The forest air had turned foul.
Even before the clouds rolled in, Neil could feel it—a change in the very breath of the world. Energy currents whipped erratically through the trees, making the leaves rustle like whispers of a coming reckoning. The sky was low and bruised, the sun shrouded by roiling black clouds that flickered with distant, silent lightning. Every breath stung.
Neil stood beside Elara, who had taken a moment to sit and rest. The others—Calen and the three young ones—were nearby, all silent, as if their bodies had already sensed what was coming. A tension had crept into the air like static, but heavier. More ancient. Like the earth itself recoiling.
The young elves began coughing.
It was dry at first. A reflex.
Then blood spattered the leaves.
One of them—a girl with pale green eyes—fell to her knees, retching crimson. The others followed in short order, their faces twisting in pain. Their thin frames began to convulse, muscles spasming as if their bodies were trying to wrench something out of themselves. Neil rushed to them, dropping to his knees, eyes wide.
"Elara!" he called. "Something's wrong!"
She was already moving, but even her face was pale with terror. "It's the air. Something in the energy. I've never felt it like this."
Neil placed his hands on the chest of the nearest child, trying to channel his own energy into them. He reached with his Core, trying to grasp the flow inside the elf's body.
Nothing.
His energy moved effortlessly through the air, through trees and stone. But when it met the borders of another living being, it halted. Like hitting a wall made of silk and fire. He could see the child's energy writhing inside, like it was trying to escape. But he couldn't help. He couldn't touch it.
"I can't get in," he muttered.
One of the boys started screaming. Blood poured from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His limbs thrashed wildly before he seized and went still. Dead.
"No," Neil whispered.
The others followed, moments apart. Their deaths were not quiet. Each one twisted and cried out until their young voices were silenced.
Neil sat back, trembling. His hands were covered in blood. Not his own.
He could have lifted boulders. Crushed monsters. Walked through storms.
But he couldn't save a child.
Calen had collapsed during the chaos, doubled over in pain. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were glassy. Neil rushed to him, placing a hand on his back. Unlike the young ones, Calen's body hadn't given out, but something deep inside had ruptured.
"He'll live," Elara said, kneeling beside them, her voice hoarse. "Maybe. But… not for long. Not like this."
Neil looked up at her.
She had blood on her lips, but her breathing was steady. Whatever this storm was, it hadn't hit her as hard.
"Why?" he asked, barely able to keep his voice from breaking. "What is this?"
Elara looked at the sky. "Something's changed. The energy itself is turning wild. Unstable. This... this is a warning."
Lightning crackled high above. This time, thunder followed, shaking the earth beneath them. The clouds had thickened into a swirling black mass. Energy currents darted through the air like electric serpents, coiling and writhing. Neil could see them clearly now. The storm wasn't just physical. It was spiritual. Elemental.
The world was changing.
Elara turned her head toward him, and for the first time, her calm mask cracked.
"You said you'd be gone for a few days."
Neil froze.
"I counted every one," she continued, voice low, raw. "We waited. We trusted. We thought… you'd come back. You were strong. We needed you."
He couldn't meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Elara didn't reply. She looked back down at the dead children, lips pressed together. Her hands trembled slightly as she began closing their eyes one by one. She didn't cry. Not visibly. But something in her seemed to crack with every movement.
Neil stood slowly, watching her work in silence.
He felt hollow. Not just from guilt. From the realization that strength, even immense strength, could be meaningless. He had pushed himself beyond his limits. Had broken through to levels of power he hadn't even known existed weeks ago. And still, he had stood here helpless.
And yet… something deeper settled in his chest.
Resolve.
He could not undo what happened. But he could make sure it didn't happen again.
He stepped away from the group, his breathing ragged. The energy around him still whipped like a storm barely held in check. He drew on it, pulling it into himself slowly, cautiously. Not with greed, not with desperation. With focus.
He began to circulate his Core energy, reinforcing his internal organs, stabilizing his limbs. His injuries from the tomb had healed, but the strain remained, the instability of power gained too quickly.
For five days he had worked on tuning it. And now, under pressure again, he could feel it beginning to settle. To sharpen.
He opened his senses, extending them out into the world around him. It was like casting a net over a roaring sea. The energy currents bucked and swayed, chaotic and unpredictable. But within them, he found patterns. Flows. Pathways. He had always seen energy as a medium to manipulate. Now he saw it as a language.
A language he had to learn.
Behind him, Calen groaned. Elara helped him sit against a tree, murmuring something soft in Elven. Neil didn't listen. His mind was elsewhere, weaving through the chaos in the air.
A sudden gust of wind slammed into them. Dust and leaves rose in a spiral. Neil stepped in front of the others, bracing himself. The pressure that hit was enormous, enough to bend trees and scatter branches.
He reached out instinctively, forming a barrier of Core energy in front of them. It held, but barely.
Then, silence.
The wind died. The lightning paused. The clouds slowed.
Neil's skin prickled.
He looked toward the horizon.
As the last gust of wind settled and silence crept in again, Neil breathed slowly. The air was dense now. Thicker. Not like mist or heat, but something deeper—a pressure beneath the skin, in the bones, behind the eyes.
He tried to extend his senses, just as he had done countless times before.
The flow met resistance. Not a block, but saturation.
Too much energy.
It was everywhere—so much that it blurred the edges of things. Where once he could feel the heartbeat of a bird through the canopy kilometers away, now his awareness stretched only a few hundred meters. And even that required effort.
His senses weren't failing. The world was changing.
The energy wasn't just abundant. It was richer. Purer. The type that weighed down thought, blurred distinctions, and made the air feel like it pushed back.
Neil opened his eyes and scanned the sky again. The clouds pulsed faintly, not just with light but with power. The world itself had taken a step forward, and now every living thing would have to follow.
He clenched his fists slowly, grounding himself.
So this is how the balance shifts.
He would have to learn again. Adapt again. Sharpen what he already knew. Strength alone wouldn't be enough.
Behind him, the grieving silence lingered. The storm had passed.
But something far greater had begun.