The profound calm Bolt had touched during his vigil in the Sanctum of Echoes lingered, a quiet melody beneath the surface of his thoughts.
The Ahna'sara within him was no longer a wild, unpredictable storm, but a deep, flowing river of power, still immense, but now with a discernible current.
He felt…centered, even in his towering, transformed body.
Eva found him by the crystalline window in their shared chambers, gazing out at the serene, self-lit dawn of Aethelgard. Her arm, now free of bandages, bore only a faint, silvery scar thanks to Aethelgardian healing.
"You look," she said softly, "like you actually slept. And not just because this place feels like a giant, fluffy cloud."
Bolt turned, a low rumble that might have been a chuckle escaping him.
"The 'song'… it's clearer now. Less noise. More… purpose."
"Coria said your next lesson was about 'resonance'," Eva recalled. "Projecting harmony. Sounds a bit less terrifying than 'unlocking your true form while a psychic monster tries to eat your brain'."
He winced internally at the memory of the watcher. "Hopefully."
Later, Coria met them not in the grand Sanctum, but in a smaller, more intimate grove nestled deeper within Aethelgard.
Here, ancient trees with bark like polished silver bore leaves that shimmered with all the colours of a nebula. Strange, crystalline flowers hummed with gentle, audible frequencies, their petals vibrating in response to the slightest emotional shift in the air.
"The Ahna'sara, in its purest form, is a song of connection, Seed-Bearer," Coria began, her golden owl-like eyes full of gentle wisdom.
"You have learned to listen to its melody within you. Now, you must learn to project it outwards. Not as a weapon, as your fear understandably drove you to do in the caverns, but as an offering, an invitation to resonate with harmony."
Lyren stood nearby, a silent, supportive presence.
"But you also said… 'in the face of discord'," Bolt rumbled, remembering her full words.
"Indeed," Coria affirmed. "Peace is not merely the absence of conflict, but the active cultivation of harmony where discord thrives. To project calm into a storm requires immense focus and an understanding of the storm itself."
Bolt's first attempts were… clumsy. Coria instructed him to focus on one of the humming crystalline flowers, to try and soothe its natural energetic vibrations into a deeper state of calm.
When Bolt directed the Ahna'sara, his initial projection was too forceful, born of his recent experiences where power meant survival. The flower, instead of calming, recoiled, its petals tightening, its hum becoming a distressed whine.
"The Ahna'sara responds to intent, Bolt," Lyren interjected softly.
"Your intent now is to control, born of a desire to master. Try again. But this time, intend only to share the peace you yourself found in the Sanctum."
Bolt took a deep breath, the strange, vital air of Aethelgard filling his powerful lungs. He closed his eyes, recalled the profound stillness, the interconnectedness he'd felt.
He focused on that feeling, that pure, selfless empathy, and then gently, tentatively, extended it towards the flower.
This time, the effect was different. The flower's distressed whine softened, its petals slowly unfurling, its hum deepening into a contented, resonant thrum that mirrored the calm within Bolt himself.
A small smile touched Eva's lips as she watched.
The true test came later. Lyren led them to a secluded chamber, its walls fashioned from dark, obsidian-like rock that seemed to absorb light. In its center was a sphere of tangled, flickering energy, a miniature storm of chaotic emotion artificially generated by Aethelgardian technology – a "discord engine," Lyren called it, designed for just this purpose. It pulsed with feelings of fear, anger, and confusion, a jarring cacophony that grated against Bolt's heightened senses.
"This echo of turmoil is but a shadow of what rages in the Outer Galaxy, Bolt," Coria said, her voice a steady anchor. "Do not fight it. Do not try to silence it with force. Instead, offer it a different song. Your song."
It was far harder than calming the flower. The discord engine's projected emotions were potent, invasive. They clawed at Bolt's own recent traumas, at his fears for Eva, at the memory of Krell's cold ambition.
His first attempts to project harmony were swallowed by the chaos, his own empathic calm fracturing under the assault. He felt the urge to unleash that primal howl again, to shatter the discord with raw power.
"Remember the stillness, Bolt," Coria's voice cut through his turmoil. "Find your center.
The Ahna'sara is not a battering ram; it is the tide that smoothes the roughest stones."
He grit his teeth, his new form tense.
He focused on Eva, on the unwavering loyalty in her eyes as she watched him, her presence a small, warm star in the simulated storm. He thought of the peace of Aethelgard, the gentle strength of Lyren and Coria.
He reached deeper into the Ahna'sara, seeking not its power, but its boundless compassion.
Slowly, painstakingly, he began to project that outward. Not as a demand for silence, but as a gentle, pervasive wave of understanding, of sorrow for the pain that fueled the discord, and an unwavering belief in the possibility of peace.
The chaotic energies of the discord engine didn't vanish, but their sharp, aggressive edges began to soften. The projected fear lessened, the anger lost some of its fire, the confusion seemed to coalesce into a mournful plea rather than a raging outburst.
The sphere of tangled light still pulsed, but its rhythm was less frantic, almost… listening.
Bolt was sweating, his body trembling with the immense effort of will and empathy. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
"Enough for today, Seed-Bearer," Lyren said gently, deactivating the discord engine. The chamber returned to a calm quiet.
"You… you influenced it," Eva breathed, stepping forward. "I could feel it. The whole room felt… less sharp."
Bolt sagged, suddenly exhausted but also filled with a new kind of quiet triumph. He had faced discord, not with claws and fangs, but with the song of his soul, and he had, for a moment, changed its tune.
As they left the training chamber, Coria placed a comforting hand on his massive arm.
"You have taken the first step in shaping the Ahna'sara's song, Bolt. But remember, to truly harmonize with others, one must also understand the unique notes of their own being, and the deep, sometimes hidden, rhythms of their people."
Her gaze was distant for a moment, as if looking at something far beyond the walls of Aethelgard.
"Soon, there will be… observances. Ancient practices. They too are a part of understanding the song of life here."
Bolt nodded, too tired to fully parse her cryptic words, yet a faint unease prickled beneath his sense of accomplishment.
The song of life in Aethelgard… he was beginning to learn its melody, but he wondered if he, in his unique, transformed state, could ever truly be a part of its chorus.