Ana's finger traced the soil where threads of light pulsed beneath the surface—golden veins that made Caden freeze mid-step. Between ancient trunks, shapes like morning mist gathered and took form—not quite human, not quite animal. The merchants continued forward, oblivious to what stood among them.

The forest's power surged through Ana's blood, wild and electric. She hesitated between surrender and retreat as her hand lifted of its own accord, fingertips following the luminous patterns that seemed to beckon her closer. This magic felt different—primal, untouched. It wasn't the controlled flow she knew from spellcraft but something deeper, as if the land itself breathed melody into the air around them.

Caden stood at her side, his face is full of wonder. He was drawn to the light like a moth to a flame, his curiosity a beacon in the ethereal gloom.

"This is amazing," he breathed, his voice tinged with the reverence of one who had stumbled into a world of forgotten gods.

The spirits danced around them, their presence both comforting and unsettling. They were ancient, these guardians of the ley lines, and their intentions were as unfathomable as the magic they tended.

Caden took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to touch the shimmering lines. The gesture was tentative yet full of yearning, a child reaching for the stars. Ana held her breath, her instincts urging her to pull him back, but something stopped her. She let him reach, let him connect with the vibrant pulse that surrounded them.

Garin's voice broke the silence, rough and filled with astonishment. "By the gods," he exclaimed, his weathered face lit with the glow of the ley lines. The other merchants exchanged looks, eyes wide.

Something changes in the air—a snapping tension, a thundercrack only Ana seems to hear. The ley lines brighten, fire through the soil and up the trunks, and in that instant, the entire forest draws a breath. The spirits freeze, faces turning, if you could call those shapes faces. The Veins pulse with a warning. Cold prickles up Ana's arms; the hair at the back of her neck stands. Even the merchants sense it. Caden jerks his fingers back as if burned, a trembling brightness crawling over his skin where he touched the glow.

Garin swears softly, steps back. "That never happened before," he says. "I've run this route a dozen times—ley lines never did that. Not even for the Tierfolk."

Ana barely hears him, every filament of her being stretched thin as spider silk, tuned to the shockwave echoing through the woods. It's not just the spirits who've noticed. Something ancient just woke up, or maybe, something ancient just marked them.

She steps in front of Caden, a hand across his chest before she's aware of moving. His skin pulses where the glow still clings, tiny veins of brightness crawling up his arm, slow as frost claiming a windowpane.

"Don't touch them again," she says, the words snapping out sharp as a whipcrack. Caden's arm spasms in her grasp, the new veins torch-bright under the skin.

He blinks back surprise. "It felt like—" He stops, mouth uncertain, eyes wide.

Ana cuts him off with a sharp gesture. "One more touch and we're kindling," she hisses through clenched teeth, pulling him backward with enough force to make him stumble. Beneath them, the soil shifts and settles like a living thing considering its options.

Ana drops her hand and lets the mana settle. A memory flashes—Caden's wide eyes outside that tavern, before he even knew her name. Back then, she'd been startled when he told her he could see it. She'd dismissed it as a child's imagination. Now here he was, not just seeing magic but pulling it through his skin like breathing, the veins of light responding to his touch as if they'd been waiting for him all along.

The spirits swirl closer, their shapes shifting like smoke. They acknowledge Caden, drifting toward him with an almost teasing grace. Ana's heart clenches in equal parts wonder and protectiveness.

Then, as abruptly as they arrived, the spirits dissolve into mist. The ley lines pulse one last time—a silent farewell—before fading to a gentle glow.

Caden lowers his hand, eyes still bright with the memory of their touch. Ana watches him.

"Did you see that?" he asks, grinning as if he's swallowed a piece of the universe. "They came right to me."

"I saw," she replies, voice steady. She nods, offering both approval and warning.

Around them, the merchants shake themselves back to reality. Nervous laughter ripples through the group, some shaking their heads as if waking from a dream.

"Weapons down," Garin orders, disbelief trembling in his voice. "Looks like they meant no harm."

Ana feels the tension ease in her shoulders, although a thread of unease still winds through her. The encounter was unplanned, its implications as tangled as the forest roots.

Caden's display wasn't just a surprise—it was a revelation, perhaps even a warning.

The lingering crackle in the air no longer feels menacing. It's the lifeblood of the world, and they are merely passing through its heart.

Garin steps forward, awe softening his features. "Never thought I'd see the like. You've got real magic in you, lad."

Caden's grin widens. "I felt it," he says, glancing at Ana. "Truly felt it."

Ana tousles his hair, a grounding gesture for his soaring spirit. "Don't let it go to your head," she teases.

Garin chuckles, shaking his head with amused resignation. "We've got ourselves a prodigy. Try not to let him steal the show."

Their laughter mingles with the forest's natural chorus. Smiles spread, and the caravan resumes its journey, the initial shock giving way to excited chatter.

"Well," Garin says, regaining his usual lightness, "if the forest gods won't keep us, we'd best press on."

Caden steps forward with lighter tread, confidence shining in every movement.