I finish my cup – refusing to even consider wasting something so good – and bow to Mallorc before practically sprinting down the hall to my room. As soon as the door closes behind me, I’m stripping down and grabbing whatever clothes I don’t mind getting a little sweaty – though if last night’s practice is any indication, I don’t think that should be a concern. A calm descends in the room as rain starts to pitter across the terracotta roof tiles

  I lay out Three Infusions Breathing on the dresser and move straight into the First Infusion. Almost immediately, fire brews in my chest, pistoning a surge of power through each of my movements. An aroma of campfire and pine incense lightly permeates the room. I become hopeful that I will experience imagery from this Infusion as well – but it fades as I reach the last movement without slipping into anything deeper.

  I quickly switch to the Second Infusion’s breathing pattern and flow seamlessly into the heavier movements. On my second cycle of breathing, a strong perfume of watery, floral, and sappy bark transports me to the pond I saw last night. Today I am the willow branch – firmly attached to the main body of the tree yet dancing across the top of the pond. Every brush of my limb sends ripples across the water, setting the lotus flowers dancing around and releasing their cool, blossoming sweetness into the air. I force myself not to sink too far in the vision as the set’s last movement draws near.

  I’m suddenly back in my room as I transition to the Third Infusion’s breathing pattern. I feel the heavy bouquet of scents breeze through my body resting in my diaphragm before I exhale. My arms and legs flow gently between poses, never lingering in one for more than a heartbeat. The room feels as if a cool spring breeze has been trapped here with me. When the final movement ends, disappointment nips at me – there were no accompanying visions this time.

  I breathe in deeply, no longer bound by the strict patterns of the manuals. The room smells different now—like a wild pond waking after the first cold rain of spring. I follow the breath through me, and the changes reveal themselves one by one: a deeper well of energy, muscles weighted with fortified strength, and a body that responds a heartbeat quicker than before. As I look up into the mirror, I notice the biggest difference. In the reflection, a blue-green sheen to my eyes, indicative of mana flow. Almost as soon as I see it, it’s gone, leaving me wondering if my mind played a trick on me.

  I look out the window. The clouds have parted, revealing a moon perched on the highest point in the sky giving the room a soft silver glow. It felt like I was in the practice for only minutes, but the moon’s position says I have been lost in meditation for at least four hours. I’m not tired, and I don’t feel like sleeping, so I sit and reflect on my meditation and the insights scratching at the edges of my awareness.

  There is something the Old Man is steering me toward with these arts – some internal discovery. He hinted that certain inheritances align better with aspects of the different meditation forms, yet there’s a common thread woven through all three infusions. Something consistent, even though the movements and breathing vary wildly. Something I’m still missing.

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  I sit for hours – not quite meditating, not quite thinking – until the dawn sun peeks through my window, drawing me from my stupor. I feel on the cusp of understanding the main purpose of this meditation, but the realization slips away as I prepare for the day.

  I wash quickly in the morning, more out of habit than necessity, because the jasmine, orange blossom fragrance still clings to my body early this morning. After dressing, I walk into the shop to find Mallorc sitting at a table with a pot of fresh tea and steaming breakfast cookies.

  He slides a pale orange cup of tea to me. “Good morning, Cam. How are you feeling today? Are you nervous that tomorrow is your Sowing Day?”

  I take it with both hands, inhaling a rich, earthy aroma that playfully wafts with the steam. A deep sip surprises me with sweet potato notes balanced against the light body of the tea. I search my memory for similarities to any other teas I’ve tried before, but come up empty. I feel for the flow of mana in the tea – and find nothing?

  The Old Man rescues me a second later. “This is just a very good cup of tea. There is no mana for you to find. I want you to remember that inspiration doesn’t only come from the luxurious and mana-infused things in life. Even something as simple as this can enlighten you.”

  He slurps at his tea before nodding at me. “Now, how are you feeling, Cam? I know tomorrow is a big day for you, and I am sure you’re nervous.”

  I set the cup gently down on the table. “I am nervous. I started practicing these meditation techniques so close to my Sowing Day that I’m worried that the Tea Sage class won’t be available. I made it through the entire manual and even reflected on it last night, but enlightenment still escapes me. I’m afraid that if I don’t find it, the System won’t allow me to pursue the sagacious path.”

  “I’m sure that is very anxiety-inducing,” Mallorc says softly, “You’ve worked hard – meditating, seeking insight in every tea I’ve served you these past days. And I’ll teach you a great deal in the coming months. But you need to hear this: you cannot force enlightenment. The harder you push, the farther it moves away. Illumination comes through new experiences – body and mind both.”

  He lifts his cup in acknowledgment. “Expand your palate of reference – through adventure, fun, study, or good tea.”

  I smile at him, recognizing that he’s already seen straight through my worries.. “Thank you, Master. I appreciate the tea and your guidance. Anything you want me to work on around the shop today?”

  “I think you deserve a break. You meditated well into the night. Why don’t you have a day pursuing your own hobbies and spending time with friends before the System decides what you will be doing for the rest of your life?”

  The shop is closed every Sunday, so that is usually my one day off and my time to see friends. I don’t think I’ve ever had a weekday off unless I was sick.

  Mallorc’s eyes sparkle as he slides a few coins across the table. “Enjoy the last day before Sowing, Cam.”