As Breeze’s voice faded into the wind, the crystal in Silas’s hand shimmered ominously. Sharp and cold magic began to pulse inside him. He sat still at first, biting down on Ebonheart’s sheath to suppress the pain, his body rigid.

The First Hour

The sensation began like fine pinpricks across his skin, cold and slicing as if a thousand invisible blades were cutting into him from the inside. His body tensed, his breaths shallow, but he held steady. The others watched from a short distance, anxiety etched into their expressions, knowing they could do nothing but wait.

Silas groaned softly, muffled by the leather between his teeth. Each passing second saw the pain grow sharper and more defined as the wind magic began to flow through his veins. His limbs twitched involuntarily, but he kept his jaw clenched, trying to focus on his breathing.

“Is he alright?” Layla’s voice cracked, her worry slipping through.

Rowan didn’t take his eyes off Silas, his hands tightening into fists. “He’ll push through,” he muttered. “He has to.”

The Third Hour

The following hours became a blur of mounting agony. Silas’s soft groans grew louder. The pinpricks evolved into searing, sharp pain like the wind blades were now carving deeper into his body. His muscles tightened, every nerve alive with fire and ice at once. His hands shook uncontrollably, and he clutched the ground beneath him to steady himself.

Dust rolled nervously beside him. “Hold on... Silas.”

Layla’s face twisted in distress, but she knew better than to intervene.“He’s not going to survive this... this is impossible.”

Rowan murmured in a low voice. “We knew it would be bad. Silas, he knew as well… But he’ll pull through… He will.”

The wind around Silas began to whip and swirl, reacting to the turmoil inside him. His skin, pale from the effort, began to glisten with sweat. The wind magic was cutting deeper, trying to merge with him, but every second brought new waves of pain. His groans turned into pained, guttural sounds, and he rocked back and forth as if trying to escape the torture his body was enduring.

The Sixth Hour

By midday, Silas’s body began to tremble violently. His teeth dug deeper into the sheath, muffling the sounds of torment as his muscles twitched uncontrollably. Dust rolled anxiously around him, helpless as their master endured the communion.

Breeze’s voice, a soft whisper, entered Silas’s ears. “Endure... soon... the spirit’s essence... will merge.”

But the more Silas tried to control his body, the less he could manage. The cold from the water spirit’s magic, clashing with the wind spirit’s power, surged through him in a wave. His eyes fluttered open, dazed from pain, seeing the worried faces of his companions.

“Silas, enough—” Rowan started, stepping closer.

Silas gasped through the leather, his voice barely audible but resolute. “No—don’t... stop. I... can... handle… it”

His body trembled harder, his mind slipping in and out of focus. Every breath was laboured, and each heartbeat felt like a hammer pounding in his chest. But the worst was still to come.

The Twelfth Hour

Night had fallen. Silas was on the ground now, writhing uncontrollably, his hands digging into the dirt as he tried to hold on. His groans had become full, unrestrained screams of pain. The communion was reaching its peak, and the wind spirit’s essence had begun tearing through him like a storm.

His face, pale and soaked with sweat, was numb from biting down on the sheath of Ebonheart. His jaw was locked, the leather nearly torn from his teeth, digging into it for hours. Blood seeped from the corners of his mouth, where his lips had split from the constant pressure, but he didn’t notice. His mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, a thin veil of awareness keeping him tethered to reality.

Silas’s eyes fluttered open, half-lidded and glazed, his vision blurred. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, but his face—twisted from the hours of pain—had gone completely slack. The numbness spread from his jaw down to his neck, the constant tension replaced by a strange, unsettling coldness. He could no longer feel his lips or the sheath between his teeth, but the pressure remained, a constant, haunting reminder of the torment he was enduring.

Layla took out a small amount of recovery salve from a vial and applied it around Silas’s mouth to lessen the pain.

“Breeze...” Silas gasped, his voice hoarse. “What’s... happening?”

Breeze’s form flickered around him. “The power... too much. You must endure. Almost... there.”

Spark, however, was beginning to falter. The flicker in his flame dulled as he struggled to keep the water spirit’s magic at bay. His crackling voice sputtered, the strain evident. “Can’t... hold on... much longer...”

“Spark?” Layla’s voice rose in panic. “What’s wrong?”

“Water magic... breaking free... I... I can’t contain it!” Spark’s tiny body spasmed, his flames dimming further. “Get Back! Everyone... away!”

Rowan’s eyes widened in realisation. “He’s going to lose control!”

Without hesitation, he grabbed Layla and yanked her back. They both moved quickly, but Silas was in no condition to move on his own. His body shook violently on the ground, the pain driving him to the brink of unconsciousness.

“Silas!” Layla shouted, panic rising in her voice. “We need to get him out of here!”

Just as the words left her lips, Spark, barely holding himself together, released the water spirit’s power. His flames burst upward as he let out a final, broken cry. “Now... move...!”

A deafening explosion erupted as Spark shot a burst of water magic into the forest, away from Amberheart. The force of the magic sent a shockwave rippling through the trees, and in an instant, the forest froze over. Trees crackled and shattered under the sudden pressure of ice as a thin, glassy frost covered everything in its wake.

Rowan and Layla stared in horror at the damage, their breath visible in the sudden cold.

“Damn it,” Rowan muttered. “That’s going to attract attention.”

“We need to move, now!” Layla cried.

Without another word, they rushed toward Silas, his body still thrashing in pain. They each grabbed an arm, hoisting him to his feet. He screamed as they lifted him, his voice guttural and raw, the pain unbearable.

Silas’s sword sheath, wet from his saliva and blood, slipped from his mouth as he was dragged forward. His cries echoed through the trees, too loud, too desperate.

“Shh!” Layla said gently, placing the sheath back into his mouth. “Silas, please—try to stay

quiet.” She saw how violently he trembled and brought a hand up to his forehead. “He’s got a fever, and it feels bad. We need to be quick about this.”

Silas bit down hard, his teeth grinding against the leather, as Rowan and Layla carried him deeper into the woods. Goldie trailed behind them, whimpering softly at Silas’s distress. At the same time, Dust and Spark hovered close, their forms flickering weakly.

Trickster slithered along, silent but vigilant. The icy destruction left behind them glistened ominously in the moonlight.

The forest was eerily silent after the explosion, save for the occasional creak of frozen branches cracking under the weight of the ice. They dragged Silas through the frozen woods, his muffled groans cutting through the eerie silence. Goldie’s soft whimpers trailed behind them while Trickster slithered ahead, silent and vigilant.

Rowan glanced over his shoulder at the dark, frozen expanse behind them. “We can’t see a damn thing out here. Spark, we need some light, just enough to see but not enough to draw attention.”

Spark, his flame still flickering weakly from the earlier exertion, floated up beside them. “I... can manage. Light... soft and warm.”

A soft, warm glow emanated from Spark, casting faint shadows across the forest floor but illuminating enough for them to navigate. The frozen ground crunched under their boots as they moved deeper into the woods. After what felt like an eternity, they stumbled upon a small cave. Its entrance was narrow, and the rock surface seemed worn smooth from years of wind and rain, as though nature had carved it out slowly over time.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Rowan and Layla hauled Silas inside, laying him gently on the stone floor. The cave was small, just big enough to shelter them all, but it would serve as a temporary refuge. Silas was still writhing in pain, though the worst seemed to have passed. His body had stopped trembling violently, and his breathing, though laboured, had become more regular.

Spark hovered close, his warm glow providing light and much-needed heat. “I’ll warm him... now that the cold is gone.”

The temperature in the cave slowly rose as Spark’s flames grew steadier, the oppressive chill of the water spirit’s magic dissipating. Silas’s pale skin gradually regained some colour, and the violent shivers that had wracked his body eased into calmer movements. His groans softened, though they didn’t disappear entirely.

Layla knelt beside him, placing a hand on his forehead. “His fever’s dropping. He’s stabilising.”

Rowan let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Good. That blast must’ve drawn attention, though. Silas’s father and the others must be worried sick. They’ll have figured out it had something to do with him.”

He reached into Silas’s pocket, fishing out the small communication stone his friend always carried. Holding it between his fingers, he muttered a few words to activate the connection. The stone glowed faintly, and Rowan brought it close to his mouth.

“Uncle Chen,” Rowan called, his voice low but urgent. “It’s Rowan. We’re in a cave deep in the forest, somewhere west of the blast. Silas... he initiated some sort of elemental ceremony. Don’t worry, though. He’s fine. We’ll wait here for the night.”

There was a moment of silence before the familiar voice of Lian Chen crackled through the stone, steady but filled with concern. “That’s good to hear. We heard the explosion and feared the worst. I’ll let the War Master know. Stay safe. We’ll search for you at first light.”

Rowan nodded, though Lian Chen couldn’t see it. “We’ll be fine. Silas is strong. Just let his father know he’s safe.”

The communication stone dimmed as Rowan deactivated it, then placed it beside Silas, who still lay unconscious but breathing steadily.

“Uncle Chen will handle it,” Rowan muttered, more to reassure himself than anyone else.

Sitting by Silas’s side, Layla gave a tired sigh of relief. “That blast will definitely have attracted unwanted attention. But it’s still night; if we’re lucky, we’ll stay hidden until morning.”

Time passed slowly. Silas’s condition, though still rough, improved with every minute. The once-violent pain had subsided into a dull ache, and his body now relaxed as exhaustion overtook him.

After what seemed like hours, Silas’s body stilled completely, his groans falling into silence. His breathing, though shallow, was steady. The communion was nearing its end.

Rowan glanced at Dust, who had been silent since earlier. “You said it would take a whole day, but it’s been... around eighteen hours? Is it done?”

Dust rumbled lowly, its pebble-like form rolling on the ground. “Yes... quicker... than expected. Communion... complete.”

Suddenly, a soft breeze stirred in the cave, gentle yet palpable. It circled around Silas’s prone form, light at first, then gathering strength. Rowan and Layla stepped back, watching as the wind coalesced, forming a faint silhouette above Silas.

As the wind swirled around Silas, Breeze’s form sharpened, her presence growing stronger, almost tangible. For the first time, Rowan and Layla could make out the distinct shape of limbs, a body—she was no longer just wind. She was becoming... someone.

Though her figure was still ethereal, it now resembled the outline of a person—slender, elegant, and fluid, as if she were the embodiment of the wind itself. Her face remained featureless, and it was impossible to tell if she was male or female just by looking at it. Still, her silhouette was definitely feminine, and her presence was unmistakably stronger.

“I am... different,” Breeze’s voice echoed through the cave, smooth and steady—no longer fragmented and distant like before. “The communion... has made me stronger. I am now... a Lesser Spirit.”

Layla’s eyes widened in awe. “Breeze... you’re... you’ve changed.”

Rowan crossed his arms, studying the familiar. “Your form... and your speech. It’s... smoother.”

Breeze nodded, her silhouette moving gracefully. “Yes... I have grown. The wind spirit’s power... is now part of me. I am still... Breeze, but better.”

Silas stirred, his eyes fluttering open, though his body remained utterly drained. He managed a weak smile, his voice hoarse. “Breeze... you’ve... changed...”

“You too, Silas,” Breeze said, her voice soft but clear. “You have grown as well... stronger.”

Rowan knelt beside Silas, a relieved grin on his face. “You’re a damn fool, Silas, but you made it through.”

Layla gave a tired smile, her eyes soft with relief. “You’re drenched in sweat and can’t move a muscle, but you did it.”

Silas, still too weak to move, chuckled softly. Layla took out a recovery valve and handed it to Silas. Silas took out a small amount and applied it around the corners of his mouth. He could feel the salve working wonders as the pain quickly lessened.

Breeze hovered protectively over Silas, her presence calming. “Rest now... Silas. We will... face the coming storms together... stronger than before.”

And as the night wore on, the winds whispered quietly outside the cave, a testament to the power Silas had gained through his trial of pain and endurance.

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

The soft light of dawn filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. In the small cave where they had taken shelter, the air felt thick with tension despite the gentle warmth that now radiated from Spark, Rowan’s familiar. Silas, though exhausted, looked much better than he had hours earlier. The effects of the Elemental Communion had taken their toll, but it was clear his recovery was on track.

Rowan held Silas’s communication stone, pacing by the cave entrance. His fingers tapped against it anxiously, waiting for a response. Layla sat beside Silas, who was still breathing heavily but had regained enough energy to give a weak smile.

The stone flickered faintly, and Lian Chen’s voice finally broke through. “We’re at the clearing. Everything alright?”

Rowan’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yeah, mostly. I’ll come get you.”

“Good,” Lian Chen’s voice was curt. “We’ll wait.”

Rowan shot a glance at Silas and Layla. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t let him move.”

Layla chuckled softly, keeping her gaze on Silas. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Silas smirked but didn’t argue. He was too worn out to move even if he wanted to. His limbs felt heavy, and his body was refusing to cooperate with him. “I’ll be right here. Not like I have much choice.”

Rowan gave him a brief smile before disappearing into the forest. As he made his way toward the clearing, the morning sounds of the woods surrounded him, but his mind was elsewhere—still focused on Silas, what they’d all been through, and what lay ahead. The blast from earlier had no doubt drawn attention, and the longer they lingered, the greater the chance of unwanted visitors. Silas’s father, Kael, Uncle Chen, and Kaede must have been worried after associating it with Silas.

Reaching the clearing, Rowan spotted them waiting. Kael stood tall and imposing as always, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Lian Chen was beside him, his posture more relaxed but no less alert.

“Let’s move quickly,” Rowan said as he approached, keeping his voice low. “Silas is okay, but he’s exhausted. We found a cave to shelter in for the night. He’s still recovering.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes flickered with some small amount of relief. “That’s good. Lead the way, Rowan.”

The three of them returned to the cave, their silence punctuated only by the sound of their footsteps.

When they reached the cave, Silas had managed to sit up a bit more, though the exhaustion was still evident in the dark circles under his eyes. He greeted them with a weak smile. “Well, it took you guys long enough.”

Kael raised an eyebrow and smiled, “I’m glad to see you’ve still got your sense of humour.”

Silas’s grin widened, but his stomach let out a loud growl before he could respond. The sound echoed in the small cave, causing everyone to pause. Silas blinked, then groaned, embarrassed. “Great, Rowan’s bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

Standing by the entrance, Rowan opened his mouth to retort, but his stomach growled in perfect harmony. He froze, his cheeks flushing as everyone burst into laughter. Even Uncle Chen, stoic as ever, let out a brief chuckle.

“Guess I can’t blame you for that one,” Rowan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. The laughter, though, felt like a release—a moment of lightness after the strain of the past hours.

“We should get food in all of you,” Lian Chen said, the amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Can’t have you collapsing when we finally get back to the city.”

Layla stood up, stretching. “That’s a good idea. Let’s head to the marketplace. There’s a place that sells pies—best in the city.”

Silas groaned as he shifted, still stiff but managing to stand with Rowan’s help. “I could eat three of them at this point.”

As the group began their walk back to Amberheart, the forest gradually gave way to cobblestone streets, and the air grew warmer. The familiar hum of the marketplace signalled they were close. Silas leaned on Rowan at first, though, he felt his strength return with every step, his body still aching from the communion. By the time they reached the busy streets of the market, Silas could walk on his own, albeit a bit slower than usual.

The market bustled with life. Merchants called out their wares, the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filling the air. They found the stall Layla had mentioned, grabbing a few hearty pies stuffed with savoury meats and vegetables. Sitting down at a quiet spot nearby, they dug in, the atmosphere feeling lighter now that the worst was over.

As Silas wolfed down his food, he looked at Rowan and Lyla and said, “I can’t wait to see what Breeze can do now.”

Layla gave him a sharp look. “You need to be careful, Silas. Breeze's new power might not be something to mess around with—especially if that Water Spirit was only a Lesser Spirit. It’s time worn magic was already scary.”

Silas nodded, knowing she was right. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I was thinking...” He trailed off momentarily, glancing at Kael and Lian Chen before continuing. “What about tomorrow?” Silas asked, his voice gaining strength as he wolfed down the last of his pie. “Bitter Creek is isolated enough. We could test Breeze’s new powers without risking anyone getting hurt and without any unwanted attention.”

Kael and Uncle Chen’s eyes narrowed at the place’s mention. Even Rowan stopped eating and said, “Bitter Creek, huh? Wouldn’t be the first time that place hides our secrets.”

Layla couldn’t help but ask. “What do you mean?”

Rowan sighed, shook his head, and replied, “I’ll tell you later; it’s not something to be discussed in public.”

He then swallowed hard, forcing himself to relax. He knew Silas was right. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at him. “Bitter Creek it is then, we’ll go when you get better.”

After that, the conversation drifted into more casual topics, but the unspoken weight of Bitter Creek lingered, especially in their thoughts. Bitter Creek had been a graveyard for their secrets once, but now it would become the testing ground for Silas.