Völundr studied him for a moment, his deep-set eyes filled with understanding that felt like a balm to Aran’s restless spirit. “You are helping, Aran. Every moment you spend learning, every wound you heal, and every life you touch is a step toward your goal.” The teacher’s voice resonated with a wisdom that Aran found both comforting and frustrating, a reminder that progress often felt painfully slow.
“If I had summoned my projections when I was helping Steve fend off that dragon, we could’ve rescued Alice,” Aran said, a frown creasing his brow. The memory of that chaotic encounter flooded back to him—weapons clashes, the roar of the beast, and the searing fear that had gripped his heart as Alice had been swept away.
Völundr shook his head, a silent rebuke dancing in his gaze. He did not say anything, instead directing his attention to the herbs spread across Aran’s table. The subtle rustle of dried leaves punctuated the silence, a reminder of the work still to be done. Völundr helped himself to some tea, the warm steam curling around him like a comforting embrace.
“Rich and flavorful,” Völundr declared, bringing the cup to his lips. “The way I like it.” His eyes twinkled with approval as he savored the blend, and Aran felt a flicker of pride at having prepared something that pleased his mentor.
“Thank you,” Aran replied, the gratitude softening the edges of his frustration. He watched as Völundr took another sip, the way the older man closed his eyes in delight reminding him of the simple life he had before.
“Remember, Aran,” Völundr said, setting the cup down with a gentle thud. “Strength doesn’t solely come from your projections. It comes from your heart, your experiences, and your desire to make a difference. You are building your own legacy.”
Aran nodded, absorbing each word like the herbs he had crushed earlier, hoping to extract their essence. He felt the warmth of Völundr's wisdom seep into him, a steadying force against the tempest of his emotions. Yet, a pang of doubt crept in. Would he ever be strong enough? Would he be able to summon the courage and power needed in the moments that mattered most?
“I keep trying,” Aran said. “I want to push my limits further. I need to know I can do this.”
Völundr raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Very well, but let’s take a different approach this time. You’ve been focusing too much on the projection itself. What if we shift your perspective?”
Aran’s curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
“Instead of solely concentrating on the mechanics of summoning Avish, think about the purpose behind it. Picture the lives you wish to touch, the hope you want to instill,” Völundr explained, his voice steady and calm. “Channel that energy, that Aether, into them. It may extend the time you can keep him.”
Aran contemplated the advice, nodding slowly as he absorbed the concept. “Focus on the intention rather than just the action,” he murmured, feeling the weight of Völundr's wisdom settle within him. “I can do that.”
“Exactly,” Völundr encouraged, his expression warm. “Now, let’s prepare to try again.”
With renewed determination, Aran closed his eyes, the scents of the herbs swirling around him like a comforting embrace. He envisioned Avish, not just as a projection but as an extension of his desire to protect, to heal, to stand against the darkness. The faces of those he had met in the refugee camps, the children who had laughed despite their fears, and the families who had clung to hope—each image fueled his resolve.
As Aran focused, he felt the energy within him begin to swirl and pulsate, a vibrant current that surged through his veins like wildfire. The warmth of his tea lingered in his throat, grounding him as he concentrated on the essence of his intentions. He envisioned Avish, not merely as a projection but as a beacon of hope, a guardian that could embody his will to protect those who needed it most.
“Breathe, Aran,” Völundr’s voice reminded him, a steady rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. “Let your heart guide you.”
Aran inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill his lungs, the herbal scents filling his spirit. He envisioned the faces of the children he had seen during his travels—their bright eyes and fleeting smiles, even in the face of despair. Each image strengthened his resolution, and he felt the flicker of Avish beginning to form once more.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. He reached into the depths of his spirit, summoning forth that which connected him to his purpose. As he extended his will, the figure of Avish shimmered into being, glowing with an intensity that filled the small room.
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Avish reemerged. This time, Aran felt a surge of energy, a bond forming between him and the projection that felt deeper and more profound than before. ‘You’re here to help me help others,’ Aran thought.
“Hold strong!” Aran commanded, and he sensed the Aether flowing from his heart into Avish, fueling the projection with purpose. The figure solidified, standing tall and unwavering.
For a moment, Aran lost himself in the connection, the world around him fading away. He felt the warmth radiating from Avish once again. “This is it,” he thought, exhilaration coursing through him.
“Remember your reason, Aran,” Völundr's voice echoed in his mind, a steady reminder that anchored him. “Feel it, let it guide you.”
Aran envisioned the children in his village, their laughter ringing in his ears like a sweet melody. He saw the faces of those he had helped, their eyes shining with gratitude. Each thought bolstered his strength, and he poured every ounce of his self into Avish.
But then, the familiar tug of fatigue began to creep in once more. He felt the projection flicker, wavering like a candle flame caught in a draft. Panic clawed at the back of his mind, threatening to unravel the progress he had made.
“Stay!” he implored, desperation flooding his voice. “I need you! They need you!”
Avish flickered, momentarily stabilizing, and Aran seized that moment of clarity. “You are a protector,” he declared, his words laced with conviction. “Together, we can face the darkness.”
With those words, a surge of energy erupted within him, igniting a fire that burned bright against the encroaching fatigue. Avish solidified further, his form becoming more defined, exuding a powerful presence that filled the room. Aran felt a sense of triumph swell within him, a realization that he was not alone in this endeavor.
The connection deepened, and for the first time, Aran sensed the essence of Avish merging with his own, creating a harmonious symphony of purpose and strength. He could feel the warmth radiating from the projection, a palpable force that enveloped him in its embrace.
“Hold on, Aran,” Völundr encouraged, his voice steady and unwavering. “You are doing it! Keep your focus.”
Aran nodded, keeping his breathing steady as he channeled his energy into Avish. He could feel the vibrations of the connection coursing through him, a powerful reminder that he was more than just a student; he was a protector, a healer, and a force for good.
As the moments stretched on, Aran found himself lost in the beauty of the bond they had created. He felt the essence of Avish pulse with life. “Together,” Aran whispered.
But just as he began to believe they could conquer the limits set before him, fatigue surged like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. The connection dimmed, and Avish vanished.
“Stay with me!” Aran cried out; his voice filled with raw emotion as tears streamed down his cheeks.
“You were able to summon him again for five more minutes without any cooldown; that’s still impressive,” Völundr said, his tone steady, allowing a hint of pride to seep through the calm facade.
Aran sighed. He reflected on his family back in Siam—their hopes and dreams woven tightly around his very being. He could picture his father, and his brow furrowed with the burden of expectation. His mother’s gentle voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of the values that had shaped his upbringing. Those values did not require a life of seclusion in a temple; they demanded action and engagement with the world. As he fought against his family’s wishes, the rift that had formed between them had deepened, leading him to leave his hometown behind, a choice that still haunted him.
“I can’t just sit back and do nothing,” Aran said.
“Then channel that energy as you just did,” Völundr suggested. “Let it flow through your projections. Use your past as fuel, not a burden.”
Taking a deep breath, Aran nodded, the truth of Völundr's words sinking deep into his soul.
He recalled the unknown village woman who had introduced him to a medic from the Society of Nations, setting in motion the series of events that led him to meet Völundr. The memory of that moment felt like a thread weaving through the tapestry of his life, connecting him to a greater purpose. He remembered his long and torturous yet exhilarating journey to Paris by ship, where he had helped heal a dozen sick passengers and crew members, the camaraderie that had blossomed amidst hardship. Finally, he thought of meeting Lowe on the university campus, their paths intertwining as they both sought knowledge.
“I need you to find Lowe,” Völundr said after sipping the last bit of his tea, the cup now empty yet still warm. “He’s in the countryside with his parents, but he’s not wearing his ring.”
“What’s the matter?” Aran asked, a flicker of concern igniting within him.
“There’s a mission I must entrust to the two of you,” Völundr replied, his voice growing serious. “I need you to track Kyrie and bring him back.”
The name struck Aran like a thunderclap, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through him. “Kyrie? I thought he left for good,” Aran said, disbelief mingling with determination. “What do you need us to do?”
“His return is crucial,” Völundr explained, his expression serious. “Kyrie possesses knowledge and abilities that could tip the scales in our favor, but he has become elusive, and I fear he may be in danger.”
“Where do we start?” he asked, resolve solidifying within him like steel.
Völundr leaned forward, his eyes glinting with the intensity of his conviction. “You’ll need to gather what information you can from those who might know his whereabouts. Speak to the villagers, the travelers, anyone who might have crossed his path recently. The countryside can be vast and treacherous but trust your instincts and your bond with Lowe.”
Aran’s heart raced at the prospect of the journey ahead. He would be stepping into the unknown, but he was not alone. With the memory of Avish flickering in the back of his mind, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. “I won’t let you down,” he vowed, determination etched into his features.
Völundr nodded, a hint of a smile returning to his lips. “Remember, Aran. Trust in your training, trust in your heart, and let the connections you’ve forged guide you.”