Rane found the place easily enough. He was pleasantly surprised that there was not another recruit kneeling in his spot, but then again, Rane had asked around a bit in the cafeteria, and the general consensus was that most others had not really gone more than five minutes in any direction. Some just meant to stay near camp for the easy sleep and rations. Others feared the dark maw of the forest, despite the tallies' affirmations that they were ‘safe enough’.

No matter, he was here now, and with a different purpose than before, a sharper purpose than before. He placed his things, knelt in the clearing, and immediately began to meditate, feeling and rotating his ambient. He had been close before ending his last session. This is it.

Rane let out a breath akin to a sigh, and his face twitched a bit. He could still feel the pain on his ribs. If he lifted his shirt, he could also find a myriad of colors, none close to matching the normal, olive color of his skin. While he had been lying in the tent, he had been thinking of mostly revenge, but also this. What was the difference between internal rotation and externalizing that rotation? Why did the ambient within his body belong to him, and why not the ambient touching it? He had reached a conclusion: it was will. High Tally Cloud mentioned that ambient was sometimes referred to as the will of the world, and also that it didn’t matter. It needed to be their will that was exerted.

He was small right now, and so he simply imagined himself to be greater. Not taller, not more muscular, nor added weight around the chest. He focused on the spark of ambient that he controlled fully, that within his own body, and fanned its flame, wishing it to break the confines of the shell that confined it. And break it he did.

It felt like his skull broke along with it as he suddenly felt a rush of new sensations hammering themselves into his mind. He struggled against the pain, trying to make sense of what he had done. He could feel so much more, but it was clumsy, as if he had been granted a third eye, arm, and could see another color. He realized with sudden clarity, this is my area of direct control. He could perceive ambient within it with significantly greater clarity. In line with his envisioning of its expansion, the ambient in what seemed like a large flame centered on him now belonged to him, and that was the source of his headache.

He could sense the blades of grass crushed under the blanket he rested on. He knew that there was a spider the size of a silver skittering away from him. As it got about a yard away, he could not really tell, but everything else he could… All at once. This would take some getting used to. The summer sun, though mild, shined down on him as continued his silent act. It tracked along the sky, and Rane did not move until the orb commenced its daily ritual of hiding amongst the trees before tucking itself away, beyond the horizon.

He opened his eyes and let out a deep breath. The pain in his head had subsided. He stood, and moved to the stream, whose clear waters would sustain him for his time in the bush. He had no intention to return for more than the required check-in. He knelt to the stream and cupped his hands into the water. The stream was cooler than he expected, and he brought the water to his mouth, spilling as much on his clothes as he managed to drink. He looked up and down the stream before simply plunging his face into the clear water, opening and closing his mouth to take immense gulps of the rejuvenating liquid.

He stood up and embraced his newfound sensation, feeling the water in front of him. He would start with what he knew: rotation. And there it was, a small swirl evident on the surface of the water. A passing leaf fell into his meager current and began to spin tight, small circles along with the water underneath. Now, he could add some depth to the rotation. The middle of the pool sank as the circulating force both increased in speed and scope. The edges rose a bit as the leaf was sent over the edge of the whirlpool and back on its journey down the creak. He tried to increase its intensity more. The stream was only about knee deep here, could he expose the bottom? He inhaled sharply… And fell forward into his meager project. He stretched his arms forward, bracing against the smooth rocks on the bottom of the stream as he raised his head, gasping for breath. The realization struck him that he was exhausted. He would need to get used to how this worked. Using the ambient within your body did not fatigue one in the same manner as stretching that natural ambient outward. He felt like he had been sprinting for 5 minutes. He crawled to the edge of the stream and closed his eyes while on its bank, the sound of its trickling flow guiding him into his dreams.

*****

As he stood before Ben, he seemed to tower over him. Ben hefted his greatsword, but it was all in vain. Rane wielded no sword. He didn’t need one. Ben charged forward, swinging his weapon in wide, flowing, arcs that showed his mastery of the weapon and his dedication to his training. He had been doing the wrong kind of training. A nearby stone took flight with an unnatural jerk, flying towards Ben. It connected with his sword, breaking it. The spark of fear in his eyes grew into a flame, and Rane shuddered with elation as he began to walk forward. Ben took a step back, but Rane raised the ground beneath his feet, tripping him.

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“Stop, I’m sorry, It– it wasn’t fair,” Ben said.

“I know,” said Rane, “but I can make it fair.” Rane would make him feel the powerlessness he felt from the healer. It was brilliant. It was all his fault anyways.

Ben’s eyes hardened as he became resolved to face his fate.

“Monster,” said Ben. Fear was gone from his visage as he gathered himself and stood to confront Rane once more. He leapt forward, surprised Rane, who flinched. When he looked again, Ben was gone. Instead, there was something else.

He could feel it as if it pressed him in from all angles. He tried to take a step, but didn’t know which direction to go. Anywhere, he decided, but now found that he could not move. His legs were buried in the soil up to his knees. He felt like screaming, then he saw the being approaching.

He was towering on his horse, and had a blue cloak that he was wearing over a deep, midnight black tunic. Rane could not tell where the man ended and where the horse began. Perhaps they were one and the same. His face was hidden in the dark recess of the blue hood, but Rane could tell. He was looking at him. He was sizing him up, but not the way a man would take the measure of another man. He looked at him with the cold indifference of a predator that had gotten its fill. He was considered, but not imperative. He could be killed for sport, or maybe just for later.

Rane’s instincts cried out in his mind, begging him to flee. He did not flee, but it was not courage that kept him rooted, but the Earth itself, rising up to betray him in favor of the rider. Rane realized that he wasn’t breathing, then looked up to see the raised arm of the cloaked man. The Earth erupted in a wave coming towards Rane.

There was only fear in Rane’s eyes as he looked to his fate whispered, “monster.”

*****

Rane jolted awake as he flailed his body against the solid ground, bashing his hand against a rock, drawing blood. Cold. Despite the pain, and despite his panic, his mind cleared itself to deal with his most pressing issue. He had fallen asleep, wet from falling into the stream, and now the forest’s breath had chilled his clothes and his body.

He was shivering and his heart was pounding as he made his way back to the center of the clearing. He removed his clothes and placed the blanket he had been using for kneeling on the ground of the forest around his shoulders. He had gathered wood and materials for a fire earlier, and leaned forward, eager to use his newfound power to light the kindling. As a middling dynient, one could only heat up things that were both familiar and within your grasp. Such a thing made fire starting possible, but fickle. As with many things at the dynient class, it was easier to use flint, or even a fire bow.

He rotated ambient tightly around itself, heating it up rapidly to the point of combustion. The kindling ignited, and Rane’s shadow began dancing on the treeline behind him. The sun hadn’t risen, and he couldn’t see the moon. He didn’t know how long he had slept, but he knew that not all of his time spent asleep had been restful. Vague memories of the dream danced around in his mind. Rane was not interested in remembering the contents of the dream, but he couldn’t forget the way that he had felt in its end. It reminded him of something familiar, but he could not quite place it.

The light of the fire seemed to dim as the fire of dawn drowned its meager glow. Rane was not well rested, but he didn’t feel that he could sleep in his current state. His heartbeats had felt like the strike of a hammer on an anvil since he woke up, only easing in intensity with the soothing glow of the sun’s rays through the leaves.

Rane, now shirtless, placed his blanket on the ground and knelt. He would continue to train as his clothes dried. He tried to clear his mind of the remnant emotion he felt. It was terror, but he was too prideful to admit to himself that he was still shaken from a nightmare as if he were a child. He would grow stronger, then have nothing to fear.

*****

It had been almost three weeks since the nightmare. Rane was kneeling on the ground as he had done multiple times daily for the past few weeks. A soft breeze tickled the grass surrounding him, but closer inspection would reveal that the grass in front of him and behind him swayed in opposite directions. Rane shrugged his shoulders, and the wind suddenly intensified, laying the grass down in a circle around himself. Its radius was about three yards. It was close, but he had made it. The tallies would label him a classient.

If he had to describe it, he would only say that it was boring. After his initial breakthrough, the only thing holding him back from being a classient was his area of direct control. That meant repetition and rotation, constantly trying to increase the reach of his control. During those weeks, he had found himself easily distracted and irritable. Progress was slow and monotonous, reminding him of his time in the forge, but without any end product, just diminishing returns on his efforts. He had begun to sleep multiple times per day, and by the end, a single insect bite would end his meditation. During one of his visits to the camp, Puddles had tried to ask him about his progress. Rane snapped that it was ‘none of his business’. His tall friend had been determined classient only a week or so into the training.

However, training his area of direct control was not Rane’s only focus. He did not forget the reason for his efforts.