The wind that rolled across the basalt flats carried heat from the lava river to the south and ash from the distant ridges where the planet’s crust still split and bled fire. The sky hung low and red, thick with drifting particulates that turned the sun into a dull, angry smear.

  It had taken weeks for Ben to stop noticing the heat.

  Now he noticed other things.

  The way the ground hummed faintly beneath his boots. The subtle tug in the air where mana currents bent around the valley’s strange mana saturation. The smell of minerals and sulfur that never quite left the back of his throat. He was noticing things most mana users discovered during childhood.

  And he felt the wand’s weight in his hand.

  “Again,” Vaeris said.

  Her voice was calm. Patient in the way a knife was patient.

  Ben exhaled slowly.

  Across the training field a basalt pillar rose from the ground like a black tooth. Vaeris had pulled it up herself earlier that morning—just to give him something to cut apart. She made it fragile but coated it in a layer of mana for him to nullify.

  “Try not to butcher the landscape this time,” she added.

  Ben rolled his eyes.

  “Encouraging as always.”

  “Precision matters,” she said. “Anyone can break something. The trick is breaking only what you intend.”

  He raised the wand.

  The instrument still felt strange sometimes—less like a tool and more like a channel that reality reluctantly tolerated.

  Ben focused.

  Not power.

  Direction.

  He imagined the null energy gathering behind the wand like pressure building behind a valve.

  Then he opened it.

  A narrow beam of pale distortion snapped outward—translucent, rimmed in black, a physical manifestation of absence.

  The air warped as the null discharge sliced across the field.

  The basalt pillar split cleanly across the middle.

  For a moment nothing happened.

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  Then the upper half slid sideways and crashed to the ground with a dull thud.

  Ben blinked.

  “Well,” he said slowly. “That looked intentional.”

  Vaeris lowered the thin barrier she had instinctively raised.

  She studied the cut.

  Smooth.

  Centered.

  Controlled.

  “Acceptable,” she said.

  From Vaeris, that might as well have been a standing ovation.

  Ben grinned.

  Across the field Thorn lounged on a sun-warmed rock with his legs dangling off the edge. A woven basket sat beside him.

  He reached in, pulled out something that looked vaguely like a fist-sized fruit made of dark red muscle, and bit into it.

  A wet tearing sound followed.

  Vaeris closed her eyes.

  “Must you consume that here.”

  Thorn chewed thoughtfully.

  “It's fermented protein.”

  “It's rotting.”

  “That is how you know it is ripe,” he said with his mouth full.

  Ben snorted.

  “You brought a basket of those?”

  “They grow in the basin and they're delicious.”

  “They smell rancid.”

  Thorn waved the half-eaten meat-fruit lazily.

  “You two are just jealous of my refined palate.”

  Vaeris pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Please stop talking while you chew.”

  Thorn did not.

  Ben laughed outright this time.

  For the first time in a long while, the laugh didn’t feel forced.

  He had spent weeks here on Ashfall learning how not to destroy everything around him with his own power. Weeks of frustration and failure and Vaeris quietly dismantling his assumptions about magic, control, and patience.

  Now the wand sat easily in his grip.

  Now the power listened.

  “Again,” Vaeris said.

  Ben turned toward another formation of basalt scattered across the flat.

  This time he didn’t rush.

  He lifted the wand and drew in breath. He let the null pressure gather.

  Then released it in a controlled pulse.

  The air rippled.

  A tight shockwave burst outward from the wand’s tip and struck a cluster of smaller stones. They shattered into fragments that skittered across the ground.

  Ben lowered the wand slowly.

  “That one felt cleaner.”

  “It was,” Vaeris said. “Less wasted output.”

  She stepped closer, examining the debris.

  “You are beginning to understand the difference between strength and control.”

  Ben glanced at his hands.

  Weeks ago, even a small discharge had felt like everything would spill out at once.

  Now it felt…manageable.

  “That’s good news,” he said. “Because I was starting to worry I might actually be learning something.”

  Vaeris allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile. Then it vanished.

  “Again.”

  Ben turned, lifting the wand toward another basalt outcrop.

  He paused.

  Something tugged at the edge of his awareness.

  Not a sound. Not a sight.

  Just—different.

  Ben frowned slightly. “Hold on.”

  Vaeris watched him.

  Ben looked out across the ash-streaked flats.

  The wind carried dust across the black stone. The lava river in the distance glowed dull orange beneath the haze.

  The landscape remained unchanged.

  "Can you sense it too?" Ben asked.

  Vaeris cocked her head, extending her awareness outward. She sampled the mana currents—steady as ever. Probed for spell signatures—none active. Scanned the valley—nothing disturbed the ash drift.

  "I detect nothing," she replied.

  Ben massaged the nape of his neck where the hairs stood on end. "Probably just jumpy."

  He repositioned the wand, focusing again.

  Behind them, Thorn's claws rustled in the basket, fishing for another squishy delicacy.

  In the distance, metal gleamed against dark stone as a weapon found its mark.

  A gloved finger squeezed a trigger.

  The rifle cracked across the valley.

  Something slammed between Ben's shoulder blades with the force of a sledgehammer. His mind stuttered, trying to process what couldn't possibly be happening. Darkness rushed in from all sides.

  The wand tumbled from his grasp as his knees buckled and he crashed face-first onto the unyielding basalt.

  Vaeris' eyes widened in horrified recognition.

  Ben's body lay sprawled and still.

  Across the training ground, Thorn's claws released their prize.

  "BENJAMIN!!!"