"It's like moonlight cast against water..." Maeric murmured, his eyes narrowing on the Murasi, its shape only an arm’s length away.

The faceless figure, woven in muted blue and gray threads of shifting energy, loomed near Maeric and Erith, its strands flowing like silk caught in a slow current.

"They really are beautiful," Maeric lamented, his voice low. "Despite the anguish they bring." He glanced back at Erith, his face flickering in the firelight as he propped a large branch into the dirt, anchoring it at an angle.

"But I suppose beauty and tragedy walk the same path," Maeric added, his eyes drifting back to the Murasi. "It seems docile enough, but how can you be sure?"

"Like you said, Kaida sings a song," Erith replied, adjusting the branch with a shove. "Well, Mura does the same. You can 'listen' to it with the Kaida that flows through you."

He crouched beside the fire, watching the Murasi from the corner of his eye. "The ones you should fear have more Mura tangled through them—more chaos."

"To think Kaida and Mura can be woven together..." Maeric muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. "I've heard whispers about those in Loradun wielding Mura—Those with the power of Murasi at their call."

His jaw tightened, his expression hardening with unease. "It's a rumor that's bled into every campfire conversation. That kind of fear doesn't let go easily."

"Wielding that... Weaving it with Kaida?" Maeric's gaze lingered on Erith. "There's an elegance in being swept along by a world that moves without us—daunting, but maybe clarity only comes when you let yourself drift."

Erith didn't respond right away. Unhooking the water flask from his belt, he uncapped it slightly with a slow twist and set it atop the branch, adjusting it until it balanced on the angle.

He tilted the flask just enough for a single bead of water to form at the lip. The droplet wavered, then slipped free down the curve of the flask. It hung on the edge for a moment longer before falling to the ground with a faint pat.

“Kaida drawn through you becomes part of you. It doesn’t shape the world on its own—not like Mura. It won’t crack stone or cut flesh. But when it’s drawn through you, it answers Mura better than any Kaida blade. Drawn this way, you could cut straight through a Murasi.”

He glanced at Maeric, whose expression flickered with wonder in the firelight.

“Mura's wild. Harder to manage, but when you draw it, it's yours. And just as deadly as a Murasi." 

Erith stood upright, letting his words settle.

"Didn't think they could be bound together, but it's the only reason I'm still here after that wall." He watched the smoke twist and rise from the fire.

"I don't know why they can be woven, but neither one alone could protect me like that. I don't think I understand this world any better than you do. I know myself. And I trust what I felt."

Another bead of water trembled on the edge of the flask before falling to the ground.

"If you want to try to understand," Erith continued, "then start with that." He nodded toward the droplet that had just fallen. "Not the flask. Not the water. The path it takes."

He crouched down, running his fingers along the dirt beneath the branch. "The drop doesn't decide where it falls. The slope of the flask, the way the air moves, the pull of the ground — all of it shapes where it goes. It's simple, right?"

"When the water falls on you, it's different. Feel it gather. Feel it break loose. Follow it as it moves across your skin. Trace its path. If you know where it'll go, you're closer than most."

"Sit down. Shirt off." Erith tone left no room for argument.

"Let the droplets fall on your head. Feel each one. Watch how it builds, how it breaks. Find the rhythm. Pay attention, and you'll see it."

There was a pause, and Maeric's brow lifted with faint skepticism. "You want me to trace water with my skin?"

"No," Erith replied, his tone dry as ash. "I want you to trace Kaida as it flows through you." He knelt down beside the fire, arms draped over his knees.

"If Kaida plays a song, then you're the instrument, Maeric. It's the breath that makes the song—except this breath'll blow you apart if you don't know what you're doing."

Erith's eyes flicked to the water flask, watching another bead tremble at the edge. "You'll get a better sense of pulling Kaida once you've done the Balance.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gem he’d taken from the refinery.

“When your body has gone through the Balance, you can draw raw Kaida from a gem and wield it from within. But even then, there’s only so much you can hold at once before it starts to break your body down.

Erith turned the gem over in his hand. “Until then, you'll need to prepare your body to first hold any amount of Kaida without it killing you to get through the Balance."

"And how long before it doesn't kill me?" Maeric asked, his eyes steady on the flask.

"Months if you're great, years if you're good—never if you're honest. Now, focus on the droplet. There is no heat from the fire, there is no cold in the air, no wind in the trees, no ground below your feet. Just the rhythm. Find it. Trace the path."

Erith stood outside the officers' tent and let out a yawn, watching the sifters finish their meals and begin making their way toward the fields.

The morning air was sharp with the bite of autumn, the overcast sky hanging low enough to graze the horizon.

"Feels like rain," Rin's voice cut in, his grin as light as his tone. "Makes for a perfect day to ride, doesn't it?"

Erith shifted, catching sight of Rin, who had sauntered up beside him, arms loosely crossed.

"We'll be riding horses then?" Erith questioned, one brow raised.

"It'd be a dismal walk." Rin tilted his head toward the gathering sifters. "Do you ride well?"

Erith snorted, shifting his weight. "Only when it's the last option left."

Rin barked a short laugh, his eyes narrowing with mischief. "Fewer horses to worry about, then. I'm sure Maeric will be keen to have you ride with him." He nodded toward the Captain and Vice Captain as they approached. "Here's hoping the rain holds off."

"Two hours if we keep pace," the Captain's voice cut through like a blade as he surveyed Erith. "Can he ride?"

"He'd be a liability," Rin replied smoothly, his tone teetering between calculation and jest.

Maeric stepped forward, his attention locked on the Captain. "He can ride with—"

"Spare us the courtship, Maeric," the Captain cut him off with a sharp glance, already moving toward the horses. "Let's not waste daylight."

The four made their way past the officers' tent toward a line of tethered horses.

Officers moved methodically, fitting saddles and tightening reins, their breath rising in faint clouds as the horses shifted beneath them, snorting puffs of steam into the cold morning air.

Maeric angled toward Erith, his eyes flicking over him before nodding toward one of the horses. "Put a leg up. I'll pull you over." He extended a hand, steady and firm. "You'll sit in front."

Erith eyed the horse as if weighing his options. Reluctantly, he stepped forward, gripping the saddle. His foot slid into the stirrup, and he clasped Maeric's hand.

Catching Erith by surprise, Maeric's grip shifted to his side and hoisted him over in one smooth motion.

"Stay close and follow my lead," the Captain called out, already seated atop his horse. With a sharp tug on the reins, his horse surged forward.

Erith barely had time to register the command before weight shifted behind him. Maeric swung up in one smooth motion, his chest pressing firmly against Erith's back.

"Hold the reins tight." Maeric's low voice brushed against Erith's ear. "Keep your body loose, or you'll feel every bump."

The warmth lingered against the cold bite of the morning air, and for a brief moment, Erith held steady—until the horse lunged forward.

His breath hitched, sharp and cold in his chest. His body tilted back against Maeric, hands clamoring to tighten his grip. The rhythmic thud of hooves against dirt echoed through his legs, each beat a stark reminder of how close he was to slipping off.

"Easy," Maeric's voice came from behind him, calm and steady. "Lean with it, not against it."

Erith didn't answer, his jaw locked, hands clenched around the reins. Every bump and shift in the horse's stride sent a jolt through him, his legs bracing harder with each impact.

He thought of the next two hours. Two hours of this...

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