The seasons turned like pages in a weathered book.
Morning mist gave way to summer heat, which cooled into the rustle of golden leaves, and then the hush of snowfall. And always, the training continued.
Ajax breathed.
He'd learned to start every motion with breath. He'd learned how rhythm shaped strength, how awareness bloomed when oxygen met purpose. The first gate—the Breath Gate—was no longer something he reached for. It was part of him now. His lungs were steady in combat, his limbs no longer dragged behind his thoughts. He could feel everything: the wind cutting past Reva's fists, the soft shift of her feet on dirt, the way her stance changed just before she struck.
But it still wasn't enough.
He could see her next move. Anticipate the angle. Even feel it coming.
But his body wouldn't respond fast enough.
She was a blur—spinning, ducking, crashing through his guard before he could react. It was maddening.
He lay on his back in the snow, panting, the imprint of Reva's heel still fresh in his ribs.
"You're still thinking too much," Reva said, standing over him, hair damp from sweat and melted snow. "You see what I'm doing, but you're hesitating."
"I'm not hesitating," Ajax grunted, pushing himself upright. "I'm just not fast enough."
"Same thing," she said with a grin. "But don't feel too bad. You're fighting someone using the Pulse Gate."
Ajax stilled at that. Of course.
That was it.
Reva was faster than him. Not because she was older or stronger—but because she'd already unlocked the second gate. Her speed wasn't just natural; it was augmented. While he moved with awareness, she moved with momentum, reflex sharpened by the Pulse flowing through her.
The realization stung, but it also clarified everything.
Every clash. Every miss. Every bruised rib.
She was fighting with power he didn't yet have.
But he would get there.
He had to.
Reva had grown too—taller and stronger, her already sharp instincts even more refined. She was barely nine now, and somehow already seemed untouchable. Sparring with her was like dancing with a storm. Beautiful, unpredictable, and always one misstep from pain.
But she never gloated. She challenged him, drove him, forced him to rise—then helped him to his feet when he fell.
Karian watched all of it from the sidelines. Silent. Evaluating. His lessons had grown harsher, but never cruel. Ajax learned to run with stones in his pack, to fight with blood in his mouth, to sleep only after stretching every aching muscle. The training was brutal. But necessary.
He understood why now.
This world—the world of Cairn—used conjuring magic. Thought became energy, energy became form. It was beautiful. Complex. But fragile.
His old world had relied on enchantment. Glyphs and systems. Runes and logic. Magic that obeyed law like gears obeyed gravity.
But this—Valern's magic—was something different.
It was not summoned. It was not constructed.
It was drawn out.
Not from the world.
From within.
The Breath Gate had opened a door to stamina and awareness. He could move longer, think sharper, endure deeper. But it also revealed his limitation—he was still reacting. Always just a beat behind Reva, no matter how early he saw the strike coming.
He needed to move with instinct. Not just see the blow—but already be gone.
That was what Karian called the Pulse Gate.
"You'll know when it stirs," Karian told him one cold evening as they sat around the fire. "It's not a matter of force. It's rhythm. Once your breath matches the pulse of your body, your movements will flow without thought."
Ajax poked at the fire, brow furrowed. "What if my pulse doesn't match the fight?"
"Then the fight will beat you," Karian said, shrugging. "But when it does match—when your breath and your limbs move with the same beat—speed and reflex become one."
Reva lay on her side near the hearth, half-asleep, but one eye opened at that. "You're close," she murmured. "I can feel it."
"You mean I almost landed a punch?"
"I mean you almost didn't get kicked."
Ajax snorted.
And every few weeks, Thalen stopped by.
A wandering traveler and an old friend of Karian's. He was tall and slim and quite awkward, but never boring.
He never stayed long, but his visits brought the outside world with him—news from Kaelridge, whispers from the frontier, fragments of politics and prophecy. He'd sit cross-legged on a stump, sipping Karian's awful tea, and tell them about merchant caravans, skirmishes between nobles, rumors of new sorcerers rising in Velan.
To Ajax, those nights felt strange. Like echoes of the life he'd left behind. There was peace in them, quiet and fleeting—reminders of starlit dinners with his parents, warm evenings by the hearth, Jasmine humming as she cooked stew.
He missed her smile. Missed his father's quiet strength.
But he never spoke of them.
Not to Karian. Not to Reva.
That part of him—his past—stayed locked behind his eyes.
Still, he trained like their lives depended on it. Because some part of him feared they did.
By the end of the second winter, Ajax's body had changed. He was stronger. Taller. The boy who had collapsed from mana exhaustion two years ago was gone.
One morning, they fought in silence. Snow drifted gently through the pine trees. Reva lunged, fast and fluid. Ajax ducked. Slid left. He knew where she'd go next. His breath was steady. His awareness clear.
But still—too slow.
Her elbow cracked against his shoulder.
He stumbled. Pain bloomed.
Not fast enough. Not fast enough. Not fast enough.
He closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
And he listened.
Not to Reva. Not to the snow.
But to the rhythm in his own body.
His heartbeat. His breath.
And then?
A spark.
He moved.
Not by thought.
By instinct.
His foot planted before he knew why. His shoulder dipped. He twisted—fluid, sharp, clean.
Reva's fist passed through empty air.
And for the first time—
Ajax was already gone.
He came up behind her, hand extended, and tapped her back before she could turn.
She froze.
Then looked over her shoulder, eyes wide.
"You—"
"I moved."
"You moved before I struck."
He nodded.
Karian stood, arms folded. His face didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. The tiniest trace of pride.
"You've unlocked it," he said. "The Pulse Gate. With it both your speed and instincts have been amplified."
Ajax's heart thudded in his chest—but not from exhaustion.
It was calm.
Balanced.
Strong.
He met Reva's gaze, her dark eyes matching his.
"I'm catching up," he said.
She grinned. "Took you long enough."