The flames cast writhing shadows against the trunks of ancient oaks. Val listened to the crackling fire, the sizzle of fat dripping from spitted rabbit, and the low murmur of conversation around the camp. Night had settled fully over the clearing, stars puncturing the velvet darkness above the canopy of trees. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out, its mournful cry echoing through the forest.

  His back against a fallen log, Val stretched his legs toward the warmth of the fire. The day's march had been uneventful, remarkably so, given recent events. The forest had yielded nothing more threatening than a startled deer and a family of foxes that scattered at their approach. After weeks of confronting undead horrors, the normalcy felt almost unsettling.

  "Another swig?" Elara asked, offering the wineskin.

  Val accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Baret outdid himself this time."

  The blackberry wine slid down his throat, rich and sweet with just the right hint of tartness.

  Across the fire, Aric was regaling Lissa with an embellished account of their encounter with the ogre at Willow Creek, his hands gesturing wildly to illustrate the creature's massive size. The young ranger had grown more confident since that battle, carrying himself with the quiet assurance of someone who had faced death and survived.

  "He's added at least three feet to that ogre's height since we left Oakspire," Elara observed, her voice low enough that only Val could hear.

  Val snorted. "By the time we reach Clearwater, it'll be tall enough to peer over Oakspire's walls."

  Elara's laugh was soft, barely more than an exhalation against the night air. It struck Val how rarely he'd heard that sound lately. The siege at Willow Creek had changed all of them, carving away pieces of innocence and optimism that could never be replaced.

  The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks spiraling upward. Around the clearing, the newer rangers had formed their own small groups, voices hushed as they shared stories or simply enjoyed the relative safety of the camp. Val studied them as the night drew on.

  "What do you make of them?" Val asked Elara, inclining his head toward the new recruits.

  She considered for a moment, her healer's eyes missing nothing. "They're capable enough. Formal training shows, especially with Thalia and Jens. Kitra's got the look of someone who's spent time in the wild. The others..." She shrugged. "Hard to say until we see them in action."

  Aric's voice rose above the general murmur, recounting how Val had leapt onto the ogre's back. "...and then he just drove the spear straight down through its skull, like he was spearing a fish!"

  Several of the new rangers looked toward Val, expressions ranging from admiration to skepticism. Val felt a flush of embarrassment at the attention.

  "You're going to ruin my reputation," he muttered, taking another pull from the wineskin.

  "I think that ship sailed when you threw yourself at that ogre," Elara replied, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  Val passed the wineskin back to her, their fingers brushing momentarily. The contact, brief as it was, sent a current of awareness through him that had nothing to do with aether.

  Across the fire, Aric caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow, his expression entirely too knowing for Val's comfort. The young ranger had been making similar looks all evening, glancing between Val and Elara with poorly concealed interest.

  Val reached down, selected a small stone from beside the log, and flicked it with deadly accuracy. It struck Aric squarely in the chest, interrupting his latest significant look.

  "Eyes on your dinner, ranger," Val called, unable to suppress a grin. "Before I decide you need additional perimeter checks tonight."

  Aric raised his hands in mock surrender, but his answering smile was unrepentant. Laughter rippled through the squad, a welcome break in the tension that had shadowed them since leaving Oakspire.

  As the meal concluded, Captain Alfen moved through the camp, checking in with each squad before announcing the watch rotation. "First watch to Valtha's squad," he declared. "Second to Toren's, third to Kaelen's. The rest of you get some sleep, we break camp at dawn."

  Val and his squad gathered their weapons, preparing to take up their positions around the perimeter of the camp. The clearing was large enough to accommodate the entire company comfortably, but its very size made it more challenging to secure.

  "Four points?" Elara suggested.

  Val nodded. "Aric, take the north side. Lian, south. Elara, east. I'll cover the west. Keep your signals ready, and remember we're looking for anything unusual, not just the dead."

  They separated, each moving to their assigned position. Val found a spot with good sightlines both into the forest and back toward the camp, settling in for the long hours of the watch. The temperature had dropped with nightfall, and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, more for comfort than necessity.

  From his vantage point, Val could see the camp gradually quieting as rangers retired to their tents. The fire was banked to a steady glow, providing just enough light to navigate the clearing without compromising night vision. Captain Alfen remained awake longest, conferring with Sergeant Mara before finally retreating to his own tent near the center of the camp.

  The forest around them hummed with normal nighttime sounds: the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, the occasional hoot of an owl, the whisper of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. After the unnatural silence that often preceded undead activity, these sounds were reassuring.

  Val scanned the treeline, his senses alert for any disruption to the natural patterns. His hand rested lightly on his sword hilt, ready to draw at the first sign of danger. But as minutes stretched into an hour, the forest remained peaceful, untouched by the chaos that had become so familiar.

  The soft crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves alerted Val to an approach from behind. "Master Rhalla," he acknowledged.

  The mage stepped into view, moving to stand beside Val. "Your hearing is exceptional," he observed. "I wasn't trying to be silent, but I wasn't exactly announcing myself either."

  Val shrugged. He continued scanning the forest as they spoke. "Shouldn't you be resting? Tomorrow's march will be long."

  "I find I require less sleep than most," Rhalla replied, settling down on a nearby rock with the ease of someone accustomed to field conditions. "A useful trait for research, less so for maintaining normal social hours."

  A comfortable silence fell between them. Val appreciated that the mage didn't feel compelled to fill the quiet with unnecessary conversation, a rarity among academics in his experience.

  After several minutes, Rhalla spoke again, his voice thoughtful. "I wondered if you might wish to begin our lessons. The watch seems an opportune time, quiet, undisturbed."

  Val hesitated. The suggestion made practical sense, but he was still uncertain about Rhalla's role and what exactly these "lessons" might entail. "I'm on duty," he pointed out.

  "Of course," Rhalla agreed easily. "I wouldn't suggest anything that would compromise your vigilance. Just conversation, for now. Questions and answers, perhaps."

  When Val didn't immediately respond, Rhalla settled more comfortably on his rock. "There's no hurry. I've found patience to be an essential quality when studying the aether of life. Things grow in their own time, after all."

  The mage's quiet confidence was oddly reassuring. Unlike some of the more pompous academics Val had encountered, Rhalla seemed genuinely interested in teaching rather than simply demonstrating his own knowledge.

  "Alright," Val decided, still keeping his eyes on the forest. "Tell me about cores. Grandmaster Linden mentioned that mine is... different."

  Rhalla nodded, his expression brightening with scholarly enthusiasm. "An excellent starting point. The core is fundamental to understanding aether manipulation." He collected his thoughts for a moment before continuing.

  "Every living being possesses an aether core. It's essentially the point within your body where aether can be gathered, stored, and channeled. Think of it as a reservoir of potential energy. For most people, this core remains dormant throughout their lives. They have it, but they never learn to access it."

  Val nodded. This much he already knew from general knowledge.

  "The Academy classifies cores into stages," Rhalla continued. "Though the last three are largely theoretical, as no one in modern times has definitively achieved them. Each stage represents not just an increase in raw power, but also in the complexity of aether manipulation possible."

  "How do you determine someone's stage?" Val asked, his curiosity piqued despite his initial reluctance.

  "Several methods," Rhalla explained. "The most reliable is the Lumina Crystal Test. Special crystals respond to aether channeled through them, producing distinct color patterns and intensities. We also conduct practical evaluations with standardized challenges that test precision, efficiency, and endurance."

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  He gestured back south. "Take your friend Alea, for instance. As a fire mage, she would have undergone tests specifically designed to measure her ability to generate, control, and manipulate flames. The complexity of shapes she can form, the heat she can generate, how long she can maintain a working, all these factors contribute to determining her stage."

  "And what would these tests show about me?" Val asked, finally turning to meet Rhalla's gaze directly.

  The mage's expression grew thoughtful. "That's what makes your case so interesting. According to Grandmaster Linden, you haven't undergone formal training, yet you're demonstrating abilities that would typically require years of study. Moreover, the way you access aether seems fundamentally different from modern practitioners."

  Val frowned. "Different how, exactly?"

  "Well, the standard progression through the stages is quite consistent," Rhalla explained. "Stage One is basic sensitivity. You can sense aether fluctuations but not manipulate them. About eighty percent of the population falls into this category."

  "Stage Two is initiation. You can consciously cycle ambient aether into your core, but only in small amounts. You might channel it for simple effects matching your affinity, but you'd be limited to brief periods before exhausting your reserves. About ten percent of people reach this level."

  "Stage Three is manifestation. Your core is developed enough to maintain a stable aether reserve through regular cycling. You can channel it for specific, controlled effects for extended periods. This is where most trained mages begin their serious work, representing about 5 percent of the population."

  Val nodded, finding the framework helpful. "And beyond that?"

  "Stage Four is refinement. Expanded core capacity with more efficient cycling techniques. You can maintain multiple simultaneous workings and develop personalized techniques. Only about one and a half percent reach this level."

  "Stage Five is mastery. Highly developed core with superior control. You can cycle aether reflexively while performing other activities and execute complex manipulations requiring multiple sub-aspects of your prime affinity. Less than one percent achieves this."

  "The higher stages become increasingly rare," Rhalla continued. "Stage Six would be what we call transcendence. It is an exceptionally developed core with intuitive understanding of aether principles. You'd perceive and manipulate subtle aspects invisible to lower stages. Perhaps fifty people in Oakspire might qualify."

  "Stage Seven, illumination, is rarer still, a core of remarkable capacity with profound connection to aetheric principles. Currently, only the five Grandmasters are recognized at this level."

  "And the theoretical stages?" Val prompted, genuinely interested now.

  Rhalla's eyes lit with academic passion. "Stage Eight, transcendence, would involve core capacity beyond conventional measurement. You could theoretically alter fundamental relationships between aether types. Stage Nine, apotheosis, would allow reshaping landscapes and permanently altering aether flows in entire regions. And Stage Ten, divinity..." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "Perfect unity between individual core and universal aether currents. The ability to fundamentally alter reality itself."

  "The Academy considers these largely mythological," he added quickly. "Though historical evidence suggests the First Seeds may have approached Stage Nine, and Mother Arden herself might have achieved Stage Ten during her final confrontation with the Atilean Emperor."

  Val absorbed this information, comparing it to his own experiences. "So where would I fit in this system?"

  Rhalla hesitated. "That's difficult to say without formal testing. Your abilities suggest at least Stage Three, possibly Four. But for you it's not just about power, it's about the nature of your core itself."

  "Modern practitioners draw aether from external sources into their cores, then channel it outward for specific effects. It's a three-step process: draw in, store, release. But ancient texts describe a different approach, where the core itself generates aether internally. Instead of being a vessel that must constantly be refilled, it becomes a spring that produces a continuous flow."

  "And that's what Linden thinks is happening with me," Val concluded.

  "Exactly. Your core seems to be developing along that ancient pattern rather than the modern one. That's why proximity to the Oakspire affects you so strongly. It's not just that you're drawing more ambient aether, but that something about the tree is influencing your core's fundamental development."

  Val considered this, finding that it aligned with his subjective experience. When he used his abilities, it didn't feel like he was channeling external power; rather, it welled up from within him, as if his core itself was producing the energy he needed.

  "What caused this difference?" he asked. "Why would my core develop differently from everyone else's?"

  Rhalla spread his hands. "That's the great mystery. Grandmaster Linden has theories, of course. Perhaps you possess some genetic connection to the First Seeds. Perhaps your core underwent some transformation during a moment of extreme stress. Or perhaps..." He hesitated.

  "Perhaps?" Val prompted.

  "Perhaps it's connected to the prophecies regarding Mother Arden's return," Rhalla finished quietly. "Though I should emphasize that such speculation falls outside strictly academic consideration."

  Before Val could pursue this rather startling suggestion, a twig snapped in the forest. Both men froze, attention immediately shifting outward. Val's hand moved to his sword, muscles tensing for action.

  A moment later, a deer emerged from the underbrush, its movements cautious as it picked its way through the forest. The deer paused, head lifting as it scented the air. For a moment, it seemed to look directly at Val and Rhalla, dark eyes reflecting starlight. Then it turned and bounded away, disappearing as silently as it had come.

  "Life continues," Rhalla observed softly. "Even with the shadow of the Deadlands growing, the natural world persists."

  Val nodded, finding comfort in the observation. Too often lately, his focus had been entirely on the encroaching corruption, the spreading influence of death aether. The deer's presence was a reminder that they fought not just against something, but for something. The preservation of this natural balance, the continuation of life in all its forms.

  "Can you teach me to better understand what's happening with my core?" Val asked after a moment. "Not just the theory, but practical application. If I'm going to use these abilities effectively, I need more control."

  Rhalla nodded, his expression turning serious. "I can, though I should caution that we're in somewhat uncharted territory. The techniques described in ancient texts often rely on metaphors and analogies that can be difficult to interpret in practical terms. But we'll start with fundamentals and build from there."

  He shifted position, turning to face Val more directly. "The first step is conscious awareness of your core. Most practitioners spend months, even years, developing this sensitivity before attempting any manipulation. But given your demonstrated abilities, you may already have an intuitive understanding. I know you can already sense your core, but you leak aether like a sieve. It's why it effects those around you. You shine like the world's brightest campfire in the night."

  Val shifted his weight, maintaining his watchful stance while considering Rhalla's words. The idea that he'd been broadcasting his presence like a beacon sent a chill down his spine. How many undead had been drawn to him without his knowledge? How many battles could have been avoided?

  "Close your eyes," Rhalla instructed softly. "Don't worry, I'll keep watch. Just focus on your core for a moment."

  Val hesitated, his ranger instincts warring with the need to learn. Finally, he allowed his eyes to close, though his other senses remained hyperalert. The familiar warmth of his core pulsed within him, stronger than ever.

  "Now," Rhalla continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "imagine drawing that energy inward, like water flowing back to its source. Don't try to contain it completely, that would be like damming a river. Just... guide it."

  Val attempted to follow the instruction, but the energy seemed to slip through his mental grasp. Frustration crept in as he felt the aether continuing to flow outward, touching the plants around him, reaching toward his companions.

  "You're trying too hard," Rhalla observed. "Think of it like holding water in cupped hands. Too tight, and it squeezes through your fingers. Too loose, and it spills away."

  The metaphor helped. Val relaxed his mental grip, instead visualizing the energy pooling within him rather than streaming outward. Gradually, he felt the flow diminish, though never completely cease.

  "Good," Rhalla murmured. "The goal isn't to stop the flow entirely, that would be far above your current skill level. Just direct it through your body in a constant motion, like waves on a lake that never spill over onto the shore."

  Val opened his eyes, maintaining the gentle containment he'd achieved. The forest looked different somehow, less vibrant but more focused. He realized he'd been unconsciously enhancing everything around him, making it more alive, more real.

  "How's that?" he asked.

  "Much better," Rhalla replied, satisfaction evident in his tone. "Your presence is still noticeable but no longer overwhelming. Before, you were like a bonfire in the night. Now, you're more like a well-shielded lantern."

  Val maintained the containment while scanning the treeline, finding it easier than expected once he understood the principle. "Will this help prevent the dead from sensing me?"

  "It should reduce their awareness significantly," Rhalla confirmed. "Though in combat, when you're actively channeling, you'll likely broadcast again. We'll work on maintaining the shield under stress, but that's a more advanced lesson."

  A owl swooped silently overhead, and Val tracked its movement without losing his grip on the contained energy. The forest felt more distant now, but his own body hummed with the concentrated power. He could feel it waiting, ready to be channeled at need rather than constantly dispersing into his surroundings.

  "Remember this feeling," Rhalla advised. "The balance between containment and flow. Practice it whenever you can, until it becomes as natural as breathing."

  Val nodded, already understanding how this simple technique could make him both more effective and less vulnerable. Part of him mourned the loss of that constant connection to his surroundings, the unconscious enhancement of life around him.

  "The power is still there," Rhalla said, as if reading his thoughts. "You're just learning to choose when and how to share it."

  He was about to continue when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted them. Val immediately shifted his attention outward, hand moving to his weapon until he recognized Toren's distinctive gait.

  The older ranger emerged from the shadows of the camp, moving with the silent efficiency that had made him one of the company's most valued scouts. He nodded to Val and Rhalla, his weathered face revealing nothing of his thoughts about finding them together.

  "Time to rotate," he announced simply.

  Val nodded, rising from his position. "All quiet on this side. Normal forest activity, nothing suspicious."

  Toren grunted acknowledgment.

  "Get some rest," Toren advised. "Captain wants us moving before first light."

  Val nodded again, gathering his equipment. He and Rhalla walked back toward the center of the camp together, the fire now reduced to glowing embers that cast just enough light to navigate between the tents.

  "Thank you for the lesson," Val said quietly as they reached the point where their paths would diverge.

  Rhalla smiled, the expression barely visible in the dim light. "We've barely scratched the surface. But it's a beginning." He hesitated, then added, "What you're experiencing, Valtha, it's extraordinary. In all my studies, I've never seen or heard the like."

  "We'll continue tomorrow, if you're willing," Rhalla offered. "During your watch rotation."

  "I'd like that," Val agreed, surprising himself with the realization that he meant it. Despite his initial reservations, he found Rhalla's approach to teaching refreshingly practical.

  They parted ways, Rhalla heading toward the tent he shared with the other mages attached to the company, while Val made his way to the one assigned to him, Aric, and Lian. As he passed Elara's tent, he found his steps slowing involuntarily.

  A soft glow emanated from within, she was still awake. Val stood motionless, caught in a moment of indecision. Part of him wanted to approach, to continue the companionship they'd shared by the fire earlier. Another part recognized the implication of such a visit at this hour, regardless of his intentions.

  In the end, desire to maintain normalcy won out. Val continued to his own tent, though he couldn't help casting a lingering glance back at the soft light shining through the canvas. Whatever was developing between them would need to wait for the right time and place, assuming they both survived the challenges that lay ahead.

  Inside his tent, Aric and Lian were already asleep, their breathing deep and regular in the darkness. Val removed his boots and outer garments as quietly as possible, settling onto his bedroll without disturbing them. Despite the long day and longer watch, sleep felt distant, his mind still processing all he had learned from Rhalla.