‘That? T’was The Rhythm, little one. We warriors cannot sense mana, but we gain something else, in return…’ Ato thought on Kenri’s words, as he threw alternating punches into empty space, his arms barely able to make the small motions as they trembled in air. It was near the end of the day, and he was long past the point where he was able to channel any mana—it felt as if his arms would burst if he had done so, and Kenri had said that he must never do such a thing when he felt tired, that he was different—instead, Kenri had instructed him to merely practice endurance, to continue using his body as normal when he felt tired.

  Ato’s punches continued, and he felt as if he might fall over from legs that were weak from kicking, and that his trembling arms would not be able to break his fall.

  ‘I wonder, if you will be able to use it…do not worry much if you cannot. It is a skill more than a right: many warriors go their whole lives without sensing a single punch.’

  Ato thought of his singing earlier in the day, how Hava and Kenri had both kept time effortlessly, while he had struggled, hopping clumsily along like a newborn rabbit.

  That’s probably why brother was laughing.

  Ato closed his eyes as he continued to punch, sensing The Song, trying to find the beat in the storm of mana, that Kenri and Setri seemed to feel with such ease. He did not find it. Instead, over, through the magic of many plants and animals, Ato felt a clash, collision. Giant flutes, drums, waves and beats of feeling that played through his very bones, each burst of mana seeming to follow each other—like a conversation, or duet. Ato understood, after a moment, what they were. Spells.

  “Focus, Ato.” Ato’s eyes, which had fallen close as he noticed the spells more and more, flew open. Around him, Hava, and the rest of the students who were practicing, looked at him, little teasing smiles on their faces. A few giggled. Ato felt his face grow red, a small bashful grin pulling at his mouth.

  “Sorry…” Kenri lauged.

  “It must be hard, having the mind of a mage, yet needing to train like a warrior.” Ato looked off towards the distance, his ears picking up every spell, his body feeling every vibration in the air they made.

  “Yes…” Kenri laughed again.

  “Well, seeing as it is late in the day for us anyways, perhaps we should all take a trip to join my other students observing them.”

  Ato felt his heart jump at this. “Really?” Kenri nodded.

  “Usually these are things for older students…but you are of a different type, Ato. Maybe this will help you.” Ato smiled, and the whole group of students ended their practice and filed behind Kenri, a few tired children patting Ato on the back as they got into line.

  Ato could feel his chest beat faster as they approached the mages, the casting of every spell almost overflowing every sense Ato had. They were as far as Ato had ever been from the village at this point, walking towards a hill beyond which Ato could sense the casting of spells grow stronger. “Ho! Little ones!” Kenri waved at his older students standing at the crest of the hill—four warriors that looked close to being adults already—and they turned, looks of surprise crossing their faces as they saw Kenri and the rest of the younger students.

  “What are you all doing here, master?” Kenri grinned at the girl as he walked up to join the little group, the line of young children and teens following behind him like baby chocos with their mother.

  “Ato had trouble focusing with all of the commotion, so I decided to give the others a rest, and allow Ato to see what was happening.” The older students all focused on Ato with inquisitive stares, causing Ato to blush and look away.

  “Well, you certainly are a perceptive little one!” The girl waved him over, and Ato walked from the line to the small group composed of Kenri and the older warriors, while the students making up the line dispersed, either joining in little groups to laze around and play with the dogs, or walking with Ato to watch the mages.

  “It makes sense, that you might have trouble focusing today.” The girl said, her eyes looking away and towards the other side of the hill, her skin reflecting the flashing colored light of spells being cast.

  “Why?” Ato asked, his skin feeling more and more like it was covered with needles as he walked up the hill.

  “Well, today is sparring day for the mages.” Ato finally crossed the last distance to the top of the hill, joining Kenri and the others, his eyes widening as he saw the other side. The mage students were arranged in a circle, watching, cheering, at the two older students in the middle. One of the mages was floating in the air, wind whipping at her cloak as an array of shimmering barriers guarded her front. The other mage stood a ways away, the tip of his staff glowing with an almost blinding light, the chimes on its end floating into the air, each ringing loudly along with the spell being cast.

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  The mage yelled, pointing his staff at the other mage floating in the air, and a beam of light shot from its end, almost too fast for Ato to see, its thick shining form seeming to tear at the space around it as it travelled towards the girl. She saw the beam, and pointed her staff at it, causing her barriers to rearrange almost instantaneously into a set of layers between her and the light. The beam shattered each but the very last barrier, and the girl flew higher into the air and to the side, her one barrier multiplying into another array, shielding her from the boy as he sent many smaller beams towards her.

  Ato simply stared at the display, speechless, a smile stretching so wide across his face that it almost hurt, as his eyes, his body, followed each and every bit of mana that met his senses. “Having fun, I see?” Ato turned—after some hesitation—towards the familiar voice coming from his side. It was the old mage, a cheerful smile touching his cheeks.

  “Y-yes!” Ato struggled to look at the mage, his focus being pulled to the sounds and lights in front of him. The old man laughed.

  “Well, I am glad to see you feeling at home in your new calling.” Ato nodded happily, his eyes sliding back towards to the two mages sparring. Both were on the ground now, each pointing their staffs at the other, their bodies flowing with beautiful mana that teased at every one of Ato’s senses. He found his smile fall slightly, his eyes turning downwards, as he felt that same hunger. Save for that moment watching his brother, it had not once been sated, instead feeling like some small, everpresent blight on his joy; it was like eating meat, only to find one’s stomach still empty.

  Ato heard cheering around him, and looked towards the match, seeing the both of them now kneeling, panting, their mana spent. A draw.

  As Ato lost interest, his attention drifted towards the distance, away from the mages, the warriors.

  And then, he saw her.

  The woman, standing apart, clothed in perfect clean, white, in golden bands and bells. Ato's world was dust, dirt, yellow grass—even the cleanest white cloak was stained, in Ato's world. Her dress was not, and looking at her, so bright, almost shining, Ato began to understand the word perfect. Her head turned, long black hair floating in the wind, as she glanced at every mage and warrior, until her eyes finally met Ato's. He went still, and she looked about him, as if pondering something, evaluating him, before—

  "Little one—Kenri is calling. Time to go." Ato felt the hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, looking up at the older student from before, her eyes smiling gently as she gestured away, towards the forming line.

  "Um..." Ato turned towards the distance again, but the woman was gone, and he looked about, his eyes finally falling on Kito. The old mage stared at Ato, his eyes slightly wide, before he smiled, and turned to Kenri.

  “May I walk with your student, friend?” The old warrior raised a brow, before Kito whispered in his ear, and Kenri’s face turned to one of surprise, and he nodded.

  Ato and Kito strolled down the hill, towards the five pillars, which Ato had never seen from so close before, except for a moment he did not remember, in ceremony as a newborn. “Well, child—you continue to surprise, just like your mother. I gather you saw that woman?” Ato nodded, shrinking a bit at the mention of his mother. The white stone lengths stretched even higher than Ato had imagined as they reached them, and up close, Ato began to notice their details: how the stone was bare of any paint, yet smoother than the mud brick of their homes, and etched along their widths with figures and scenes, people with strange clothing and pointed ears, different from the ribbons and round ears of Ato. Ato recognized them at once, remembering details from stories and sermons. The elves—their forefathers.

  “That woman—” Kito pointed towards the figures, and gestured at the pillars as a whole. “Was Pritii, The Last Elf. Our patron and keeper.”

  “What?” Ato’s eyes widened, and he looked around excitedly, hoping for another glimpse, as Kito laughed.

  “Apologies child, you will not have much luck finding her right now. She is often away slumbering, only occasionally appearing. But, even when around…” The mage smiled, and pointed to his blackened hands, the thing that marked him as her chosen. “…only I should be able to see her. I sense you have something great about you, Ato.”

  Ato took the words in, falling silent. He felt his chest twist at the words, as two emotions—hope, sadness—pushed for space in his heart. Kito, noticing him, the look on his face, paused a moment. He turned back to the pillars.

  “There is an old teaching Pritii imparted, when we—the Grassfolk—first founded Pilalde, and the first mages learned from her…” The old mage pointed to a specific figure: a female elf, taller than all the others.

  “‘The elven mages learned their first spells from Bellasa, but their greatest creations, they discovered on their own. They followed their passions, followed The Song, and let it lead each elf on their own path.’” Kito turned back towards Ato, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Their magic bloomed, when they trusted in The Song, in their place in The Thread. You can hear The Song, Ato—I am sure there is reason behind it. Listen and follow, and you will find the place allotted for you.” Ato found himself nodding politely, half believing him, but taking the words as more of a happy lie. He did not say what he felt, that he was beginning to think, that he should not hope too much: not for a mother, or a loving brother, or for the mana to cast magic.

  Ato turned away, towards the pillars, and stared at the faded carvings of elves, of figures long gone. “Thank you, Honored Mage.”

  Hope you liked this extra bit of lore on my world! Below I've left a VERY small spoiler for the next chapter (trust me, it's just a little teaser), to tide you over for next week---thanks so much for staying with me so far!

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