After they finished their tea, Tiana led Cale through her home, the spirit called Xentar floating close behind like a silent observer.

  The house was small but brimming with personality, feeling more lived-in than simply occupied. The kitchen was compact but efficient, with bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, their fragrances mingling with the faint traces of smoke from the hearth. A heavy wooden table bore the marks of frequent use, its surface scarred by knife marks and stained from past concoctions.

  The study was a world of its own, shelves crammed with books and scrolls—some neatly arranged, others stacked haphazardly in forgotten corners. Many were ancient, their covers cracked, their pages yellowed with age. Some bore strange symbols etched into the leather, runes that seemed to pulse with dormant power. A wooden desk sat in the center, cluttered with ink-stained quills, scattered parchments, and various alchemical tools—vials filled with thick, swirling liquids, small jars containing preserved roots and dried petals, and a mortar and pestle dusted with remnants of crushed herbs. An old, high-backed chair stood behind the desk, its cushioning worn thin from years of use.

  Upstairs, there was a single bedroom, modest but comfortable. A large, sturdy bed with dark green blankets sat against one wall, its frame carved with intricate swirling designs. A wardrobe stood in the corner, its doors slightly ajar, revealing neatly folded clothes and a few hanging robes. A single nightstand bore a candle, its wax pooled over the edges, hardened from nights left burning. The air here was softer, carrying the lingering scent of night-blooming jasmine, the same fragrance Tiana wore.

  At the back of the house, a small bathroom with a stone basin and a simple wooden tub occupied one corner. A copper pipe extended from the wall, likely enchanted to provide heated water. A narrow shelf held small glass bottles filled with various oils and tinctures, their labels smudged with age.

  Beyond the house, a backyard opened up, enclosed by a towering wall of bramble vines, their thorny branches weaving an impenetrable barrier against the outside world. Small garden beds lined the space, overflowing with medicinal plants, their leaves glistening under the faint glow of enchanted lanterns that hung from the wooden posts. A worn wooden bench rested beneath the canopy of an old oak tree, its surface etched with small carvings of symbols and patterns. In the farthest corner, a wooden training dummy stood, battered and worn, evidence that Tiana had not spent all her days merely studying but preparing for something more.

  After the brief tour, Tiana led him back to the wooden table where they had shared their tea. She sat down gracefully, folding one leg over the other, watching him with quiet amusement.

  "Any questions?" she asked, her tone light, but her eyes sharp, as if gauging his thoughts.

  Cale gave a slow nod. "Where am I going to sleep?"

  Tiana’s lips curled into a teasing smile, her dark-painted lips stretching ever so slightly.

  "With me, of course. There’s only one bedroom in this house."

  Cale’s brain stalled. His thoughts crashed into each other like an avalanche, rendering him completely and utterly speechless.

  His face burned instantly, blood rushing to his cheeks in a way he had absolutely no control over. His mouth opened, but no words came out, only a strangled attempt at breathing. His mind screamed at him to say something—anything—but nothing coherent formed.

  Tiana leaned her chin against her hand, watching his reaction with open amusement, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief.

  She was playing with him.

  Cale sat completely helpless, his hands gripping the edge of the table like it was his only lifeline.

  Xentar, let out what could only be described as a chuckle.

  "He has absolutely no idea how to handle this," the spirit mused, its voice laced with humor.

  Tiana smirked, tapping her fingers against the table. "Relax, little one. I was only teasing. You’ll sleep in the study. There’s a cot there."

  Cale exhaled sharply, relief washing over him like a tide. He nodded stiffly, forcing himself to calm his racing heart.

  Tiana merely laughed, clearly pleased with herself.

  She stretched her arms above her head and let out a graceful yawn, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

  "The sun has already fallen, it seems," she murmured, her voice carrying a sleepy satisfaction. With a slow, fluid motion, she rose from her seat. "I'm going to take a bath. Xentar, keep him company."

  With that, she turned and disappeared into the back of the house, heading toward the bathroom.

  The white owl, suddenly stirred from its wooden perch, its blue eyes gleaming in the dim firelight. It spread its wings briefly before landing right in front of Cale, tilting its head as if scrutinizing him.

  "His name is Archimedes," Xentar remarked. "Strange... he's usually not very friendly, but it seems he likes you."

  Archimedes took a few deliberate steps forward until he was practically pressed against Cale’s face. Understanding what the owl wanted, Cale hesitantly raised his hand and began to rub the feathery crown of its head. The owl let out a pleased hoot, leaning into the touch.

  Cale couldn’t help but smile, his fingers threading through the soft feathers. Then, shifting his gaze toward Xentar, he asked, "I don’t know if it's rude to ask, but... how does it feel to be a spirit?"

  "Boring. Very boring," Xentar replied immediately. The wisp began to drift around the table in slow, measured circles, almost as if pacing.

  "When I was alive, this entire forest was my territory. I ran through the trees faster than the wind itself. I was respected by all the creatures that lived here because I allowed them to exist within my domain. And the ladies—ah, how much I miss them..." The wisp's voice was thick with longing, a phantom of a life long past.

  Cale chuckled. "How did you look when you were alive?"

  "I was marvelous," Xentar declared proudly. "My coat was as dark as the midnight sky, my muscles taut like a bowstring. My hooves—strong enough to crack even the hardest rock beneath me. My mane, thick and flowing like a raging river. And the horn upon my head—nothing could stand against its sharpness!"

  Cale furrowed his brows, the description forming an image in his mind. Hooves, a mane, a horn... He hesitated before asking, "Were you... a horse? With a horn?"

  The wisp froze in place, the green glow around it pulsing erratically. A heavy silence followed.

  Then, Xentar’s voice erupted in outrage. "Did you just call me a horse, boy?!"

  Cale blinked, realizing too late that he had somehow insulted the spirit. "Sorry! I just don't know what creature you were."

  Xentar seemed to calm slightly, though his presence still radiated offense. "I am surprised. Stories of my kind were often used to terrify children."

  Cale frowned. "How does a horse with a horn scare anyone?"

  As soon as the words left his lips, he realized his mistake. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

  Xentar crackled with indignation. "I was a unicorn, you ignorant fool!" The wisp flared brighter, its voice carrying the fury of wounded pride. "Allow me to educate you! Let me tell you the story of one of my kills—of how I tore apart a warrior who dared to challenge me!"

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  The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Xentar's voice deepened, taking on an almost predatory quality.

  The warrior had come into the forest, thinking himself invincible. He was clad in enchanted steel, a sword blessed by the light, believing it would protect him. A fool.

  I watched him from the shadows, my breath silent, my steps light. He did not see me until it was too late.

  The moment he raised his sword, I lunged. My hooves struck the ground like thunder, sending tremors through the earth. Before he could react, my horn pierced through his feeble barrier of light as if it were paper. His eyes widened in shock, his faith shattered in an instant.

  He swung his sword wildly, but I was faster. I dodged with ease, his blade slicing nothing but air. With a single movement, I clamped my jaws around his arm. Ah, he thought unicorns only used their horns? How foolish.

  I bit down, my teeth sinking through metal, flesh, and bone. The taste of blood filled my mouth as he screamed, the sound deliciously helpless. He fell to his knees, trembling, his sword slipping from his grasp.

  I did not grant him mercy.

  With a final charge, I gored him straight through the chest. His body spasmed once, then fell limp, impaled upon my horn. His lifeblood trickled down my mane, soaking the earth beneath us.

  I lifted my head, letting his corpse slide from my horn like discarded meat.

  And then, I moved on.

  Cale sat frozen, his mouth slightly open. The silence in the room was deafening.

  "You see," Xentar said, his tone far too smug for a floating ball of light, "we are nothing like your pathetic horses."

  Cale swallowed hard. He had certainly learned that lesson.

  "But enough about me. Tell me something about yourself, boy," Xentar prompted, drifting closer to him.

  Cale exhaled and leaned back slightly. "I'm a metal mage. And a very strong one."

  Xentar’s glow pulsed. "How strong exactly?"

  Cale hesitated, trying to find the right words. The only people he had fought seriously were his teachers—Alden and Isa. He had no real comparison to measure his strength. Alden had been an earth mage, but Cale had never known the true depth of his master’s power. Isa, however…

  His thoughts drifted to her. She had always been there, guiding him, pushing him, and now—he had left her behind. He could only imagine how she must feel. Betrayed? Angry? Heartbroken?

  'I hope she's alright,' he thought.

  "Boy?" Xentar's voice snapped him back to reality. The spirit had noticed the shift in his expression.

  "Sorry," Cale muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I was just thinking about someone important to me. Someone I left behind."

  "Your mate?" Xentar asked bluntly.

  Cale stared at him, deadpan. "What?"

  Xentar hovered expectantly, but Cale remained silent. Isa was beautiful—breathtaking, even—but was that enough? He cared for her as a friend, perhaps even more, but love? He wasn't sure. The concept was distant, unfamiliar, like an emotion just beyond his grasp.

  "Xentar," Cale asked hesitantly, "how does love feel? How do you know when you truly love someone?"

  "By the smell," Xentar answered immediately.

  Cale blinked. "What?"

  The wisp hesitated, then let out a sigh. "You humans… I wouldn't know. And if you want advice, do not ask Tiana. She will get really angry. I learned that the hard way."

  Cale raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

  Xentar flickered slightly, his voice losing its usual smugness. "I don’t know. I’m here because she was the only one I could interact with… at least, until today."

  They drifted into idle conversation after that, with Cale absentmindedly stroking Archimedes as the owl nestled against him. Meanwhile, Xentar continued to brag about his past life, listing his many supposed accomplishments with exaggerated flair.

  The creak of the door broke their momentary peace as Tiana stepped into the room, her presence immediately commanding attention.

  "I’ll be in my study. Do not disturb me," she instructed as she walked past them.

  Cale caught a faint scent as she passed—a sweet, hypnotizing fragrance that clung to the air, subtle yet lingering.

  "What about my training?" he asked.

  Tiana didn’t break her stride. "It's too late now. I’ll start teaching you tomorrow morning."

  Without another word, she disappeared into her study, leaving them alone once more.

  Time stretched on, the quiet hum of the house settling around him. Cale shifted in his seat, restless. The inactivity felt unnatural. His recent years had been regimented—training, pushing his limits, sharpening himself like a blade. Now, with nothing to do, an unsettling feeling crept over him.

  Boredom.

  It felt wrong.

  "Hey, Xentar," Cale said, breaking the silence.

  The spirit stopped mid-sentence, pausing its long-winded tale of former glory. "Yes?"

  "Do you think it would be alright if we stepped outside for a bit? Maybe walked around the backyard?"

  "Yes, sure. Let's go outside," Xentar agreed, floating toward the door. Without hesitation, he passed straight through it.

  Cale followed, stepping out into the cool night air.

  The backyard stretched before him, bathed in moonlight, its silver glow casting long, soft shadows over the garden beds. The towering bramble wall shimmered faintly, as if absorbing the light, creating a serene yet eerie beauty. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the faint scent of earth and herbs. Everything felt quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made the world feel untouched, sacred.

  Xentar drifted ahead before speaking. "If you want to practice your Spirit Bending, perhaps I can help."

  Cale turned to him, curiosity piqued. "How?"

  "Tiana usually comes out here, sits under the oak, and closes her eyes. She breathes steadily for a while… and then she leaves."

  Cale frowned. "That's it?"

  Xentar bobbed in the air. "That’s all I’ve seen her do."

  Cale sighed, tempted to dismiss the idea, but… he had nothing better to do. He already knew how to meditate—it was part of his training. Perhaps this would at least help him pass the time.

  Stepping toward the ancient oak tree, Cale took a seat beneath its massive branches. Archimedes flew from his arm perching himself on one of the lower branches.

  The bark was rough against his back, grounding him in the present. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs.

  He let himself drift, focusing only on his breath.

  Cale’s focus turned inward, his breathing steady, his heartbeat pulsing through his body like the rhythm of a drum. He felt the blood coursing through his veins, expanding and contracting, flowing like a river beneath his skin.

  Deeper.

  He pushed his awareness beyond the physical, stretching his senses further, reaching into something he had only recently begun to perceive. The new presence—the strange, untapped energy he had first felt when he woke up by the riverbank. It was there, faint but undeniable, woven into him like an invisible thread connecting him to something vast and unknown.

  Time became meaningless. He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the darkness of his own mind, listening, waiting.

  Then, suddenly, reality snapped back into focus.

  His eyes flew open.

  Tiana stood before him, her hand gripping his shoulder. Her expression was sharp, her emerald eyes gleaming in the dim moonlight, irritation evident in the tightness of her jaw.

  "What did you do?" she demanded, her voice low, carrying the weight of restrained anger.

  Cale blinked, disoriented. "What?"

  "Look around."

  He did.

  And his breath caught in his throat.

  All around him, dozens of tiny wisps floated in the air, pulsing softly like fireflies caught in a silent dance. Each one glowed with a different hue—crimson, sapphire, gold, violet—a swirling spectrum of ethereal light. They flickered and twisted through the night, some drifting close to him, their warmth like tiny embers brushing against his skin.

  It was mesmerizing. Unreal.

  "Did I... do that?" Cale asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Tiana’s gaze didn’t soften. "You tell me. You said you didn’t know spirit bending, and yet—" she gestured at the spirits circling him, "—you’ve attracted more spirits in one night than I have in years."

  Her voice was carefully controlled, still carrying its usual velvety allure, but there was something else beneath it. Frustration. Maybe even... unease?

  Cale swallowed, trying to make sense of it. "I just meditated. That’s all."

  Tiana closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as she took a step back. The moonlight highlighted the tension in her shoulders before she exhaled slowly, regaining her composure.

  "For interrupting my study, you deserve punishment," she said coolly, though a hint of amusement curled at the edge of her lips. "I’ll decide what it will be by tomorrow."

  With that, she turned and strode back toward the shack, disappearing inside without another word.

  Cale watched her leave, letting out a quiet sigh as he ran a hand through his silver hair. He had no idea what he had done, but it was clearly something significant.

  A wisp floated before him, lingering just a breath away. Unlike the others, its glow was weaker, its form flickering unsteadily. And then, without warning, something stirred in his mind—a whisper of a memory, not his own.

  Rotten wood. A darkened burrow. The feel of damp earth against fragile skin.

  It had been something small in life. A rodent, maybe. A fleeting existence, now reduced to this faint glow, drifting through the world unseen.

  "Sorry about that, kid," Xentar’s voice cut through the quiet as he appeared beside him, his spectral form flickering to life as if he had been there all along.

  Cale glanced at him. "It’s fine. Why do you think she was so angry?"

  Xentar let out a deep hum, as if pondering the question. "She doesn’t like being disturbed when she’s working. Even more so in recent years. I don’t know why, and trust me, I’ve tried asking. All she ever gives me is the cold shoulder."

  Cale frowned, his curiosity deepening. "Have you known each other for long?"

  "A century, maybe two," Xentar said offhandedly, as though the passage of time meant little to him.

  Cale’s eyes widened. "Two centuries?"

  "Give or take," Xentar replied lazily. "Time's a bit tricky when you’re, you know, dead."

  Cale processed the information, but another thought formed in his mind. "Then how does she still look so... young?"

  Xentar pulsed, shrugging in his own ghostly way. "Magic, obviously. Never really cared to ask."

  Cale turned his gaze toward the shack, his thoughts racing.

  The more he learned about Tiana, the more questions he had.