“Follow me,” Ku instructed, stepping into the sunny meadow. “Watch and copy my flow. Focus on charging through your astrum, direct the fantasia towards your chest.”

  He spun slowly, his movements loose and swaying, surrendering himself like a helpless cloth left to dry in the wind. Skye tried to follow, turning this way and that as they performed the most disorderly dance he’d ever seen. Rico joined too, matching the master’s floundering maneuvers with ease. Had they been in the city, people would have thought them drunken revelers stumbling home after a long night of celebration.

  “These movements are similar to what you used yesterday when creating the giant leaf bird,” Skye observed.

  “Good observation.” The master leaped, light as a feather, followed by Rico and Skye. “Many movements are suitable for both charging and channeling.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone charge like this before. Does this dance have a name?” asked Skye.

  “This is a simplified version of Hermillo’s Third Symphony,” Master Ku replied. “He was a Hereshi monk. A dual channeler: thunderstriker and windrider. His dances would tug on aerial tethers and blow into tempestuous horns, creating music.”

  Skye imagined an old man teetering and tottering in front of a crowd, acting as a solo band. Upon realizing that he too, as a prism, could play the original symphony, he grinned, losing focus and staggering sideways before steadying himself. He tried to mimic the master’s fluid motions, but his movements were awkward—too slow or rushed as he struggled to keep pace.

  “You look like a three-legged ox trying to imitate a crane,” Redeyes sneered.

  Ku bent gracefully, miming the act of picking something up and tossing it skyward. Skye followed, his clumsy imitation drawing a chuckle from Rico.

  “There are countless schools of windriding across this Dunya, each with its own dances for recharging,” Ku said. “When a windrider attains mastery, they develop their own charging routines that match their flow. Each performance yields unique effects and serves different purposes. Today, you’re copying me, which is good for learning. But in time, you’ll find your rhythm, refining it to suit your style.”

  “That’s what I’m learning now,” Rico said, leaning on two legs and spreading his wings. He flapped, hopped backward, and let a breeze carry him sideways, adding extra flair to the master’s movements.

  “Why do dances differ so much between people?” Skye asked, balancing on his tiptoes.

  “An interesting question,” was all the master offered in reply.

  Skye frowned, realizing he’d have to find the answer himself. “Is it because people have different body shapes? I mean, Rico has wings, and you have your shell.”

  “That’s one small reason.”

  “Is it because it’s hard to repeat the exact moves every time?”

  Ku quickened his pace, his movements becoming a blur of effortless grace. “The opposite is true. Channelers often memorize and document the most efficient techniques.”

  “When Luccello teaches me katas,” Rico said, “he makes me repeat them until my talons cramp and my wings are so sore I can’t flap anymore.”

  “Maybe it’s because people use different astra?” Skye guessed.

  “That’s another answer, but not the ultimate one,” Ku replied.

  Skye sighed in frustration. “Can I get a hint?”

  Ku hummed thoughtfully. “The answer is unique to windriders.”

  “So other denominations don’t have this kind of variation?”

  “Not to this extent.”

  They spun in unison, reversing direction. Skye stumbled as he tried to glance back at Ku, his breathing fast and shallow. Sweat dripped down his temple, and his legs wobbled like jelly. Wind is freedom, the master had said yesterday. A windrider does not concern themselves with the world’s troubles.

  “Is it because windriders are supposed to be careless?”

  “Not careless, but carefree,” the master corrected. “Following exact instructions, restricting oneself to rules and rigid katas are not things that’d excite a windrider. For windriders, there’s power in freedom. Freedom from worry, from shame, from fear. A windrider without a care in the world is a power to be reckoned with.”

  A minute into their exercise, Skye’s breaths grew shallower, as if he’d been running for hours. Sweat slicked his skin as he wondered how the master and Rico maintained their elegance, while dizziness swung his head as if he were spinning on a carousel.

  Yesterday’s fall had been brief but far more effective. Fantasia swelled in his chest, spreading through his body, but instead of filling him with strength, it felt heavy, prickly; more contamination than charge.

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  They continued for several more minutes, but no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to anticipate the master’s next move. Every step seemed so random that he began to wonder if they were playing an elaborate joke on him.

  “Something isn’t right,” Skye finally said, frustrated. “I’m charging way too slowly.”

  “Are you concentrating on charging?” the master asked. “You must actively call the fantasia to you through your astrum. It’s similar to channeling, but in reverse.”

  Skye’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought I just had to think about charging, not actively pull fantasia in!”

  “Idiot,” Redeyes cursed. “You’ve wasted our time and got yourself contaminated for nothing.”

  “It’s alright,” the master said, finally slowing down. “Focus on luring fantasia in starting now. Direct it to your chest, not your head or arms. Breathe deeply. Channel to summon air into your lungs if need be.”

  Shutting his eyes, Skye reached out with his senses to his surroundings. He felt… something floating about him, rippling with the wind. He called out to it with his astrum, inviting it in. It came in at a drizzle at first, as though it was shy, then it spilled in at a steady stream. The chaotic energy that had stormed his body retreated towards his lungs. He breathed steadily at last, reminiscent of the fresh air he’d savor after leaving the Deeps.

  That’s better.

  For the first time, Skye noticed the master’s movements weren’t random at all but guided by an invisible flow he hadn’t been able to see until now. With every step, every sway, and every flick of wrist, his body drank fantasia like dry sand under the rain.

  “That’s enough charging for today,” the master declared after a while, coming to a stop at last. “Now that you’re brimming with fantasia, it’s crucial to let your body rest. Wait here. I’ll return shortly.” He entered the cabin.

  Skye let out a sigh of relief, wiping sweat from his brow. His fingers were numb, and his clothes clung to him, soaked, as if he’d been running in a storm. A hurricane of power surged through him, and he burned to release it. But exhaustion pinned him to the soft grass.

  He gazed at the drifting clouds above, a feeling of pure bliss washing over him like a cover of silk. It struck him how quickly he’d come to expect an open sky whenever he looked up. Not long ago, his view had been nothing but solid rock, and reaching the surface was but a dream.

  He thought of Rierana, her green eyes the color of olives, and the delicious mushroom soup she’d served him at the Alektom’s restaurant. Was she working there now? Was she looking at the same clouds?

  He closed his eyes, letting the breeze carry away his aches. It was easy to relax here. It might have been the fantasia, the exercise, or the fact that he was working toward his goal; it didn’t matter. This life was so simple, so serene. Training with the master, experimenting with fantasia, testing different elements and astra. Why couldn’t he stay here forever?

  “Because they’d die,” Redeyes interjected coldly. “Rierana, Lyonel, Dr. Stenser, Mrs. Jella. Even Nakais and his friends. Everyone you know will all die if you waste time here. Get up and get moving. We have an army of mad wardens to defeat and an elexii invasion to prevent.”

  Skye’s eyes snapped open. Rico lay beside him, catching his breath, while the master was still inside. Rising, Skye headed to where Luccello perched atop a light pole.

  “How did the master make the leaves levitate atop each other without the currents affecting or canceling each other?” he asked.

  The alabaster ruff fixed him with a judging stare. “This technique is beyond your level. Follow the master’s program; he’ll explain when you need it most.”

  “Please,” Skye pressed. “I need every advantage I can get. I don’t know how much time I have left here.”

  Luccello puffed out his chest. “Rico!” he shouted, startling the poor parrot onto his feet. Rico rushed over, looking as exhausted as Skye. “Using Aero, how do you overlap currents?”

  Rico blinked in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because Skye needs to release air out of his backside covertly and blame others,” Luccello said.

  Rico stared dumbly at Skye, head feathers perking up, tail going stiff.

  “For the master’s challenge!” Luccello snapped, rolling his eyes.

  “Oh, that makes sense.” Rico’s tail resumed its wag. “The trick is simple. You don’t have to start all currents from your body. Air has low resistance to channeling at range. You simply start the current a short distance from where you need it.”

  “Wait! That’s how you changed the ball’s trajectory yesterday, even though it wasn’t near you!” Skye exclaimed. “I didn’t know you could do that! I’ve been shooting streams from my hands all day long. How can I do it? Are there any steps to learning it?”

  “Not really,” Rico said. “You only need to practice.”

  Skye nodded again, though anxiety gnawed at him. He wanted to understand everything about channeling and charging, just as he had when Gideom taught him prospecting. But back then, his eagerness had led to dangerous mistakes that almost cost him his life.

  “Sensational prenoon, isn’t it!”

  Pairi appeared out of nowhere, his long feathers brushing Skye’s nose as he flapped his wings right in front of him. Skye yelped, stumbling backward and landing on his behind.

  “I say you stink. I say you’re a slime. I say you can’t think. I say you can’t rhyme. What say you, you fool?” Pairi sang suddenly.

  Skye blinked, unsure how to respond.

  Rico came to his rescue, wagging his tail. “I say the sun is high, I need to cool. Master’s not here, so let’s ditch school. Are you ready for a swim? I know a nice pool.”

  “Thank you, friend. But you smell like a ghoul. If I go with you, my wife’d think I’m cheating with a mule.”

  “You wound me, Pairi. You are so cruel! If you ever go swimming, I hope you drown in a whirlpool.”

  “Pardon, dear. I didn’t mean to ridicule. I think you are a gem, I think you’re a jewel. I only wish your brain was bigger than a molecule.”

  “My brain’s not minuscule! If you apologize now, I’ll make you a gruel. It’s so sweet, it’ll make you drool.”

  “I think I’ll pass. I’d rather suck a pustule. And stop spouting nonsense; you know the rules. If you want to win, use insults as a tool.”

  “I know that, you blithering… uh… karakul. I’ll make you regret… er…”

  “Hah! You’re out of words. You’re out of fuel. Even the blind can see who’s won this duel. Go shower now, cause you stink like a stool.”

  Rico stomped his foot. “Darn it!”

  “That was a splendiferous performance!” Pairi declared. “Minds also need warming up in the morning, don’t you agree? Now, are you ready for a curse of thorough thrashing?”

  Skye stepped away from the crazy bird. “No curses today! I’ve got training.”

  “I know,” Pairi said with a loud chirp. “I’ll be your teacher.”

  “What?!” Skye yelped, recalling the chaos Pairi had caused when they’d first met.

  Luccello smacked his wings to catch their attention. “You’ll set the arena only, Pairi. The master and I will supervise. If we leave the kid in your care, we’ll come back to find his head turned into a trout.”

  “You wound my artistic taste, Lucci,” Pairi said, sounding hurt. “He’d look much better with the head of a hippopotamus, don’t you agree?”

  ?????Days until Green Eve: 18?????