The library was steeped in silence, broken only by the soft rustle of pages as Finnian flipped through the leather-bound tome. His eyes, sharp and focused, darted over the words, but his thoughts circled Rancent.

Something was different. It wasn’t just the faint glow clinging to his friend’s figure, but the way the air around him felt heavier, charged, like standing too close to a thunderstorm about to break. Finnian wasn’t used to seeing auras—his grasp on Ether was more abstract—but even he couldn’t deny the faint shimmer of light wrapping itself around Rancent like a second skin.

It wasn’t vibrant or holy like the Saint’s blinding aura. No, this was subdued, muted, like the afterglow of embers left in the wake of a fire.

“You’ve got something around you now,” Finnian finally said, closing the book with a deliberate snap. His voice cut through the heavy quiet, his tone measured but with a curious edge. “I can see it, even if it’s faint.”

Rancent raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Something?”

“An aura,” Finnian clarified, motioning vaguely with his hands as though trying to shape the word into something tangible. “Not like the Saint’s—his is blinding, almost unbearable to look at. Yours is… softer, quieter, but still there. Like a whisper just at the edge of hearing.”

Rancent leaned back in his chair, the weight of the words settling over him. His expression remained unreadable, but his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I don’t feel anything,” he admitted after a pause, flexing his fingers as if testing the space around them. “I feel… different, though. Like something’s shifted, but I can’t put it into words. It’s not bad. Just… foreign. Like it doesn’t entirely belong to me.”

Finnian tilted his head slightly, studying him as if trying to piece together a puzzle. His silver-threaded Ether flickered faintly, betraying his rising curiosity. “What happened to you back there?” he asked, his voice dropping a fraction. “You don’t just wake up glowing. Something must’ve changed.”

Rancent’s gaze flickered to the floor, his jaw tightening. The question hung in the air like smoke, unanswered, as his thoughts drifted back to the moment he awoke.

“I saw something,” he admitted finally, the words hesitant as though he were still trying to make sense of them. “Shapes. Symbols. No—they were something else entirely, not from here. They didn’t belong to this world. But in that moment, I understood them. Completely. It was like they were speaking directly to me, not in words but in something deeper, something primal.”

Finnian’s posture straightened, his focus sharpening. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes locked onto Rancent. “What kind of… shapes?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Rancent said, his voice tightening with frustration. “I try to remember, but the moment I do, it’s like my mind can’t hold on to it. It slips away—no, it’s worse than that. My thoughts collapse in on themselves.” He let out a shaky exhale, pressing his hands against his temples as though the pressure might somehow ease the memory back into focus. “It’s unbearable.”

Finnian frowned, the creases of concern deepening on his face. “Unbearable how? Do they hurt? Or is it something else?”

Rancent hesitated, his fingers twitching as though he were reaching for an answer that refused to come. “It’s not pain, not in the way you’d think,” he said slowly. “It’s… weight. Pressure. Like something’s forcing its way into my head, and my mind isn’t strong enough to hold it. It’s like staring into something too big to comprehend, and the longer I try, the more it unravels me.”

Finnian stayed silent, his silver-threaded Ether flickering faintly as he absorbed Rancent’s words. He leaned back slightly, his fingers lacing together as he considered his response. “When you say you understood them—these… symbols—what do you mean? Did they show you something?”

Rancent shook his head, his frustration mounting. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t something I could see, not with my eyes. It was like they were… rewriting me. Changing me, piece by piece, in ways I couldn’t fight or even resist. And in that moment, it made sense. It felt like… clarity, but now…” He trailed off, his voice catching. “Now it’s like the memory is made of smoke. I can’t grab hold of it. Every time I try, it breaks me apart again.”

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Finnian tilted his head slightly, his silver-threaded Ether flaring faintly as though in response to something. “Do you think they’re still there?” he asked cautiously. “The symbols, I mean. Are they still… in you?”

“How would I be able to tell?” Rancent asked.

“Hmm..” Finnian murmured. He scratched his cheek while looking to the upper left, and his eyes lightened like he finally found some solution. “Here, let me share something with you..”

“Back then, when the first generation of choir boys were still in the church, they were taught a secret technique confined in the church.”

Rancent was surprised to hear this.. Some secret technique only the church knew? This place must of been high ranking, or in high status like the royal guard from earlier.. Although, he probably shouldn’t have said “earlier,” because he has no idea how long he was knocked out.

“What’s the technique?” Rancent questioned.

“It’s like your newfound ability to see the aura around others. Back then, the Saint’s name was recorded in the books found back then to when they learnt the technique. Allegedly, the Saint taught them this technique because of the competition between the old churches.”

Rancent was shocked, no wonder they call him the Saint of Youth now! His skin probably never cracked a second of his lifetime.

“Well.. How long ago has the first generation of choir boys joined the church?” He asked.

“Hmm.. The book was created about three hundred years ago, so that should give you answer your question itself.. The Saint really is amazing!”

He stood in shock as soon as he heard the word three hundred.. How can he live so long? Just how old is “he?” So many questions were left unanswered, but before Rancent could speak, he took notice of Finnian walking around the chair to get a pair of glasses.

“Hehe..” Finnian murmured. He propped up the glasses with one finger, his hand on his waist and his legs taking a wide stance.

“Don’t look so surprised, Rancent. The Saint isn’t like us mere mortals,” Finnian said with a smirk, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But this technique? It’s something even we can learn—well, with practice.”

Rancent blinked, still grappling with the weight of what Finnian had just shared. “So you’re saying the Saint himself gave this ability to the first choir boys? What for? What could they possibly need it for?”

Finnian’s smirk faded, his expression turning more serious. “Power… Back then, the churches were at each other’s throats, fighting to prove their superiority. The ability to see and manipulate Ether gave the Saint’s followers an edge. If you could see the flows of energy around someone, you could read their intentions, exploit their weaknesses, or even…” He trailed off, his silver-threaded Ether flickering. Silence saturated the room.

Rancent’s brow furrowed. “And now it’s just… a secret technique buried in some book?”

“Not exactly,” Finnian said, adjusting the glasses again. “It’s still taught to some, but only those the church deems worthy. I wasn’t supposed to learn it, technically, but you know how I am.” His grin returned, sly and self-assured.

Rancent crossed his arms, his skepticism mounting. “So, you’re telling me you can teach me this technique?”

Finnian shrugged, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “In theory, yes. But I should warn you—it’s not something you can master overnight. It takes a certain openness to the Ether around you. And judging by the state you’re in, you might want to figure out what’s going on with your aura before diving into something this intense.”

Rancent hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. The memory of the symbols—those incomprehensible shapes—still gnawed at the edges of his mind. “I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t even understand what’s happening to me right now.”

Finnian’s expression softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on Rancent’s shoulder. “That’s exactly why you need to start. This technique might not give you all the answers, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

Rancent looked up at him, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “You really think it’ll help?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t,” Finnian said, his voice steady.

Rancent let out a faint laugh, though it lacked real humor. “Somehow, that doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

Finnian grinned, stepping back and gesturing dramatically with his arms. “You really don’t trust me that much? Cmon, cmon!” Finnian had returned to his childlike behavior he emitted before, the room got tense before, but it finally became playful again.

“All right,” he said finally. “Teach me.”