Tyrius preemptively grabbed hold of the edge of the doorframe as his body was dragged past.

  “Please, Metz, not that damn hellhole! We can do it outside today—he doesn’t have to know. You’d get to soak in the sun, I know you like that. How about that?” he pleaded, desperation in his voice.

  His body stretched out as Metz continued marching forward. Tyrius’ fingers clamped harder around the sturdy frame, the wood groaning as his nails dug in.

  Metz did not seem to notice—or care. He trudged on, completely unimpeded by the resistance.

  Tyrius’ grip failed soon after, and he flopped onto the grass. His back slid through the field just outside the cabin. He pushed up on his elbows, scooted, craned his neck, and saw Metz headed straight for the rocky outcrop and the stairs.

  His eyes tracked up the steps to the cave’s gaping maw.

  Slowly, the two of them entered the shadow of the colossal structure. The coolness of the shade brushed against his skin, its touch felt almost sinister in contrast to the warm morning. The looming entryway above seemed to mock him with a sense of inevitability as he was unwillingly dragged toward it.

  “Oh, I know, Metz—I’ll, uh, let you have some nice… grass!” Tyrius tried, frantically grabbing at tufts and yanking them as he tried to pull his leg free.

  The giant tortoise responded only by tugging his head, yanking Tyrius off balance and flat onto his back again.

  As the grass thinned, jagged stones began scraping across his back. Tyrius knew the worst part of the journey was approaching.

  He’s almost to the steps!

  “C’mon, Metz! I’ll give you my apple tomorrow—how’s that sound? No? Okay, okay—I’ll wax your shell too!”

  Tyrius pleaded with everything he had because he knew that once Metz started up the stairs, there was no stopping him—and he had only managed to talk the tortoise out of the cave on rare occasions.

  So when he felt Metz stop for a brief moment, a flicker of hope bloomed in his chest.

  Tyrius sat up and looked toward him. He was met with intelligent eyes that seemed to flicker with pity.

  I’m afraid not today, my dear boy.

  The elderly voice came again, each word still as slow and deliberate as Metz’s steps.

  Then, without further ceremony, Metz turned—tugging Tyrius again and sending him flopping back to the ground. It felt like a guillotine had fallen.

  Yep. Should not have fallen asleep yesterday.

  Tyrius felt the tortoise step up—reaching the first stair.

  He closed his eyes and covered the back of his head with both hands as Metz began to climb. His shoulders and spine scraped against the stone the entire way up.

  By the time they reached the training area, Tyrius’ back was cut up—as usual.

  As soon as the shallow water that constantly coated the stone platform touched his skin, he felt a mild wash of relief. Almost soothing. Almost.

  But getting dragged across stone still hurt, and Metz didn’t stop.

  Soon, Tyrius was being pulled through the soft sand of the lagoon, then mostly submerged in its reservoir.

  Without pause, the tortoise reached the base of the giant obsidian rock and began walking up it—vertically—seemingly unaffected by gravity.

  Tyrius, dangling limply with arms free, was entirely unimpressed. His face broke the surface of the water, hair streaming down, blood rushing to his head as Metz scaled the sheer face.

  As they crested the top, Tyrius’ eyes locked onto the jagged spire of stone above—a single point, already glistening with water.

  He stared at it in quiet dread as it slowly, inevitably, centered over his face. It never looked stable to him. And yet, the comically large shape showed no signs of structural instability. It was an unmoving, unchanging feature of the chamber.

  Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that at any moment, it would fall and crush him.

  Drip.

  His eye twitched as a droplet smacked his forehead.

  Tyrius sat up and looked at Metz, who was in the midst of settling in on the far side of the rock.

  Tyrius.

  The tortoise began, conjuring a ball of energy. It felt familiar—like the same energy Tyrius had been avoiding during his blindfold sessions.

  Even though he lived inside a literal manifestation of someone’s soul, Tyrius rarely got the chance to see mana or skills in use. So watching Metz conjure this mass drew his full attention.

  The orb floated loosely above the tortoise’s shell, leaking energy in every direction. To Tyrius, it looked wildly inefficient—like it would puff out of existence at any moment.

  This is what the young master has been training you with, Metz said.

  He launched the orb over Tyrius’ shoulder. As it sailed past, Tyrius could feel it—it was identical to the ones he’d been dodging. The mass unraveled in the wind like it simply fell apart soon after.

  “Why is it so unstable?” Tyrius asked.

  Ah, astute observation, young Tyrius. The answer is quite simple.

  Tyrius waited patiently through the long pause. The tortoise took many of those.

  You see, we had to create such a magnificently inefficient and lousy orb so you could actually sense the damn thing.

  The crotchety old voice carried a familiar sting—his barbs never missed their mark.

  But the master has decided it is time to use this.

  A perfectly translucent orb appeared over Metz and floated over to Tyrius, stopping just in front of his face. Swirls of faint rainbow colors shimmered across its surface.

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  Tyrius reached out and gave it a light poke. It popped out of existence.

  “That’s a soap bubble,” Tyrius said flatly.

  Ah, you noticed! Yes, that was a soap bubb—NO! This is a stable orb formed of mana. It is as weak as we can make it, but as you can see, it’s not leaking energy like the garbage you’ve been playing with.

  ompared to the earlier orb, this one wasn’t losing any visible energy. Tyrius spread his perception forward—but his skill felt nothing.

  “Okay... and how do you expect me to use it if I can’t sense it?” Tyrius asked.

  Well, we are going to chuck it at you until you do feel it, Metz replied.

  Tyrius nodded along unconsciously with the explanation.

  “Oh, that makes sen—wait, what?” He looked at the tortoise as if it had grown two heads.

  “How does that make any sense?”

  Do not interrupt me! Metz’s voice snapped, and Tyrius couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he waited again.

  You are to sit in a lotus position under that stalactite and meditate. I will be maneuvering several of these orbs around you as you do.

  Tyrius glanced up at the pointed pillar, then back down at the tortoise.

  Whenever you feel a drop coming, I want you to reach up and catch it with your index finger.

  “So you want me to stop the falling droplet—with my finger?” he asked in disbelief.

  Let me finish! The voice boomed, and the rock beneath his feet shook with it.

  Tyrius zipped his lips and sat back on his haunches, waiting.

  Now, where was I—ah, yes. You are to catch the droplet with your index finger while trying to sense these orbs. You must alternate hands after each drop.

  Tyrius stared blankly at the reptile.

  “S—”

  Then, if you begin to sense these orbs, I want you to try to pop them with your fingers. These do not need to be alternated—just use whichever hand is closer.

  Tyrius waited even longer this time.

  “Ok—”

  Any questions?

  Tyrius let out an aggravated sigh.

  “The drop isn’t consistent. How am I supposed to predict when to reach up?”

  Predict? No, no, no. You are supposed to sense it.

  “Well, that’s impossible. What if I miss?”

  Well, naturally, there will be consequences.

  “What kind of cons—”

  An orb slammed into his stomach—but this time, it didn’t pop.

  Irrelevant.

  Tyrius coughed and nodded to himself. He’d found the consequences.

  “Why was that so... hard?”

  Begin.

  Tyrius scrambled into a lotus position and began to meditate. Metz didn’t like to be kept waiting, after all.

  He started to relax his body and let his mind wander outward. That was how he’d learned to meditate—by letting the world flow around him. He breathed in deeply and focused on the air moving through his lungs.

  A faint tingling sensation tickled at his chest. Curious, he swept his perception through that area again, breathing in deeper. The air felt subtly charged, and the tingling felt... good.

  Is this my body absorbing mana?

  A droplet smacked the top of his head. An orb smashed into him a heartbeat later.

  There will also be consequences for doing nothing. Now, focus. Metz’s firm voice cut through his lapse.

  How does he expect me to focus on everything?

  Tyrius growled inwardly at the frustration—but began falling back into his meditative state.

  This game continued for hours. Tyrius had only managed to catch one drop by then—and that had been pure luck.

  But slowly, ever so slightly, he began to sense something. It felt like a fuzzy blanket just barely extending past his skin. He tried pushing his perception into it—but couldn’t.

  Over time, Tyrius realized this invisible barrier was what had been preventing him from sensing things clearly. There was a small space—between his skin and this veil—that he could sense.

  He began to focus entirely on that space, pouring his attention into it.

  The drops and orbs kept coming. He ignored them. He took the hits without flinching.

  And then he noticed—just as the orbs entered that boundary, he could sense them.

  He suddenly remembered the orb he’d redirected the night before. He’d felt it the moment it entered this space.

  This was Tyrius’ first real brush with magic, and he threw his will into it.

  The hours dragged on, but he didn’t care how many times he got hit. He poured everything into piercing that veil.

  Progress was slow, but real. He managed to push the boundary outward—if only by a few inches.

  That’s enough for today. You're not even trying.

  Metz’s words crashed over him. The moment he stopped trying, the veil settled back over him.

  But he could tell—it hadn’t vanished. It hadn’t reset. It was just no longer being held back. He hadn’t lost progress. He’d simply let go.

  Metz began walking toward the edge of the rock, heading for the exit.

  “Already?” Tyrius complained.

  Metz stopped mid-step and looked back at the boy.

  What do you mean, already? You’ve done nothing but sit there and get pelted. Take a look at yourself. I was almost convinced I was the only one practicing anything. Unless your intention was to practice being a training dummy.

  Tyrius looked down—and was surprised to find himself covered head to toe in bruises. It actually seemed worse than usual. That’s when he noticed the deep, aching soreness radiating through his entire body.

  When did I get so hurt?

  “Can we just go a little more?” Tyrius asked.

  No. Young master is returning soon. Let’s get you cleaned up.

  Metz turned and took a few more steps before pausing again.

  Are you coming, or do I need to drag you?

  Tyrius was on his feet immediately and bounced over to the grouchy tortoise.

  As they made their way back to the exit, Tyrius took great care not to walk in front of the lumbering beast, instead staying beside him.

  Metz marched onward, and craned his head to look at the boy.

  You did very well today.

  “Wait—you could see that?” Tyrius asked, incredulous.

  Yes. I could see you sinking into meditation wonderfully. You even began to notice the orbs and the droplet—if only slightly. You started to tense up just before being hit. I was quite impressed.

  “Yeah… I started to feel something and kind of leaned into it,” Tyrius said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Well, I’d say you just need to keep doing that and you’ll be popping these orbs in no time. Though it was a touch odd... it felt like the ambient mana in the room began drifting toward you during the exercise. Almost as if you were pulling it in.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure about that. I was just feeling around with my skill,” Tyrius replied offhandedly as he climbed the final steps.

  As his feet touched the grass, a warmth crept across his skin before sinking in, healing the wounds from the day. A shiver ran down his spine. Tyrius could never get used to that feeling.

  “Well, how did he do?” his master’s voice called from above. He was already descending toward them, another book in hand.

  I’d say he did marvelously. He already managed to start sensing the orbs. Got pretty beat up today, but all things considered, it was a fantastic training day for the boy. Barely complained, too.

  “He felt the orbs, did he?” his master said, snapping the book shut. His gaze shifted to Tyrius.

  “Oh, now isn’t this interesting,” he added offhandedly, eyes studying the boy.

  “What’s interesting?” Tyrius asked, frowning. He didn’t like being studied like a lab rat.

  “Oh, nothing. For now. But go eat dinner and get some rest. I think we’ll have a long day tomorrow... Just the two of us.”

  His master smiled widely.

  Tyrius felt no comfort in that smile—only dread.

  Just before his head could drop in defeat, he caught a scent on the air.

  He inhaled deeply.

  Steak and potatoes!

  His head snapped toward the table in the distance. It was already piled high with delicious food.

  He turned back to Metz and his master. Metz was already dissolving into bright particles, flowing back into the man’s chest. It was only natural—Metz was his soul familiar, after all.

  The master gave a small nod, letting Tyrius know it was okay.

  Tyrius turned and sprinted toward the table.