Stoneheart Resonance

Nico cradled the vial of muscle relaxant in his hands, feeling the cool glass against his palms. As they walked back home, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows on the dirt path. The air held a promise of evening, and with it, an anxious energy bubbled inside him.

Hab walked beside him, hands clasped behind his back, his gait steady despite his age. "Tilda's remedies are good for recovery," he began, glancing sideways at Nico. "But they won't do much to improve your knight breathing technique."

Nico frowned, the excitement draining from him like water from a cracked pot. "What do you mean?"

"Tilda specializes in healing hunters after they've been injured," Hab explained, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke. "Her herbs can ease pain and promote healing. They're not meant to enhance your breathing efficiency."

"So she can't help me?" Nico's voice cracked slightly.

"Not as much as we'd like." Hab paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "It'll take her a couple of weeks to order more specialized herbs from outside the village—ones that could aid you better."

Nico's heart sank further at the thought of waiting. He had already felt slow and clumsy during their training sessions. The prospect of enduring weeks without progress gnawed at him.

"But," Hab continued, injecting some enthusiasm into his tone, "she did have a few things that can help more than my mishmash of herbs in that bath you've been using."

Nico's curiosity sparked again as they stepped through the creaking door of their modest home. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

"Like what?" he asked eagerly.

Hab settled into an old wooden chair and gestured for Nico to join him at the small table where remnants of their previous meal lay scattered.

"Some leaves she recommended—very potent," he replied while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And a blend that helps with focus during training."

Nico leaned forward, absorbing every word like a sponge.

"If I take those before I practice knight breathing…" He let the thought trail off.

"Exactly." Hab nodded with satisfaction. "They should help sharpen your mind and strengthen your body for those techniques."

Relief washed over Nico as he considered how these new remedies could aid him on this daunting path ahead. His resolve solidified; he would not waste any time once he had those herbs in hand.

The evening sun dipped behind the horizon, bathing the room in a warm glow. Hab fetched his shillelagh, a sturdy wooden staff worn smooth by years of use. The thud of it against the floor echoed in the silence as he approached Nico, who stood rigidly in the center of the room, knees slightly bent in a horse stance.

"Remember to breathe deep," Hab instructed, his voice steady. "Focus on the flow of energy through your body."

Nico nodded, feeling the familiar pressure building in his chest. He concentrated on his breath, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth. The rhythm helped drown out the unease that clung to him like a shadow.

Hab raised the shillelagh and tapped it lightly against Nico's thigh. "This isn't about pain; it's about awareness. You'll learn to absorb force."

Nico braced himself, muscles tensing as Hab struck again—harder this time—across his upper arms. A sharp sting shot through him, but he forced himself to remain still.

"Don't flinch," Hab said, observing Nico's face for any sign of discomfort. "Control your reactions."

Another strike landed on his side, and Nico gritted his teeth, focusing on that stinging sensation rather than letting it overwhelm him. He pictured each hit as a wave washing over him—strong but manageable.

"Good," Hab encouraged, striking again at a different angle. "Feel where it connects; let it ground you."

Nico leaned into the pressure with each impact, imagining energy flowing from the points of contact down into his feet and anchoring him to the earth.

Hab paused briefly to gauge Nico's stance. "You're losing your focus."

"I'm fine," Nico replied through clenched teeth.

With a nod, Hab resumed, each blow landing with precision—across Nico's shoulders now, then back down to his thighs. The rhythm picked up as Hab found a cadence that mirrored Nico's breathing.

Sweat trickled down Nico's forehead, but he refused to wipe it away or break stance. Each hit ignited something inside him—a flicker of determination sparking brighter with every impact.

"That's it!" Hab's voice rang out over the sound of wood striking flesh. "You're getting stronger!"

Nico could feel the tension building within him like an impending storm; he focused harder on his breath and on absorbing each strike without flinching or breaking form.

The rhythm of strikes continued, each blow driving Nico deeper into concentration. As he absorbed the impacts, he could feel the energy coiling within him, a tight knot that pulsed like a heartbeat. Hab had explained the significance of this energy—how it formed the foundation of becoming a knight.

"Half an apprentice knight," Hab had called it, emphasizing how gathering energy was only the beginning. To fully ascend, Nico needed to learn how to spread that power throughout his body, connecting it like a web so he could access it at will.

In the dim light of their home, sweat glistened on Nico's brow as he recalled Hab's stories about the Old Gods and their champions. Back then, every child born into noble blood already possessed an innate connection to knightly power. They hadn't needed to undergo rigorous training or gather energy; it flowed through them effortlessly from birth.

Now, in this age stripped of divine presence, each step toward knighthood became an arduous journey for mortals like him. The knights who walked the lands were remnants of what once was—powerful but forced to carve their paths alone in a world devoid of true magic.

As Hab struck again, Nico staggered slightly but regained his footing. He envisioned that ancient connection: when gods walked among mortals and whispers of power flowed freely. Witches wielded formidable magic drawn from those same sources—blessed by their gods or cursed by their choices. Now those beings lay dormant in myth while knights stood as the last bastion against chaos.

With each impact from Hab's staff, Nico pictured that energy weaving through him like threads stitching a tapestry. The challenge lay not just in gathering power but in linking it—bridging each muscle and sinew with strength and precision.

"Let it spread," Hab urged, striking harder now as if testing Nico's resolve. "Feel where you can send that energy."

Nico closed his eyes briefly as he breathed deeply, envisioning tendrils of power snaking out from his core and unfurling across his limbs—his arms, legs, chest—a network connecting every part of him.

"Don't let any energy pool too long in one spot," Hab instructed firmly.

Nico felt a sharp jab at his thigh and instinctively redirected the gathered force down into his foot—a small victory that sent exhilaration surging through him.

He thought back to tales of warriors blessed since birth by deities long gone; knights didn't have to endure this grueling process—they simply were what they were meant to be. Now he fought against both memory and absence—a world once vibrant now cloaked in shadows where only echoes remained.

"Spread it!" Hab's voice cut through Nico's thoughts like lightning striking dry earth.

Nico focused harder, willing the sensation outwards with fervor until he felt lighter on his feet—a hint of what true mastery could bring.

Hab stepped back, his brow glistening with sweat as he surveyed Nico. "Alright, that's enough for today," he said, leaning on his shillelagh. The staff creaked under his weight as he caught his breath.

Nico blinked, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through him. "Really? But I—"

"Listen," Hab interrupted, shaking his head with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're making progress at a rate I didn't expect. If you keep this up, you'll be ready to become an apprentice knight in a month."

Nico's heart raced at the thought. Eight months had stretched before Hab when he had begun training—decades ago now. "A month?" He felt pride swell in his chest.

"Aye." Hab chuckled softly. "You've got your mother's talent for this, and perhaps a bit more determination than I had back then."

Nico straightened, puffing out his chest at the compliment. "I won't let you down."

"Just remember," Hab cautioned, eyes narrowing slightly. "This path can wear on you if you don't manage it right. The breathing technique isn't all about strength; it requires balance."

With those words echoing in his mind, Nico shuffled into his room after their training session ended. The weight of fatigue settled heavily on him like a cloak as he collapsed onto his bed.

He closed his eyes, letting the remnants of their practice swirl around him—the strikes, the energy flow—only to be replaced by a dull ache creeping into every muscle fiber.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for the vial of muscle relaxant Tilda had given him earlier that day and unscrewed the cap with trembling fingers. The scent of herbs wafted into the air as he poured some of the liquid into his palm and rubbed it across sore arms and legs.

The cool sensation soothed his muscles but couldn't quite mask the deeper thrum of exhaustion nesting within him.

He stared blankly at the leather-bound book resting on his desk—the manual detailing knight breathing techniques along with weapon recommendations: two-handed weapons or sword and shield.

Nico chewed on his lip while pondering which path to take. He envisioned himself wielding a hefty two-handed sword, muscles flexing with each swing or standing firm behind a shield—a guardian against whatever dangers lurked beyond their village.

Which would serve him better? A quick rush toward power or steady resilience?

As fatigue seeped deeper into him, he felt another wave of discomfort wash over him—a reminder that power came with its burdens. He needed clarity; he needed focus before diving deeper into this journey toward knighthood.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting stripes of light across Nico's bed. He stirred awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes as Hab's familiar voice broke through the morning haze.

"Time to rise, lad." Hab stood by the door, hands on his hips. "We're taking a break from knight training today."

Nico blinked, confusion mingling with disappointment. "But I—"

"No arguments," Hab interrupted gently, a smile tugging at his lips. "You need to focus on archery for the village hunt. It's just as important."

"Archery?" The word felt foreign after the intensity of their previous sessions.

"Aye." Hab stepped into the room, pulling a chair closer to Nico's bedside. "Years ago, our village learned an impressive high low rank archery technique. A marvel for those who can wield it effectively."

Nico tilted his head. "But isn't that technique meant for knights?"

Hab nodded gravely. "True enough. But you see, there are some among us who possess a spark of divine strength—the kind that allows them to use such advanced skills."

"How rare is that?" Nico asked, curiosity piquing despite his initial reluctance.

"Rare as hen's teeth," Hab replied with a chuckle. "One in a thousand people born with it."

Nico furrowed his brow, imagining how many faces he'd passed by in the village without realizing they carried such potential.

"People say it comes from an ancient time," Hab continued, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Before the Old Gods turned their backs on us when mages experimented on mortals."

"Mages?" Nico echoed, interest deepening.

"Aye," Hab said slowly. "In their quest for power, they forced transformation upon mortals to create stronger beings. They wanted champions to serve them."

"What happened then?" Nico leaned forward in anticipation.

"Those who survived were often bred for greatness—each successful experiment having many children and selecting only the strongest among them," Hab explained.

Nico shivered at the thought of those long-gone mages and their dark ambitions—manipulating lives for power that no longer existed.

"Some say this divine strength lingers in our bloodlines," Hab added thoughtfully. "Though most cannot access it today."

"So… we have mages to thank for our struggles?" Nico mused aloud.

Hab sighed deeply, shaking his head slightly as if weighing old grievances against new realities. "The world is complicated like that; power has always demanded sacrifices."

Hab leaned back in his chair, a shadow crossing his face as he weighed the weight of his words.

"Nico, there's something important you need to understand about archery," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of regret. "I can't teach you the high low rank technique just yet."

Nico's heart sank, disappointment pooling in his chest like a stone. "Why not?"

"Only two hunters in this village can practice that technique—Elsid and his son Pilos." Hab sighed, scratching at the scruff on his chin. "Both possess divine strength that flows through their bloodlines."

"Divine strength?" Nico echoed, trying to comprehend what that meant.

"Aye." Hab nodded solemnly. "Elsid earned it by blood; his ancestors bore a connection to the Old Gods long before The Severance. Pilos inherited it from him." He paused, searching Nico's eyes for understanding. "I was once blessed too but lost it when I failed the knight's test, if you're unable to pay for the test and have special abilities they allow you to wager them. If you fail they remove it from you, although it loses 75% its potency, they can inject it into a child under a year old."

Nico swallowed hard, trying to wrap his mind around this new reality.

"Until you become a knight apprentice," Hab continued, "you'll have to refine your base skills and develop your form."

"So I can't learn from them either?" Nico felt frustration bubble within him.

"Not unless they choose to take you on," Hab replied gently. "But remember, even if you had access to their teachings right now, they'd expect more than just natural talent—you'd need to wield that power effectively."

Nico clenched his fists at his sides. "But I want to learn! I want to be able to fight like a knight!"

"I know," Hab said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Nico's shoulder. "And you will get there one day—if you keep training hard."

Nico shifted in place, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted nothing more than to wield the power of those champions who stood apart from him.

"For now," Hab added, breaking into Nico's thoughts again, "we'll work on your basic archery skills. You can still improve immensely with practice."

"But what if I'm not good enough?" Nico asked quietly.

Hab smiled gently at him, though concern lingered in his eyes. "It takes time and dedication for anyone—divine strength or not."

The door creaked open, revealing Elsid, the village chief and the towering figure of rugged strength. Standing at seven feet tall, his presence loomed over the modest home. His broad shoulders carried a leather vest patched with signs of countless hunts, and his face bore the marks of weather and time—a map of wrinkles etched deep from years spent outdoors.

"Nico!" Elsid called out, his voice deep like rolling thunder. "You in there?"

Hab turned his head at the sound, a glimmer of anticipation flashing in his eyes. He knew what this visit meant—hunts were sacred in their village, marking both tradition and unity.

"Coming!" Nico shouted, rushing to join Hab by the door. He stepped forward, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves tangle in his stomach. Elsid's reputation as the best hunter filled every corner of their small community with admiration.

The door swung open wider as Nico peered up at Elsid, whose stature seemed to fill the room.

"Got a moment?" Elsid asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an easy confidence that masked his authoritative role.

"Of course," Hab replied, motioning for him to step inside. "What brings you here?"

"I'm gathering names for our the hunt three months from now," Elsid said without preamble. "Nico." His gaze landed squarely on the boy. "Will you be participating?"

Nico's heart raced at the invitation—this was no ordinary event; it was a rite of passage for young hunters like him.

"Me?" he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within.

"Aye," Elsid replied with a nod, a hint of amusement flickering across his weathered face. "You've been training hard under your grandfather's watchful eye. I think it's time you join us."

"Yeah! I want to!" Nico exclaimed without thinking, but then hesitated. The reality of it sank in—he would be hunting alongside seasoned hunters like Pilos and Elsid himself.

"Good." Elsid grinned broadly, revealing teeth that had seen many battles with wild beasts. "Just need your name on my list before we finalize preparations."

Hab glanced between them with pride evident in his expression as he encouraged Nico silently with a nod.

Nico took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm ready."

Elsid chuckled softly. "That's what I like to hear."