Three weeks had passed since their battle with the Viscount.
The midday sun filtered through the treetops above the elven encampnt, casting dancing shadows over the clearing where the trio had made a habit of training. Birds chirped in the distance, but within the ring of smooth stone and packed soil, the air was still, focused.
Lumberling sat cross-legged, his posture straight, hands resting loosely on his knees, palms open. The Concordia Cycle ran through him like a asured pulse, mana flowing in rhythm with breath, drawing in, refining, releasing. Around him, the faint shimr of controlled aura drifted in and out of sight like a heat mirage.
Aurelya tilted her head, brows furrowing. "You... how did you suddenly improve?"
She had suspected it for days, small tells: the increasing clarity of his control, the faint resonance of mana around him that was sharper, cleaner. But now, watching the cycle stabilize with unnerving ease, she could no longer deny it. His progress had leapt forward.
From the side, Thessalia’s gaze narrowed. Silent but equally observant.
The Concordant State, sothing that should’ve taken him decades of rigorous training given his ager talent had been reduced to a matter of years. It was as if his very aptitude had been rewritten.
Thessalia crossed her arms, her voice calm but edged. "You’re not just refining mana anymore. Your understanding has shifted. I’ve noticed you applying principles I’ve never taught."
Lumberling slowly opened his eyes, his breathing even, his expression neutral. "Maybe... my talent’s finally waking up," he said, feigning a half-smile.
But neither elf accepted the deflection this ti.
Aurelya stepped closer, arms folded tightly, golden eyes searching. "You were struggling with elental balance two weeks ago. Now you’re harmonizing like soone years into formal study. You’re adapting too fast."
Thessalia’s voice dropped lower. "Your mana has changed."
Lumberling stilled.
"There’s an elent infused in it," she continued, her tone sharper now. "A faint trace, but undeniable. That shouldn’t be possible without a ford mana heart. But you..." Her gaze lingered on him, calculating. "You’re evolving without following the proper steps."
A mont of silence stretched between them.
Lumberling exhaled through his nose, slow and asured. He could see it in their eyes, their sharp minds parsing him like a puzzle, their world of logic and structure challenged by the impossibility in front of them.
They didn’t know about his Devour ability. They couldn’t. To them, progress ca from training, study, or gifts from nature and lineage. Not... theft. Not essence devoured from fallen enemies and absorbed into his being.
And this ti, their curiosity had teeth.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked quietly. The two elves nodded without hesitation.
"I’m sorry," Lumberling said. "But I can’t tell you."
Their frowns deepened. Aurelya’s hands tightened slightly, a flicker of hurt flashing in her eyes as she suddenly felt a pang on her chest.
"I know this looks suspicious. And I hate keeping things from you... especially after everything you’ve done for , after how much you’ve helped grow. I won’t forget that"
He stood, brushing the dust from his cloak, then looked at Thessalia, and finally Aurelya. His gaze softened.
"It’s not because I don’t trust you. I do. But so truths... aren’t ready to be shared yet."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only they could hear.
"When the ti is right, I’ll tell you everything. No lies. No more secrets."
His eyes searched theirs.
"Until then... do you believe in ?"
Thessalia’s eyes narrowed, her arms slowly crossing as she held his gaze. She said nothing at first, but the silence spoke volus. After a long pause, she exhaled through her nose and looked away.
"Secrets are dangerous, Lumberling," she muttered. "Especially ones involving magic. But..." she glanced at him again, asuring, probing.
"...you’ve never broken your word before."
Her expression softened just a little. "I’ll hold you to it."
Aurelya, on the other hand, didn’t speak right away. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes shimred, not with tears, but with sothing more raw.
"You idiot," she whispered, her voice tight. "Why does it hurt more that you’re being kind about it?"
She turned her face away, one hand brushing her hair behind her ear as if to compose herself.
But then she looked back at him, eyes fierce yet vulnerable.
"Fine. I believe you. But don’t make wait forever. I don’t want to be keep in the dark forever."
Lumberling gave a quiet nod and offered a faint, sincere smile.
"Thank you." He said. "Truly. And... I don’t think you’ll have to wait that long."
.....
Ti passed, as it always did in the quiet rhythms of training and watching the sun crawl across the leaves.
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting warm golden light across the training grounds. One quiet afternoon, Lumberling arrived for his usual drills, but paused when he saw Thessalia already waiting beneath the old tree.
She stood with her arms folded, posture still and composed, half-shadowed by the branches. A breeze stirred her green hair, but her expression remained unreadable as always.
"Aurelya’s not here today?" Lumberling asked, walking up.
Thessalia nodded once. "She’s still in bed. Groaning, complaining, probably bruised in places she didn’t know could bruise."
Lumberling let out a low chuckle. "Yesterday’s spar?"
"She pushed herself too far," Thessalia said, her voice caught between amusent and mild reproach. "Though... she’s been doing that a lot lately."
She glanced his way, adding with a hint of dry humor, "Thanks to you."
He blinked. "?"
"Obviously," she said, glancing his way. "Before you ca along, she had no reason to sweat. As the Marquess’s daughter, her path was already paved. She was talented, sure, but she never had to push."
That surprised him. It was the first ti Thessalia had ever ntioned their lives back in the Empire openly, without armor in her voice.
"Marquess, huh?" he murmured, thoughtfully. "What about you? Are you nobility too?"
Thessalia gave a small shrug, leaning back against the tree trunk. "Half. My mother’s a Countess. My father’s... well, just a rchant who married up."
"So still noble blood," he said, smirking.
Thessalia quirked an eyebrow, not denying it.
"And what about Vaenyra? Should I start calling her ’your highness’ too?"
That earned an actual laugh quiet, but real.
"Not quite. But close," Thessalia admitted. "Her uncle’s a Duke. Her family traces back to the old royal bloodlines of Syltharien."
Lumberling let her words settle. He wasn’t surprised, not really. He’d suspected they were of noble birth from the start. The way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they carried themselves, it was the ease of people born into status and expectation.
"Guess I’m the odd one out."
Thessalia looked at him sideways. "You’d think that. But the more I watch you... the more I wonder who you really are, Lumberling."
Her voice was quiet. Curious.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he sat down under the tree beside her and looked out at the practice field.
"Maybe I’ll tell you one day," he said at last.
A faint smirk played on her lips. "I’ll be waiting."
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