CHAPTER 4

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The morning of my training began like any other, with the cold bite of dawn and the rhythmic sounds of the forest stirring to life. But today, something was different. The air felt heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath. I had waited for this moment for what felt like an eternity, and now it was finally here.

The hermit stood at the edge of the clearing, his back to me, staring into the dense trees beyond. I approached him slowly, unsure of what to expect. My heart was racing, but I kept my face calm, determined to show no fear or hesitation.

"Are you ready?" His voice cut through the quiet morning like a sharp blade.

"Yes." I forced the word out, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine for any trace of doubt. "Once you begin, there is no turning back. You need to understand that magic is not something you can dabble in. It will demand everything from you."

"I know," I said, my voice stronger now. "I'm ready."

The hermit studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. "Follow me."

We walked in silence through the forest, the thick canopy above casting long shadows across the forest floor. The air was cool, and the scent of damp earth filled my nose. I tried to keep my focus, but questions swirled in my mind. What would the training be like? How long would it take? And more importantly, would I be strong enough to learn what I needed to kill the demon?

After what felt like hours, we reached a small clearing I had never seen before. It was circular, almost unnaturally perfect, with a large stone slab at its center. The trees around it seemed to lean inward, as if they were guarding something ancient and powerful.

The hermit stepped forward, gesturing for me to stay back. "This place is sacred," he said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "The Flow here is strong. It’s where I began my own journey."

I glanced around, feeling the weight of the place settle over me. There was something about the clearing—something alive. The air hummed with energy, and I could feel it vibrating beneath my skin.

The hermit turned to me, his face solemn. "Sit."

I did as he asked, sitting cross-legged on the ground near the stone slab. The cool earth beneath me sent a shiver up my spine, but I ignored it, focusing on the hermit as he knelt beside me.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. "Feel the earth, the air, the trees around you. Listen to the forest. Let it become part of you."

I closed my eyes, doing my best to follow his instructions. At first, all I could hear was my own breathing, the rush of my thoughts, and the hammering of my heart. But gradually, as I let myself sink into the moment, I began to hear more—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird, the soft whisper of the wind.

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"Good," the hermit’s voice was barely a whisper now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the balance of the place. "The Aetheric Flow is all around us. It connects every living thing. Feel for it. It’s subtle at first, but it’s there. Flowing like a river beneath the surface."

I inhaled deeply, trying to sense it, trying to reach out with something beyond my physical body. At first, it was difficult. My mind kept wandering, slipping back to my own worries, my own desires. But then, just when I thought I might never grasp it, I felt something—a faint tingling, like static, just at the edge of my awareness.

"There," I whispered, not even sure if it was real or my imagination.

"Yes," the hermit said, his voice soft but urgent. "Now focus on it. Follow it. Let it guide you."

I did as he said, honing in on the sensation. It was faint, like trying to hold onto smoke, but it was there. The more I focused, the stronger it became, pulsing gently beneath the surface of the earth, the air, even my own body.

Suddenly, the tingling intensified, and I gasped as a surge of energy rushed through me. It was overwhelming, almost painful, like trying to hold onto lightning. My heart pounded in my chest, and my muscles tensed as the energy flowed through me, wild and untamed.

"Control it!" the hermit barked, his voice sharp now. "Do not let it control you!"

I tried. I fought to keep the energy from slipping away, to bend it to my will, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. The power coursed through me, too strong, too wild. Panic clawed at my chest as I felt myself losing control, the energy threatening to tear me apart from the inside.

"I can’t—" I choked out, my voice tight with fear.

"Yes, you can!" The hermit’s voice was relentless, cutting through the chaos in my mind. "You must! Or it will destroy you!"

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to focus, to pull the energy back, to rein it in. Slowly, agonizingly, I began to wrestle control of the power surging through me. It fought me, resisting at every turn, but I refused to give in. I couldn’t.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the energy began to calm, settling into a steady pulse, still powerful, but no longer wild and dangerous. I exhaled shakily, my entire body trembling with the effort.

The hermit watched me silently for a moment, then nodded. "Good," he said quietly. "You did well."

I sagged back onto the ground, gasping for breath, sweat dripping down my face. I had done it. I had felt the Flow, tapped into its power, and I had survived. But the experience had left me shaken, humbled. This was only the beginning, and already, I could feel how dangerous it was.

The hermit knelt beside me, his expression serious. "Now you understand," he said. "Magic is not something you can force. It’s not something you can take. It’s something you must work with. You must find balance."

I nodded, too exhausted to speak. But I understood now. This was more than just power—it was a force of nature, something ancient and uncontrollable. And if I wasn’t careful, it would destroy me.

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The following days were grueling. Every morning, I returned to the clearing, and the hermit guided me through the same exercises—tapping into the Flow, controlling it, bending it to my will. Each time was a little easier, but the strain was still immense. My body ached, and my mind felt stretched thin, but I kept pushing forward. I had to. This was the only way I could become strong enough to face the demon.

The hermit’s lessons became more complex as well. He began teaching me about the different aspects of magic—the elements, the threads of life, and how each one was woven into the Flow. He taught me how to manipulate fire, water, earth, and air, how to use the energy of the world to shape the forces around me.

But he also warned me—again and again—not to lose myself in the power. "The Flow is not yours to command," he said one evening as we sat by the fire. "It is a gift, a responsibility. Abuse it, and it will take everything from you."

I listened, but deep down, a part of me still yearned for more. I wanted to master the power, to control it fully. To wield it without fear. I needed that strength if I was going to kill the demon. And I would. No matter the cost.