The camp felt different when they returned.
It wasn't damaged. The tents still stood. The fire pit was intact—nothing had touched it.
And yet, the silence was heavier than before—like the land itself was holding its breath.
Avdhoot helped lower Akshay onto a bedroll inside the medical tent. The boy's face was pale, his lips pressed tight against the pain he refused to show, blood still staining his clothes, though the flow had slowed.
Meira was already moving.
She knelt beside Akshay, sleeves rolled up, hands glowing with soft blue mana as she began weaving stabilisation patterns through his body. Not healing yet—not fully. First came control.
"Internal fractures," she said quietly. "Mana backlash from the Sky Reaper's pressure wave. His body absorbed too much shock."
Priya stood just outside the tent, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white. "Will he live?"
Meira didn't look up. "Yes. But not without rest. And not without help."
Avdhoot felt the words settle into his chest like a weight.
Veer hovered nearby, trying—and failing—to hide his worry. "So… best-case scenario?"
"Best case?" Meira said. "He walks again without permanent damage. Worst case—"
She stopped herself. "We're not discussing worst case."
Tara entered quietly, eyes sharp, already shifting from survival to strategy. "Mana exhaustion?"
Meira nodded. "I'm burning through my reserves faster than I'd like. Healing someone injured by a creature like that isn't simple. Its mana signature interferes with natural regeneration."
Avdhoot leaned against a support pole. "I'm not much better," he admitted. "If I push again like earlier, I might not come back conscious."
That changed the room.
Priya exhaled slowly. "Then we don't push blindly."
Outside, the others gathered near the fire—Veer, Tara, Kiran, Bhavna—faces lit by flickering orange light, all carrying the same unspoken question.
What now?
"The Sky Reaper is still in the highlands," Tara said, laying the enchanted map flat on a crate. The glowing runes pulsed faintly, responding to mana signatures nearby. "It didn't follow us, but it didn't leave either."
Veer swallowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Tara replied, "it's treating this area as its territory."
Priya looked grim. "Which means other groups are at risk."
Silence followed.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Rohan's group in the marshlands. Ravi's group in the northern forest. Even Fang teams are operating near adjacent ridges.
"If that thing reacts to mana pressure," Avdhoot said slowly, "then any prolonged combat, large spell use, or panic could draw it."
Meira stepped out of the medical tent, wiping sweat from her brow. "Especially injured groups. Fear spikes mana output. So does desperation."
Bhavna hugged herself. "Then it's already hunting."
"No," Avdhoot corrected. "It's waiting."
That was worse.
"We can't just finish our herb quota and leave," Veer said, voice tight. "If we do that and another group gets wiped—"
"—We live with it," Tara finished flatly. "And that's not something Lions do."
Priya straightened. "Fangs don't either."
Avdhoot looked around the fire—at the faces smeared with dirt and exhaustion, at the people who had survived something they were never meant to face.
"We need a plan," he said. "Not to fight it. Not to kill it. To outlast it."
He pointed to the map.
"We collect what we can—but fast. Minimal mana use. No flashy spells. Then we move."
"Move where?" Kiran asked.
"Toward other groups," Avdhoot replied. "We warn them. We help them consolidate. Smaller mana signatures together are safer than scattered ones panicking alone."
Tara nodded slowly. "A moving network. Rotating watches. Shared resources."
"And evacuation routes," Meira added. "Natural cover. Tunnels. Ravines. Places too narrow or reinforced for a Sky Reaper to exploit."
Veer blinked. "Did we just accidentally discover the campaign's advanced survival curriculum?"
"Probably," Priya muttered. "Right before it kills someone."
Meira turned back toward the tent. "I can stabilise Akshay enough for transport by tomorrow morning. But I won't be able to fight. Not properly."
"You won't have to," Avdhoot said immediately.
She met his eyes. "Neither will you. Your mana is fractured. If you overextend again, you risk permanent damage."
"I know," he said quietly.
Priya studied him. "Then why are you still planning to lead?"
Avdhoot didn't answer immediately.
Then: "Because that thing reacted to me. And if it's watching… I want it watching someone who knows when to run."
The fire cracked softly.
No one argued.
Avdhoot made a critical decision:
"We can't operate on this mana level," he said. "We need organised meditation recovery with mana breathing. Half the group meditates while the other half maintains camp guard duty and essential tasks."
Meira nodded immediately, understanding the reference:
"Professor Isha Kapoor drilled us on mana breathing for weeks in the mana halls," she said. "It's meant for controlled spaces, but if we ever needed it in the field, it's now."
The mention of Isha Kapoor's name triggered memories for many in the group—her stern presence, silver hair, and relentless insistence on proper technique.
A flashback to the Academy mana training hall centre from two weeks earlier, before the campaign began.
The mana training hall was a vast, open chamber lined with protective wards glowing faintly blue. Students from multiple Houses—Brave Lions, Ember Fangs, Serpents, Owls—sat in organised rows on meditation mats.
At the front stood Professor Isha Kapoor, her silver hair catching the afternoon light filtering through high windows:
"Mana breathing is not meditation," she said, her voice carrying across the entire hall with absolute authority. "Meditation is sleep with your eyes open. Mana breathing is controlled circulation. There is a difference."
She walked between the rows, correcting postures:
"The principle is simple: mana flows naturally through your body. But without guidance, it scatters—inefficient, chaotic. Mana breathing teaches your pathways to move energy in smooth cycles. This is how you recover without damaging yourself."
She paused in front of the Brave Lions section:
"Lions, your breathing will be deeper, stronger. You are built for output. Your inhale should be purposeful—pulling energy down through your centre, gathering it. Your exhale should be steady, controlled, not explosive."
She demonstrated:
A long, deliberate inhale through her nose. A pause. A measured exhale. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly with invisible energy.
"Feel how the breath guides the mana? Not dragging it. Not forcing it. Guiding it."
Then she turned to the Ember Fangs section:
"Fangs, your breathing is different. You are built for bursts, for timing. Your cycles will be shorter, sharper. But—" she raised a finger in warning, "—the pause between inhale and exhale is critical. That pause is where control lives. Without it, you are just hyperventilating."
She moved between them:
"Shorter breath in. Brief pause—feel the energy gathering. Then exhale. Again. Again. But controlled. Rhythm, not chaos."
One Fang student raised his hand:
"Professor, why is this different for each House?"
"Because you fight differently," Isha replied simply. "The principle is one: mana follows breath, breath follows will. But how you apply that principle depends on how you channel mana in combat. Lions need a steady foundation. Fangs need precise timing. Serpents need adaptive flow. Owls need awareness maintenance."
She walked back to the front:
"But hear this—and this is critical." She looked directly at the assembled students, her grey eyes sharp. "This technique is taught here, in a controlled hall, with wards and supervisors. You do NOT practice deep mana breathing alone in the field. The reason is simple: when you guide your mana in cycles, you become temporarily unaware of your surroundings. Vulnerable."
She paused for effect:
"If you must use mana breathing in an emergency outside—and I pray you never do—use SHORT cycles only. Shallow breathing, quick pulses of recovery. Stay alert. Keep a partner watching. Never enter deep cycles unless you have no other choice and someone is guarding you."
She concluded:
"Today, you practice until it becomes natural. So that if a crisis comes, your body remembers without your mind panicking. Understood?"
"Yes, Professor," the students chorused.
The memory faded as Meira finished speaking.
"How do we organise it?" Tara asked.
"How much mana does everyone have now?" Avdhhot asked.
"Meira was almost empty on it as well as Tara and Avdhoot, Priya had 10-15% mana reserve, same for Kiran, Veer."
So, with the lowest mana reserve first, Avdhoot said.
And so they started meditating while rembering professor Isha's advice.
As time passed, everyone mediated in rotation, watching for each other's backs, and reached an almost 65-70% mana reserve.
Meira again started healing Akshay and got him walking on his legs for a short amount of time. Only after that, she turned to Avdhoot, who was resting nearby.
"Sit," she commanded gently.
Avdhoot moved to a seated position.
Meira placed both hands on his chest, calling upon her water magic with the improved control she'd gained from meditation and mana breathing:
Blue-white light flowed into his mana channels, soothing the Fracture Mana damage, reducing inflammation:
The pain in his chest reduced from moderate to mild—still present but manageable.
"Better?" Meira asked.
"Significantly better," Avdhoot confirmed. "You're much more effective than before."
She withdrew her hands:
"Rest tonight. The pain should continue improving. By morning, it should be manageable.
As nightfall, they ate quietly—simple food, little conversation. Akshay slept under Meira's careful wards, breathing shallow but steady.
The watch rotations doubled. No one slept deeply.
Above the highlands, far beyond sight—
A shadow shifted.
Not moving closer.
Not leaving.
Just... waiting.
Avdhoot sat near the fire long after the others rested, staring into the embers. His mana throbbed beneath his skin—damaged, unstable, but alive.
Tomorrow, they would move.
Tomorrow, they would search.
Tomorrow, they would risk everything—not for points, not for glory—
—but to make sure no one else vanished screaming into the mountains.
The campaign was no longer about survival.
It was about responsibility.
And the Sky Reaper was still out there.
Watching.
[End of Chapter 14]