Aeri

  Before the storm ever listened to her, Aeri spoke through sensation, not strength. The world told its secrets in feeling.

  A gentle breeze glided through the trees, swaying and cradling them, setting the leaves to rustle against each other and the branches to creak. Nature’s song - slow, peaceful, and vibrant. The sound of calm and of life. The rhythm of harmony. Above, the trees linked together by their branches, spreading to catch the rays of the sun and grow. Below, their roots reached out like many gentle fingers, drawing in the ki of the world, sharing with its neighbors.

  Among the branches, life stirred. Small birds, heard but not seen, trilling soft calls through the still air. A woodpecker’s tapping, echoing like distant thunder - gentle yet relentless, as if echoing the storm’s memory. A creek, just out of sight, adding its light, happy gurgling to the symphony. A grand orchestra of sounds and feeling, of energy and life. It reached her ears, her skin, even the space behind her breath - washing over her like a balm.

  Aeri loved this time of the day more than any other. The feel of the sun, bathing the grove in its energizing light. The sounds of the forest, away from the chaos of the castle and the stress of the lessons. She came here at least once, every week, to prepare for the troubles of the week. There was something… grounding about being alone among the trees, letting her sense flow out, to envelop the grove. It always brought back the sweetest sensations.

  A cool breeze reached her, heavy with the scent of earth and moss. It reminded her of Varden, in his quiet way, tending to his pnts like he was part of the soil. It brought the taste of the strawberry he'd grown, full of life., grounded, real. As the wind died, she became aware of the warmth of the sun surrounding her, yet not smothering. Taiko. His quiet, uninterrupted energy never failed to lighten her soul.

  She felt Mae in the earth beneath her, in the quiet strength of the forest, in the way the wind pressed steadily against her skin.. A calm, dependable presence. Her friends were part of the world, and through them, so was she. The Academy still felt far off—but here, she knew where she stood. Not as a fighter. As someone who noticed. Someone who felt.

  Then she felt something else. A pulse—low and steady. Present. Not like the forest. Not hers, either, though for a moment she thought it might be. But no, it was too slow. Too infrequent. Too… imposing. It didn’t take in the world. It gave to it, pushing outward with quiet force. Gentle, yes. Oh, so gentle. But it commanded the world to stop and listen, to follow its own rhythm. And the world did.

  Aeri opened her eyes. The wind had shifted, drawn elsewhere—drawn to him. The pulse returned, brushing through her like water. She gasped - quiet, surprised. It pulled and passed through at once. Was she so attuned with the forest that even this could move her?

  She stood, without thinking. The pulse was already leading her. She didn’t know how she knew. She just did. And she was certain she hadn’t felt it before. Just as she knew the direction, she also knew the source. Not what. Who. His presence reached toward her - calm, steady. She followed. Listening. Sensing.

  And there he was. Renzo. Alone in the clearing. He’d removed his tunic, and his skin shone under the sun. But beyond his body, she felt the world move, as he moved, the wind thrusting with the tip of his spear, the heat of the day absorbing into and then radiating off of his core. His movement held bance. Fire and air in sync. The world adjusted to match him - and so did her breath.

  This wasn’t the Renzo she’d met - quiet, unsure of his footing. This one moved with purpose, and the world moved with him. The quiet boy who stood at the edge of the circle, always watching, never ciming space - gone. In his pce stood someone whose pulse drew the world to him, whose stillness carried command.

  The forest still moved, but not for her. It breathed for him. She was a breath held too long. She stepped back, behind the bark. Not from shame, but instinct. What if he saw her gaze and mistook it for judgment? Not everyone liked being seen. She’d learned that early.

  Her mother called it spying. Said children shouldn’t watch, just listen. Learn their pce. As if being seen without performance exposed something fragile.

  The Academy didn’t understand silence. It valued speech, intent, and results. It mistook stillness for inaction, waiting for weakness. But here, the world spoke in pulses and pressure, in rhythms that never shouted. She could breathe here. She could be.

  The world never flinched. It wanted to be witnessed. The sky and the earth longed to be seen, to be felt. Even the wind seemed to rush to her, excited to tell its story—leaves brushing past her like whispers, air thick with sun-warmed pine and memory. It fulfilled her desire to witness, to observe, and to experience. It brought her to bance and gave her a home. Now, someone else shaped its song. And she didn’t know if she was welcome.

  She remembered the one time another student had found this pce. She’d left quietly, not wanting to share it—but even then, she’d felt the forest retreat. The breeze turned still, the grove silent. The nd had not offered itself to him the way it did to her. It had known the difference.

  Her breath caught itself trying to match his rhythm. It stumbled - off-beat, half a second behind. Not hers. Not yet. The forest had always answered to her quiet presence, folding around her without resistance. But now, it listened to him, moved with him, exhaled with him. She felt the pulse of his movement tug at her own, inviting her to fall in step. It wasn’t coercive, only… patient. As if the world itself was asking: Can you feel this, too? And she could. Not fully—not yet. But it was tempting. So tempting.

  It looked the same, but the rhythm had changed. The air swirled with new intent, drawn into his breath, given back as motion. The pulse stitched the world into a new shape—threads of heat and wind pulled taut to match his tempo. She watched the way the world moved with him - not against, not around, but with. As if it, too, had been waiting for him to arrive. He didn’t pull at the forest’s threads, didn’t take control. He wove himself into it - fire and breath and stillness in motion.

  And yet, this was her pce. He was new. A presence she hadn’t known to expect, humming in the space between the wind and her skin. But it didn’t feel like an intrusion. Strange, yes. The bance would shift, and she’d need time to feel it fully. But it wasn’t wrong. The forest hadn’t cast him out. The wind still spoke. So she listened. She let herself breathe again, softer this time. The rhythm was different, but still a rhythm. And for now, that was enough.

  She stayed to watch him a moment longer, just enough to feel the rhythm settle into her. It was refreshing, in a way. The way he moved, the way the world moved with him - it was still humming through the trees, vibrating in her core.

  But this wasn’t her moment to keep.

  She hadn’t meant to witness something this private. She hadn’t realized it until now, but it was clear in the way the wind stilled, the way the pulse began to soften, as if unsure of her presence. Aeri stepped back, careful not to break a twig or stir a branch. Not out of fear - but reverence. This harmony, this communion between man and world - it hadn’t been made for her. And she would not take it.

  Better to leave now, before the spell noticed her. Before he did. She turned, the forest greeting her again in familiar tones: the birdcall, the soft soil underfoot, the trees whispering as they always had. The world still welcomed her. But now, it welcomed him too. Leaving wasn’t retreat. It was trust. A gift, the kind the world had once given her. Let him have this peace without interruption. Let him feel what she had always felt—that he wasn’t alone.

  The world felt changed - subtly, but undeniably. Tilted just off its familiar axis, as though the grove had shifted around a new center of gravity. The breeze still moved, the light still fell between the leaves, but the pattern had bent slightly to accommodate him. It wasn’t intrusive. Not a storm, not a rupture. Just… different. And different carried weight. She was used to hearing the same rhythms, feeling the same notes, week after week. Renzo’s presence - quite, banced, quietly commanding - had introduced something new to the song. She hadn’t chosen it. But she could feel the harmony trying to accommodate him, as though the world was stretching its arms to make space.

  And she found herself doing the same. The shift hadn’t pushed her out. The forest still sang to her. Still pressed itself against her skin, still filled her lungs with its warm breath. But now, it sang to him too. And maybe that was alright. She had never asked to be the only one. If the rhythm had changed, she would learn to move with it. Not to hold it still, but to join it. Bance wasn’t about keeping the same shape - it was bout adjusting to the new one without losing herself. And right now, even with the change, she still felt like herself.