The boy shifted his weight carefully, testing the sturdiness of the branch beneath him. The climb down wasn’t going to be easy. He gripped the rough bark with both hands, lowering himself slowly. The first few steps were manageable, but as he descended further, a sharp sting flared in his injured arm. He winced, pausing for a moment as the pain spread. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening instinctively. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now the ache was impossible to ignore. Each movement after that was slower, more deliberate. By the time his feet touched the forest floor, his body felt stiff and heavy, as though the climb had drained what little energy he had left. He leaned against the tree for a moment, catching his breath, before pushing himself toward the creek. The cool sound of running water grew louder as he approached, and he crouched by the edge. The boy crouched by the creek, scooping up a handful of water with his good hand and bringing it to his lips. The cool liquid was a welcome relief, soothing his dry throat and clearing his head. He drank deeply, letting the water trickle down his chin as he leaned closer to the stream.

  Once his thirst was quenched, he dipped his injured arm into the creek, wincing as the cold water stung the raw skin. He scrubbed at the wound with his fingers, working quickly to clean away the grime and dried blood. The water swirled red around his hand, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pain flared. When he was done, he shook his arm dry and glanced around. His eyes landed on a nearby bush with broad, green leaves. They looked sturdy enough. He tore a few off, wiping them clean with his good hand before pressing them over the wound. Using the damp fabric from his old bandage, he tied the leaves in place with quick, practiced movements. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold for now.

  The boy flexed his fingers, his gaze drifting to the creek. The faint ripples of the current shimmered in the moonlight, but his focus was elsewhere. The wolf-thing’s glowing eyes and the steady ripples of its mana replayed in his mind. It had been deliberate, precise, and controlled. He could do that too—he just needed to figure out how.

  He glanced at his injured arm. Moving mana to his eyes again felt reckless—he wasn’t ready for that. But his arm? That was safer. He could test it there first.

  Taking a slow breath, he reached inward, searching for the scattered dots of mana within him. They were faint, like distant stars, but they were there. He focused on gathering them, pulling as many as he could toward his arm. The mana stirred sluggishly, resisting his efforts at first, but then it began to move. His heart quickened as the sensation returned, faint but growing stronger.

  But then it all went wrong.

  The mana surged wildly, slipping out of his control. The tingling in his arm turned sharp, almost painful, as the scattered dots collided and scattered in every direction. He flinched, pulling his hand back as the sensation vanished entirely. “Damn it,” he muttered, clenching his fist. He had tried to take control of too much at once, and it had overwhelmed him.

  He sat back on his heels, his brow furrowed in frustration. The wolf-thing had made it look so easy, but for him, it was like trying to grab a handful of sand—no matter how tightly he held on, it kept slipping through his fingers. He needed to start smaller, to find his limit.

  Taking another breath, he steadied himself. This time, he would try something different. Just one. He would focus on moving a single dot of mana, guiding it steadily before adding more.

  He closed his eyes, reaching inward again, where the scattered dots of mana floated faintly within his body. He focused on one, isolating it from the rest. Slowly, he began to move it, guiding it toward his arm, followed the circular path he envisioned.

  It was shaky at first, wobbling as it moved, but he adjusted, smoothing out the motion. His breathing slowed, his focus narrowing. The dot rotated steadily now, tracing the circle in his mind. Encouraged, he reached for another.

  The second dot joined the first, slipping into the same circular path. The sensation grew stronger, sharper, as the two dots moved together. They wobbled slightly, threatening to slip out of alignment, but he adjusted, guiding them back into place. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, his grip on the motion tightening.

  He exhaled slowly, his focus sharpening. This was working. But he wasn’t done yet. He wanted to see how far he could push it, to find the point where it all fell apart.

  Carefully, he pulled it into the circle, guiding it to join the others. The tingling flared, sharper now, as the three dots began to move together. For a moment, they rotated in unison, their motion smooth and synchronized. His heart quickened. He was holding them—barely.

  But the strain was building. The third dot wobbled, threatening to slip out of alignment. He scrambled to correct it, but the effort threw the others off balance. His brow furrowed as he gritted his teeth, trying to hold them steady. The strain in his arm grew sharper, almost painful, as the motion teetered on the edge of collapse.

  He clenched his jaw, realizing he couldn’t keep this up. If he pushed any further, it would all fall apart again. With a sharp exhale, he stopped the rotation, pulling the mana back into stillness. A sharp, stinging pain shot through his arm as the motion came to an abrupt halt. He flinched, clutching his arm as the ache lingered, his breath coming in uneven gasps.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, shaking his arm as if to dispel the lingering sting. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had stopped it too suddenly, and the backlash had hit him harder than he’d expected. He couldn’t afford to make that mistake.

  The ache in his arm lingered, sharp and insistent, as he stared at the creek.

  The water shimmered faintly in the moonlight, its surface broken by gentle ripples that spread and faded without a sound. Tiny eddies swirled around the rocks, their motion slow and unhurried, as if the creek itself was in no rush to reach its destination. The soft murmur of the current filled the air, soothing and constant, like a lullaby meant to pull his thoughts away from the sting in his arm. His gaze lingered on the current, and something clicked in his mind.

  He had been trying to force the mana, to control every tiny movement, but that wasn’t how it worked. It wasn’t something he could grip tightly or bend to his will. It was more like... a current. Something that flowed naturally. He needed to guide it, not hold it too tightly. Let it move on its own, but keep it within the boundaries he set.

  His jaw tightened as he straightened, the ache in his arm still present but ignored. He closed his eyes again, his voice low but resolute. “One more time,” he murmured. “Let’s do this right.”

  He get three scattered dots of mana and guide them into the same circular path. This time, he didn’t try to micromanage every movement. He let the dots flow, keeping the circle steady but loose, like a wheel spinning on its own. The wobble was still there, faint but manageable, and he adjusted with small, deliberate corrections. Slowly, the motion smoothed out, the three dots rotating in unison. His lips twitched into a small smile. He was holding them.

  For a moment, he let the motion continue, testing his control. The tingling in his arm was strong but steady, no longer threatening to overwhelm him. He exhaled slowly, his focus sharpening. “Alright,” he murmured under his breath. “Let’s try more.”

  He drew a fourth dot into the circle, guiding it to join the others. Four dots rotated together, their motion smooth but fragile, like a plate spinning on the edge of a stick. He held them steady, his brow furrowing as he concentrated.

  “Still good,” his voice low but steady. “One more.”

  He reached for a fifth dot, guiding it into the circle. The moment it joined, the tingling in his arm surged, sharp and insistent, like a taut rope about to snap. The motion faltered, the added weight throwing the rhythm off balance. He tried to adjust, his focus narrowing as he fought to steady the rotation, but the strain was too much.

  He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let the rotation slow, easing the dots into a gentler rhythm. The strain in his arm eased as the motion gradually came to a stop, the dots settling back into stillness. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as the strain faded without leaving a sting behind.

  “Better,” he muttered under his breath, flexing his fingers experimentally. The ache in his arm was still there, but it was dull now, manageable. He had stopped it correctly this time, and the difference was clear.

  “Five’s too much,” shaking his head. “Not yet.” He have the motion down now. But motion needed purpose. He started with a simple thought, a wish: Sense the fish.

  The dots continued their rotation, steady but unchanged. He concentrated harder, imagining the mana amplifying his awareness, sharpening his sensitivity to the water around his arm. At first, it seemed to work. He felt the faintest ripples, subtle shifts in the current. But then the sensations grew stronger, sharper, until they overwhelmed him. Every tiny vibration crashed into his mind like a tidal wave. His head throbbed, the pressure building behind his eyes as his focus shattered.

  He gasped, clutching his head as the spinning dots scattered. The amplified sensations vanished, leaving behind a dull ache in his skull. "Ugh, not again,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He had pushed too far, too fast. Amplifying his arm wasn’t enough—his brain couldn’t handle it.

  He sat back, catching his breath. He will have to try it with his eyes now, just like the wolf-like thing. Maybe it's approach is the correct one.

  His jaw tightened as he straightened, determination flickering in his eyes. He closed them briefly, focusing on the dots once more. This time, he guided them upward, toward his head. The sensation shifted, settling behind his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the thought forward: See the fish.

  When he opened his eyes, the world looked sharper, clearer. The moonlight reflected off the water, but it wasn’t the light that caught his attention. In the creek, faint outlines began to form—subtle, glowing shapes that moved with the current. His breath caught. Fish. They weren’t glowing like mana, but their movements stood out, highlighted against the stillness of the water.

  He blinked, his heart quickening as he focused on the shapes. One darted closer, its outline brightening for a moment before fading as it swam away. The vision wasn’t perfect—the shapes flickered and wavered, and he had to concentrate to keep them in focus. But it was enough. He could see them now, even if only faintly. His heart raced as he leaned closer to the water, his eyes locked on the glowing outlines darting beneath the surface. A fish swam closer, its movements slow and unhurried, and he felt a surge of excitement. He could do this.

  Carefully, he dipped his good hand into the creek, moving as slowly as he could to avoid disturbing the water. The glowing shape flickered but stayed in place, hovering near a cluster of rocks where the current slowed. His fingers hovered just above it, trembling slightly as he prepared to strike.

  But before he could move, the fish darted forward—and straight into the shallow edge of the creek. It thrashed, momentarily trapped between the rocks and the bank. His eyes widened in disbelief. Without thinking, he lunged, plunging his hand into the water and closing his fingers around the wriggling shape.

  For a moment, he just stared at it, water dripping from his hand as the faint glow of the fish’s outline flickered and faded. He’d caught it. He’d actually caught it. A breathless laugh escaped him, and he held the fish up, its slick body thrashing in his grip. “I... I got it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly might undo his success.

  The fish wriggled harder, snapping him out of his daze. He tightened his grip, careful not to let it slip free. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of why he was doing this in the first place. “Finally,” he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. “Something went right.”