The days that followed did not rush.
They unfolded slowly, deliberately—measured not in bells or schedules, but in breaths taken and released.
Each morning, the training grounds filled with the soft hush of stillness instead of clashing steel. Anna arrived with her grandmother's book tucked carefully beneath her arm, Alistar padding along at her heels or dozing in the sun nearby. Brom followed—always on time, always skeptical, and always sitting down a little less stiff than the day before.
Day one was awkward.
Brom fidgeted. His breathing was uneven. His mana surged and dipped like a river fighting its banks. Anna corrected him gently—small adjustments, a reminder to listen instead of push. He complained. Quietly. Then less quietly.
Day two brought frustration.
Old instincts flared. Power pressed outward, demanding to be used. Anna made him stop every time it did. "Observe," she reminded him. "Don't answer it yet." The air around Brom began to settle—thick, but steady.
By day three, something shifted.
The sharp edges of his aura softened. The constant grind of tension in his posture eased. When Brom closed his eyes, the ground beneath him no longer felt like an enemy to conquer, but a presence to acknowledge. His mana no longer strained against him—it waited.
And by day four—
Selene felt it from the colonnade before anyone said a word.
Brom sat motionless, breath slow, hands resting open on his knees. The light around him had changed—no longer the harsh, brassy gold of forced cultivation, but a warm, luminous yellow, deepening with every exhale. Beneath it, a darker hue began to thread through—green, rich and grounding, like roots pushing into soil.
Brom did not move.
With each slow breath in, mana flowed toward him—not pulled, not forced, but welcomed. It slid into place like water finding a channel it had always known. With each breath out, excess energy released just as smoothly, cycling back into the world without resistance.
In. Out.
The flow became constant.
No spikes. No strain. No grinding pressure against his core.
For the first time in eight years, his cultivation moved.
The yellow light around him deepened, stabilized—and then, without warning, the air pressed outward.
Not violently. Not explosively.
A sudden wave—low, dense, undeniable—rippled across the training grounds like a deep bell struck once beneath the earth. Dust lifted. Leaves trembled. The ley lines beneath the stone answered with a single, resonant hum.
The color shifted.
Green surged through the yellow, swallowing it whole—not bright or wild, but dark, rich, alive. The hue of roots gripping bedrock. Of forests that endured storms and outlived empires.
Living Resonance Realm. Dark Green Stage.
Brom's eyes snapped open as the pressure receded, breath catching hard in his chest.
"…Eight years," he whispered, voice unsteady. "Eight gods damned years."
His hands trembled—not from instability, but from relief.
Anna stood very still, a small smile touching her lips.
Behind them, Selene closed her eyes and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Brom Ironhart had finally broken through—not by force, but by listening.
For half a heartbeat, Brom just stared at his hands—then he let out a booming laugh that echoed across the training grounds.
"HA!"
He shot to his feet, the ground beneath him answering the motion, stone settling instead of cracking. He threw his arms wide, turning once like a man who couldn't quite believe his own body.
"I DID IT!" he roared. "I finally—"
His gaze snapped to Anna.
The words tumbled out of him, raw and unguarded. "You. This—this is because of you."
Before anyone could react, Brom crossed the distance in two long strides and scooped Anna up, lifting her clear off the ground in a burst of unrestrained joy.
"I've trained half the empire," he laughed, spinning once before he caught himself, "and it took a twelve-year-old with a book to fix what I couldn't for eight years!"
Anna squeaked, startled—then laughed too, gripping his shoulders. "M-Mr. Brom!"
A soft cough sounded behind them.
Brom froze.
Slowly—very slowly—he turned.
Emperor Valerius stood at the edge of the grounds, crimson cloak stirring in the morning breeze. At his side was Archon Veynar, hands folded neatly behind his back, eyes gleaming with unmistakable interest as he took in the still-fading green aura.
Brom's face went pale.
"Oh—" He gently, very carefully, set Anna back on her feet. "Your Majesty! I—ah—apologies, I got… carried away."
Valerius's gaze moved from Brom's stabilized aura… to Anna… to the book tucked against her side.
Then, very faintly, the corner of his mouth curved.
Veynar, meanwhile, hummed softly. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Absolutely fascinating."
Valerius stepped closer, his boots quiet against the stone, eyes never leaving the faint traces of dark green resonance still curling in the air.
"Brom," he said calmly, voice even and measured, "explain what I just walked into."
Brom straightened at once, instinct snapping him back into formality, though the lingering awe hadn't yet left his eyes. He placed a fist over his chest and bowed his head. "Your Majesty. I… experienced a cultivation breakthrough."
Valerius's brow lifted—just slightly. "I gathered that."
Brom swallowed, then continued, slower now, as if grounding himself. "Living Resonance Realm. Dark Green Stage." He exhaled. "I've been stalled at the threshold for eight years."
Silence followed.
Veynar's gaze sharpened, interest bright and unmistakable. "Eight years," he echoed softly. "Broken in four days."
Valerius's eyes shifted—briefly, deliberately—to Anna.
"And how," the Emperor asked, "did that happen?"
Brom hesitated only a second before answering honestly. He glanced down at Anna, respect clear in his posture.
Anna took a small step forward before Brom could speak, fingers tightening around the worn leather cover at her side.
"I—I showed him my grandma Aeloria's training book," she said, voice steady despite the way her heart thudded. "She used to read it to me. At night. When I couldn't sleep." She hesitated, then added softly, "It's about listening to mana. Not forcing it. That's how she taught me."
The name hung in the air.
Aeloria.
Valerius went very still.
Slowly, deliberately, he extended his hand. Anna swallowed and placed the book into his grasp, suddenly terrified she'd done something wrong. He turned it over once, thumb brushing the familiar sigils etched into the spine—sigils he hadn't seen in decades.
The training grounds were silent.
Too silent.
Anna's shoulders tensed. He's mad, she thought. I shouldn't have—
Valerius opened the book.
Just one page.
Then another.
His breath caught—quiet, almost imperceptible. The Emperor closed the book again, holding it as if it were something fragile.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, very softly, he asked, "Anna… may I borrow this?"
Her eyes widened. "Y-Yes. Of course," she said quickly.
Valerius nodded once, reverent rather than stern. "Thank you," he said—not as an emperor, but as a son.
A soft, deliberate ahem cut through the moment.
Veynar cleared his throat, the sound gentle but perfectly timed.
Valerius blinked, then straightened—his expression shifting as the weight of memory gave way once more to responsibility. He closed the book carefully and handed it back to Anna, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
"Yes," he said, voice firm again. "That is why we came."
Veynar stepped forward, cloak whispering like smoke, and with a subtle motion of his hand, a small object rose into the air between them.
A necklace.
At its center hung a smooth, faceted core—deep violet shot through with threads of gold, faintly pulsing like a sleeping heartbeat. The air around it hummed softly, resonant and restrained.
"This is a power core," Veynar said calmly. "Forged from stabilized excess resonance—yours, to be precise. It will absorb sudden surges before they can overwhelm your body or surroundings."
Anna stared. "So… it's like a safety net?"
Veynar's lips twitched. "An elegant one."
Valerius knelt slightly, bringing himself level with her. "You are not expected to master your power yet," he said gently. "But until you learn its limits, this will help protect you—and those around you—if it rises too quickly."
Brom folded his arms, impressed. "That thing would've saved me a few walls in my youth."
Veynar ignored him.
Anna reached out, fingers brushing the warm surface of the core. It pulsed once, as if recognizing her.
"…Okay," she said, resolve settling in her chest. "I'll wear it."
Selene watched in silence as Valerius lifted the necklace, his movements uncharacteristically careful. The chain glimmered softly in the morning light as he stepped closer to Anna, fingers steady despite the weight of what he was doing.
"Hold still," he murmured.
Anna did, chin tucked slightly as the cool metal brushed her skin. When the clasp closed, the core at her chest pulsed once—gentle, warm—like a heartbeat finding its rhythm. Anna's breath caught. She lifted her hands instinctively, cradling the gem as if afraid it might vanish.
"It's… warm," she whispered, eyes wide with wonder. The violet-and-gold light reflected in her gaze, dancing like stars caught in crystal. "It feels like it knows me."
Veynar inclined his head. "It does."
Valerius straightened, studying her for a long moment—not as an emperor measuring risk, but as a father seeing his child standing on the edge of something vast. "It will respond to you," he said quietly. "But remember—this is a safeguard, not a crutch."
Anna nodded, solemn now. "I know."
Selene's hand rose to her mouth, emotion tightening her throat. Seeing Valerius place that necklace—acknowledging Anna's power not with fear, but with trust—felt like a door opening at last. She stepped forward and rested a hand on Anna's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"You look beautiful," Selene said softly.
Anna smiled, still staring at the softly glowing core, awe and determination mingling in her eyes as the morning light wrapped around them all.
Anna's smile faded just a little. Her fingers loosened around the glowing core, and her gaze drifted down to the stone beneath her feet.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, barely above a whisper, she asked, "Mama… do you think Grandma would be proud of me?"
The question landed softly—and hit like a blow.
Selene's breath caught. She knelt at once, hands coming to rest gently over Anna's, stilling the small tremor there. She tipped Anna's chin up, meeting her eyes without hesitation.
"Oh, my heart," Selene said, voice thick but steady. "She already is."
Anna blinked. "You don't think she'd be disappointed? That I can't use my powers properly… That I'm.. different?"
Selene smiled, warm and fierce all at once. "Aeloria spent her life believing the world needed different. She taught you to listen when everyone else shouted. To guide when others forced." Her thumb brushed a tear from Anna's cheek. "You are exactly who she hoped you'd become."
Behind them, the ley lines hummed softly—steady, approving.
And somewhere, in whatever quiet place wisdom goes when it's done teaching, Aeloria smiled.
Alistar stirred at Anna's feet, sensing the shift before anyone else could. With a soft chirr, he padded closer and pressed his small, warm body against her leg, rubbing gently as his tail flicked in a comforting rhythm.
Anna startled, then laughed softly, the sound breaking through the tightness in her chest. She bent down instinctively, fingers brushing over his smooth scales. "Hey," she whispered, voice steadier now.
Alistar looked up at her, bright eyes intent, and butted his head against her knee once more, wings giving a tiny, earnest flutter—as if to say you're not alone.
Selene watched the exchange with a tender smile. "See?" she said quietly. "You've got more than memories watching over you."
Anna nodded, resting her hand on Alistar's head, grounding herself in his warmth as the power at her chest pulsed softly—steady, calm, and finally at peace.
Valerius cleared his throat softly, the moment settling into something warm and complete. "That's enough for today," he said, voice gentle but final. "You've done more than enough work."
Brom opened his mouth to argue—then thought better of it and nodded. "Tomorrow," he agreed. "We continue."
Valerius turned back to Anna and, with a care that surprised even him, reached for the book. "May I hold onto this for the evening?" he asked quietly. "I'd like… some time with it."
Anna smiled and handed it over without hesitation. "Okay."
He tucked the book under his arm, then glanced between Anna and Selene, the faintest hint of mischief touching his tone. "I believe the chef was experimenting today. Something involving honeyed figs and spiced cream."
Anna's eyes lit up instantly. "He did?"
Selene laughed, rising from the bench. "Then we'd better investigate."
Valerius nodded once, satisfied. "Go," he said softly. "Consider it… official recovery orders."
As Anna turned to leave—Alistar trotting happily at her side—the training grounds felt lighter, quieter, and ready to breathe again.
Valerius watched Selene and Anna disappear down the garden path, Alistar scampering after them with a satisfied flick of his tail. Only when they were gone did he turn back to the others.
"That will be all," he said quietly. "We resume tomorrow."
Brom inclined his head, still glowing faintly with dark green resonance. "With pleasure, Your Majesty." Veynar offered a knowing smile, already retreating into shadow. Moments later, the grounds were empty.
Valerius remained.
He moved to the center of the training field and sat—alone—where Anna had sat, where Brom had broken through. The stone was still warm.
Slowly, reverently, he opened Aeloria's book.
The pages breathed history. Ink worn thin by years of use. Marginal notes in a familiar hand. He traced one with his thumb, a memory tightening his chest.
Listen first. Power answers truth.
Valerius closed his eyes and took a breath.
For the first time in years, he did not reach outward.
He listened.