The morning sun filtered gently through the window of the Elarnia kitchen, casting soft, golden light across the table where Maeve was setting out breakfast. The aroma of fresh bread and warm porridge filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of herbs that Jiro had left drying by the hearth. Luther sat eagerly at the table, his face bright with excitement as he watched his mother place a steaming bowl in front of him.

“Thank you, Mama!” he said cheerfully, picking up his spoon and taking a hearty bite. The warmth of the porridge spread through him, and he couldn’t help but glance over at his father, his heart brimming with anticipation for what the day would bring.

Maeve chuckled, noticing his eager glances toward Jiro. “Someone’s ready for the day,” she said, giving him a playful nudge. “Is that the same boy who looked half-asleep only minutes ago?”

Luther grinned, sheepish but too excited to deny it. “Dada’s going to teach me how to feel the energy,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “I mean, I can feel it a little, but… Dada says there’s a way to really sense it. I can’t wait!”

Jiro, sitting across from him, gave a quiet nod, his eyes warm with pride. “It’s a special gift to feel that energy, Luther,” he said softly. “But learning to understand it, to know where it flows and how it connects—that takes practice, patience, and respect.”

Maeve smiled as she buttered a piece of bread for Luther. “And it’s important to start the day with a full belly,” she said, placing the bread on his plate with a wink. “You’ll need all the energy you can get!”

Luther nodded eagerly, taking a big bite and savoring the comforting warmth of his mother’s cooking. The meal passed in a lively mix of chatter and laughter as they shared small stories from the village, Maeve recounting a tale of a runaway goat from the day before and Jiro sharing gentle reminders about respecting the earth. Luther listened intently, feeling that his parents’ words were not just stories but small lessons wrapped in warmth and love.

As he finished his last bite, he placed his spoon down, his excitement barely contained. “I’m ready, Dada!” he said, his eyes shining.

Jiro smiled, standing and placing a steady hand on Luther’s shoulder. “Then let’s go,” he said, his voice calm but filled with purpose. “Today, you’ll learn to listen to the world’s quietest song.”

Maeve gave Luther an encouraging hug before they left, her voice full of pride. “Remember, Luther,” she whispered, “patience and care. The world will reveal its secrets when you’re ready to hear them.”

With that, Jiro and Luther stepped outside, the morning light soft and inviting as they began the short walk to the fields, where Luther’s first true lesson awaited.

The morning light softened as Jiro led Luther deeper into the field, away from the village and its noise, until they reached a small patch where wildflowers dotted the grass. Luther glanced up at his father, his young face alight with both excitement and impatience.

“Dada, what exactly are we doing today?” he asked, already eager to feel the gentle hum of energy he had begun to notice in the world around him.

Jiro knelt down beside him, a quiet smile playing on his lips. “Today,” he began, his voice low and calm, “I want you to feel the web of energy that connects everything here—this earth, the flowers, the stones, you, and me.” He gestured gently to the ground beneath them, where tiny blossoms swayed in the soft breeze. “And then, I want you to try to make a connection yourself”

Luther nodded, already closing his eyes as he reached out with his senses, feeling for the gentle hum he knew well. But this time, instead of passively letting it flow through him, he tried to push himself outward, to consciously grasp for the connections his father spoke of, to find where the threads of energy met and intertwine.

He concentrated hard, imagining his awareness stretching out from him, trying to reach for the hidden web that he knew was there. But as he reached, it felt like the energy pulled away, slipping just beyond his grasp, fading the harder he tried to touch it. It felt like trying to hold onto water—every time he reached, it flowed between his fingers.

Frowning, Luther scrunched his face, his brow creasing as he strained to connect with it, willing himself to be part of the web. But each attempt only left him feeling more disconnected, as if he were pushing the energy away instead of drawing closer to it.

“Dada,” he murmured in frustration, his eyes still squeezed shut, “I… I can’t do it. I’m trying to connect, but it keeps slipping away.”

Jiro placed a gentle hand on Luther’s shoulder, his touch grounding. “Open your eyes, Luther,” he said softly.

Luther opened his eyes, looking up with disappointment. “Why can’t I connect with it? I’m trying so hard, but… it feels like it’s running away from me.”

Jiro nodded, his gaze understanding. “That’s because the web of energy isn’t something we make or reach for,” he said gently. “It’s already here, woven around us, within us. We are already a part of it, even if we can’t always feel it.”

Luther looked at him, confused. “But if it’s already here… then why can’t I feel it?”

Jiro smiled, taking a slow, deep breath. “Sometimes, when we try too hard, we lose sight of what’s right in front of us,” he explained. He placed his hand on the ground, letting his fingers rest gently on the earth. “Instead of reaching, try to listen to the connections that are already there. The energy isn’t something separate from us. It’s in everything, and it flows through us naturally, like a river flows through its banks.”

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Luther looked down, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He rested his hands on the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath his fingertips. This time, instead of stretching his senses outward, he softened his focus, letting himself settle, simply being.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to notice the gentle warmth he had felt before, but now it felt more like an invitation than something he had to grasp. He could feel a faint thread of energy pulsing beneath his hands, connecting him to the earth, to the flowers, even to his father beside him. It was like a gentle glow, a quiet rhythm that bound them all together. There was no need to create or reach—only to be present with it.

A quiet sense of wonder began to fill him as he realized he was already part of this web. It wasn’t something he had to make or pull close; it was simply there, and all he had to do was notice it.

Jiro watched him with a calm smile, sensing the shift in his son’s focus. “You see?” he murmured. “The web is always there. And when we quiet ourselves enough to listen, it reveals itself. We don’t need to force a connection, because we are already connected.”

Luther’s face softened, the earlier frustration melting away as he let himself rest within that gentle flow, feeling the hum of life all around him. The energy no longer felt distant or slippery; it was as natural as his own breath, as constant as the heartbeat within his chest.

After a long moment, Luther looked up at his father, a quiet smile on his face. “I… I didn’t have to reach for it, did I?” he whispered. “I just had to… be with it.”

Jiro nodded, his eyes warm. “Exactly,” he said. “The web of energy is always there, even when we don’t feel it. It connects us to everything and everyone. The key is not to try and pull it closer, but to remember that it is already part of who we are.”

Luther’s heart felt light, the sense of connection filling him with a quiet strength. He closed his eyes again, this time without any pressure, and simply let himself be. The energy flowed around him, through him, like gentle threads woven into every part of him.

And as he sat with his father in the quiet field, he understood, for the first time, what it meant to truly be part of the world’s hidden web—a gift that was as natural as breathing, as close as his own heartbeat.

The breeze continued to dance lightly with Luther’s energy, bending the grass in a soft, rippling wave around him. His face lit up with excitement, his senses fully attuned to the delicate pulse of the air. Feeling the thrill of connection, he reached out again, inviting the breeze to join him in a deeper movement, letting it swirl just a little stronger. He could feel the hum around him intensify, filling him with warmth and lightness, almost as if he were a part of the breeze itself.

But as the wind picked up slightly, shifting in response to his invitation, a heavy fatigue began to settle over him, creeping in from the edges of his awareness. He tried to ignore it, focusing harder on keeping the breeze moving, but with each passing second, his hands felt heavier, his breathing more labored, as if all his strength were seeping out of him and into the air.

After a few moments, the breeze faltered and fell still, and Luther’s shoulders slumped, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He placed a hand on the ground to steady himself, blinking rapidly as the world around him seemed to blur.

“D-Dada,” he whispered, his voice faint. “I feel… strange.”

Jiro was at his side in an instant, resting a steadying hand on his back. “It’s alright, Luther,” he murmured, his tone gentle. “Take a deep breath. You’ve used more energy than you realized.”

Luther tried to inhale, but the breath came weak and shallow, his chest rising with effort. He felt a heaviness in his limbs, like the ground was pulling him down, and a quiet fear flickered in his mind. “I… I can’t…” he stammered, his words trailing off as his vision swam.

Jiro placed a calm hand over Luther’s, anchoring him. “You’re alright,” he said softly, his voice a grounding force. “Close your eyes and breathe. Let your energy settle back into you.”

Luther nodded, swallowing hard as he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the lingering hum around him, a faint echo of the connection he’d made with the air, but now it felt distant, draining, like a thread he’d pulled too far. Slowly, he let go of the need to hold onto it, letting his senses withdraw from the breeze, feeling it slip away like water through his fingers.

As he pulled his energy back, the weight on his chest eased, and his breathing became steadier. His body felt heavier than before, but the dizziness faded, leaving behind a quiet emptiness—a hollow ache in the place where his energy had once been.

After a long moment, Luther opened his eyes, looking up at his father with a mixture of wonder and exhaustion. “I… I didn’t know it could make me feel like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jiro nodded, his expression both proud and understanding. “That’s because energy isn’t endless, especially for someone as young as you,” he explained. “When you connect with the web, it takes a part of you—a part of your strength. You must learn to balance it, to let some energy flow without giving away too much.”

Luther listened, a small frown creasing his brow. He hadn’t realized that connecting to the web could cost him so much. He’d thought only of the thrill, the beauty of making the world move with him. “So… I can’t just keep going?” he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Jiro shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. “Not all at once,” he replied. “It’s like carrying water. If you try to lift too much at once, you’ll spill it or tire out. But if you carry only what you need, you can go much further.” He rested a hand on Luther’s shoulder. “Using energy is a skill, just like anything else. You’ll learn to give only what’s needed, and to stop when you feel the strain.”

Luther looked down at his hands, feeling the dull ache still lingering in his bones. “I wanted to do more,” he murmured, half to himself, “but I didn’t know I’d get tired so fast.”

Jiro’s hand remained on his shoulder, steady and reassuring. “That’s part of the learning,” he said gently. “Today, you’ve felt what it’s like to connect, and you’ve learned what happens when you give too much. Both are important lessons.”

Luther looked up, a glint of determination flickering in his tired eyes. “Will it get easier, Dada?” he asked, his voice quiet but resolute.

Jiro nodded, his gaze warm. “Yes, with time and practice. The more you learn to listen, to balance, the easier it will become. But always remember, Luther: energy is a gift, something to be given carefully and sparingly. Respect it, and it will guide you.”

Luther nodded, his exhaustion softening into a quiet understanding. He could feel the weight of Jiro’s words settle within him, like another layer of the world’s gentle hum. He knew now that the web wasn’t just something he could call on at will—it was a partner, something to be treated with care and reverence.

As they made their way back toward the village, Luther leaned against his father’s side, his body weary but his heart full of a newfound respect. He could feel the rhythm of his own energy, steadying itself as he rested, and he understood that this gift was both powerful and delicate—a dance that he would spend a lifetime learning to master.