The clearing echoed with the sounds of effort.

Sweat dripped from Kazi’s brow as she knelt beside the scorched patch of grass, inhaling slow, controlled breaths. The scent of charred earth mixed with the crisp air of the highlands. Her mark glowed faintly, steady this time, no longer surging wildly out of control—but still volatile, still unpredictable.

Across from her, Dakarai stood between the two trees again, arms raised. His fingers pulsed with blue light, arcs of lightning forming along his knuckles like a crackling glove. The tips of his boots scraped the dirt as he shifted into a lower stance.

“Again,” Rhazir said from the edge of the field, his arms crossed.

“This would be easier if the trees moved,” Dakarai muttered.

“They will. Eventually. And they won’t be trees.”

With a grunt, Dakarai fired. A jagged bolt zipped forward, narrowly weaving between the trunks, scorching the bark but leaving the path intact. He exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly.

“Better,” Rhazir said, nodding once. “But I saw hesitation.”

“You’re welcome,” Dakarai shot back. “I was trying not to kill the forest.”

“Do that too often, and it’ll kill you.”

Nearby, Kazi sat cross-legged, hands outstretched, palms toward a small pile of dry leaves. The goal Rhazir had given her seemed simple, sparking a flame without consuming the whole pile. But fire is greedy by nature, and hers answered like a hungry animal, too eager and too fast.

She stared at the leaves. Focused.

A soft orange glow gathered at her fingertips. This time, the flame curled downward, like a dancer’s ribbon, flickering once before nestling into the heart of the pile. The outer leaves browned and curled, but didn’t ignite.

Kazi smiled. “Controlled burn.”

Rhazir approached and crouched beside her. “You're listening to it now.”

“It feels like breathing,” she said. “Not forcing it. Just letting it rise.”

“Exactly. The Mark isn't a weapon. It’s a language. When you stop shouting at it, it finally speaks.”

She looked up at him. “Is that how yours works?”

Rhazir’s eyes flicked toward the horizon. The shadows at his boots deepened briefly, curling into themselves before fading again. “Mine… whispers.”

Dakarai walked over; arms crossed. “Alright, Mr. Brooding Wisdom, what about teamwork? We’re not always going to be firing off bolts and fireballs in separate corners.”

Rhazir raised a brow. “You’re suggesting coordinated training?”

“I’m suggesting I learn how not to get burned when she lights up,” Dakarai said, pointing at Kazi.

Kazi stood, brushing ash from her pants. “Then don’t stand so close.”

“Or,” Dakarai grinned, “you could learn how to aim.”

Rhazir stepped between them before the banter became a firestorm. “Good. You’re thinking ahead. Let’s test synergy.”

He drew a symbol in the dirt with his boot, a triangle framed with runes. “You’ll both channel into this point. Different energies, one pulse.”

“Won’t that explode?” Kazi asked.

“If you’re not aligned,” Rhazir said, “yes.”

Kazi and Dakarai glanced at each other. Then slowly stepped forward, standing on opposite sides of the symbol.

She inhaled. He rolled his shoulders.

Amber light flared in her palm. Blue sparks curled from his fingertips.

They both stepped into the rune at the same time.

For a moment, nothing.

Then a brilliant and blinding light erupted in the air above the symbol. Not fire. Not lightning.

Something fused between the two.

Rhazir shielded his eyes as the pulse shot upward like a flare. Birds scattered from nearby trees. The ground shook beneath them.

When the light faded, Kazi and Dakarai stood panting in the ring, eyes wide.

Rhazir exhaled. “Well. That answers that.”

Kazi looked at her palm. The mark shimmered brighter than before.

“What just happened?” Dakarai asked.

“You resonated,” Rhazir said.

He glanced toward the distance.

“And someone just felt it.”