I

Runa opened her right eye at the sound of creaking floorboards and the off-kilter steps of someone approaching her. Her tail feathers twitched slightly. In an amused tone, she spoke, "You have some nerve leaving me with that child."

An older man's voice chimed back. "You were more equipped to handle his ‘condition.’"

Runa scoffed. "I'm not just some tool you can use to avoid your responsibility. After all, I didn’t come here to train that child."

Agnar approached the couch where Runa had nestled herself, slumping down beside her. He spoke in a soft tone, "He needs your help, Runa. Whatever that darkness is..." He paused, looking at his tightly bandaged arm, dried blood stains dotting the wrappings. "That darkness is beyond my abilities," his voice shook with fear.

Runa’s small head perked up. "Is that fear I hear? The great Soul Bishop of Victory reduced to a cowardly mess? Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she mocked.

Agnar sighed, glancing over at Runa’s small, bird-like frame. "I know it's pathetic. Even so, you've seen that darkness inside of him. It’s pure evil. It’s…" Agnar choked on his words. "It’s truly terrifying. That darkness consumes the soul. When I tried to use Soul Rend, it chewed up my arm, but it also began eating my soul. I could feel that black soul energy inside me… It felt like I was staring death in the face." Agnar’s face grew pale as he recounted the experience.

Runa picked herself up and hopped into Agnar’s lap, placing one of her bird-like claws on his bandaged arm. "I cannot heal the damage your soul sustained, but I can at least heal your flesh." A bright green glow flowed from Runa’s foot. The bandages on Agnar’s arm burned away with green flames as strands of green soul energy emerged. Like fine threads, they wove together, stitching his wounds closed with methodical precision. The flesh knit back together, leaving no sign of scarring behind. Runa retracted her soul energy and jumped back into her warm spot, plumping herself down.

Agnar let out a faint smile. "Looks like I owe you."

Runa sighed. "You owe me more than you could even comprehend."

Agnar scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Yeah, you’re right about that."

They both stared into the fire, watching the flames dance. For what felt like an eternity, silence filled the room. Then, Runa spoke in a flat tone, "I'll help train the child."

Agnar perked up. "Really?!"

Runa cut him off. "Under one condition."

Agnar blinked, his expression growing serious. "What’s the condition?"

Runa’s voice was grave. "If he loses control of that power, I’ll kill him."

Agnar was caught off guard, his breath hitching for a moment. Slowly, he leaned toward the fire, clenching his hands tightly. "I accept," he said, his words defeated but resolute. He understood.

Runa nodded. "Good. Now, did you at least teach the child how to control his soul energy?"

Agnar looked over at Runa with an awkward smile before stuttering, "Well, I… uh… no."

Runa gave Agnar a very annoyed look before ferociously pecking his ribs, flapping her wings. "You idiot! Why are you so incompetent?!" she yelled between squawks.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Agnar yelped.

Runa finally settled back down with an annoyed huff. Agnar clutched his side, grumbling, "I almost forgot how much that hurts… Poor Tyr."

Runa spoke plainly. "I won't deny the boy has potential. He’s learned the basics of Soul Breathing. I’d even go so far as to say he mastered the fundamentals in a single day. Even so, he has a lot to learn."

Agnar smirked. "So, he did impress you."

Runa shot back, "I didn’t say that. All I said is that he has potential."

Agnar’s smirk widened. "You don’t have to pretend. We both know the boy will surpass even me. He may even surpass you."

Runa did not laugh. "As if. Surpassing you is barely an achievement. Reaching your level would be like stepping over a small hill. But surpassing me? That would be like climbing a mountain."

Agnar’s eyebrow twitched. "Well, someone thinks highly of themselves."

Runa ruffled her feathers regally. "Of course. I may be stuck in this form, but I can assure you, I am still quite formidable."

Agnar chuckled as he pushed himself up from the couch, leaving a deep imprint behind. "Hey, Runa… thanks again for coming."

Runa waved off his gratitude. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it."

Agnar smiled as he made his way toward his room, gently closing the door behind him. Runa remained on the couch, staring into the fire. In a whisper, she murmured, "I just hope you are strong enough to do what must be done in the end."

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the flames illuminating her beautiful white feathers.

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II

The following day, Tyr sat on the dirt in anticipation, with Agnar and Runa gathered in front of him. They were in the familiar dirt patch from the day before. The sun began to creep up from behind the forest, its morning rays painting the field in hues of orange and yellow. A calm, brisk morning air chilled the area, everything stiff and unmoving like a scene trapped in time.

Agnar spoke first, disrupting the serenity. "Runa filled me in on your progress. She says you managed to master the basic principles of Soul Breathing." Agnar looked pleased, his tone becoming cheerful. "You did well." A smile grew on his face.

Tyr’s face lit up at Agnar’s acknowledgment. "Thanks!" A big smile spread across his face, then he paused, asking inquisitively, "What’s Soul Breathing?"

Runa’s eyes narrowed as her gaze shot toward Agnar. Agnar noticed her reaction and let out an audible nervous chuckle—just before Runa delivered a painful, sharp peck to his ankle, flapping her wings furiously and squawking in disappointment.

Agnar instinctively moved his leg. "Ow! Okay, I may have forgotten to tell him what it was called."

Tyr let out a chuckle of amusement, then poked fun at Agnar. "Doesn’t feel good, does it?"

Runa quickly turned to Tyr with an intent that made him freeze. Seeing the look in her eyes, he quickly pulled back, sealing his lips to avoid her fierce pecks, recalling the throbbing pain in his forehead from before.

Agnar then collected himself and spoke instructively. "Soul Breathing is the form I taught you. It’s how people learn to draw out their soul energy. However, using that soul energy is a completely different principle." He began pacing back and forth, continuing his lesson. "The next step will be much more difficult. While maintaining your Soul Breathing, you must visualize your soul energy internally and picture channeling it into the blade of wheat. You want to generate a stable and healthy flow. If your Soul Breathing falters even slightly, you will fail. Do you understand?"

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Tyr stared up at him blankly, confusion filling his eyes. "Not really."

Agnar sighed. "While Soul Breathing, picture your energy flowing into the blade of wheat."

Tyr nodded cockily, then exclaimed, "That sounds easy."

Agnar shook his head in disappointment and mumbled under his breath, "He’s going to regret saying that."

Tyr assumed the Soul Breathing form while picturing the wheat in his mind, painting vivid details of it. Confirming what he needed to do, Tyr thought, I just need to picture a flow of soul energy into the wheat. That sounds easy! He focused on the wheat, and his outward appearance began to radiate a brilliant blue hue. The edges of his blue aura began to vibrate violently, forming jagged peaks like a saw blade. Runa and Agnar examined his aura with piercing eyes, determining the flow and structure of his soul’s energy.

Poof!

The blade of wheat in Tyr’s hands exploded instantly into particles of chaff and dust. Tyr looked down at his hands and muttered in annoyance, "This is what happened yesterday." He sounded defeated.

Agnar scratched his chin. "Do you know why the wheat exploded?"

Tyr shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "No." He paused, reflecting. "I visualized the wheat and pictured my soul energy flowing into it, and then it did that." He frowned at the particles of chaff littering the dirt.

Agnar gently grabbed two blades of wheat, cutting them at the base and placing one in front of Runa. "I want you to watch our soul energy."

Runa picked up the wheat in her beak and proceeded to glow with a litany of colors. Her soul energy was dim and faint, the peaks flat and slow-moving, like a viscous liquid. Agnar’s, however, was fiercely energized, overflowing and rampant. The yellow hue of his aura was blindingly bright, and sharp, jagged peaks rippled around it, slicing the air violently. Runa’s blade of wheat slowly turned black and withered, while Agnar’s grew rapidly, fractures spreading through the stem before it exploded violently into a cloud of chaff and dust.

Agnar then spoke in a questioning tone. "What did you notice?"

Tyr took a second to examine the events in his mind. Agnar’s exploded and Runa’s withered… but they were both Soul Breathing. Wait! His mind lit up as he reached a conclusion. He blurted out proudly, "Your soul energy was rough and violent, and Runa’s was weak and boring."

Agnar looked at Tyr. "Exactly!" he said enthusiastically. "Even though we were both maintaining our Soul Breathing, our Soul Flow was either too weak or too strong." He paused, letting Tyr absorb the information before continuing. "This leads to the second principle of soul manipulation: you must be able to control the flow of your soul’s energy. And in your case, you’re letting out too much soul energy."

Tyr spoke up curiously. "So I just need to limit the amount of soul energy I’m releasing?"

Agnar nodded in agreement. Tyr’s eyes lit up, and a flicker of determination filled his face and posture. Runa wiggled her tail feathers and gave an affirmative squawk.

Tyr resumed his Soul Breathing, picturing the wheat in his mind, studying its physical details—its shape, its grains, its imperfections. His soul energy began to flow rapidly, and he slowly started to restrict its flow. On the outside, Agnar and Runa watched intently as Tyr’s soul energy grew violent and jagged, an intense blue light radiating from his small frame. They both squinted, expecting the wheat to rupture and explode. Then, slowly, Tyr’s soul energy surrounding his body began to dim, turning dull and weak. The violent, jagged peaks flattened into slightly raised hills, and the energized nature of his aura slowed to a crawl. In his hands, the wheat started to turn black, rot creeping up the stem before it cracked and crumbled into a withered pile.

Tyr yelled in frustration. "Damn it! I thought I had it!"

He punched the dirt in frustration, leaving an imprint of his small fist. "I don’t get it. Why is this so difficult?"

Agnar raised his voice slightly, his tone commanding. "Calm down." Then, more gently, he added, "You still made progress." He sighed, attempting to comfort Tyr. "This part of training is difficult. It’s not something you can get on your first try."

Runa let out a dignified, bragging squawk. Agnar shot back, "Yeah, well, we’re not all like you."

Turning back to Tyr, he continued, "Just keep practicing. Eventually, you’ll master the art of Soul Flow."

Tyr nodded reluctantly, still feeling frustrated, and went back to practicing. Time after time, the blade of wheat exploded or withered, his control still lacking. The day wore on as the sun drifted overhead, casting bright rays of light upon the golden fields of wheat. Tyr kept practicing as the sun fell below the horizon, its warm light retreating while the pale glow of the moon blanketed the area.

This cycle repeated day after day, as Tyr sat in that dirt patch, practicing. The surrounding dirt patch grew larger as one blade of wheat after another was severed and used for practice. Withered wheat and old and fresh chaff scattered across the ground. Days turned into weeks.

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III

Three weeks later…

Tyr sat in the dirt, continuing his soul-breathing training. The patch of earth surrounding him had doubled in size, littered with chaff and withered wheat. He was alone, left to practice while Agnar and Runa attended to their own matters. Over and over, he plucked blades of wheat, only for them to fracture, explode, or wither to dust in his hands. Frustration boiled inside him.

"This is so stupid. Why can’t I do this?" he groaned, gripping a loose stone and hurling it into the distance. Mocking Agnar’s voice, he muttered, "Just control the flow," then let out a sarcastic "Squawk" in imitation of Runa. Leaning back in the dirt, he sighed. "They make it look so easy."

Rustling in the tall wheatgrass behind him snapped Tyr out of his thoughts. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing. "Who’s there?"

A small figure emerged from the stalks—a girl with strands of straw caught in her black hair, her simple green dress streaked with dirt. She stomped forward, arms crossed.

"So this is where you’ve been hiding from me!" she huffed.

Tyr blinked in surprise before his frustration melted away. "Fern!" he exclaimed, then hesitated, remembering their last meeting. "Wait… what are you doing here? I thought your dad forbade you from seeing me."

Fern scoffed. "Humph! He’s not my dad, and as if I’d let him stop me from playing with my friends. He’s just a big dummy anyway."

Tyr chuckled. "So what have you been up to?"

"Ugh. Stuck in my room reading stupid books," she grumbled. "What about you?"

Tyr glanced around at the mess of failed attempts. "Some stupid training."

"Training? What kind?"

"Soul flow. Agnar wants me to channel my soul energy into this wheat to keep it alive."

Fern tilted her head, then laughed. "But that’s easy! Watch."

She plucked an intact blade of wheat from the ground, and in an instant, a green aura enveloped her small frame. The energy moved smoothly, its waves calm and balanced. The wheat in her hands shimmered, turning a pristine gold with plump grains forming at the tip. She grinned, tossing the wheat onto the ground. "See?"

Tyr stared, dumbfounded. "You… you could use soul energy this whole time?"

Fern’s face twisted in offense. "What? You think just because I’m a girl, I can’t use soul energy?!"

"No!" Tyr sputtered, waving his hands frantically. "That’s not what I meant! I just barely learned about this stuff, and I don’t even know what I’m doing yet."

Fern plopped down in front of him with a huff. "Well, I guess I can help, then. Show me what you got."

Tyr sighed but complied. He focused, his body glowing with unstable, jagged soul energy. He tried to regulate it, but the wheat either withered instantly or expanded and ruptured in an explosion of chaff. "See? Every time. It either dies or explodes."

Fern blinked, then burst out laughing. "Wow, you’re such a lost cause."

Tyr rolled his eyes. "I thought you were going to help!"

"I am!" she smirked, placing a hand on her chin in thought. Suddenly, her face lit up. "I think I know your problem!"

Tyr leaned forward eagerly. "What?!"

"It’s the way you visualize your soul’s flow. What exactly do you picture?"

Tyr hesitated, thinking. "Uh… I don’t really picture anything. I just picture the wheat and sort of… feel if it’s too much or too little."

Fern’s jaw dropped. "Wait—you don’t visualize the flow itself?!"

"No…"

She smacked her forehead. "Well, no wonder you can’t control it! You need to picture the flow too!" She jumped up, running to a nearby rock. "Look, see?"

Tyr squinted. "I don’t get it."

Fern groaned. "God, you’re dumb. When I stand on the rock, I have to balance or I’ll fall. So I shift my weight the opposite way to keep steady." She hopped off, running back. "It’s the same with soul flow! Visualize the balance and adjust it!"

A lightbulb flickered on in Tyr’s mind. "Oh! I get it now! Thanks, Fern!"

She grinned, plucking a fresh blade of wheat and handing it to him. "Now try it."

Tyr took a deep breath. Picture the flow… In his mind, he visualized the energy moving, a current connecting him to the wheat. Balance the flow… He saw the energy surge and adjusted it, steadying it like balancing on a beam. Balance… His soul energy stabilized. His body radiated a soft, controlled blue glow, its waves flowing smoothly. The wheat in his hands turned brilliant gold, its grains plump and perfect.

Fern leaned in excitedly. He did it!

Tyr’s eyes snapped open. "Look! I did it!"

In his excitement, his focus shattered. His soul energy spiked, the wheat overgrowing before rupturing violently. A cloud of chaff exploded into Fern’s face, causing her to stumble back, coughing hysterically.

Tyr froze as her expression darkened. "Uh-oh—"

"You big dummy!" she shrieked, lunging at him and whacking him repeatedly.

Tyr laughed, shielding himself. "Thanks, Fern!"

Fern’s face turned red as she stammered, turning away. "Well… you’re welcome, you idiot," she muttered quietly.

Unbeknownst to them, Runa watched from deep within the golden wheat, hiding her presence with her soul energy. Nestled comfortably in the dirt, she ruffled her feathers in amusement. So the kid finally achieved soul flow… Perhaps Agnar was right. Could this kid actually surpass me?

She stood, brushing off the dirt and wandering back to town, the faint laughter of children trailing behind her, leaving Fern and Tyr to their childish antics.