Aren's breath came unevenly as Lunaris's words settled over him like frost on bare skin. A star. A power no mortal body should hold. A seal that was not restricting him, but keeping him alive.
The fire crackled gently, unaware of the weight now pressing on Aren's chest.
Lyrin held his arm tightly, her touch trembling but warm. Snowfang pressed against his legs, whining softly as though sensing his spiraling thoughts.
Aren swallowed hard. "If the power inside me could kill me… then… how am I supposed to live with it?"
Lunaris didn't answer immediately. Instead, they stepped away from the fire, snow crunching under their boots. Soft green light gathered in their palm. Not bright—just controlled, refined.
"Mana is like breath," Lunaris said. "Like blood. Like life."
Aren blinked. "Then mine is… what? Fire?"
"Worse," Lunaris replied, turning to face him. "Your mana is volatile because it isn't natural to this world. It feels like something that slipped between realms and lodged itself within you."
Lyrin gasped. "Like an Astral Fragment?"
Lunaris's eyes narrowed. "No. Those glow with pale luminescence. This… is something denser. Heavy. Burning."
Aren tried to steady his breathing, but each inhale felt sharp. "So what am I? Or what do I have?"
Lunaris shook their head slowly. "I do not know. But whatever it is, it is old. And dangerous. It is a power that should not exist inside an elf's vessel."
Aren's mind spun.
Lyrin placed a comforting hand on his back. "Aren, it doesn't matter what you contain. You're still you."
Her voice was small, but firm. Aren managed a weak nod.
Lunaris dusted snow from their cloak. "Sit," they ordered.
Aren blinked. "…Why?"
"Because you're about to start learning control," Lunaris replied plainly. "Before your core tears itself apart."
Aren sank onto the cold ground, sitting cross-legged near the fire. His pulse still hammered, but curiosity began to push back the fear.
Lyrin hesitated. "Should I…?"
"You may stay," Lunaris said. "Your presence stabilizes him."
Her eyes widened. "It does…?"
Lunaris nodded. "His mana reacts violently to threat or isolation. But when you touch him, it calms."
Aren blinked. "It does?"
Lyrin went stiff, cheeks warming slightly. "I—I didn't— I mean—"
Snowfang huffed loudly, as if rolling his eyes at the emotional awkwardness.
Lunaris ignored the awkwardness entirely and lifted a hand. "Focus, Aren."
Aren straightened.
"Your mana pathways are jagged," Lunaris said. "Uneven. When you cast magic, the power forces its way through them. Like a torrent smashing through a narrow stream."
"That doesn't sound comforting," Aren muttered.
"It shouldn't."
Aren winced. "Right."
"Hold out your hand," Lunaris instructed.
Aren extended his left hand.
Lunaris placed two fingers on his palm and closed their eyes.
A ripple like warm wind traveled up Aren's arm—not painful, but startling. He flinched slightly.
Lyrin steadied him by gripping his shoulder.
"You feel that?" Lunaris asked.
Aren nodded. "Yeah. It's… buzzing."
"That is the excess," Lunaris said. "Mana overflowing your channels. We must refine it."
"Refine?" Aren echoed.
"A slow process. Painful at times. Exhausting always."
Aren exhaled. "That's fine."
Lunaris tilted their head. "Are you prepared for hardship?"
Aren locked eyes with them.
"I almost died twice in the past two days," he said. "Whatever this training is, I'll take it."
Lunaris studied him for a long moment.
Then they nodded.
"Good."
They stepped back and turned to the fire. "First lesson: Breathing. Mana cannot be controlled if breath is wild."
Aren raised an eyebrow. "Breathing? That's it?"
"For now."
Aren inhaled slowly.
Lunaris corrected him instantly. "Too shallow."
Aren tried again.
"Too forceful."
He tried again.
"Too tense."
Aren groaned. "How hard can breathing be?"
Lyrin giggled softly behind her hand.
"Very hard," Lunaris answered. "Especially for someone whose mana tries to rip its way out every time you inhale."
Aren froze mid-breath. "Wait—what?"
"The star inside you vibrates with every intake of air," Lunaris explained. "It is tied to your life force. Breathe wrong, and the power stirs."
A cold sweat dripped down Aren's spine.
"Again," Lunaris said.
Aren breathed.
This time slower.
Smoother.
Lunaris nodded. "Better. Now, close your eyes."
Aren did.
The world faded into darkness.
"Feel your mana," Lunaris whispered. "Not as a storm. Not as a threat. But as something inside you. A part of you."
Aren tried.
But the moment he reached inward…
He felt it.
The burning star.
A pressure, heavy and bright, pulsing like a heartbeat made of fire.
His breath hitched.
Lyrin tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Aren… steady."
Snowfang pressed closer, tail brushing Aren's knee lightly.
Lunaris's voice cut through the tension like a calm blade. "Do not force it. Let the sensation come. Observe it. Do not confront it."
Aren inhaled again.
Slow.
Measured.
The burning grew… but only slightly.
Then it steadied.
He exhaled shakily. "…Okay. I can… feel it."
"Good," Lunaris said. "Now, imagine your body as a vessel. A cup."
"A cup?" Aren frowned.
"Yes," Lunaris said. "A vessel meant to hold power. But your vessel is cracked. And too small."
Aren winced. "Thanks for the encouragement."
Lyrin glared at Lunaris. "They mean well—just… bluntly."
A small hint of amusement touched Lunaris's lips for the first time. "It is true."
Aren sighed, but focused again.
"Picture water flowing into the vessel," Lunaris continued. "That water is your mana. The cracks cause the water to spill out uncontrollably. Your training will slowly widen the vessel… smooth the cracks… strengthen the structure."
Aren nodded slowly. "I think I get it."
"Good. Now… exhale."
Aren did.
And something unexpected happened.
The star inside him pulsed—not violently—but softly. Like it responded to the controlled rhythm.
Lunaris raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."
Aren opened one eye. "Good interesting or bad interesting?"
"Neither," Lunaris said. "Just unexpected."
Aren nearly groaned.
Hours passed.
Breath after breath.
Control exercise after control exercise.
Sometimes Aren slipped. Sometimes he felt the burning flare dangerously. Sometimes he gasped in pain. But each time, Lyrin steadied him with a hand on his arm or back, her presence grounding him.
And each time, Lunaris corrected his form with precise, calm instruction.
The snow outside darkened as night deepened, and the cave grew dim save for the steady fire.
Finally, Lunaris raised a hand. "Enough."
Aren collapsed backward, gasping. "I'm… dying…"
"No," Lunaris said. "If you were dying, you would not complain."
Lyrin giggled. "That's… weirdly comforting."
Aren rubbed his face. "Everything hurts."
"It will for a while," Lunaris replied. "Your mana resisted you less near the end. That's progress."
Aren blinked. "Wait… I actually made progress?"
Lunaris nodded. "Yes. Small, but real. Your breathing stabilized for nearly twenty counts."
Aren sat up straight. "Twenty?!"
"Out of the five hundred required for stability," Lunaris added.
Aren collapsed again. "Never mind…"
Lyrin placed a small cloth on his forehead to wipe the sweat. "Aren… you did well."
Hearing that—so softly spoken, yet full of sincerity—made Aren feel a little lighter.
Lunaris sat cross-legged. "We will continue tomorrow at dawn."
Aren groaned. "Dawn? Can't we do afternoon?"
"No."
Aren stared at the ceiling. "I regret everything."
Snowfang barked softly, as if laughing at him.
Later, as the fire died down and they settled on blankets Lunaris had brought from their pack, the ranger suddenly spoke.
"Aren."
Aren, half-asleep, mumbled. "Yeah…?"
"That seal on your neck," Lunaris said quietly. "It is not elven. Nor human. Nor beast-engraved."
Aren blinked awake. "Then what is it?"
Lunaris's green eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "Its structure is… celestial."
A strange chill crawled up Aren's spine. "Celestial?"
Lyrin sat up instantly. "As in… starborn runes?"
"Older," Lunaris whispered. "Much older."
Aren felt his heartbeat quicken. "Then… who put this seal on me?"
Lunaris didn't answer at first.
Then they said: "Whoever sealed you… knew the truth long before you did. And they wanted you to survive."
Aren's breath caught.
Lyrin looked at him with worry. "Aren…"
He swallowed hard. "If someone like that sealed me… does that mean they're looking for me?"
Snowfang's ears perked up sharply.
Lunaris's tone grew cold. "Not looking."
Aren froze.
Lyrin gripped his sleeve.
Lunaris whispered:
"They're hunting."
The fire flickered, shadows trembling.
Aren's pulse thudded painfully. "So they're after me?"
Lunaris nodded slowly. "Yes. And if they find you before you learn control… you will die."
Aren stared into the dark of the cave.
Fear.
Confusion.
Determination.
They all mixed inside him.
He clenched a fist.
"I'll learn," he muttered. "I'll master this. I won't die without knowing why I'm here."
Lyrin placed her hand over his.
"And you won't face it alone."
Snowfang barked once, as if agreeing.
Lunaris watched them silently, something unreadable flickering in their eyes.
Then they said, almost softly:
"Rest, Aren. Tomorrow begins your path to survival."
Aren laid back, staring at the stone ceiling.
Even with fear swirling inside him… he felt something else.
Resolve.
If the star within him wanted to tear him apart… then he would tame it.
He would become stronger.
And he would uncover the truth buried beneath his existence.
For the first time since waking in this world… Aren felt a direction.
A purpose.
He closed his eyes.
Morning would come soon.
And with it, the first step toward becoming a force this world had never seen.