They finally broke rank when a gong from the main buildings rang through the landscape.

Master Gumnik announced the end of the morning session and told them that they should either come back after lunch or attend another Master for the afternoon if he had told them that.

As Kian and Relar were about to walk away, Master Gumnik addressed Relar, "Let me give you one more piece of advice. The path of spirits is not an easy one. If you want to make full use of your summons, you will need to learn how to communicate with them, understand their desires and use that to align what both of you want."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Most importantly, you will need to form a bond with them. A bond based on mutual respect and trust."

Until then, Relar had thought he had made great progress, being able to maintain his crane for several minutes. But the challenge just presented by Gumnik disabused him of the notion that he was anywhere near mastering his first pages, or even page.

The midday sun pierced through the canopy of leaves as Relar and Kian retraced their steps along the winding paths of Moraine Academy. Their morning with Master Gumnik had left Relar deep in thought, his mind swirling with the possibilities and challenges that lay ahead in his training with spirits. He had been sure that Gumnik would be his lone focus point for training and wasn't sure what to think of having the old man Baelor instruct him on spirits. Beside him, Kian's expression mirrored a sense of quiet satisfaction, the green of the foliage reflecting in his eyes, or was that him embracing his spells even now.

They entered the dining hall where chatter and clinking silverware filled the air. Their group had already gathered at a long table. Jarek's eyes danced as he recounted his morning success with transferring a small flame from a candle to his hand, with increasingly less injuries.

Elia, with a smile playing on her lips, revealed "It took a while but I etched a rune into a leaf that made it glow… before disintegrating. Apparently I still have to find runes. Baelor showed me this one."

At Elia's mention of Baelor, Relar perked up. "Are you going back to him for the afternoon?"

"Yeah, I wanted to see if Gelrin has advice for me, but Baelor told me that I am all his." Elia nudged him gently. "How did your session go?"

Relar glanced up, a sheepish grin on his face. "So, I called forth my spectral crane," he confessed, "only to scare myself and cut it off immediately. You should have seen the look in it's eyes."

Laughter bubbled up around the table as Relar joined in, feeling a momentary lightness amidst the weight of expectation.

Kian added, "A lot better than my time trying to talk to the lawn. But hey, I asked for hidden treasures because I didn't know what else it would want to talk about and it told me there was a lost page from one of the old spellbooks." He shrugged, a smirk curling his lips as if to downplay his achievement, but his eyes held a spark of pride.

Relar leaned in, interest piqued. "What? A lost page? Here?" His fingers drummed on the table as Kian just grinned. "What did it say?", Tomas finally blurted out.

"Just whispers, really," Kian replied, his hand gesturing vaguely as if tracing the breeze that had carried the voices. "And different… grass disagreed too… I spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out the consensus."

"And did you find it?" Elia asked.

"Not yet." Kian sighed. "But I'm now convinced it's inside some tree."

"Another page would be amazing", Tomas sighed.

"I'm heading to Baelor," Relar said. "But let us know if you find anything. Elia, you coming?"

Elia agreed with a nod and made to get up.

Relar pushed his chair back, rising to his feet, eager to follow Elia to their next lesson with Master Baelor. In his haste, he collided with someone behind him. A cup clattered to the floor, spilling its contents across the stone tiles.

"Watch where you're going, gutter spawn!" The voice was sharp, dripping with contempt. Relar turned to find a noble initiate, at least he assumed so from his face, posture and turn of phrase, glaring at him with a sneer.

"I didn't see you there," Relar said, the words catching in his throat, a mix of apology and irritation. "It was an accident."

The noble stepped closer, his face reddening. "You've stained my robes! Already a shame I have to wear the same as you, now you make me look like the dirty peasant you are."

Elia stepped forward, her voice steady but firm. "Let's not make this a bigger issue than it needs to be. It's just a spill."

The noble rounded on her. "You! Mind your place, girl."

His hand twitched toward his spellbook, the threat unspoken but clear as daylight.

Relar's hand was following to do the same, though even in that moment he knew this to be a bluff at best on his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his opponent's fingers dancing in the air. Around them hush had fallen, other initiates stepped back, forming a circle that was part anticipation, part dread.

"You want to do this?" Relar's voice was low, trying to sound ominous. The world seemed to narrow down to just Relar and the initiate standing before him.

The crowd waited for sparks to fly, for the clash of magic that was about to erupt, the first battle between initiates. The other initiate smirked, a challenging glint in his eyes. "You will clean my robes for the rest of your life!" he taunted, hoping to provoke Relar further.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Relar's fingers tensed as he gripped the edges of his spellbook and threw it open. He could feel the pages fluttering as in anticipation to release his crane, eager to fly.

Elia's hand reached out, brushing against Relar's arm in a silent counsel of caution. "Don't, it's not worth it." she whispered urgently.

But the words were barely a breeze against the roaring in Relar's ears. Relar was focused on his opponent and his plan to hit him right on the jaw the moment he felt a spell go off.

And then, just as first syllables of might have been a spell began to form on the noble lips, a voice cut through the tension. "Enough!"

It was Master Hessmin, her arrival unnoticed amidst the brewing storm, but her command impossible to ignore. The authority in her voice was like a cold shower, dousing the fiery confrontation in an instant. The crowd had had enough military training to know that it was over once the superior stepped in and quickly widened the circle to avoid fault by association.

Master Hessmin stood at the entrance of the hall, her presence commanding immediate attention. She strode over with an air of authority that made even the noble's anger falter.

"There is no fighting outside of lessons and sparing sites," she said sternly, eyes locked onto Relar and then shifting to the noble.

The noble initiate opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it under Hessmin's piercing gaze.

"You both will be suspended from this afternoon's practice with the masters," Master Hessmin declared. "Use the time to reflect on your conduct."

"But Master—" Relar began, his protest dying in his throat as he met her unwavering stare.

"This is not a discussion," she said sharply.

Fury bubbled within Relar as he watched Master Hessmin walk away. His opportunity to learn more about his affinity was slipping through his fingers because of an accident and a useless noble.

He stormed out of the dining hall, Elia's call barely registering in his ears. The voices of the other initiates, the scrape of chairs on stone, all faded into a blur as Relar let his anger lead him away. He wasn't thinking where he was going; he just needed to move, to put distance between himself and that sneering face, that voice filled with disdain.

Upward, upward he walked. His feet found new paths even as his mind swirled with a tumult of emotions. A chance missed already. The stairwells of the academy seemed endless, the steady beat of his shoes against stone echoing the pounding in his chest.

By the time Relar emerged onto a high ledge overlooking the academy grounds, his breaths came hard. Below him, the academy sprawled out in a mosaic of greenery and ancient stones. The anger that had driven him up here began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm detachment.

He let his spellbook float in front of him. Leafing quickly through mostly empty pages front to back, back to front. He was about to let it sink again before he realizes he wasn't barred from actual practice, was he. Just from attending the masters' training sessions. His spellbook felt heavy in his mind as he sat on the cool stone, legs dangling over the edge, opening it once more. His finger traced the outline of his first page—Spirit Companion.

Relar began to focus on casting the spell. Over the course of the morning, he had learned that the initial movements were exaggerated for practice. What had been sweeping gestures were now subtle movements. He drew on his training, visualizing the crane as it had appeared before, ethereal and graceful.

The first few attempts yielded nothing but frustration—no crane, no connection. He found himself to be erratic of mind, messing up movements again and again. His thoughts on what he should have done, how he should have responded this few minutes past.

After admitting this to himself, and the futility of wallowing in this right now, he finally managed to clear his mind, to focus on the beauty around him.

Persistence bore fruit; Relar felt a familiar tug at his aether core. His eyes snapped to his hand, to find the spectral crane emerging before him.

In the morning sessions, Relar had been worried that the crane needed direction, that it needed to fly, and that idleness would also look like failure in front of the master. This time, Relar did nothing.

The crane alighted on a half fallen wall. Relar stood up and approached cautiously as if one wrong move might startle it away. He felt the connection between himself and the crane. The slow pulse of aether flowing between them. The crane didn't flutter, didn't fade. Its gaze meeting Relar's own.

"Hello?", Relar ventured tentatively.

The crane cocked its head slightly, an acknowledgment that sent a thrill through Relar.

As Relar extended his hand towards the spectral crane, the world around them seemed to hush, the distant sounds of the academy and the whisper of the wind through the overgrown ruins fading into a profound silence. His fingertips hovered mere inches from the crane's glowing form.

The crane, for its part, regarded Relar with an unfathomable depth in its eyes. As Relar closed the distance, the spirit slowly lowered its beak.

Relar's heart beat a fast rhythm. His breath came in shallow drafts, the cool air of the ledge tasting almost liquid. With a slowness, born of reverence and caution, he closed the gap, his skin finally making contact with the crane's head, the part that looked most substantial.

The world didn't just fall away—it unraveled, thread by thread, revealing a tapestry of memories. Relar found himself adrift in a sea of visions, each wave a different chapter of the crane's existence.

Initially, there was serenity: the crane gliding over the tower's endless expanses, its shadow fleeting over forgotten sanctuaries and sun-drenched clearings where only grazing beasts kept quiet company. These scenes were drenched in peace and solitude. It soared high above tranquil lakes, mirror-like surfaces reflecting its graceful form as it dipped low, wings skimming the water's surface. In moments of hunger, the crane would descend, swift and sure, its beak piercing the water to catch unsuspecting fish that glittered like silver under the sun that kept him warm and comfortable.

It wandered, too, through fields of wildflowers, their colors a vivid mosaic under the open skies, pausing to rest amidst the blooms and greens. The crane's calls, clear and echoing, would rise into the air. At dusk, it would find solace in the crook of ancient trees, the fading light casting long, soft shadows across its resting place, the world around it sinking into reverence as day gave way to night.

As time progressed, Relar sensed a longing in the crane. It was always alone. Beasts and monsters didn't make for welcome company. The transition was subtle at first. Relar witnessed the hesitant approach of the crane to its first caster, felt the crane's spirit draw back in caution. Yet, it planned paths that converged with casters again and again. It made them a constant point of observation even as they varied so widely.

Lastly it started helping them. Lend it's presence to their journeys. Distracting a monster here, or leading them forward there. Through these exchanges, the crane grew, its essence enriched by each soul it touched. Relar watched as it stood by its companions through trials and triumphs. With each memory, the crane's role shifted from observer to participant, its connection to the climbers deepening into something profound and enduring. Until lastly, the crane fell in defense of a young girl against another caster, a much older group of three had her surrounded and finally ended her, and the crane that stood in her defense.

Emerging from the visions, sacrificing itself in defense of a young girl against overwhelming odds, imprinted deeply on Relar. In that moment, he understood it beyond a summons, as a valiant companion who had lived, fought, and ultimately died with honor. A complex life and being.

Relar kneeled before the crane and bowed his own head in deference. He felt more than saw the crane moving, stretching its beautiful neck to rest his head on Relars. They stayed still for a while. When Relar finally moved again, looking up, the crane was gone, but he felt it as a part of himself. A frail link, but nonetheless, a link that shone bright through his mind and soul. Before he rose, he said to the air in front of him, "If you are here to help, I can use all the help I can get. Thank you."