Kael was on his twentieth attempt of the morning when the knock came.
Knock!! Knock!!
Three seconds. That was still the ceiling.
He’d been at it since before dawn — sitting cross-legged on the bed in the grey pre-light, finding the thread, guiding it down his arm, compressing it into his palm, holding it for exactly three seconds before it scattered. Same result every time. Not worse. Not better.
Three seconds.
He opened his eyes at the knock, let the compression dissolve, and stood up.
Mira was at the door.
She looked like she’d already been up for hours — hunter’s gear on, spear across her back, a rolled paper tucked under one arm. Her eyes moved over him quickly, taking in the fact that he was awake and dressed at this hour without apparent surprise.
"You’re up," she said.
"Yes," Kael replied.
She held up the rolled paper. "I have something. Can I come in?"
He stepped back from the door signaling her she’s welcomed.
She walked in, looked at the room — the bed with its covers barely disturbed, the burned-out candle stub on the floor, the way nothing in the space suggested he’d actually slept in it and said nothing about any of it, not like it was any of her business. She unrolled the paper on the bed and smoothed it flat with her palm.
A quest notice. Longer than the errand slips he’d been pulling off the board.
Official guild header at the top, a red border around the edge that he hadn’t seen on the errand assignments.
"Mid-tier escort quest," Mira said, tapping the paper. "Merchant needs his cargo moved from Valdris to the relay station at Crestfall Pass. Three days of travel. The road between here and there has had Gate disturbances for the past two weeks — minor ones, nothing a Bronze tier cultivator class can’t handle, but enough that the merchant doesn’t want to move without protection."
She paused.
"Pay is forty silver. Split two ways, that’s twenty each."
Kael looked at the number.
Twenty silver was more than he’d made in the past three days combined. More than enough to cover the room for a whole week, restock what he’d spent, and have something left over.
"Why me?" he said.
Mira crossed her arms. "What?"
"There are Bronze rank hunters in that guild hall who would take this in their sleep," he said. "You’re Bronze rank yourself. You don’t need a partner for a minor Gate disturbance on a road." He held her gaze. "Why me?"
She looked at him for a moment.
Something moved behind her eyes, not discomfort exactly, more like someone deciding how honest to be.
"Because I want to know what you are," she said flatly. "And watching someone in a controlled situation tells me more than asking them questions does." She paused, jaw tight like the next part cost her something. "Consider it, thanks. For the other night."
Kael looked at her for a moment. "You’re welcome."
"Don’t make it weird," she said
Kael said nothing for a moment.
"Pragmatic," Seradhiel said in his skull. "I find her more tolerable than most of the people in this town."
"Alright," Kael said. "When do we leave?"
Mira blinked. She’d clearly expected more pushback. "Tomorrow morning. Sixth bell."
"I’ll be ready," he said.
She rolled the paper back up and tucked it under her arm. She turned to leave, then stopped at the door. Turned back.
"Where are you from?" she said.
There it was.
"Somewhere that isn’t on your maps," Kael said.
Her jaw tightened slightly. "That’s not an answer."
"It’s the most accurate one I have," he said. "I’m not being evasive. I genuinely don’t have a better one."
She studied him. Her eyes dropped to the ring for exactly one second — the same glance Elder Crome had given it, he remembered, though Mira’s carried curiosity where Crome’s had carried recognition. Then back up.
"You talk differently from anyone I’ve met," she said. "The way you put sentences together. The way you assess things." She paused. "You don’t move like someone who just awakened. You move like someone who has been in dangerous situations for a long time."
"I have," Kael said.
"But not as a cultivator."
"No."
She waited. He didn’t add anything.
"You’re not going to explain that," she said.
"Not right now," he said. "Maybe later."
Another long look. Then she nodded once the nod of someone filing something away rather than letting it go.
"Sixth bell and no delays," she said, and left.
Kael closed the door and stood in the quiet of the room for a moment.
"She is perceptive," Seradhiel said. "More so than her rank suggests."
"I noticed," Kael said.
"She will keep asking," Seradhiel said.
"People like her do not accept partial answers indefinitely. She is building a picture from the pieces you give her whether you intend it or not."
"I know," Kael said. He picked up the primer from the floor beside the bed and set it on the windowsill. "That’s fine."
"You are not concerned?"
"About Mira?" He sat back down on the edge of the bed and found the thread in his chest again. "No. Honest people asking honest questions aren’t a problem.
It’s the ones who stop asking you should watch out for."*
A pause.
"...That is not an unintelligent observation," Seradhiel said.
"High praise," Kael said.
"Do not push it," she replied.
He closed his eyes and found the compression point. Guided the thread down his arm. Into his palm.
Held it.
One second. Two. Three.
He exhaled slowly and pushed past the point where it always scattered — not with more force, with more patience, the way she’d shown him. Letting it settle rather than demanding it stay.
Four seconds.
The compression wavered. He held his breath.
Five.
It scattered.
He opened his eyes and looked at his palm.
Five seconds.
"Improvement," Seradhiel said. One word. Flat. Entirely neutral.
He almost smiled.
"Two more days," he said. "I’ll have thirty before we leave for Crestfall."
"Bold claim," she said.
"Accurate one," he said, and closed his eyes again.
He was still at it when the candle burned low that night — the room dark except for the ring’s faint warmth against his finger, the town quiet outside the window, Seradhiel’s presence a steady weight in the back of his skull.
He’d tried to push past it a dozen more times through the evening — different angles, different levels of intent, the same patient leading Seradhiel had shown him.
Every time the compression held to five
and scattered at the same point like hitting a wall that wasn’t interested in negotiating.
He let it dissolve and lay back on the bed.
Five seconds. Same ceiling it had been this morning.
’It’ll move,’ he thought. ’Just not tonight.’
Not thirty. But the gap between three and twelve felt like more than numbers.
He let the compression dissolve and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly.
"You may attempt it," Seradhiel said.
"The seal," he said. "When I draw Essence from it for the technique does it cost you anything?"
Silence.
Not the thinking kind. The kind that had a shape.
"The passive channel exists regardless of whether you draw from it," she said finally.
"It is a function of the Investment Authority.
Not something that can be turned off."
"That’s not what I asked," Kael said.
Another silence.but this time Longer.
"Go to sleep, mortal," she said. "You have an escort quest in two days and you are currently holding your compression point for twelve seconds. Neither of those things will improve if you do not rest."
She said nothing else.
Kael stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Then he closed his eyes.
He filed the non-answer away the same way he filed everything.
Quietly. Without comment.