A Scrying Owl's screech shook down the darkness of the air; its low sounds were so precious that it sent shivers shaking through the silent shadows and whispered meaning unvoiced. The forest fowl chanted out the last word or two in farewell to light with soft goodnight to itself alone. Twilight stretched across earth's face, sapphire shadows mingling in pools of silvers.

Larin sat cross-legged on the ground outside his home, the soft hum of mana vibrating faintly in his lungs as he practiced the Sinlung breathing technique. Lessons of the day before churned in his mind. He always thought that Sinlung technique is drawing power from within, mastering one's own mana. But experience with Dryad and with land was already turning everything inside him over. Now it had all sunk into place within him-he would now know this aspect of him: the practice in the making wasn't apart from but fully interlocked with the land.

A deep, slow breath. Listen to the feelings in the air: cool earth beneath him, night wind whispering through the leaves, insects talking from a distance. The land did not just live, it was a part of him, and as he cared for it, he felt the mana flowing through it seem to resonate through his being all the harder. There was a kind of balance, a harmony he hadn't really known existed.

Dawn had barely cracked open when Larin was already awake. Soft, golden light filtered through the trees as he moved about the small kitchen, preparing a meal. The aroma of stewed smoked Glowhorn filled the air—a domesticated, mana-rich animal known for its luminescent antlers and tender meat. Larin added chopped lynchleaves and a sprinkling of duskfern, their earthy and slightly bitter notes complementing the smoky richness of the Glowhorn.

The noise of footsteps caught his attention as Moimui entered the doorway, a look of surprise and curiosity crossing her face. "You're up early," she said, tilting her head.

Larin smiled, stirring the pot one last time before setting it aside to cool. "I thought I'd make breakfast for you and Father. You're always up before me, so I figured it was time I returned the favor.".

Moimui's lips curved into a soft smile. "It smells wonderful. Glowhorn stew?"

"With a touch of duskfern," Larin confirmed, gesturing for her to sit.

Zakop entered shortly after, his boots lightly dusted with dirt from the early morning air. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the meal. "Cooking now, are we? Looks like someone's been inspired."

Larin laughed, ladling portions into clay bowls. "I figured it was about time to start paying back the investment on the people who always invest on me.".

The three of them had sat together amidst the quietness of the early morning, interrupted only by a clinking against bowls and perhaps the chirps of birds passing by outside their window. Stories of their growing years were interspersed during the telling between Moimui and Zakop, with talks about the hardships of the place. Larin listened intently, absorbing it all.

The walk was quiet, the way winding through groves and fields kissed by the morning dew. The farmers bore with them the scent of new earth and the faint sweetness of flowering blooms. And when they arrived at the plot, Larin paused to see the view. And down the rows of crops, their leaves shimmering in sunlight, the ground beneath them was rich and dark, testifying to husbandry.

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Zakop knelt by a row of ferrowseed grass, the weeds being pulled out to threaten encroachment on crops with a dexterity that was almost uncanny. "The land speaks, Larin," he said, his voice steady. "You just have to know how to listen.".

Moimui stood there, tending to a clump of Redsprout trees. Her fingers stroked across the barked tubes, light but sure. "The trees don't just grow-they watch, they feel. When you care for them, they remember. And when the time comes, they'll care for you.".

He watched them, slowing his steps so that everything is observed at this new slowed-down pace of his: the crumbling soil falling between Zakop's fingers; the minute, casual way the leaves of the Redsprout had drifted to shade; the hovering hum of flying insects between bloom and bloom. He squats down on haunches near a bed of duskveil spores to watch the tiny fine mist as it comes pouring from them. It shivered faintly in the air, creating an almost-balanced humidity that cradled the plants around it.

For hours, Larin worked with his parents, sinking his hands into the earth as he helped tend the crops. They rarely spoke, but the silence between them was full of the sounds of the land. Sometimes, Moimui would remark on a gentle interaction—a Shimmer Serpent curled around the trunk of a tree, sending shafts of light dancing upon the leaves surrounding it, or a pair of Skybeetles zipping between blossoms, their wings humming with mana. Larin started to sense the intricate web of life that bound everything around him.

He sat beneath a Redsprout tree, meditating until midday. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing, letting the rhythm of the land guide him. The mana around him felt different now, less like a resource to be drawn upon and more like a living river, flowing through everything. He thought of the Sinlung breathing technique, how it emphasized harmony within oneself. But here, surrounded by life, he realized it could be so much more.

His breathing slowed and deepened. He started experimenting, subtly changing the flow of mana within him. He envisioned it not as something separated from the land but as an extension of it. Every breath was taking in the energy of the earth, the trees, the insects, and the air and merging that with his own mana before exhaling it back.

It was immediate. His senses clarified as the noises of the forest amplified and the odors became more profound. He could feel the subtle thrum of life beneath his fingertips, the pounding rhythm of the very earth.

Moimui stood back and watched him, a smile on her lips that made it hard to judge. "He's beginning to grasp it," she whispered.

Zakop nodded, his jaw quivering, full of pride. "The earth has always been the greatest teacher of all. He's only now paying attention.".

The sun dipped towards the horizon as Larin rose slowly to his feet. He looked alive with bright ideas, and new connections just started pouring forth. He had come to grasp the interlocking of life with mana; indeed, the pattern of the elements interlocked without seams or rifts. Lightning struck his thought with the very idea: this realization so poignant that it briefly left him for breathless.

He smiled at his parents. "I think I can perfect the Sinlung breathing technique," he said, his voice steady but full of excitement.

Moimui and Zakop exchanged a look. Both their faces had an air of curiosity and pride.

"Then you have work to do," Zakop said. "The earth has given you its secrets. Now it's your turn to give back.".

Larin nodded with a pounding heartbeat. He wouldn't have had all the pieces together yet but felt he stood closer than any time before now. The truths that the earth showed him; he was challenged to honor and celebrate them within his own veins. The possibilites ran open and broad like an endless horizon there waiting to be discovered.