9. Training

nine

Adrian sat on the damp forest floor, his eyes squeezed shut against the rustling trees. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath before expelling it in a rush. Aether wound through him like corded muscles. The energy had once been wild and untamed despite his best efforts to wrangle it. Now, his control rarely wavered, and his old dreams of daemon mastery no longer seemed quite so impossible. As long as he kept training, one day he'd be able to—

Something heavy thumped against his back, startling him from his meditation. His eyes shot open, and he stumbled to his feet, spinning to find Seymour standing there with a disapproving frown. Adrian's eyes narrowed on the length of wood Seymour held loosely in one hand.

"Did you just smack me with that branch?"

The watcher's frown deepened. "You're lucky I didn't thump you in your thick skull."

"Is this a new training technique? If it is, I don't approve."

"You're doing it wrong."

Adrian stifled a sigh. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I'm meditating, like you said."

"No. I told you to open yourself up to the Great Aetheric Sea, not sit there and cycle aether."

Adrian fought down his exasperation. After all, he owed Seymour for agreeing to train him…even if his methods left something to be desired. "What's the difference?"

Seymour's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Adrian feared he might stalk off. Instead, he said, "Close your eyes. Focus on your aether."

Adrian did so, taking several soothing breaths. Soon, the rest of the world faded into the background as his mind floated along his aetheric flow.

Seymour's soft voice echoed as if from across a gulf. "Imagine your aether slowly filling up every bit of your body. It starts at the tips of your toes, pooling there like liquid light."

Obeying the watcher's order, he envisioned his toes glowing with aether. It might've only been in his head, but the appendages seemed to tingle with pent-up static charge.

"Can you feel it?" Seymour asked.

He nodded faintly.

"Good. Let the light flow upward, like water filling a cup. Feel it move up your feet and over your ankles, along your legs and past your knees until it reaches your hips. But it doesn't stop there. It flows up your chest to your shoulders, dipping down to each finger before continuing on through your neck and face until it crests the top of your skull."

By the time he'd followed Seymour's half-whispered instructions, his entire body blazed with inner radiance, and his skin prickled with goosebumps. He'd never felt so aware of himself.

Seymour's voice drifted to him, a tether to the real world. "Now, picture that light, that awareness, spreading out from you, seeping into the ground and leaking into the air. You are not the light. It is not yours to contain. You are but one part of a greater whole. The light is everything, everywhere. It extends from you to me, to the trees and the daemons and other animals, to the myriad towns and cities of the League, and to the Untamed Wilds beyond the Bulwark. It encircles the entire world and then broadens beyond it, stretching to the distant stars that line the sky until it engulfs all creation, and you within it. That light is existence itself—the Great Aetheric Sea that binds us all together, human and daemon alike."

Adrian didn't know how long he floated there, his consciousness lost among the unfathomable vastness of that all-encompassing light. Eventually, though, Seymour cleared his throat. Adrian groggily blinked himself awake.

Seymour leaned against a nearby tree, a faint smirk on his narrow lips. "That is what I meant when I told you to open yourself up."

"That…that was…" He didn't know how to finish the thought. Humbling? Liberating? He'd never felt so free, so at one with his aether.

Seymour chuckled and crossed his arms over his toned chest. "It's something all right. The Watcher Division taught us many advanced techniques for mastering our aether, but they all stem from recognizing one fundamental truth."

"Which is?"

Seymour met his gaze with a stare so intense he had to struggle not to look away. "No matter how powerful you grow or how much aether you wield, it will always be but a drop in the bucket of what's out there, waiting to be seized."

With that, the watcher shoved off from the tree and walked away, leaving Adrian to ponder his words in silence.

Over the next week, Seymour taught him more from his time in the Watcher Division. How to focus your shroud on a specific part of your body to better shield it from daemonic techniques. How to practice your aetheric control via breathing exercises. How to fight alongside your daemon as a cohesive unit.

This last one presented an opportunity for Adrian to instruct Seymour as well. Despite all his battle training, Seymour had always treated his daemon like a wielded weapon. He'd never had to contend with that weapon talking back or refusing to follow orders.

Heartrender pulsed amusement through their bond one day while they sat watching Seymour argue with a stubborn Tremorfist. Finally, the watcher threw up his hands and stalked toward them. "I swear, that spirit-cursed daemon gets a kick out of pushing my buttons!"

Tremorfist huffed and deliberately turned away from Seymour, lumbering into the trees.

Seymour glared after the retreating daemon. "What's the point of having an intelligent daemon if it won't listen to a spirit-cursed word you say?"

"I thought you wanted a daemon that could think for itself?"

"Yeah, well, that was before I realized how spirit-cursed stubborn he'd be."

Adrian quirked an eyebrow. "Has it occurred to you that he's not the only one being stubborn?"

Seymour's lips tightened. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe the reason Tremorfist won't listen to your orders is because you're still giving them as orders. Your old battle strategies might've worked great with a mindless daemon, but perhaps it's time to develop some new tactics. Ones Tremorfist had a say in choosing."

"What do you know about tactics?" Seymour snapped. "You and your daemon still spend half the time running around the battlefield like headless chickens."

Heartrender tensed beside Adrian and let out a low growl. The impressions she sent flooding his mind dripped righteous indignation. He patted her soothingly. "What we lack in coordination we make up for in camaraderie. Speaking of, how's your bond coming?"

Judging by the sour expression Seymour wore, Adrian had struck a nerve. "We'll figure it out eventually. It can't be that hard if you managed it."

Adrian didn't rise to the bait. "You know what I think? I think you hate giving up control. You keep such a tight grip on your bond that any time Tremorfist tries to take the reins, you force him back. It's got to be a give and—"

"I think that's enough of a break," Seymour said, stalking off after Tremorfist.

Adrian watched the watcher leave while fighting down a smile. It felt good to not be the one struggling for once. After a moment's deliberation, he retrieved Crastley's journal from his satchel and flipped through the pages. Perhaps there was something here that could help Seymour master his bond. Turning to a promising section, he began to read.

Several nights later, he sat with Seymour, Heartrender, and Tremorfist around the fire. He waited until they'd finished their meal, then cleared his throat, eager to share his latest revelation.

Seymour eyed him warily. "What is it now?"

He flashed a half-grin at Seymour's discomfort. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. I've been reading more of Crastley's journal, hoping to find something to help with your…problem."

Seymour's body tensed, his expression turning defensive. "I have it under control."

Tremorfist snorted in what might've been disagreement. Seymour shot the daemon a glare. Nestled beside Adrian, Heartrender pulsed with amusement.

"It doesn't matter," Adrian said. "I didn't find anything, anyway, other than a vague observation that the true bond tends toward harmony."

Seymour scowled. "Then, why even bring it up?"

"Well, while there was nothing on your…um…on how to better connect with one's daemon, I did stumble on Crastley's speculations about melds. He thought there was more to melding than people realized, but that bondstones limited their potential."

The watcher furrowed his brow. "Such as?"

"Such as a daemon sharing its aether with its daemon master."

"Like you and Heartrender," Seymour said, sounding intrigued. "Crastley had figured that out?"

Adrian nodded. "He classified melds into three types—Enhancements, Surges, and Fusions." He held up a finger for each as he ticked them off. "Enhancements mend a daemon's wounds or bolster their physical prowess. Surges boost a daemon's magical technique. And Fusions let us see through a daemon's eyes or temporarily inhabit their flesh."

"I've never heard it described in quite those terms," Seymour replied slowly, "but that lines up with what we were taught: Body, Mind, and Spirit. It's not exactly revolutionary thinking."

"No," Adrian agreed. "But Crastley's next hypothesis is. He thought these melds went both ways—that is, a daemon could use an Enhancement, Surge, or Fusion on its daemon master. He called these reverse melds and claimed bondstones restrict access to all but one of them."

Seymour's expression grew distant for a moment. Then, his eyes cleared. "You're referring to a reverse Fusion, aren't you? Even with a bondstone, daemons can meld with our flesh."

Adrian grinned. "Exactly! Crastley believed reverse Fusions still work since a daemon's natural state is aether. Enhancements and Surges, on the other hand, require conscious effort, which daemons can't invest when bondstones strip them of their free will. What Heartrender and I did against Kali is a reverse Enhancement—a daemon bolstering its daemon master's body."

"And a reverse Surge?" Seymour said, frowning. "Daemon masters don't have techniques."

Adrian leaned forward, unable to contain his excitement any longer. "Crastley never managed to replicate it himself—he wrote it was the most difficult of the six to pull off—but he speculated it would allow a daemon to temporarily gift its technique to its daemon master."

Silence fell save for the crackling campfire. Sensing his nervous energy but not fully understanding the cause, Heartrender rubbed her head against his hand until he relented and stroked her smooth skin. Tremorfist grunted and rose. Apparently unimpressed with Adrian's revelation, he trundled off in search of something more interesting to do.

"Such a thing isn't possible," Seymour scoffed. The denial sounded half-hearted at best.

He wants it to be true, Adrian realized. Even if he can't admit it to himself. What daemon master didn't secretly dream of wielding their daemons' incredible powers?

"Why not? It makes about as much sense as anything else we've learned. Think of it—a daemon master who can control the elements with their own hands…"

"You could use a technique in unison with your daemon for double the effectiveness," Seymour said, his green eyes alight with the possibilities. "Or take direct control in a delicate situation without the need to explain what you need." His breath caught. "You could even cast a technique without ever summoning your daemon. It…it would change everything."

Adrian beamed at the watcher. "My thoughts exactly. Heartrender and I already managed a reverse Enhancement. A reverse Surge might be precisely the advantage we need to defeat Kali."

Seymour nodded slowly, his earlier frustration forgotten. With excitement smoothing the usual harsh lines of his face, he appeared more like the friend Adrian remembered from his childhood. That seemed to be happening more and more, and each time, it left an uncertain tremor in Adrian's gut—a whisper of possibility he'd assumed long since lost.

"I think it's time," Seymour declared.

Adrian blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in topic. "Time for what?"

The watcher rose to stand over the fire. Its flickering light twisted his shadow across the ground and highlighted the flecks of gold buried in his irises. "Greater aetheric control is all well and good, but I promised to teach you how to defend yourself. We'll start tomorrow with a friendly duel."

"A duel? You'll clobber me! No way that'll be a fair fight."

Seymour bared his teeth in a feral grin, erasing whatever softness Adrian had glimpsed before. "No fight ever is. You can't always count on being stronger than your opponent. Sometimes, you have to figure out how to win anyway."

With that inspiring thought, the watcher turned from the dancing flames and vanished into the darkness in the direction Tremorfist had gone. Not long after, the sounds of battle echoed through the trees, accompanied by the crackle of expended aether and Seymour's occasional angry shout. It would seem Tremorfist had found his desired entertainment, even if it came at Seymour's expense. At least, they were getting some much-needed practice with their bond. Perhaps a few nighttime bouts were precisely what they needed to reach an understanding.

Adrian remained seated by the fire, absently petting Heartrender's dozing form until the noise faded and the distant rustle of cloth signaled Seymour settling into his shelter. The more Adrian considered Seymour's words, the greater his determination grew. He might lack the watcher's experience and raw power, but that didn't mean he and Heartrender couldn't kick Seymour's overconfident butt. Tomorrow, they'd meet him on the field of battle…and show him just how unbeatable their bond really was.

Adrian's heart pounded a hole in his chest as he gazed across the clearing. Beside him, Heartrender radiated soothing comfort. She chirped softly and wound between his legs, purring. He reached down to pet her, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

This was it. A chance to prove his hard work and training had been worth it. That he had what it took to be more than a washed-up daemon catcher.

Seymour stood a hundred paces away, watching him impassively. Even without his watcher armor, he struck an imposing figure, the poster child for everything a daemon master should be. Tremorfist rested on all fours at his side. The azure ape's rippling muscles shimmered in the early morning light. If either the watcher or his daemon felt any nerves, they didn't show it.

Adrian swallowed down his own pre-fight jitters. Even though he knew this fight was just a chance for Seymour to gauge his current skill, there was something symbolic about confronting his childhood friend-turned-bully. He'd be lying if he pretended he didn't really want to win.

"Ready?" Seymour called.

Adrian nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The watcher crouched into a battle stance. Adrian did his best to mimic it.

"We can do this," he whispered to Heartrender, who trilled her agreement.

Seymour's voice rang out. "Begin."

Adrian barely had time to command Heartrender forward before Tremorfist charged at full speed across the clearing. Heartrender conjured a Mirror Image as a distraction, but Tremorfist simply brushed it aside. Adrian's eyes widened in panic as the massive daemon barreled straight for him. He snapped to his senses just in time to roll, Tremorfist rushing past where he'd been.

"Heartrender!" he cried.

His daemon responded instantly, abandoning her technique to launch herself onto Tremorfist's back. He'd expected that to buy him time, forcing Tremorfist to grab for the nimbler daemon assaulting him. Instead, Tremorfist instantly dropped and rolled.

Heartrender let out a pained squeak as the larger daemon's bulk crushed her against the ground. Adrian winced at the sensation via their bond. Tremorfist completed his roll, leaving Heartrender in the dirt as he regained his feet and turned toward Adrian. Adrian watched the daemon closely. Would it charge him again? Attempt its Stunning Howl? He braced himself for the expected technique, double-checking his shroud.

Too late, he realized his fatal mistake. He'd been so focused on Tremorfist that he'd forgotten about Seymour. A flicker of movement to his left was the only warning he got before a fist smashed into his gut, followed by a blow to his throat that left him gasping for air. He felt his feet swept out from under him and went down hard on his stomach.

Seymour landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground. "Do you yield?" he growled.

Adrian gritted his teeth and tried to buck the watcher off.

Seymour dug his left forearm into the back of Adrian's neck, grinding his face into the dirt while his right hand twisted Adrian's arm in an agonizing hold. "Do you yield?" he repeated.

This time, Adrian nodded, his eyes watering from the pain. The pressure on his arm and back eased as Seymour retreated. Adrian groaned and rolled over, humiliation curling in his belly. Seymour and Tremorfist hadn't needed a single technique to beat them.

He waited for the watcher to sneer at his incompetence, to shake his head and proclaim that Adrian was as worthless as he always suspected. To his shock, Seymour held out a hand. Adrian stared at it for a long moment before grasping it, letting Seymour haul him roughly to his feet.

"Terrible," Seymour said. The barest hint of a smirk twisted his lips. "But I've seen worse."

Adrian hung his head. "You barely worked up a sweat."

"Of course not. I haven't taught you how to put up a proper fight yet."

Frustration boiled through him, and he fixed Seymour with a glare. "All I've been doing for weeks now is training! What good is any of it if I still can't stand up for myself?"

Unfazed by Adrian's outburst, Seymour strode over to stand by Tremorfist. He glanced up at his daemon, a silent conversation flowing between them. After a moment, Tremorfist grunted and puffed out his chest in apparent pride at whatever encouragement Seymour had sent him. The watcher turned, glancing briefly at Adrian before fixing his gaze on the nearby trees.

"Did you know the Watcher Division still considers your parents heroes?"

Adrian fought down a deluge of conflicting emotions, unsure how to reply. Heartrender rubbed against his leg, sending silent encouragement via their bond.

When he didn't respond, Seymour continued. "Every watcher, at least out here, learns the tale of Bennett and Lucile Penfrost during basic training—how they volunteered to stay behind so the rest of their squad could retreat and bring warning to the Bulwark. We…I…aspire to live up to the example they set. Even now, knowing what I do about Serenity Corp's lies, I'm proud to count myself among their brethren. To have had the privilege of knowing them while they were still alive. They were truly the best of us."

By the time the watcher finished, Adrian's vision had blurred, confusion mixing with his sorrow. "Why are you telling me this?"

Seymour spun back to him, his expression hardening. "Because you once told me you've never stopped fighting to uphold your parent's legacy. Neither have I. Has something changed? Are you ready to give up—to roll over and wait for Kali to end you?"

Heartrender growled, giving voice to Adrian's anger as he tensed. "Never."

"Good. As I said, your skills may be lacking, but your instincts aren't completely worthless. I can work with this…assuming you're still up for it."

Adrian scrubbed his face, bristling at the challenge in Seymour's voice. "I am."

"Then, go grab some breakfast. We'll begin again in one hour."

The arduous march into Overlin Forest and Adrian's own self-directed training had nothing on the brutal drills Seymour demanded of him over the next few weeks.

"What use is an aether-enhanced body without the muscles to back it up?" Seymour snapped when Adrian collapsed after their first workout. The watcher had performed all the exercises alongside him, a light sweat now glistening on his brow and across his bare chest. Adrian struggled not to stare at the ridges of sculpted muscle. "While daemons only require aether, we are beings of flesh and blood. It's up to us to give our aether a worthy vessel."

So, Adrian trained, forcing himself to push past his exhaustion. Every morning, he woke up bruised and sore, and every night, he went to bed doubly so. Only his reserve of aether, supplemented by Heartrender, kept him from utter collapse. Without it, the gains he was making likely would've taken far longer.

Other than muscle conditioning, Seymour taught him how to block or deflect a blow, as well as how to dodge around an attack. Such defensive techniques constituted the core of a watcher's fighting style, where the goal was usually to survive until your daemon rescued you.

Not that Seymour neglected hand-to-hand fighting entirely. With Serenity Corp agents hunting them, there was a strong likelihood they'd one day face other daemon masters. Adrian learned how to throw a proper punch and how to take one without going down, along with how to use an opponent's momentum against them and how to grapple and pin them to the ground.

"Most of your foes will be stronger than you," Seymour said while Adrian practiced stealing a blade from an attacker's hand for the thousandth time. "Instead of confronting them head-on, learn to redirect their own power against them."

Adrian was pretty sure Seymour had been talking about daemons, but it was Kali, with her harsh beauty and frozen gray eyes, that he pictured. If he could overcome her superior strength, he might have a chance of walking away from their next meeting in one piece.

After one particularly brutal sparring match that left Adrian bleeding with a gashed lip and Seymour almost winded, his mind returned to thoughts of Kali, as it often did while they trained.

"Why don't watchers carry aetherforged weapons like Kali's?" he asked.

Seymour shrugged. "Aetherforging is spirit-cursed expensive. The rare few might be allotted an aetherforged blade, but most have to make do with our armor."

Despite his bone-deep weariness, Adrian's eyes widened. "Your armor was aetherforged?"

"Of course. Normal steel wouldn't offer much protection against a determined daemon." The watcher gave him a stern look. "You're lucky you saved my life from Souleater or else I would've murdered you myself for leaving it behind. I still feel naked without it."

Adrian flushed at the provocative image that conjured, his blush deepening still further when Heartrender sent a mental query asking him to explain the direction of his thoughts. "Sorry," he said quickly. Ignoring Heartrender's question, he grasped for a change of topic. "You said before that aetherforging is just infusing an object with aether?"

Seymour gave him a curious look. "Yes and no. Simply being touched by aether leaves its mark on an object, but true aetherforging requires imbuing aether into it bit by bit so that it doesn't leak away."

"And that's something any daemon master can learn to do?"

Adrian tried to keep his tone casual, but Seymour's keen gaze narrowed. "In theory. In practice, few ever master the skill. I wouldn't concern yourself with it—not when we have far more pressing issues."

Reluctantly, Adrian let the matter drop. At night, however, as he drifted to sleep with aching muscles, he couldn't shake the dream of one day creating his own aetherforged gear. He'd need to consult Crastley's notes for any insights…as soon as he had the energy to do so.

While Adrian trained with Seymour, Heartrender engaged in her own form of training with Tremorfist. Adrian had worried at first about her getting hurt, especially given the rather large size disparity between them. But sitting in and watching some of her practice sessions, he'd been relieved to find Tremorfist a surprisingly gentle opponent. Despite the daemon's brute strength and fearsome combat prowess, he didn't appear to relish inflicting unnecessary pain and even celebrated Heartrender's rare victories against him. Their constant duels left her as drained as Adrian by nightfall, her aether stretched thin with fatigue.

Once he deemed them ready, Seymour had Adrian and Heartrender return to practicing together. Even with their bond to bolster communication, he insisted they needed to learn how to respond to the other's intent in the thick of battle. Much to Seymour's chagrin, it didn't take long before they flowed across their makeshift arena, striking at target dummies with practiced ease.

"It's that aethersense of yours," Seymour said, scowling at Adrian after he and Heartrender demolished yet another of the watcher's exercises. Heartrender sent a pulse of smug satisfaction radiating through their bond that had Adrian struggling to suppress a grin for fear of stoking the watcher's ire. "Gives you an unfair advantage."

Adrian didn't know how true that was, but he took comfort in the thought that his heightened spiritual awareness might make up for some of his other shortcomings. While Seymour and Tremorfist had the advantage of hardier aether and years spent training and fighting together in the Watcher Division, their bond remained clumsy. Seymour still struggled to manage a basic Enhancement, let alone the reverse Enhancement that had come so easily to Adrian.

Even with Adrian's superior bond, however, his attempts to form a reverse Surge with Heartrender went nowhere. The allure of directly casting daemonic techniques called to him, and one time, he could've sworn he felt something—the faintest trace of power almost close enough to touch. Yet, in the end, the advanced meld eluded him just as it had Crastley.

That one failure aside, Adrian marveled at his advancement. Under Seymour's tutelage, his body had grown fitter than ever, with new muscles to match his improved aether. When Seymour declared it time for a second bout to test his progress, Adrian brimmed with eager confidence.

Sure enough, their rematch began better than the first. He and Heartrender were ready for Tremorfist's brutal assault, and Adrian didn't allow Seymour to catch him off-guard. But right when it felt like they might gain the upper hand, Tremorfist released a Stunning Howl that froze them in their tracks.

With his shroud focused around his mind, it took Adrian only a handful of heartbeats to throw off the effect. But when he and Heartrender tried to retaliate, Tremorfist followed up with a series of shorter, staccato bursts from his technique. Too weak to stun them entirely, each Stunning Howl nevertheless elicited a flinch that made their strikes go wide or their dodges come a second too slow.

"Better," Seymour said after accepting Adrian's begrudging surrender. "But you can't keep relying on the same tricks. A clever foe will see right through the illusions."

"Mirror Image is all I've got," Adrian said, bitterness clogging his throat. "Maybe if I had more daemons with battle-oriented techniques like Tremorfist's, I could—"

"One technique is all you need," Seymour snapped. "Tremorfist's Stunning Howl is far more limited than Mirror Image, yet you saw how he repurposed it to keep you off balance. You can do the same. I'll give you a week to consider," he called over his shoulder as he strode away. Tremorfist gave them a commiserating look before following. "Then, I want you to prove to me you have what it takes to become a real daemon master."

Adrian clenched his jaw, glaring after Seymour until he vanished from view. A real daemon master, huh? Though Adrian's understanding of what that meant had changed dramatically since his childhood dream of being a watcher, his ultimate goal remained the same—to forge a stronger bond with his daemons and protect the League…even from its own ignorance.

He scooped up Heartrender and cradled her in his arms. She purred contentedly despite the trouncing she'd taken during the recent melee. The quiet resolve she sent him bolstered his flagging spirit.

"You're right," he whispered, scratching her belly. "We'll make him eat those words, won't we, girl? Let's show him what you can really do."