A month passed in the blink of an eye as Cat and I settled into our new home. Rowen had more than delivered, putting me to work as a laborer at the mines. I had thought a year of consistent exercise and training would give me enough strength and endurance to keep up with the other workers.

I was wrong.

Sweat poured down my face as I levered a box filled with unrefined iron ore into the back of a waiting cart. My arms and legs shook, my chest burned, my abdomen screamed, and I swore under my breath with what little air I could spare, nearly dropping the damn thing in the process.

How embarrassing would that be? I might wear the same clothes as any ordinary worker, but I was a mage. I could have possibly devised a spell to do the task, but that would defeat the whole purpose of becoming a laborer.

Of course, I still used my magic to strengthen my body at times, but that only earned me a few minutes of reprieve. My spell burned through my reserves too fast for anything beyond brief bursts of strength and speed, a problem I hoped to remedy.

My priority remained to reach Mist as fast as possible, but nearly as important was refining my magic. Stamina was my greatest weakness, and improving control and efficiency would help mitigate that flaw. Well...second greatest after an over-reliance upon equipment in combat. Third, if I considered the limited versatility inherent to my element. Possibly even fourth after—

I pushed aside my growing list of shortcomings and refocused on the task at hand, just in time to catch myself from tripping. If dropping a box would be embarrassing, tripping over my own feet would be outright mortifying and I was nothing if not self-conscious.

It took me another hour to finish my work for the day, and I stepped back from the carts just as they rumbled off for the city. My shirt, rough-spun and heavy, clung to my skin, and I could see tears where it had caught several times throughout the day.

My rasping breath turned into laughs as I realized I had chosen this over being an advisor and an apprentice. If I had kept quiet and feigned contentment, I would be back at the Academy in a warm room, reading and studying with a drink in hand and a blanket across my shoulders.

But though I hated the work, I would love the results. My spell enhanced my body based on my innate physical abilities. The stronger I grew, the further it would push me. That did not factor in the effects of higher-density mana on the spell or the changes that increased efficiency might bring as I honed my magic.

I could already move faster than most people while strengthening myself with Aether. What would I look like in a year or two? What about ten? If I kept this up, maybe I would be the one throwing around that purple-haired invader rather than the other way around.

It was nice to dream.

I allowed myself a half-hour to catch my breath, slumped against a nearby building as I sipped water that tasted like dirt from a leather skin. Then, I stood, pulling on my half-filled core to activate Amelia's ring before walking to the training field.

The guards had not forgotten about the young mage who helped kill a boar, and several welcomed me back with warm words, open smiles, and friendly jabs about my work as a laborer. None had protested when I asked to join them for training, and soon, I began practicing with them every afternoon, drilling and sparring to further hone my skills.

They favored a style not unlike Neil's, using one-handed spears, swords, axes, and maces alongside a shield. In battle, their preferred tactics were to fight slowly and as a group, wearing down opponents through attrition rather than aggression or finesse.

I had initially chosen to train with them to stay sharp and familiarize myself with a shield further, but soon, I saw the other possibilities. Their defensive style and tactics seemed at odds with Sig's power-oriented staff forms and flowing sword techniques, but I could see a way where all three blended into something new and greater.

Though I had years to go until I could call myself an expert, that title seemed a hair closer each day.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I left the field for my 'room' an hour or two later, passing workers who shouted greetings to me with smiles and nods. Some had initially been thrown by the short teenager working alongside them, and my reputation as a mage followed me. But alongside that were the stories of my actions last winter, helped by Rowen's friendship.

Again, the recognition in their faces felt off, like a poorly tailored suit, and I did my best to brush aside my discomfort and focus on the benefits. Though my reputation in a place like Volaris would undoubtedly be in shambles, at least these people liked my company.

Rowen had found a cave similar to the one I had used before, though larger and better hidden to suit my needs. It was a cold, dark place filled with broken-down, rotting crates, barrels, and tool racks, which had taken me hours to clear out. I had to use multiple blankets at night to remain warm enough to sleep, and I took to wearing my cloak while studying.

It was no home away from home, but it provided me the privacy to practice my magic away from prying eyes. Though I doubted anyone would care, I would rather be safe than sorry.

I walked into the cave, one hand held aloft, a green orb spinning in my palm. The room was pitch-black, and I sighed before walking to each corner, lighting the torches near my bed. Cat was already there, lapping from a small bowl filled with glowing, Aether-infused water.

The feline had taken to coming and going as he pleased, only returning to eat and sleep before leaving again. I had tried to follow him once, only to discover he was far more suited to avoiding my attention now that he was no longer half-starved. In fact, his mana signature now felt outright strong about the equal of a newly Awakened mage.

I walked past him, settling down on my bedroll with a sigh, "And how was your day?"

Cat looked at me, water dripping from his whiskers before he continued drinking. I felt a flicker of envy that he could imbibe the Aether elixir so freely, wishing that my body processed it half as well as his. While I had learned to mitigate the absolute worst of the effects, it still took several weeks before I could safely drink another vial.

While I could have simmered in comfortable jealousy, that would be a waste of time. Instead, I picked up my notebook and reviewed my writings on mana gathering for the hundredth time.

I had spent every spare moment I could find poring over everything I knew about mana gathering. Though my friends had done their best to hide their secrets, I had gleaned small hints during our short time together.

Simon was the easiest to decipher, and I was now sure he used a modified version of Origin Breathing suited for water mana. It might be worth looking at in greater detail if only to understand his element better, but it was useless for my purposes.

Amelia used a technique that seemed to 'leak' ambient mana back into her surroundings. I could not say how fast it allowed her to advance, but I had noticed several times that the effective range for her magic was unusually large for our age. With a few more years of training, she could create a frigid aura large enough to freeze over entire buildings, which seemed a terrifying prospect.

The Esttons' techniques were harder to decipher than either of the others. Leon's core had felt like it was spinning, an effect comparable to a whirlpool. I suspected this had the dual benefits of speeding growth and helping compact his energy further, but a few attempts at mimicking the effect with my Aether had failed. And hurt like hell, for that matter.

Lastly, Sophia had done something to her mana to grant it unusual magical 'weight.' I had precisely no idea how she managed that, and even weeks of turning over the mystery had not gotten me any closer. My only hypotheses were she had either fused it with another element somehow or purified it in such a way as to increase the raw power, but both sounded equally impossible.

Ultimately, though I had learned enough to marginally improve my grasp of mana, it did nothing to illuminate a path forward. My best option remained to merge tempering and gathering into a single, unified process, and I wanted to reach that goal. But I was stumbling through a dark forest without a map.

Then again, I did have one excellent source of inspiration that fit the forest metaphor.

The Aether tree had absorbed and released mana in a way not dissimilar from breathing. I could not say why, but I was sure it held the secret to improving my technique.

Origin Breathing was rhythmic, with mana flowing in and out at regular intervals. However, that led to wasted effort as I had to work against myself, clawing to regain momentum with every breath. It slowed progress, demanded greater focus, and limited the technique.

By contrast, the tree had absorbed mana in a single, smooth motion. Mana had flowed in one direction, never stopping or ebbing in a perfectly efficient process. And it had done so without a hint of conscious will directing it.

If I could copy that process, my gathering speed would increase severalfold. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, 'if' has not grown any closer to 'when.'

I set aside the notebook, focusing inward to my core as I lowered my breathing. My skill with gathering had grown such that I was always drawing in at least a little Aether, but it was a scant thimble compared to actively controlling the process.

As I deepened my breaths, the stream flowing into my core thickened, joining with the diffuse ball in the center of my body. I watched, trying to relax and pull together my willpower and focus.

When I exhaled, I reached out with my will and grabbed the mana as it slipped past my lips. I pulled, trying to reel the Aether back into my lungs even as it flowed outward. It was a modification of the technique I had used months earlier, directing power from the pool to temper my vessels, and should work in theory. Unfortunately, theory was far from reality.

There was a brief moment where the Aether yielded to my command. It flowed inward rather than outward, drawn back into my body even as I exhaled. The concentration within my lungs rose, and a few tiny motes slipped into my core.

Then, my breath caught. I had been so focused on holding onto the mana that I lost the rhythm. The instant I turned my attention away, I lost control over the Aether within my body, and my carefully measured breathing turned into a rough coughing fit.

I continued coughing even as I opened my eyes, shaking my head in frustration.

Was I wrong? Was this idea impossible? The tree had used its roots as an inlet for the Aether, a trick humans could not replicate with their skin, but it should still be possible. My fleeting successes showed me as much. And once I did that, I could work on applying the second alteration to my gathering technique.

As my coughing subsided, I weighed the merits of a good night's sleep. Soreness had begun to creep into my muscles, my limbs felt wrung out, and my mind was worn down. It would be so easy.

Then, I closed my eyes and dove inward again. Five more tries, and then I would get some rest. Maybe ten.