breathless.

Veyren nodded once. “That’s the idea. Tomorrow, we move to reflex casting. But for today… walk again. With the wind.”

Lucen inhaled and tried again.

And this time… the wind didn’t resist him.

Later That Night – Firepit Beside the Cottage

The stars peeked out, one by one, above the quiet canopy. A small fire crackled between Lucen and Nyari, casting flickers of orange across their faces. Veyren had gone inside hours ago, leaving them to rest under the open sky.

Lucen sat with his back against a log, rolling his shoulders with a wince.

“You okay there, windrunner?” Nyari asked, flicking a small twig into the flames.

“Getting there. It’s just… it’s like every part of me has to move in sync or it all collapses.”

Nyari smirked and propped her chin on her hand. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”

He glanced over. “You make it look easy.”

“It’s not.” Her voice lowered slightly. “You just haven’t seen me screw up yet.”

Lucen tilted his head, surprised at the honesty in her tone.

She picked up a pebble and tossed it into the fire pit. “I used to trip over my own wind spells. Literally launched myself off a rooftop once. Got stuck in a haystack.”

Lucen snorted.

“I couldn’t breathe for five minutes,” she added flatly. “So laugh all you want, sword boy.”

He chuckled again—then nodded. “Thanks. For watching today.”

Nyari looked at him. Something softened in her eyes for a moment.

“You’re learning faster than I expected.”

There was a pause—just long enough for the fire to crackle between them.

Then she looked away and stood. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Lucen smiled faintly, watching her tail sway as she walked toward the cottage.