The winter night cut sharper than expected as the caravan rolled into the small village. Frost glittered faintly under torchlight, and the breath of horses rose in steady clouds as they neighed and stomped. It was a humble settlement — no more than two hundred villagers — but to the weary travelers, the sight of warm smoke curling from chimneys felt like salvation.

  The academy had already prepared for the lack of space. Rows of newly built makeshift houses lined the outer edges of the village, crude but sturdy, enough to shield them from the worst of the wind. The villagers themselves peeked curiously from windows, bundled in thick scarves, eyes wide at the sight of so many wagons.

  When they finally entered the main hall or the village chief house designed to welcome many people at once, the smell of hot broth washed over them. Tables crowded with steaming bowls of meat soup and roasted vegetables awaited the hungry crowd. Students packed shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing between bites, some still shivering despite the heat.

  “This… this is heaven,” Roy groaned, inhaling the soup’s aroma.

  “It’s so cold I can’t even taste it properly,” Toby muttered, his teeth clattering like dice in a cup.

  Adam, already halfway through his bowl, reached over and hugged him with exaggerated warmth. “Come here, my friend. I’ve been in the north before. Trust me, this—” he gestured at the faintly glowing lanterns and the quiet hum of conversation “—this cold is practically summer.”

  Toby made a strangled sound. “Can you get off… before I die from annoyance?”

  Their laughter joined the rest, but in one corner of the room, the tone was very different.

  At a separate table, Principal Light, Wor-en, and several other professors huddled over a rough map spread across the wood. Their voices were low, but Kana could still hear fragments — “avalanche routes,” “unstable fields”.

  Zia sat nearby, stirring her soup absentmindedly. Her gaze, however, wasn’t on the map or the students — but the dark window beyond.

  Kana followed it.

  Snow was falling again, slow and silent. But under the thin veil of white, she thought she saw movement — a faint glimmer, like something slithering beneath the frost.

  She blinked. Gone.

  Probably just her eyes playing tricks after a long day.

  Still, when the wind howled a moment later, the windows rattled hard enough that the laughter dimmed — if only for a breath.

  ….

  After dinner, the next batch of students crowded into the chief’s hall, and Kana’s group decided to stretch their legs. The night air was cold enough to sting their cheeks, but the village was calm — only the soft crackle of torches and the creak of snow under boots broke the silence. No one was allowed beyond the wooden walls, but even within, the dim glow of the lanterns made it feel like a small world of its own.

  Then came a sudden growl.

  Boris and Suri froze, eyes darting behind them—only to see Kana pinned to the ground. Or rather, half-smothered under a mass of fur and enthusiasm.

  “Shai!—wait—stop that!” Kana tried to speak between bursts of laughter as the large feline continued to lick her face with unrestrained affection.

  “Uh,” Rin blinked, unsure whether to help or watch, “when did they get that close?”

  “When we hunted the eggs,” Kana managed, tilting her head to avoid another swipe of the tongue.

  Mica jogged up, laughing as she placed a hand on Shai’s back. “They say beasts, wild or tamed, are drawn to those with kind hearts. Looks like Shai approves of Kana.”

  Boris folded his arms with mock seriousness. “No, no. I think Shai’s terrified of her. This is an act of surrender.”

  Suri nodded solemnly, patting his shoulder. “For once, I actually agree with you.”

  Kana groaned from under the feline’s weight. “Can someone help me get up? The ground is too cold.”

  They only watch in silence.

  Then laughter broke out again — a brief warmth against the freezing wind.

  …

  There were quite a number of beds in each makeshift house, and the students had been too tired to care who shared with whom. The trio and their group were sleeping soundly when a heavy bang on the door jolted them awake.

  “Wake up!” Wor-en’s voice boomed even before the door creaked open. “We’re not here for vacation! Move! You can finish your sleep in the wagon!”

  Groans echoed across the room. They could hear the same knocking from the neighboring huts — a chain of misery spreading through the sleepy village.

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  Suri’s hair was a tangled mess as she sat up. “I thought I was going to have a decent sleep this time…” she muttered darkly.

  Outside, the morning fog blanketed the world in a pale gray. Students stumbled half-awake through the haze, bumping into one another, searching for their wagons like lost ghosts. The horses snorted, and the clatter of wooden wheels filled the air with the sound of a day that started far too early.

  Kana yawned, pulling her cloak tight. She barely registered Zia’s presence until the ageless voice drifted out of the mist like a whisper from nowhere.

  “I see humans have grown weaker,” Zia mused, appearing at Kana’s side so suddenly that she nearly dropped her bag. “Can’t believe most of the younglings are having trouble rising before dawn.”

  Kana blinked. “How do you keep doing that?”

  Zia’s golden eyes turned toward her, glinting like molten sunlight in the fog. “Ah, curious, are we? How I hide myself?” She tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Would you like me to tell you?”

  “Can you… read my mind?” Kana asked carefully.

  Zia laughed, a musical sound that cut through the morning chill. “No need. Your eyes say everything. You humans are terribly expressive.”

  She leaned closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “I can tell you the trick. But you must give me something valuable in return — an item or a secret worth keeping.”

  Before Kana could respond, Boris joined in, rubbing his arms against the cold. “Don’t fall for it, Kana. The ageless love that sort of deal. I heard from the adventurers yesterday — they’ll tell you how, but you’ll never manage to do it.”

  Zia shot him a knowing smile. “We don’t lie, boy. We teach. Whether you learn is another matter entirely. It depends on patience, talent… and perhaps a century or two of nonstop practice will make you learn a skill.”

  Kana frowned thoughtfully. “So, you’re saying… I can learn it?”

  “No,” Zia said without hesitation. “Not unless you live and practice it for a hundred years. Then perhaps.”

  Suri stretched and smirked. “Kana will probably learn it before we even return to the academy. Want to bet on it?”

  Zia raised a brow, her amusement clear. “A wager? Now this is interesting. But I’ll require something valuable from the loser.”

  Suri leaned forward, cupped her hands, and whispered something in Zia’s ear.

  For a moment, the ageless golden eyes widened in surprise — then she chuckled. “Never heard of that. Never seen one either. Very well. We have a deal.”

  Why can't I hear Suri? Kana’s face twisted, ears twitching. What did you bet this time, Suri? Her ring? Her staff?

  The fog seemed colder suddenly while Zia only smiled at her.

  ….

  Inside the wagon, Zia had shifted into full professor mode as they left the village behind. The early morning light filtered through the canvas, the rhythmic creak of wheels setting a calm tempo for her lecture.

  “This method,” Zia began, “was invented by a group of humans long before I was even born. It was born out of necessity — animals and beasts could always find them, no matter how quiet they were. This technique helped them survive. Without it…” she paused, glancing around at her students, “you wouldn’t be here today.”

  Rin, Toby, Roy, and Kana all leaned forward at once, their eyes shining. “Ohhh!” they chorused — the unmistakable sound of curious minds being fed.

  “I didn’t read that before,” Toby said.

  “Me neither,” Rin and Roy echoed.

  Kana nodded seriously. “Same here.”

  Zia smiled faintly, clearly enjoying their enthusiasm. “Then today, you’ll learn something valuable. I’ll teach this to Kana directly by imprinting the breathing pattern through my mana.”

  “Wait,” Boris interrupted, raising a hand.

  “If you’re so sure we can’t learn it,” he continued, “why not just tell everyone? What’s the harm?”

  Zia paused thinking deeply. She tilted her head, amused. “A fair point. This will help pass the time, I suppose.”

  She crossed her legs and straightened her posture, her voice turning smooth and steady. “But I warn you—most of you will give up within an hour.”

  “Now, listen carefully.”

  “There will be three deep breaths. Each one deeper than the last, then a reset. After a few sets, take one final breath—so deep it feels like your lungs might burst—and reset again.”

  She closed her eyes, demonstrating. The air in the wagon seemed to move with her rhythm.

  “Breathing is simple,” she said, her voice low and melodic. “But the purpose here is not air. You’re breathing in the mana around you. You’re feeling it enter, and teaching it to recognize you.”

  Her golden eyes opened slightly, shimmering faintly. “In time, the mana will begin to represent you. It will follow you, cover you, become you. You must learn to erase yourself… until the world no longer distinguishes you from it. The mana around will also be you.”

  Silence filled the wagon. The students tried to follow, their breaths slow and uneven. The wood creaked, the wind hummed outside, and for a moment, it almost felt like something unseen had begun to stir in the air around them.

  “Uhm…” Leo forced a shaky smile. “I think that’s a little too… abstract?”

  Zia chuckled softly. “The trick,” she said, “is to let the mana follow you by breathing. Wrap you. Not to command it—but to invite it.”

  “I give up,” Boris said, opening his eyes and exhaling loudly. “I already forgot which breath I was on.”

  That broke the tension. The wagon filled with laughter—soft, tired, but genuine. Even Zia smiled. “That,” she said, “Is the most human thing I’ve heard all morning.”

  …..

  It was another short break after several hours on the road to the northern fortress.

  Wor-en jumped down from his wagon, joints cracking, and stretched his arms wide before refilling his sheepskin flask with water from the stream.

  He took a long sip, then turned toward the student convoy. Time for the usual headcount.

  One wagon, two, three—

  His brows furrowed.

  Where are they?

  The wagon assigned to Kana’s group was there, but not the students. Not one of them in sight.

  “Elli York!” Wor-en called as he strode toward a nearby group. “Did you see Kana or Suri?”

  Elli blinked, confused, and shook her head.

  Wor-en muttered, “Where the hell did they go? Even Zia’s gone…”

  He walked up to their wagon, scanning the treeline, ready to shout—then froze.

  Inside, the students sat quietly in a row, heads bowed, eyes closed, motionless. For a terrifying moment he thought they were dead. Then he noticed the slow rise and fall of their chests.

  Sleeping. All of them.

  “I was worried sick!” Wor-en barked, climbing halfway into the wagon. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  Yuri cracked one eye open, smiled weakly. “Uh… we’re hiding our presence?”

  Wor-en stared at them, speechless. The wagon was dead silent except for the faint synchronized rhythm of their breathing. Even the mana in the air felt oddly still.

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, then rubbed his temple. “You’re what?”

  Zia’s calm voice drifted from the corner of the wagon, where she sat cross-legged with her eyes closed. “They’re practicing some kind of ancient breathing arts, Wor-en. I’d say they’re doing quite well for beginners.”

  “Practicing?” Wor-en repeated, exasperated. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  Zia smiled faintly without opening her eyes. “This is a good way to pass time.”

  Although Wor-en did not say it. He was impressed. He couldn’t sense there were people inside the wagon until he saw them with his own eyes.