After finding out about the staff, we decided it was best to head to the capital. The dying light of late afternoon bled across the ruined town, stretching shadows like grasping fingers. The road to the capital still a long journey ahead. We decided to take a break so Finnian can start learning to wield his mana. I found a weathered stone bench, the grit cold beneath me, and propped my chin on my hands, a familiar ache of admiration stirring as I watched Adrix and Finnian. Adrix, in his role as mentor, exuded a surprising stillness, a sharp precision that sent a quiet shiver through me—a deep respect for the power he wielded with such deceptive ease. Finnian, bless him, was a study in contrasts: brow furrowed in a monumental effort that was almost palpable, yet his expression flickered with bewilderment.

“Finnian, stop trying to see the mana,” Adrix’s steady voice cut through the quiet desolation. “Close your eyes. You can feel it. It’s in the air you breathe, the earth beneath your feet, the very pulse of life.”

Finnian’s eyelids fluttered shut, his brow a knot of concentration. The sheer force of his effort radiated outwards; even from my spot, I saw the cords in his neck strain against his skin. He drew a slow, deliberate breath, then another, the silence broken only by the whisper of the wind through shattered windowpanes. After several agonizing minutes, Finnian’s voice emerged, hesitant. “Is it… like a hum?” he asked, eyes still sealed. “Almost a vibration, making my skin… tingle?”

The ghost of a smile touched Adrix’s lips, though I noted the faintest etch of tension around his eyes—a fleeting echo, perhaps, of his own difficult beginnings. “Yes. Precisely. Good. Now, draw that sensation to your core. Don’t just acknowledge it passing by. Reach for it with your will, Finnian, not your hands.”

Finnian’s jaw clenched. The very air around him seemed to thicken, to shimmer with an unseen energy. For a breathtaking instant, I could have sworn a faint, golden tracery, like captive lightning, flickered beneath his skin.

“I… I think I feel a pressure,” Finnian mumbled, one hand instinctively moving to his chest. “Building… right here.” His voice was taut with strain.

“That’s your core responding,” Adrix affirmed, his tone encouraging, yet his gaze remained intensely watchful. “The ambient magic resonates with the wellspring within you. Now, gently… very gently… coax that outer energy inwards. Invite it; don’t command it.”

The mana seemed to coalesce around Finnian, the air now visibly thrumming, almost vibrating with its presence. “It’s… a lot,” Finnian gasped, eyes flying open. They were wide, pupils dilated. “It’s like standing in fire, but… it doesn’t burn?”

“Focus it!” Adrix’s command was sharper now, a blade cutting through Finnian’s awe. He took a step back, creating distance, his stance subtly shifting, a readiness settling over him that was both thrilling and profoundly unsettling to witness. “Now, imagine channeling that focus into a single point, a dart of pure mana. Aim for me. Try to pierce me.”

Finnian stared, chest heaving. He lifted a hand that trembled visibly. The air around his outstretched fingers began to crackle, an audible discharge of energy. The mana, a brilliant, molten gold, danced along his skin like living sparks. It intensified, the sparks swirling faster, coalescing, blooming into a dense, humming sphere of light cupped in his trembling palm. With a raw, yell that tore from his throat, Finnian thrust his hand forward. The golden orb screamed through the air towards Adrix. With a movement so swift it was almost a blur, Adrix threw up a shimmering, barrier. The golden light struck the shield with a sharp, resonant thwack and shattered into a cascade of fading embers that whispered into nothingness. As the last spark died, I saw Adrix subtly flex the hand that had projected the shield, a fleeting shadow—pain? effort?—crossing his features before it was ruthlessly suppressed.

Finnian bent over, hands on his knees, breath tearing through him in ragged gasps that slowly, began to even out. “I… I did it!” he exclaimed, voice hoarse but ringing with a dazed triumph.

Adrix walked over to him, placing a firm hand on Finnian’s shoulder. “You did. And with practice, you’ll only refine that control.”

Liora, who had been watching with anxious anticipation, rushed to Finnian, enveloping him in a fierce hug. “You were incredible, Finn!” she cried. A genuine smile finally found my own lips, warm and unbidden. He actually did it. Noctis, ever the quiet observer, watched them with an unreadable expression, perhaps lost in his own thoughts. My gaze, however, was drawn back to Adrix. He caught it, and a small, knowing smile—one that always seemed to see more than I intended—touched his lips as he made his way over. My heart gave that familiar, treacherous leap against my ribs.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his intense violet gaze meeting mine, somehow making the chill evening air feel suddenly, intimately warmer.

“Not at all,” I managed, my voice a little breathier than I’d hoped. I shifted on the rough stone bench, the scrape of fabric loud in the sudden quiet between us. The movement felt clumsy, exaggerated under his unwavering regard, and I was acutely aware of the mere inches that now separated us.

“I think Finnian will master this quickly,” I said, striving for a casual tone that felt miles from the fluttering in my chest.

Adrix nodded, his shoulder almost brushing mine as he settled, sending a jolt of awareness along my nerves. “He will. He wields ancient magic, after all.” A flicker of something unreadable—regret, perhaps, or a profound weariness—shadowed his face before his customary confidence resurfaced. “He doesn’t carry the same burdens as those of us who channel the… conventional way.” A wry smile played on his lips. “Besides, he has an exceptional teacher.”

I let out a small, slightly shaky laugh. “Is that so?” I tilted my head, meeting his gaze despite the rapid pulse at my throat. “And what makes you such an exceptional teacher? Beyond the blinding confidence, of course.”

His smirk widened. “For one, I am patient. And I understand the true, often perilous, nature of mana. I can guide him without letting him stumble into its darker currents.” He looked at me then, a different quality to the intensity in his violet eyes, something softer, more searching. Then, slowly and deliberately, his fingers found mine, lacing through them. Instant heat ran up my arm; my breath hitched. I found myself shifting closer, the simple contact a surprising, grounding anchor.

As true night began to swallow the ruins, the warmth of his hand in mine did little to dispel the chill seeded by my thoughts, which kept returning to the darkness that haunted their journey.

“Adrix,” I began softly, my eyes tracing the lines of strain that even his formidable composure couldn’t entirely erase. “How are you… really?”

He offered a faint, tired smile. “I’m managing… though it would be a lie to say the path ahead doesn’t weigh on me.”

“When will you reinstate your seals?” I asked, the practical question somehow underscored by the intimacy of our clasped hands.

He considered for a moment, his gaze distant. “Once we reach the capital. Not before.”

My eyes searched his. “Does it… hurt? Sealing so much of your power?”

He met my gaze, his own expression clouding. “I won’t lie to you, Lyra,” he said, his thumb brushing softly, almost unconsciously, over my knuckles, “it’s… unpleasant. A constant, gnawing ache. But it’s a necessary evil, far preferable to risking everyone’s safety.” He added, his voice somber, eyes flicking towards Finnian now laughing by the campfire, “I’m just grateful Finnian won’t ever have to face that choice.”

His words, and the quiet pain lacing them, tightened the knot of concern in my chest. “Do you think he’ll be ready? For what’s coming?”

Adrix brought his focus back to me, his gaze unwavering. “Yes. Once he truly grasps how to gather and command his mana, his strength will grow exponentially. He has the potential.”

“That’s… good,” I said, though the reassurance felt thin against the backdrop of desolation. My eyes swept over the skeletal remains of the town, a place that had pulsed with life only weeks ago. A child’s soot-stained doll lay half-buried near a collapsed wall, its single button eye staring blankly at the darkening sky—a stark, silent testament. The sight lent an urgency to my next question. “Do you think… the creatures… will they breach the capital’s defenses?”

“If we don’t stop K’tthar,” he stated, the words devoid of inflection, chillingly certain, “then darkness will inevitably consume everything.” His eyes drifted to the others – Finnian now animatedly recounting his feat to Liora and Noctis by the sputtering campfire, their faces illuminated in fleeting bursts of orange.

I wanted to press further, to understand the true depth of the burden he carried beneath that carefully constructed confidence, a weight hinted at by the subtle thrum of his protective wards and the weariness I’d glimpsed too often. But before I could articulate the question, Finnian’s laugh, surprisingly light and carefree, drifted over. Liora called out, her voice bright, “Adrix! Lyra! Are you two going to let the slightly charred food get cold?”

Adrix let out a soft chuckle, the sound releasing some of the tension that had gathered around us like a shroud. He looked at me, a small, almost rueful smile playing on his lips. “Seems our quiet break is at an end.” He squeezed my hand gently before releasing it to stand, then offered me his hand up from the rough stone bench. As our fingers brushed again, briefly, his violet eyes met mine, and in their depths, I saw a flicker of that earlier intensity, a silent promise of conversations yet to be concluded, before he turned to lead the way back to the small, defiant circle of warmth and companionship.