The world was loud when Lucas woke.
Not in sound — not really — but in presence.
Every inch of the ground beneath him thrummed with life, every gust of wind carried weight, every flicker of flame near the campfire pressed faintly against his skin like static.
He groaned and rolled onto his side. "Please tell me I'm not still dreaming."
Jeff, already awake and drinking from his canteen, didn't look up. "Welcome to level one."
Lucas squinted at him. "You mean Heart Sense?"
"That's the one. You'll get used to it."
"Feels like the planet's yelling at me."
Jeff chuckled. "That's because you're listening to everything at once. You need to learn how to filter."
"Filter?" Lucas rubbed his temples. "I didn't order the deluxe sensory overload package."
Jeff stood and stretched. "Channel Control. Lesson two." He kicked some dirt over the fire, then gestured for Lucas to stand. "Heart Sense opened your ears. Now you have to learn how to sing back without shattering your own voice."
Lucas groaned but got up, still dizzy. The energy in the air made his skin prickle. The ground pulsed faintly — slow, steady. The Vein's rhythm. But layered over it, faint and sharp, was the flicker of the Flame Heart: heat pulsing far to the east, restless and alive. Both beat against his mind like overlapping drums.
Jeff noticed his discomfort. "Focus on one. Just one. The Vein. Ground yourself."
Lucas exhaled and knelt, pressing a hand to the dirt. The hum steadied slightly. The heavy thrum of the Veins filled his senses — slow, deep, almost comforting. It felt like leaning against a heartbeat bigger than the world.
"Good," Jeff said quietly. "That's Channel Control. Don't just feel it — match it. Sync your breath, your pulse, your movement."
Lucas tried. Inhale — the world pulsed. Exhale — it slowed. For a moment, the rhythm between his chest and the ground aligned perfectly.
And then his stomach twisted, his head spun, and he nearly toppled over.
He fell forward, catching himself on one hand. "Ugh. That's not supposed to happen, right?"
Jeff knelt beside him. "It's supposed to be hard. You're teaching your body to move like the world does. That doesn't happen overnight."
Lucas frowned, staring at his trembling hands. "Feels like I'm trying to dance with someone way out of my league."
Jeff smirked. "And the planet's a terrible dancer."
They spent the rest of the morning drilling.
Jeff had Lucas walk, punch, and breathe to the rhythm of the Vein's pulse — slow, heavy, deliberate. Each movement was meant to mirror the flow of energy beneath them. When he moved against it, the world pushed back — his steps felt heavier, clumsier. But when he matched the pulse, even briefly, his body felt lighter, stronger, precise.
By midday, sweat drenched his shirt. His arms trembled. Every attempt to hold the rhythm longer ended with dizziness and a muttered curse.
Jeff finally waved him off. "Good enough for today."
Lucas fell backward into the dirt. "Define 'good.'"
"You didn't pass out this time."
"Oh. Progress."
Jeff crouched beside him. "You're learning the difference between sensing and syncing. Most people stop at awareness — they feel the world's pulse and think that's mastery. Channel Control is about conversation. You let the world flow through you, not around you."
Lucas stared up at the sky, breathing hard. "You make it sound poetic."
Jeff grinned. "It's poetic until something tries to kill you. Then it's physics."
Later that afternoon, Jeff stood and motioned eastward, toward the hazy outline of distant mountains.
"Once you can hold that rhythm without collapsing, we head that way."
Lucas frowned. "The Flame Heart?"
Jeff nodded. "It's calling stronger every day. And you're going to need that connection before the storms roll through."
"Storms?"
Jeff just smiled. "You'll see."
That night, Lucas lay beside the fading fire, his body aching in places he didn't know existed. The world still hummed beneath him, but softer now — almost gentle, as if recognizing his effort.
He stared into the embers and whispered,
"Veins, fire… balance, adaptation, shadow…"
Five Hearts. Five forces.
And he'd barely survived feeling two.
The thought made him grin despite himself. "Guess I'm screwed."
Jeff's voice came from the dark. "That's the right attitude."
Lucas smirked. "You always this motivational?"
"Only when the alternative is dying tired."
Lucas stared at the glowing text fading in his vision and sighed. "Twelve percent. Great. At this rate I'll master it by the time I'm ninety."
Jeff chuckled softly. "Then stop wasting time complaining and keep breathing."
The stars pulsed faintly overhead — a distant reflection of the same rhythm under his feet.
And for the first time since his arrival in Spheria, Lucas didn't just feel part of the world.
He felt like it was listening back.
By the next morning, Lucas's body felt like it had been run over by a wagon, resurrected, and run over again for good measure. Every muscle ached, but Jeff didn't seem interested in sympathy.
"Up," Jeff said, kicking dirt near his boots. "We're moving."
Lucas groaned. "Define we."
"You. Me. The guy who doesn't want to die when the next vein surge hits."
That got his attention. "Vein surge?"
Jeff adjusted his pack. "The veins aren't just lines of energy. They breathe, same as we do. When the world shifts, that breath turns violent — bursts of raw energy that rip through the land. Happens more often near broken regions like this one."
Lucas blinked, suddenly more awake. "And you didn't think to mention that before we started camping on a vein?"
Jeff shrugged. "You needed motivation."
They started walking east. The wasteland rolled out in jagged stretches of cracked ground and old stone veins that glowed faintly beneath the dust, like lightning frozen mid-strike.
Lucas kept his focus on the Vein's pulse — the rhythm Jeff had drilled into him. Step, breathe, flow. When he matched it, walking felt effortless. When he slipped out of sync, his steps grew heavy and clumsy again.
After hours of trudging, Jeff stopped abruptly. His eyes swept the horizon. "Feel that?"
Lucas frowned. "Feel what?"
"Don't listen with your ears."
Lucas sighed, closing his eyes. At first — nothing. Then he caught it: a deep, irregular vibration beneath the ground. It wasn't the steady thrum of the veins. It was faster. Unstable.
Jeff's voice was low. "Surge incoming."
Before Lucas could ask what that meant, the ground shuddered.
A low roar rippled across the plain as lines of blue light flared through the cracks. The air turned sharp, vibrating like a thousand strings being plucked at once. The veins pulsed wildly beneath their feet — furious, chaotic.
Lucas stumbled back. "What do I do?!"
"Stay with it!" Jeff shouted over the rising hum. "Don't fight the flow — match it!"
The ground cracked, a jagged fissure tearing open nearby. Blinding light burst upward — raw vein energy bleeding into the air like fire made of lightning.
Lucas's instincts screamed to run, but his body froze. He felt the pulse hammering under his skin, wild and uneven. His breathing hitched.
Stay with it, Jeff had said.
He closed his eyes, forcing his breath to steady. Inhale. Exhale.
The world roared around him, but somewhere inside the chaos — a rhythm emerged. Faint, shifting, but familiar. The pulse of the Vein Heart, buried beneath the storm.
Lucas moved with it — a step forward, hand out, grounding himself through the pattern Jeff had taught him. The trembling earth softened under his boots. The blinding light near him bent, flickering harmlessly past.
For a brief moment, the surge flowed through him, not against him. The ground steadied. The roar dimmed. The light began to fade.
Then it was over.
The plains went silent, save for Lucas's heavy breathing. He stood there, covered in dust, hands trembling — but alive.
Jeff approached, watching him carefully. "Not bad."
Lucas stared at him. "Not bad? I just almost got vaporized!"
"Yeah," Jeff said with a grin. "And you didn't. That's progress."
Lucas let out a shaky laugh, dropping to his knees. "You could've warned me."
"I did," Jeff said simply. "I said we were moving."
They camped again that night under a low ridge, the veins below faintly glowing like a heartbeat beneath glass. Lucas sat near the fire, his eyes distant. Every time he closed them, he could still feel the pulse — not just of the veins, but the faint whisper of the Flame far away, like an ember waiting for wind.
Jeff sat across from him, sharpening a short knife. "You felt it, didn't you?"
Lucas nodded. "The rhythm in the chaos."
"That's the key," Jeff said. "Channel Control isn't about strength. It's about harmony. The world will always be louder than you — but if you learn its song, you can walk through the storm without breaking."
Lucas watched the flames dance, a slow smile forming. "You sound like a monk."
Jeff snorted. "A monk wouldn't swear as much."
As the fire dimmed, Lucas leaned back, staring at the night sky.
He could still sense the Veins pulsing below, calm now — and, faintly, that fiery warmth to the east. The Flame Heart. Waiting.