Ren's explosive ascent up the hill ended precisely how everyone expected it would: with him tripping over a rogue willow root, tumbling head over heels through a patch of soft clover, and skidding to a halt right at Lif's boots.
"I won," Ren announced, his face pressed flat against the dirt. He didn't bother getting up immediately, merely raising a single thumb into the air. "By a landslide. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Lif looked down at the boy face-down in the weeds, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat. The heavy, lingering exhaustion from his intense forest spar with Victor still weighed down his limbs, but the sheer absurdity of his friends always acted like a lightning rod for his fatigue. He reached out, grabbing Ren by the collar of his tunic, and hoisted him back onto his feet with that deceptive, unearned physical strength that always made the others marvel.
"Yeah, you looked real majestic, Ren," Lif said, his voice a soft rumble.
Rael strolled up the path behind them, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets, though the heat radiating from his skin still left faint, dry patches in the dew-kissed grass. He reached out and aggressively ruffled Ren's already chaotic hair, knocking a stray dandelion out of the mess. "You're a menace, you know that? One of these days you're going to break your nose before we even make it to the water."
"A smart slide," Ren grumbled, dusting off his knees and flashing his signature, lopsided grin. Then, his eyes dropped to Lif's hands. The clean white linen strips wrapped tightly around Lif's palms and knuckles were slightly stained with forest dirt, the fabric fraying at the edges. Ren's goofy expression softened for a fraction of a second, an unspoken understanding passing between them, before he slouched right back into his lazy posture. "So, what did Victor do to you today? You look like you got trampled by a herd of mountain goats."
"Just a little yard work," Lif lied smoothly, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to brag about making his father stumble, nor did he want to invite the inevitable lecture from Rael about over-exerting his non-mana-reinforced body. "The north ridge has some stubborn oak."
From the shade of the willow tree, Sela hadn't moved an inch, but her sharp eyes had already scanned Lif from head to toe. She noticed the slight stiffness in his left shoulder, the way he favored his right heel, and the exact tightness of the bandages on his hands. When Lif finally walked down into the clearing and took his spot near the trunk, she didn't say a word. She just nudged a small, flat river stone toward him with her boot. A silent offering. A spot to sit.
Lif nodded gratefully and sank onto the stone, letting out a long, slow breath as his muscles finally stopped tensing against the threat of an impending strike.
The four of them settled into a familiar, easy rhythm. The midday sun was fully overhead now, casting bright, shimmering diamonds across the surface of the lazy river. The water was so clear that you could see the smooth, colorful pebbles lining the bottom, and occasionally, the quick, silver flash of a school of fish darting through the shadows of the rocks.
"Look at them," Ren whispered loudly, crawling on his hands and knees back toward the slick log. He pointed an eager finger at a particularly fat silver-fin hovering near the deep pool. It was easily the length of a man's forearm, its scales catching the golden light. "That guy thinks he's the king of the river. He's just sitting there. Mocking me."
"He's a fish, Ren. He doesn't even know you exist," Rael said, leaning back against a boulder and letting the sun bake his face.
"Oh, he knows," Ren hissed, his voice dropping into a dramatic, conspiratorial stage whisper. "He looked me dead in the eye. He said, 'Ren, you don't have the guts to catch me.' Well, guess what, Your Majesty? King Fish is going down."
Sela didn't look up from her pebble. "The fish is safer than you are right now."
"Watch and learn," Ren crowed. He crept out onto the log, his body shifting into a ridiculously exaggerated hunting stance. He balanced on his tiptoes, his arms raised like claws, his messy hair blowing wildly in the gentle breeze. He began to cycle his breath, trying to be quiet, but his restless nature made his fingers twitch, sending tiny, accidental vibrations of wind rustling through the willow leaves above him.
Lif watched him with a genuine, brilliant spark of amusement in his eyes. This was the thrill he loved—not just the desperate chess match of a life-or-death fight, but the unpredictable chaos of his friends' everyday lives. His brain, which had spent the morning mapping out structural weaknesses in his father's defense, was now idly calculating the trajectory of Ren's inevitable plunge into the river.
*Log angle is roughly fifteen degrees,* Lif thought, a smirk playing on his lips. *Moss is damp. Ren's center of gravity is too high, and his left heel is completely unanchored. If he tries to strike with his right hand, the rotational force will throw him directly into the reeds.*
"Don't do it, Ren," Rael warned, not even opening his eyes. "You're going to scare the whole school away, and then we won't have anything to cook later."
"Silence, fire-boy! You're ruining my focus," Ren whispered. He took a deep breath, his body tensing. He wasn't going to use a line or a net. Ren's idea of fishing was pure, unadulterated chaos. He gathered a sharp blast of compressed wind right in the palm of his hand, intending to launch a localized air-cannon into the water to stun the fish and scoop it up.
He leaned forward. He aimed. He tensed his leg—
And his left heel slipped flawlessly on the wet moss, exactly as Lif's mental grid had predicted.
With a loud, undignified squawk, Ren's arms windmilled through the air. The compressed wind blast in his hand went off prematurely, shooting straight up into the sky and ripping a handful of leaves off the willow tree. A split second later, there was an enormous *SPLASH* as Ren crashed chest-first into the freezing mountain water, sending a massive wall of river spray flying across the entire bank.
Rael, who had been perfectly dry and comfortable, was immediately drenched from head to toe for the second time that morning.
The clearing went dead silent, save for the sound of rushing water and the soft rustle of falling leaves.
Lif broke first. A loud, booming laugh tore from his chest, entirely uncharacteristic of his usual quiet demeanor. He leaned back against the tree, his shoulders shaking as he pointed at the empty log. Even Sela couldn't maintain her deadpan mask; a genuine, rare smile broke across her face, her shoulders shaking with silent amusement as she watched the aftermath.
Rael slowly wiped a wet willow leaf off his forehead. He opened his eyes, staring out at the middle of the river, where Ren's head finally popped above the surface, coughing and spitting out a mouthful of weeds.
"I almost had him," Ren gasped, shaking his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying everywhere. "The fish cheated. It manipulated the currents."
"You are a disaster," Rael said, his voice dangerously calm as he stood up. He walked over to the edge of the bank, and with a sudden, playful smirk, he channeled a wave of pure heat through his boots, completely drying the grass beneath him in a second. "I'm not helping you out. Enjoy the swim."
"Come on, man! It's freezing down here!" Ren complained, paddling lazily backward. He looked over at Lif, his eyes wide and pleading. "Lif! Help a brother out! My wind-burst short-circuited my boots!"
Lif shook his head, still chuckling as he walked down to the water's edge. He extended a long, sturdy branch toward the drifting boy. "Grab hold, King Fish."
Ren grabbed the branch, and with one effortless, smooth pull, Lif dragged him out of the current and back onto the muddy bank. Ren collapsed into the clover, looking like a drowned rat, his wet clothes clinging to his thin frame.
Rael stood over him, a small spark of fire dancing idly between his fingers, just close enough to radiate a comfortable warmth to stop Ren from shivering. "If you do that again, I'm letting Sela freeze the top of the water over you."
Sela didn't deny it. She just gave Ren a look that suggested she had already calculated the exact thickness of the ice required to keep him under for five minutes.
For the next few hours, the riverbank returned to its peaceful state. Ren laid his clothes out on a sunny rock to dry, forced to wear nothing but his undergarments while Rael used his gentle heat to speed up the process. They didn't talk about training, or the village elders, or the fact that summer was drawing to a close. They talked about the giant boar someone claimed to have seen near the southern orchards, about the blacksmith's missing hammer, and about how many biscuits they could collectively steal from the bakery before the owner noticed.
Lif mostly listened. He loved the weight of their voices washing over him. In these moments, his lack of an element didn't feel like an empty void; it felt like a quiet room where his friends' bright, colorful personalities could echo clearly. He didn't feel like an "hollowborn" He was just Lif, the boy who pulled his idiot friend out of the river.
As the afternoon began to wane, the long spears of sunlight turned from brilliant gold to a deep, heavy amber. The shadows of the willow trees stretched wide across the water, and a cool, crisp evening breeze began to roll down from the northern mountains, carrying the first faint scent of the coming autumn.
"We should head back," Rael said quietly, standing up and stretching his broad back. His clothes were completely dry now, radiating a faint, pleasant warmth that made the cooling air bearable. "My mom's going to have the stew on the hearth, and if I'm late, she'll make me scrub the pots till midnight."
"Yeah, yeah," Ren muttered, reluctantly pulling his stiff, sun-dried tunic back over his head. His hair was still a wild, chaotic nest, but he seemed entirely unfazed by his freezing dip. He slouched right back into his default posture, hands tucked into his waistband. "But tomorrow, we're coming back. And I'm bringing a net. A magical net."
"Please don't," Sela said flatly, standing up and brushing the loose dirt from her slacks. She looked over at Lif, her expression softening into that quiet, unreadable gaze. "Are you going to be able to walk up the hill, or do we need to drag you?"
Lif stood up, his joints popping in a loud, satisfying sequence. The rest had done wonders, but the ache in his muscles from Victor's training was definitely settling in for the night. Still, he smiled, a genuine, steady look. "I'll manage. But if Ren trips again, I'm leaving him."
"Hey!" Ren protested.
The four of them turned away from the riverbank, leaving the lazy current and the hidden sanctuary behind as they climbed the sloping dirt path back toward the main village. They walked in a loose line, their shoulders occasionally bumping, their voices carrying softly through the quiet evening air.
As they crested the hill and the small, thatched roofs of Velchant came into view, the village was bathed in the warm, orange glow of twilight lanterns. Smoke was beginning to curl lazily from the stone chimneys, and the distant, comforting sound of families gathering for dinner filled the lanes.
One by one, they reached their forks in the road.
Rael stopped first, turning toward the northern sector where the guard houses stood. He clapped a hand onto Lif's good shoulder, a firm, lingering grip. "Don't overdo it tomorrow, Lif. Save some energy for the yard."
"Always do," Lif replied.
Ren branched off next, darting toward the western cottages with a sudden burst of speed, waving a wild goodbye over his shoulder without looking back. "Tomorrow! King Fish returns!" he yelled, his voice echoing down the street before his mother's sharp voice called out from a doorway to shut him up.
Then there were only two.
Lif and Sela walked in silence down the narrow lane toward the southern edge, where their families' properties bordered the deep woods. The twilight was thick now, the sky a beautiful canvas of deep purples and bruised indigos.
They reached the gate of the Ellis cottage. Lif stopped, turning to face her.
Sela stood under the soft glow of the porch lantern, her arms crossed, her deadpan face illuminated by the warm light. She stayed silent for a long beat, just looking at him—at the bandages on his hands, at the tired slope of his shoulders, and at the calm peace in his eyes.
"Don't let them wear you out, Lif," she said softly, her voice carrying a rare, gentle weight that she never used around the boys. "You don't have to prove anything to the village."
Lif looked at her, his heart warming just like it had that morning. He nodded once, a quiet, absolute gesture. "I know. Goodnight, Sela."
"Goodnight."
She turned and walked down the path toward her own home, her pace steady and unbroken. Lif watched her until she disappeared into the shadows of the lane, then he turned and pushed open the heavy wooden door of his house.
The scent of hot stew, baked bread, and old herbs wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. Downstairs, the fire crackled merrily in the hearth, throwing long, dancing shadows against the worn stone walls. His mother was humming that same, wordless melody from the morning, and he could hear the slow, rhythmic rumble of his father's voice answering her from the kitchen.
It had been a completely normal day. A day of dirt, river water, foolish challenges, and quiet walks home.
And as Lif climbed the stairs to his room, his muscles screaming for sleep, he knew it was exactly the kind of day that kept his world spinning. He didn't need the fire of the sky or the fury of the wind. He had the earth beneath his boots, his friends by his side, and a home to return to.
For a boy with no magic, his life felt incredibly full. And as he pulled the heavy wool blanket over his shoulders, closing his eyes to the soft murmur of his parents' voices below, he let out a content sigh. Tomorrow would bring more training, more sweat, and more challenges. But tonight, he was just a twelve-year-old boy, drifting off to sleep in a world he loved.