Ven was late—or rather, Ven was missing. Corrin, Wyn and Kei watched the rising sun as it peaked over the horizon, but their captain had yet to turn back up after the previous night.

“He said he had some business to take care of right?” Corrin asked.

Kei nodded. “That’s what he said.”

“I mean he’s not exactly late,” Wyn shrugged. “We said shortly after sunrise.”

“Yeah but like, what is he doing?”

No one had an answer for that one. It was Kei who spoke next.

“And he didn't return last night either?”

Wyn shook his head.

“I’d bet he’s passed out in a bar somewhere,” Corrin mused. “Two copper on it.”

Kei hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll bet three there’s a woman involved.”

“First pick of rations for the next week says he’s out wasting money,” Wyn threw out.

“I’ll take those odds.”

“Yeah that sounds good to me.”

Betting pool established, they settled in, half-expecting Ven to come stumbling across the docks any second. But the docks remained quiet. The sun inched higher. Corrin shifted, arms crossed, foot tapping idly against the saddle. He was about to suggest upping the stakes when he heard footsteps echo down the wooden planks.

Wyn inhaled sharply, and Corrin turned to see what he’d seen.

It was Nereus. The mage adjusted his glasses as he looked up at Wyn. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. They watched each other for several seconds before Wyn broke the silence.

“Why are you here?”

Nereus hesitated, adjusting his glasses with a wince. “I understand you’re about to leave?”

Wyn nodded. Corrin watched his friend’s tight expression with some apprehension. Wyn knew the mage better than Corrin did, he’d worked with him over the last two weeks. If he was reacting like this…

Corrin’s eyes shifted to Kei. Though the saddle blocked her view of Nereus and vice versa, she watched Wyn as he spoke with the mage. Her body wasn’t as relaxed as it had been, but she didn’t seem to freeze like she had before.

“In that case,” the mage continued. “I implore you to come with me, just for a short while.”

“My time working for you is over,” Wyn said dryly.

“I am aware of the altercation that occurred after the battle. But I had no involvement in it.”

“Before I go anywhere with you, answer this: What do you feel towards Nladians?”

The mage was quiet for a moment. His lips twitched, and he looked down towards his feet before speaking softly. “Nothing that I am proud of.”

Wyn’s grip tightened on the edge of the saddle.

“But this has nothing to do with my own shortcomings.” He looked back up. “Regardless of my own feelings, when you see Miss Kei, please relay my apologies for my colleagues' behavior. For now though, you must come with me.”

Wyn exhaled slowly, staring down as if the answer lay somewhere on the worn leather of the saddle. Finally, he lifted his gaze, meeting Corrin’s with an unspoken question. But Corrin merely shrugged. He turned to Kei next.

She met his eyes and smiled.

Wyn nodded and stood up, “I’ll be back.” He leapt from the saddle and down onto the docks.

Wyn moved like he always did, steady and sure. But to Corrin, he looked just a little heavier than before—like he was carrying something he hadn’t figured out how to put down.

Corrin thought about Tor.

He knew the feeling.

***

Of all the places Wyn had thought the mage might take him, he hadn’t expected the skiff. The floating ship was mostly unscathed after the battle, the only signs of battle were some scratches on the deck, and differently-colored wood in sections that had to be replaced.

“What are we doing here?” Wyn asked, looking around the empty deck.

Nereus sighed. His face was tired, and he looked years older than he normally did. He took the wooden staff off of his back, running his fingers over the aged, curving wood. The leather bag which usually bound the top tightly was gone, and the wooden chimes clacked together as it moved. “You have a deal yet unfinished. Tor refuses to hold to his end of it. I’ll ensure it’s seen through to its conclusion.”

His gaze carried up, and Wyn followed his eyes to a point on the deck where a series of overlapping and concentric circles had been drawn onto the wood. His eyes widened as he recognized them, from a time that felt so distant, though it had only been two weeks.

“I see…” He hesitated.

“Though it seems you bear me some animosity, some of which is no doubt merited, do not let it prevent you from claiming what you seek.”

Wyn stepped towards the circle, wondering if it would be like the last time. Or perhaps it would be more like what he’d done with Tor, pain that revealed the world. He felt he was close, very close. The training had not only helped with his ability to sense mana, but spirit fire as well. In the moment, he’d been able to grasp his bonds with the lift spirits, even if only for a short time. Despite his mood, he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from picking up.

His foot crossed the threshold. He felt nothing.

Then, the circle lit up.

The lines of white chalk that ringed him began to glow, not brightly, but just enough that he could see it in the morning light. He heard Nereus begin to chant, and when he turned to look, he saw the tip of the mage’s staff glowing white as well.

Focus. Eia whispered into his mind. Take deep breaths, and let our blessing subside.

Wyn nodded towards the spirit, hovering in the air only a few feet away. Then, he closed his eyes. In his chest, he could see spirit fire roaring defiantly, burning the mana he couldn’t sense. He couldn’t stop it any less than he could pass out by holding his breath. But he could dampen it, reduce the flames just a bit. He could hold them down, and let some mana pass beyond.

As he did, he looked deeper, inwards, searching for the part of him that hurt when it was flooded with Tor’s mana. There was something else within him that pressed against the mana outside. It was a part of him, always had been, from the time when spirit fire had been only embers—no, even before then, though it had been too weak to notice.

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But no matter how large the lake, clear water was invisible while it was still.

Mana crushed him from all sides, and he felt the familiar weight of spirit fire holding it back in his mind. The weight grew and grew, and he willed the spirit fire lower. His thoughts grew fuzzy as he slid towards unconsciousness. And mana broke through the spirit fire.

A ripple spread through his soul—like a stone cast into water. Wyn let it envelop him, rushing through his body. He didn’t try to grasp it, he just… felt. And as the sensation spread within him, he knew. It would be there when he returned—waiting.

The world behind his eyes grew blacker still, and Wyn let his consciousness drift away with the current.

***

He came to a moment later, the back of his head throbbing.

“Apologies,” Nereus said. “I wasn't thinking.”

“It's fine, I should've sat down.” Wyn slowly rose from the deck, and when he reached inside, searching for the presence he had sensed time and again for the past two weeks—he found it.

Power—his aura. Not like his blessing, or spells, but something he'd cultivated over eight years of training, something he could feel. It was quiet, like a tranquil pond, waiting to be used. He could see it, though he wasn’t sure why—Corrin had said he could only feel it at first.

“Well?” The mage asked. “Can you…” He trailed off, though Wyn wasn’t paying attention to him. He was watching his aura. He tried to pull it into his hand.

It moved sluggishly, just as Corrin had warned—more like thick mud than the flowing water he had expected. Instead of his hand, he pooled it in his legs, waiting the several long seconds it took for the power to respond.

He took a step and almost tripped, but as he started burning spirit fire, he quickly adjusted. He sped up, bounding across the deck, faster than he’d ever been able before. The movement wasn’t explosive like Corrin had described—it was smooth, like a deer, effortless.

With each step, he could feel the power draining away, and he slowed, losing his mental grip on his aura. He stopped back where he’d started, and noticed that no new mana came in with the air. He sighed, having expected as much. Spirit fire burnt away mana, but not his own aura, which would refill slowly on its own.

“It would seem we were successful.” Nereus said.

Wyn glanced over at the mage, who was smiling faintly. “Yeah.”

The smile faded, but Nereus continued, reaching into his robes and pulling out a collection of papers. He held them out to Wyn. “Here, you’ll need these.”

Wyn took the papers and sifted through them. They were covered in diagrams of the human body, with lines running through them, up and down various limbs. It took a moment, but he soon realized what they were.

“For my channels,” his eyes widened.

“You’ll need a guide to follow.” Nereus nodded. “I drew these up based on the military standard, with a few accommodations for your… circumstances. The method is simple, condense as much aura as you can, and move it along the path you want. You must repeat the process thousands, tens of thousands of times, perhaps even more. But slowly, you’ll bore the channels into your soul—more effective pathways for your aura to travel. Do your eye channels last—they’re the most delicate. Best to start with your legs and work up from there to get better at it.”

Wyn met the mage’s eyes. Nereus adjusted his glasses and glanced away. Finally, Wyn lowered his head.

“Thank you.”

Nereus sniffed. “I’m simply holding to our end of the bargain. Thank you for your work the past week. Should we meet in the capital someday, I hope you’ll think to update me on your progress.”

He held out a hand. Wyn stared at it.

“Nereus. You once told me a mage’s loom must hold a personal meaning, didn’t you?”

Nereus’s brow furrowed. “Yes. That is true.”

“What would that be… for your chimes?”

The mage’s fingers recoiled. He was silent.

“Please,” Wyn asked. He looked into the mage’s eyes, trying to see past them, towards what lay within. What was there? “I have to know.”

“I—it’s not…” Nereus sighed. He removed his glasses and looked over Wyn’s shoulder, out into the grass sea. His gaze was distant, like he could see a world that Wyn could not.

“When I was a boy, my mother and I would sit in our garden and listen to the birds. She knew them all by sound—never had to see them to know what they were. It always amazed me.” He took a breath. “But hearing loss runs in her side of the family. As the years went on, she started losing hers. We still sat in the garden when I visited. She had filled it with wooden chimes, just like these, so she could still hear something in the wind. She never complained, never wanted pity, but she missed the songs of the birds in the morning. She told me that often.

Four years ago, she passed away. If I could take the birds—their song with me, I would. But I cannot, so these chimes will have to do.”

The mage wiped his eyes, and the chimes clacked together as he did.

Wyn didn’t offer condolences—they would have felt hollow. But he could accept it now. He reached out and took the mage’s hand, clasping it firmly. “I’ll use what you’ve taught me. That’s all I can say.”

Nereus looked at his hand, then up to Wyn’s face. He smiled, though Wyn didn’t reciprocate. “May your journey be swift and safe. I will be wishing for your success.”

They parted ways, and Wyn’s brief apprenticeship concluded. Teacher or student, both still had plenty to learn.

***

By the time Wyn got back to the ship, Ven still hadn’t arrived. Corrin looked over the saddle as his friend returned.

“So what was that all about?”

“Not much,” Wyn had his hands in his pockets as he leapt up to the saddle. “Just learned how to feel my aura is all.”

Corrin grinned. “Really?” He clapped him on the back. “That’s what I’m talking about! Welcome to the club!”

Kei nodded. “Congratulations, you’ve been working hard haven’t you?”

Wyn brushed past the comments, looking around the saddle. “Ven’s still not here?”

“Nope,” Corrin said dryly. “Should we be getting worried?”

“Well he’s officially late now,” Kei commented. “So I’m chewing him out when he gets here.”

Corrin and Wyn muttered in agreement, and another ten minutes or so passed. The sun finally cleared the horizon.

Corrin was digging through his pack, and he came across something he’d almost forgotten about. “Oh that’s right! Wyn we’ve got—”

“What the hell?” Kei interrupted, looking back towards town.

Corrin slid over to the edge of the saddle, squinting. A lone figure barreled down the docks, legs pumping furiously. Behind him was a mob of angry men, shouting and jeering as they chased him. And then Corrin’s eyes adjusted. “Wait… is that—

Ven, the man with the blessing of hawk’s sight, one of the best captains on The Grass Sea, was sprinting down the docks towards them.

And he was stripped down to his underwear.

He had a good twenty second lead, and as he got closer he screamed. “Throw down the ladder!”

Corrin blinked. Then scrambled into motion, tossing the rope ladder over the side of the saddle. Ven flung himself onto it, scampering up the side like a desperate rat.

“Ven what the hells?” Kei shouted.

He ignored her and dashed across Siensa’s back, snatched his rod, and tapped the spot on her shell he used to control her.

The veldstrider jerked into motion, almost sending Corrin off the edge as they lurched away from the docks, just in time. The angry mob pooled at the edge, rough looking men, some with scarred faces, and some holding knives, shouting curses up at the strider. Corrin heard a couple of voices.

“Give me my damn money!”

“This diamond is fake!”

“You said all your clothes!”

“Who goes all in with that hand?”

Ven strutted to the saddle, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed, “Nice try, you cheating sons of—”

A rock hit him square in the face.

“Take that you bastard!”

Ven dove to the ground. “Take cover!”

The projectile rain began, rocks, fruits, vegetables, anything the angry people could find. Corrin slapped one of the fruits aside, then realized that was a waste and caught the next one.

All three of them looked at Ven, almost naked, shivering in the cold, and covering his head as they got further and further from the docks, soon passing out of range.

Wyn’s shoulders trembled once, his face slowly unfreezing. He stifled a chuckle. Corrin and Kei were not so generous, and the two of them began to howl with laughter.

“Talk about throwing away your pride!” Corrin jeered, he wasn’t even mad.

Kei could barely breathe, and her eyes were tearing up. “Did you run out of money and start gambling your clothes?”

Ven realized the projectile rain had stopped, and he slowly got up, looking between the three of them. The wind blew, he shivered.

The world stopped for no one. The birds would continue to sing, whether they could be heard or not.

As laughter rang out over the sea, Corrin wrapped his arm around Wyn’s shoulder. Their eyes met.

We’re here, right now. And that’s all that matters.

Wyn looked down at the saddle. He smiled. After another moment, laughter bubbled its way up from his chest.

“Gambling. That’s a waste of money. I win.”

The four travelers left Estin behind.