Morning settled differently in the mountains.
Not slow.
Not gentle.
Precise.
Amir stood at the edge of the training grounds.
A flat stretch of packed earth carved between terraces.
No markings.
No weapons laid out.
Just ground.
"…this is it?" he asked.
"Stand," the observer said.
Amir exhaled.
"…you really like simple instructions."
"…because you complicate them."
Fair.
Amir stepped forward.
Feet planted.
Waiting.
"…now what?"
"Stay."
"…that's it?"
No answer.
The wind brushed faintly past him—
Weak.
Distant.
Still restricted.
Amir shifted slightly.
"…this isn't training."
"Then why are you moving?"
Amir stopped.
"…I'm not—"
"You are."
Silence.
He stilled.
Focused.
The ground beneath his feet felt different here.
Not unstable.
But aware.
Like it responded to movement—
Even small ones.
"…don't adjust for nothing," the Anito said quietly.
"…then what do I adjust for?"
"Only what matters."
Amir inhaled slowly.
Then held still.
Time passed.
A minute.
Maybe more.
Then—
A step behind him.
Light.
Controlled.
Amir didn't turn.
"…you're shifting again," the observer said.
"…I didn't—"
"You did."
Amir clenched his jaw.
"…then correct me."
A pause.
"…feel it yourself."
That was getting annoying.
But—
Amir stayed still.
Focused on his feet.
On the ground.
On the tension in his body.
Then—
He felt it.
A slight lean.
Unnecessary.
Wasted.
He corrected it.
Subtle.
Minimal.
The ground didn't react.
"…good," the observer said.
Amir exhaled.
"…finally."
A second set of footsteps approached.
Lighter.
But deliberate.
Amir turned this time.
A girl stepped onto the training ground.
Not rushing.
Not hesitating.
Her stance—
Low.
Rooted.
Her eyes scanned him once—
Quick.
Assessing.
"…this him?" she asked.
"…yes," the observer replied.
"…doesn't look like much."
Amir raised an eyebrow.
"…you always greet people like that?"
"…only the ones that bring trouble."
Fair.
"…I didn't come here to cause problems."
"…you already did."
Silence.
She stepped closer.
Not aggressive.
But not casual either.
"…Tala," she said.
Not an introduction.
Just a statement.
"…Amir."
A pause.
"…you move too much," Tala said.
Amir blinked.
"…I just got here."
"…exactly."
That was starting to sound familiar.
"…you're tense," she added.
"…because three people here already want to fight me."
"…no."
A slight tilt of her head.
"…we just don't trust you."
That was more honest.
Amir exhaled.
"…better."
The observer stepped between them slightly.
"…show him."
Tala didn't ask what that meant.
She stepped onto the center of the ground.
Closed her eyes.
And stood.
Still.
Completely.
The wind moved past her—
But didn't touch her.
The ground—
Didn't shift.
Didn't react.
It was like she wasn't disturbing anything at all.
"…see it?" the observer asked.
Amir narrowed his eyes.
"…she's not forcing anything."
"…she's not adding anything," the observer corrected.
"…she's part of it."
Amir watched carefully.
Tala opened her eyes.
"…your turn," she said.
"…that's it?"
"…if you can't stand properly, you can't fight properly."
Amir stepped forward.
Took position.
Tried to mimic her stance.
Lower.
Balanced.
Still.
The ground shifted slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
"…too stiff," Tala said.
"…relax."
"…if I relax, I lose balance."
"…then you're not balanced."
That was frustrating.
Amir adjusted again.
Less force.
Less tension.
The ground responded.
Less movement.
But still there.
"…you're thinking too much," Tala said.
"…you're saying a lot for someone who doesn't trust me."
"…I don't need to trust you to correct you."
Fair.
Amir exhaled.
Then—
He stopped trying to copy.
Stopped forcing form.
Just—
Stood.
Let his weight settle.
Let his breathing steady.
The ground didn't react.
"…there," the Anito said quietly.
"…that's closer."
Tala watched him.
Longer this time.
"…not bad," she said.
"…for someone who just arrived."
Amir smirked slightly.
"…I'll take that."
The observer stepped forward.
"…again."
Of course.
Amir reset his stance.
Tala stayed nearby this time.
Not guiding.
Watching.
Judging.
The wind stirred faintly.
Still distant.
Still restricted.
But for once—
Amir didn't reach for it.
He didn't need to.
Not for this.
"…what's your name?" Amir asked suddenly.
The observer didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"…Siran."
Amir nodded.
"…good to know."
A pause.
"…don't waste it," Siran replied.
Fair.
The ground beneath them stayed steady.
But something beyond the village—
Shifted.
Unseen.
Unfelt.
But moving.