When the dreams began, he would wake with a start. Each felling blow against his dream self sent a jolt into his very being, startling him awake with a spike of panic. He would be in a cold sweat, his hands trembling violently as he would grasp at the sharp pain that formed in his chest.

Now? That flare of panic had faded into a smoldering resignation, his cold sweat dried to goosebumps along his arms, and that dagger driven into his heart degraded to a dull ache. Rather than his eyes snapping awake, they instead slowly opened as the familiar sensation washed over him. He looked at his hand briefly, noting the small shake in his finger, prompting a sigh from his lips.

He stood up from his corner of the wagon, noting the lingering darkness of the night sky outside. Jahora was still asleep, her breaths gentler than before. Her blanket had slipped from her shoulders, and Helbram wrapped the sheet over the gnome before stepping outside. He grabbed the claymore he’d taken from the battlefield on the way out, keeping his shield strapped to his back.

Leaf stood outside at the clearing’s perimeter, his head on a constant, slow swivel as he examined the forest. As Helbram’s feet touched the forest floor, the half elf’s ears perked up and he turned towards him.

“A bit early, don’t you think?” he said.

He looked up at the night sky, taking a note of the twin moons above, “You would be correct, but I can’t sleep very well at the moment.”

Leaf examined him briefly before shrugging, “Well it is to my benefit. I could do with a few more winks.”

He walked towards the wagon, stopping as he got to Helbram and placing a hand on his shoulder, “If you do find yourself nodding off, come and get me. It does us no good if you’re dragging your feet for the rest of the day.”

Helbram snorted, “Noted, but you have nothing to worry about. If there is anything I am confident about, it is my stamina.”

Leaf grinned, “For some reason, I have no problem believing that.”

He gave a wave as he made his way to the wagon, leaving Helbram alone outside.

The occasional animal cry or movement within the trees would break the silence that sat around him, but within the force field the forest was still, filled with a pressure that grew thicker by the minute. His eyes scanned the treeline, vision obscured by the shadows that lay within the forest’s depths. Sight would not serve him well this night, but he was not without a few tricks. 

He took in a breath and focused, attempting to visualize the core of Ether at his center. A simple task, he’d been told so countless times, but he could not help but feel he’d been lied to. Despite his focus, finding his Core felt as if he was feeling for something in the dark, and tonight it always seemed to slip his grasp. When he finally did find it, he could only frown at the sensation. He knew the Ether he possessed was miniscule, paltry drops to the oceans he’d seen demonstrated before, but acceptance of that did not stop the sting he felt everytime he found it. He shook off his disappointment, sparse or not it still had its uses.

Like before, he directed the Ether, visualizing a small circuit that trailed from his Core to his ears. Once the Ether reached its destination, the silence lifted off of him like a blanket, and he could once again hear the few remaining sounds of the forest as if they were right next to him. If anyone was to approach, he would be able to hear them from quite a distance away.

The effort drained most of his own Ether, but a drop of it remained for him to manipulate. He toyed with it, moving it to his fingers, the chill of the night air biting deeper into their tips as he did so. He pulled it back, but the chill lingered as the Ether responded to his will. It moved with a delayed response, lagging and trailing like sap on a winter’s day. He imagined a circuit from his fingers to his Core and from his Core a path to the palm of his opposite hand. It took the Ether several seconds to respond, but when it finally reached the center of his hand it exploded outwards, a small burst of white light that produced only a brief puff of air.

He laughed, “Oh Helbram, why could you not be born with just a bit more Ether to start with?”

The armored man stood up, laying his sword and shield against a tree and drawing the claymore from its sheath. It was a tall blade, equalling a foot shorter than his height and possessing a width suited more to cutting than stabbing, which he preferred. He gripped the handle with both hands, settling into a neutral guard position.

“It has been quite some time since I’ve had to use one of these, hopefully I haven’t lost my touch…” he said.

He started simple, first with a few vertical cuts, then a few horizontal strikes.

“Remember son, the key to mastery is first understanding of the basics.”

His father’s words echoed into his mind.

“And if you understand the basics…”

“Then mastery is just a matter of time,” he finished, allowing himself a smile as the sword felt more at home in his hands.

 He started to link his movements together, letting old muscle memory take over as he slipped into a practice form. The strikes became smoother, cleaner, and with his Ether bolstered ears he could hear the sharpness of his swings grow as the sword cut through the air. It took little time for the claymore to start to feel like an extension of himself. Not to the extent that his sword and shield had felt, but enough to where he would feel comfortable wielding it in battle should the need arise.

But, there was more to his practice than remembrance. He allowed instinct to take care of the movements, flowing from strike to strike against an imaginary opponent as he directed his mind back to his Ether. As he swung his weapon, he directed Ether to his hands, the small drop once again hesitating to respond to his will. When it eventually did reach his hands, he was already three strikes ahead of when he planned to harness it. He did not possess the overwhelming amount to keep a constant flow of energy through his weapon, and thus had to settle for releasing the Ether in one quick burst to enhance each strike. Except, his control remained lacking.

He swung the claymore in an upward strike, forcing Ether into the blade as he did so, but the motion was already completed by the time the energy found its way into the sword, releasing as a weak puff of force as his weapon hung in the air. Unperturbed, he readied himself again and adjusted his stance to a high guard.

“Just have to adjust the timing is all…”

Helbram started to move again, channeling his Ether into the blade three strikes before he intended to release it. This time the Ether released too early, triggering at the beginning of his attack instead of at the apex, dissipating into the air like a mist as the slash finished.

He grit his teeth and readied himself again.

For an hour his attempts continued, for an hour his attempts failed. There was no set timing to when his Ether would release. Sometimes it would be late, other times it would be early. Only a few times did the timing come close to what he’d intended, but he knew that was only blind luck. Even in the cold night air he could feel the sweat forming at his brow, his arms feeling heavy as the latest of his attempts generated another weak puff of air.

Helbram slipped back into a neutral guard. Instinct pulled at him to make another attempt, but his hands did not move. He looked up at the night sky and took in a deep breath. A scream was forming at his throat, but he bit it back. He raised the sword, hands trembling as he started to channel Ether once again. It moved, a slow crawl as it always did. Would it be early this time? Would it be late? Would the gods grant him some boon to ensure that at least one swing this night would strike true?

The answer never came. Instead, Helbram stabbed the claymore into the ground and stormed off.

He found himself at the clearings perimeter, looking out into the darkness as a tremble built in his hands. He slammed a fist into a tree, producing a rain of dead leaves and acorns, one of which struck his helmet with a resounding ring. A laugh left his lips, and he took in a deep breath of the cold air, holding it for a moment. When he let it go, the trembling in his hands stopped and he raised his visor to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Time Helbram, just a matter of time.”

A hollow phrase, spoken out of habit, providing no comfort other than routine.

At the very least his exercise was not without any merit. Should the need arise to use the claymore, he would at least be able to wield it without issue, though he still preferred the safety of his sword and shield. Carrying both the claymore and his usual weapons into combat was a different issue. Keeping all the weapons strapped to him was not practical, and switching between them in the midst of combat even more so. If he could manage to switch between them both instantaneously…

He looked back at the sword, and let out a slow breath, “Could I withstand more disappointment tonight?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he gathered what remained of his resolve and stepped towards the blade.

“Come now Helbram, just like the Mage Knights of Helios,” He scoffed, “The Mage Knights of Helios, the hells am I saying?”

He stood in front of the sword, the sounds of the forest ever present in his mind as he tried to center himself. 

Like before, he started by taking in a breath, but rather than focus his attention inwards he directed it outwards. A breeze passed by as he did, and he felt a spark in the air as gooseflesh spread across his skin. He reached towards the spark, feeling warmth in his hand as Aether concentrated at his palm. It was only a small amount, a mere wisp to the amount he saw Jahora gather so easily, but for his intended spell it would be enough.

“I may not be a wizard, but a storage spell should be a relatively simple affair…”

He focused his thoughts to the Aether in his palm, pressing his hands together as he made an attempt to mold it to his will. An attempt that failed, for no matter how hard he pressed against the ambient energy it would not move. He grit his teeth and concentrated once more, picturing only a small part of the spell he wanted in his mind. Part of the Aether started to move, forming the corner of a glyph. He repeated this process for the remaining corners, taking minutes to do so each time. Sweat beaded against his brow once more, but the glyph remained stable in his palm. He could not contain his smile as he looked at it.

This time it would work, it had to.

He reached for the claymore, wrapping his hand, and the glyph, around its handle and released the spell. A streak of pale light trailed down the sword, disappearing into the ground as it reached its tip. Nothing followed, indicating that he had suc-

The handle of the blade burst with light, repelling his hand. His fingers felt hot as they snapped back, followed by a slow, sharp pain that crawled up his arm. Numbness trailed after it, leaving his hand shaking no matter how hard he clenched his fist. He bit back the groan that was forming at his lips and fell to his knees. His hand continued to tremble and no amount of gripping could make it stop. He struck the ground and fell silent, the sounds of the forest swallowing him as he looked to the sky.