Page 53 of Eluvonia (Rift of Ages #1)

AERIS

T he forest is alive around us, every leaf trembling in the golden sunlight that filters through the canopy.

The earth Ymiral walks ahead of me, her gown rippling as though stirred by an unseen breeze.

Vines seem to rise to meet her steps, only to retreat just before her feet touch the ground.

I don’t know what I expected when I agreed to follow her, but this… certainly wasn’t it.

She halts abruptly, the hem of her gown brushing against a patch of moss. “Here,” she says, her voice low and resonant, a cadence that feels like the heartbeat of the forest itself.

I glance around the clearing. Sunlight streams down in thick, golden beams, painting the grass in various shades of green.

Wildflowers dot the ground—tiny bursts of color swaying as if dancing to some secret melody.

The air smells rich, earthy, and alive. It’s a peaceful place, the kind that almost makes you want to believe in magic. Almost.

The earth Ymiral turns to face me, her glowing green eyes soft but unreadable. “You were chosen for this, Aeris,” she says, the weight of her words anchoring the moment.

I adjust my weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the awkwardness curling in my chest. “Chosen? By whom, exactly?”

Her gaze sharpens, though her tone remains gentle. “The realm. It deemed it necessary.”

“That’s… vague,” I say, mostly to myself, but loud enough for her to hear. My fingers tug at the edge of my tunic, a nervous habit I refuse to admit to.

The Ymiral tilts her head, a hint of amusement flashing in her expression. “The realm does not explain itself to me. It speaks, I listen.”

“Of course,” I say with a dry smile. “The mysterious, all-knowing realm. How convenient.”

She doesn’t respond, merely gestures for me to come closer. “Shall we begin?”

I step into the clearing, the grass cool beneath my feet. “What exactly am I supposed to be doing here?”

“Connecting,” she replies simply, as if that clears up everything.

“Connecting,” I echo, deadpan. “Right. And how do I do that? Hug a tree?”

Her lips twitch, almost a smile. “Not quite. Sit.”

I lower myself onto the grass, cross-legged, and glance up at her expectantly. “Okay, now what?”

“Close your eyes,” she instructs, kneeling gracefully across from me. “Feel the realm beneath you.”

I do as she says, though I can’t help but grumble under my breath, “Feel the realm. Sure, because that’s not vague at all.”

She ignores my sarcasm. “The realm is alive, Aeris. It breathes, it pulses, it listens. Let yourself become part of it.”

I frown but focus, letting my hands rest on the ground. The soil feels warm, the blades of grass tickling my palms. I try to clear my mind, but my thoughts are a relentless tide, crashing and swirling no matter how hard I try to still them.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. It’s hard to tell. My legs start to ache, and my patience wears thin.

“Nothing’s happening,” I say, cracking one eye open. The Ymiral hasn’t moved, her serene expression infuriatingly calm.

“You’re trying too hard,” she says softly. “Magic isn’t about force. It’s about flow. Relax.”

I snort. “Relaxing isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

She smiles faintly, as though she already knew that. “Then it is something you must learn.”

I exhale sharply, closing my eyes again.

This time, I focus on the sensations around me—the warmth of the sun on my skin, the coolness of the breeze, the faint rustle of leaves.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I start to feel…

something. A faint hum beneath my fingertips, like the ground is alive with an energy I can’t quite grasp.

“There,” the Ymiral says quietly. “You’re close.”

I frown, concentrating harder. The hum grows stronger, but it’s slippery, elusive, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. Frustration bubbles up, and I grit my teeth. “It’s not working.”

“It is,” she counters. “You’re just not trusting yourself. Let go, Aeris.”

“Let go of what?” I snap, opening my eyes and glaring at her. “I don’t even know what I’m doing! ”

She meets my gaze calmly, her glowing eyes unwavering. “You are overthinking. Magic is not logic. It is instinct. Trust it.”

I groan, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Great. Trust my instincts. Because that’s never backfired before.”

Her gaze softens, and for the first time, there’s a hint of sympathy in her expression. “You are stronger than you think, Aeris. But strength is not enough. You must learn to trust—not just the magic, but yourself.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable. I hate how they make sense.

With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes again.

This time, I don’t try to force it. I let the hum come to me, let it seep into my skin like sunlight warming my bones.

Slowly, the energy shifts, flowing through me like a river finding its course.

It’s faint, a whisper rather than a roar, but it’s there.

“I feel it,” I say softly, the words barely audible.

The Ymiral’s smile is subtle but genuine. “Good. Now, draw it in.”

I furrow my brow, focusing on the energy. It resists, like a tide pulling away from the shore, but I dig deeper, coaxing it gently rather than demanding. Gradually, the resistance lessens, and I feel a flicker of warmth in my chest, faint but unmistakable.

“Yes,” the Ymiral murmurs. “That is the realm’s magic. You’ve found it.”

I open my eyes, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. “I did it?”

She nods, her expression serene but proud. “You did.”

I glance down at my hands, half-expecting to see some visible sign of the magic coursing through me. A spark, a glow—something. But there’s nothing, only the faint warmth in my chest and the lingering hum beneath my skin.

Frowning, I lift my palm and focus, reaching for that elusive thread of energy. Slowly, tendrils of light weave together, delicate and uncertain, until a single rose blooms in my hand. Its petals shimmer like morning frost, fragile yet impossibly real.

Encouraged, I will it to grow, to flourish into something greater. But the light flickers, resisting my command, and no matter how hard I try, the rose remains unchanged.

“It’s… not much,” I admit, my voice tinged with disappointment.

“It is a beginning,” she says firmly. “The first spark of a fire that will grow in time. Be patient, Aeris.”

I sigh, leaning back on my hands and staring up at the canopy above. The sunlight filters through the leaves, dappling the clearing in gold and green. It’s beautiful, in a way that feels almost sacred.

For a moment, I let myself simply exist in the stillness, the warmth of the realm’s magic, a quiet reminder of what I’ve accomplished. It’s not much, but it’s enough. For now.