The first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold as Eamon slipped quietly out of his family’s cottage. The village of Stonebridge still slumbered, save for the distant crowing of a rooster and the soft rustle of a morning breeze through the trees. Pulling his cloak tighter against the crisp air, he made his way toward the Whispering Woods, his secret refuge—a place where he could practice magic without prying eyes.
Reaching the small clearing he’d claimed as his own, Eamon sat on the familiar fallen log, a makeshift seat that had served him well over the past few days. He had been coming here whenever he could, spending hours trying to grasp the basics of magic, starting with simple things like moving leaves and stirring the air.
Today, he intended to push himself further.
Taking a deep breath, Eamon closed his eyes and let his mind quiet. He had learned over the past sessions that magic wasn’t something he could force; it required patience, precision. The golden stone, still warm against his chest, pulsed faintly, as if encouraging him to continue.
“Alright,” he murmured, centering himself. “Let’s try again.”
The process of drawing mana had become more familiar over the past few days. He envisioned the mana within him as a glowing pool, waiting to be tapped into. Carefully, he reached out, coaxing it forward. The now-familiar warmth spread through him, tingling at his fingertips, and when he opened his eyes, he focused on a dry leaf lying nearby.
The leaf floated briefly in the air, responding to his will, before gently settling back to the ground. He smiled at the progress, even if it was small.
Yet Eamon wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more—something practical, something that could help him in more dangerous situations. Inspired by stories of warriors who moved faster than the eye could follow, Eamon wondered if he could use the wind to enhance his own speed.
“Maybe I can use the wind to carry me,” he mused, pacing back and forth.
The idea excited him, but he knew it was far more complex than making a leaf float. He spent the next several hours experimenting, trying to summon enough wind to lift him slightly off the ground, focusing on his feet and legs rather than the air around him. The mana responded, but it was a slow and delicate process, and the energy drained him quickly. Each attempt left him breathing heavily, the edges of fatigue creeping in, but Eamon pushed on.
By mid-afternoon, sweat trickled down his brow as he finally felt a small surge of wind beneath him. He had concentrated his mana into a controlled burst, and it was enough to lighten his step, making him feel almost weightless for a brief moment.
Encouraged, Eamon continued to refine the technique, practicing until the movements became smoother. Each attempt yielded more consistent results—he could feel the wind helping him along, pushing him forward with each step, but the control still eluded him. The first few times, the wind was either too strong or too weak, sending him stumbling or barely making a difference.
Determined, he pressed on. As the sun began its descent, turning the sky a rich orange, Eamon finally managed to strike a balance. He released just enough mana to propel him forward without losing his footing. His steps became quicker, his movements lighter, and the wind seemed to respond as an extension of his body.
He tried again, this time running along the edge of the clearing. The wind surged beneath his feet, and suddenly he was moving faster than ever before, the trees around him blurring slightly as he dashed past. The feeling was exhilarating, like the wind itself was carrying him.
“This feels great,” he muttered.
The words had barely left his lips when a soft chime echoed in his ears. Startled, Eamon looked up, only to see a faintly glowing, translucent window appear before him. His heart skipped a beat.
The glowing text read:
-----
Windstride (Active)
Harness the power of wind to enhance your movement. Windstride increases your speed dramatically for short bursts, allowing you to dash across terrain with unparalleled agility. This skill turns every step into a gust of wind, making you swift and difficult to track. Perfect for evading attacks, covering ground quickly, or surprising enemies with sudden speed. Extended use drains stamina, and improper control may lead to loss of balance.
-----
Eamon blinked in surprise, staring at the floating text. "Did it just give it a name?"
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
He shook his head. "Whatever. Maybe a break is in order," he chuckled to himself, sitting on a moss-covered rock by the stream's edge.
He cupped his hands in the water, splashing his face and enjoying the refreshing sensation. As he rested, he couldn't help but reflect on how far he'd come in such a short time.
"Who would have thought?" he mused. "A blacksmith's apprentice dabbling in magic."
Yet, a flicker of doubt crept in. He was venturing into unknown territory, with no mentor to guide him, no knowledge of the potential dangers. The golden stone had been both a blessing and a mystery, and he wondered what secrets it still held.
His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of voices. He listened intently—recognizing the laughter and chatter of his friends.
"Maeve? Tomas?"
Curiosity piqued, Eamon decided to investigate. He made his way through the woods, careful to mask any signs of his training. As he approached the edge of the forest, he saw his friends gathered by the riverbank, skipping stones across the water's surface.
"Eamon!" Maeve's voice rang out, bright and cheerful as she spotted him emerging from the trees. "There you are!"
He raised a hand in greeting, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "What are you all doing out here so early?"
"We could ask you the same," Tomas replied with a smirk. "Thought you'd be chained to the forge all day."
"Decided to take the evening off," Eamon said, his tone casual, though the secret of his early training flickered in the back of his mind.
"Well, come join us!" Donnel called, waving him over to the riverbank.
Eamon hesitated for a heartbeat, the urge to keep his practice hidden pulling at him. But the warmth of his friends, the carefree morning, and the chance to just relax for once drew him in.
"Why not?"
He hopped down to join them, the soft river water sparkling under the morning sun. The others had been skipping stones, the plink of rocks on water and bursts of laughter filling the air. For a while, it felt like any other day, as though nothing had changed.
Maeve, however, had been watching him closely. After a few rounds, she spoke up, her brow furrowing slightly. "You seem... different lately."
Eamon stiffened but forced a casual shrug. "Oh? How so?"
"I don’t know," she said thoughtfully. "More... energized. Like you’re carrying some big secret."
Eamon’s pulse quickened, but he managed to keep his voice steady. "Maybe I’ve just been getting more sleep."
She studied him for a moment longer, then smiled, as if satisfied. "Well, whatever it is, it suits you."
He smiled back, relief washing over him. "Thanks."
Just as they returned to their playful banter, a familiar, mocking voice cut through the air.
"Well, isn’t this a cozy little scene."
Eamon’s smile faded as Callum strode toward them, flanked by two of his cronies, their smug grins plastered on their faces.
Maeve rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Callum?"
"Just thought I'd stop by and see what all the fun's about," Callum sneered, his gaze locking onto Eamon. "Heard you’ve been acting like you’ve got something to prove."
Eamon met his gaze, irritation bubbling to the surface. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh, come on," Callum taunted, stepping closer. "Why don’t we make things interesting? A little race, unless you’re scared."
Tomas shot Eamon a wary glance. "You don’t have to entertain him."
But Eamon was done with Callum's constant jabs. He felt the rush of energy coursing through him from his earlier training and an idea formed. "Alright," he said coolly. "What did you have in mind?"
Callum looked momentarily surprised by Eamon’s acceptance but quickly grinned. "A race. From here to the old willow tree and back. Unless you're too slow to keep up."
Tomas stepped closer. "Are you sure about this?"
"It’s fine," Eamon replied, his calm tone belying the anticipation thrumming through him. He had trained enough to give Callum more than he bargained for.
"Trying to show off, huh?" Callum smirked, glancing at Maeve. "I see what you're doing."
Ignoring him, Eamon lined up next to Callum, the others backing up to give them space. The distance to the willow tree wasn't far, but enough to prove a point.
"Ready?" Donnel called reluctantly. "Three, two, one, go!"
They both shot off, feet pounding against the soft earth. Callum surged ahead, his longer strides giving him an early lead. But Eamon wasn’t worried. He focused, reaching for the well of mana inside him, feeling its warmth stir in response.
As his pulse quickened, he concentrated on his legs, letting the energy flow through them like a river, enhancing every step. The wind around him shifted slightly, a faint hum in his ears as his movements grew lighter and faster.
Suddenly, his strides lengthened. He moved quicker than he ever had before, the ground blurring beneath him. The willow tree loomed ahead, and he found himself pulling even with Callum, his opponent’s breath coming in labored huffs.
Callum turned his head, disbelief flashing across his face. "What the—?"
Eamon didn't respond, channeling all his concentration into controlling the wind and maintaining Windstride. A sudden burst of wind propelled him forward like a gust, leaving Callum struggling behind.
The return stretch blurred as Eamon pushed himself harder than ever before. His friends' faces came into focus, eyes wide in disbelief as he crossed the finish line moments before Callum.
A mix of cheers and stunned silence greeted him. Eamon staggered slightly, the exhaustion hitting him like a wave. His heart hammered in his chest, and his legs felt like they might give out, but a sense of triumph buoyed him.
"That was incredible!" Maeve exclaimed, rushing over to him. "I've never seen anyone run that fast!"
"You were like the wind itself!" Tomas added, clapping him on the back.
Callum staggered up, red-faced and furious. "You cheated!" he spat, glaring at Eamon.
Eamon, still catching his breath, met his gaze evenly. "How could I have cheated? It's just running."
"Bullshit!" Callum snapped. "No one moves like that unless they’re—"
"Unless they’re better than you?" Maeve cut in sharply. "Just accept you lost."
Callum’s face twisted in anger, but he said nothing more, stomping off with his cronies following behind, muttering under their breath.
As the others surrounded Eamon, offering congratulations, a knot of worry tightened. He'd revealed too much. Using magic openly, even if subtly, was a risk he hadn't fully considered. The exhilaration of the race was now overshadowed by the potential consequences.