The trail up to the old ravine twisted through frost-dusted pine and roots like knotted hands. Jake had been walking for hours since dawn, guided only by the directions Lysa had quietly offered before vanishing into the village crowd.
"Find the hollow with three stones like teeth," she'd said. "He lives near where the stream bends around them. Don't call his name. Just wait. If he wants to meet you… he will."
Jake tightened the wool cloak around his shoulders—new, but already scuffed at the seams. His breath came in white curls as he rounded a thicket and saw them: three jagged stones jutting from the ground like the ribs of some ancient beast. The stream murmured beside them, winding deeper into shadow.
He didn't call out. Just sat by the stones, let his muscles relax, and listened.
After an hour passed, a whisper of movement caught his ear.
"I expected you yesterday."
Jake turned. A tall man stood behind him, wrapped in dark layers, face rough with a silvery beard and eyes sharp as shattered stone. He looked like he belonged to the forest more than the trees did.
"You're Eric?"
The man said nothing. He turned and walked away. Jake scrambled to his feet and followed.
Eric's home wasn't a cabin. It was barely a structure—branches woven into a dome, walls moss-covered and windowless, a shallow fire pit nestled beneath a ledge of rock. Animals had left it alone, or maybe they just didn't notice it.
Jake stood awkwardly at the edge.
Eric lit the fire with a flint strike. "You want to learn magic."
Jake hesitated. "I want to understand it. What I felt during the hunt… it didn't come from a spell."
"No. It came from instinct. This isn't the kind of magic that lets you throw fire or float a sword. It won't impress anyone. It's listening, not commanding." He looked up. "Still want to learn?"
Jake nodded.
"Then sit. And say nothing."
The next three days were spent in silence.
Eric gave no instructions at first. No lectures. Just pointed to a spot near the fire and expected Jake to sit still from dawn until dusk. His legs ached. His back screamed. Thoughts churned like storm clouds.
But slowly—almost imperceptibly—he began to notice things.
How the warmth of the sun moved across his skin.
How the air shifted just before a bird flitted from tree to tree.
How he could feel a squirrel moving through the branches before he even saw it.
On the fourth day, Eric handed him a strip of cloth. "Blindfold. Listen deeper."
Sightless, Jake became aware of everything else.
The way footsteps crunched in dry grass told him which direction Eric was facing. How long the fire had burned. Even the moment when a deer passed by thirty yards off—he could feel the pressure of its presence, like a ripple in still water.
That night, Eric finally spoke again.
"Magic isn't always something you cast. Sometimes it's something you stop fighting."
He knelt beside Jake and placed a hand on the ground.
"This world breathes. You can learn to breathe with it."
More days passed, and the training changed.
Eric showed him how to walk silently—heel, then toe, weight carefully distributed. They crossed stretches of pine without a single sound. Jake learned how to sync his breathing with his steps, how to feel the pull of the earth before he moved.
He began to see in darkness—not with eyes, but with awareness. Shadows lost their menace. He knew where not to step, where something watched from behind bark or branch.
Eric called this the Flow—the current of energy that ran through everything.
One morning, crouched beside a brook, Eric touched Jake's arm. "Push your energy into your limbs. Let it move with the world."
Jake focused, exhaled, and leapt across the stream. It wasn't superhuman. But it was right—every muscle working in harmony, as though time slowed enough for his body to speak clearly to itself.
Eric smiled. "You're starting to hear it."
By the end of the week, Jake could pass through the woods unseen. He could sense when a bird would take flight. He didn't need a lantern at night.
One evening, while they sat beside the fire, Jake finally asked, "Why did you agree to teach me?"
Eric stirred the embers with a stick. "Because you don't want this to fight. You want it to understand."
Jake looked down. "You knew someone like me before, didn't you?"
There was a long pause.
"A man. Years ago. Came through the veil. Didn't belong here, but… part of him wanted to." Eric didn't say more. He didn't need to.
Jake swallowed. "Did he ever find what he was looking for?"
Eric's expression was unreadable. "I don't think he knew what that was."
The next morning, Eric handed Jake a strange bracelet woven from pale silver bark and a thread of dark root.
"A focus. When your thoughts scatter, hold it. Feel the flow return."
Jake slipped it on and felt a strange warmth press against his skin.
"You've got more to learn. But it's time you head back. You're not ready for the Heart of the World yet—but you're closer."
Jake stood, nodded, and took a long breath of cold forest air.
For the first time in days, he realized he didn't feel like a stranger in this world.
He felt present—as if the world had taken one small step toward accepting him.