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Chapter 14: The Flow of Water
The morning mist still hugged the ground like a dream not ready to fade, dew clinging to every blade of grass. The sky above was soft with clouds, and the lake near their woodland home shimmered like a sleeping mirror.
Oliver, now eight, stood barefoot at the water's edge. His sleeves were rolled up, his brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to pull moisture from the air—not as a trick, but as a calling.
> "You're thinking too hard," came Martha's warm voice behind him.
She knelt beside him, her fiery red hair tucked in a low braid. Her presence carried a calm weight, like a mother river guiding a stream. Oliver looked up to her with a small smile—one filled with admiration and a sliver of longing.
> "You can't force water," she said softly, placing her hand in the pond. "You have to feel it. Let it respond."
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💧 Water Is Life
Martha reached into her satchel and pulled out a wrapped bandage. Behind them, a large hound, one of the forest dogs that had become part of their family, lay whimpering. Its paw was bent unnaturally, having fallen from a small slope that morning.
"Watch," she told Oliver.
Her hands shimmered faintly as she touched the dog's leg, not with harsh magic but with gentle command. A soft yellow-blue glow emerged—not holy, but Vita-made water healing, microscopic control of blood, tissue, and energy through years of mastery.
The glow enveloped the leg. Slowly, the bone realigned, tendons mended, and swelling ebbed like a tide returning to sea.
Oliver's mouth parted in awe.
> "That's… water?"
Martha smiled. "Yes. Water is more than just lakes and rain. It flows in everything: in veins, in roots, even in thought."
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🌊 Teaching the Flow
Martha stood and guided Oliver back to the shore.
> "Now you try," she said, forming a small floating sphere of water above her palm. "Don't yank it—invite it."
Oliver exhaled and reached out his hand. The air felt thick, like molasses. But he remembered her words:
> Water wants to be led, not forced.
Slowly, the air shimmered, and a wobbling bubble formed—a bit lumpy, imperfect, but real.
He laughed. "I did it!"
> "You asked, and it came," Martha said. "That's the difference."
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🌿 The Family Connection
As they walked together down the riverside, Martha began to tell him more.
> "You know, my mother—your grandmother—was one of the most graceful Water users I've ever known."
Oliver looked surprised. "Lyra's grandma?"
Martha nodded. "She could heal broken wings, cracked tree bark, even emotional wounds. She used to say, 'Water doesn't fight fire—it cools it. It doesn't beat rock—it flows around it.'"
> "So… water is peaceful?" Oliver asked.
> "Not always," Martha smiled. "It can also crash, flood, destroy. But its truest strength lies in its ability to adapt. That's why it runs in our family."
Oliver's eyes softened. For a moment, he thought of his past life—the dry cubicle days, the bottled-up feelings, the tiredness he never named. It made sense now why he felt drawn to water. Because he'd never truly known how to flow until he came here.
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✨ Martha's Hope
Before they returned home, Martha knelt one more time and placed her hand on his back.
> "You're special, Oliver. Not because of some god or prophecy. But because you're learning to be yourself—and still choose kindness. That's the rarest magic of all."
Oliver looked up at her, heart full.
> "...Thanks, Mom."
Martha's eyes watered slightly at that.
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Chapter 14: Back to School – Quiet Triumphs
The sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the Elorian based Academy, casting shimmering patterns across the polished wood floor. Morning bell rang—not with chimes, but with a soft wind hum, a gentle pulse of Vita woven into the school's systems.
Oliver sat in his usual spot near the middle of the class—not too close to the teacher, but not tucked away either. Around him were students of all types: elves with elegant posture, energetic beastkin tapping their tails on the floor, and a few whispering humans scribbling down notes.
Despite the variety of races, the classroom was quiet. Respectfully so. Elorian education was far different than Earth's chaotic schools—less overcrowded, more spiritually guided, and deeply respectful of the elemental teachings.
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📚 Exceeding and Falling Short
Oliver excelled.
When it came to practical molecules —he was already leagues ahead. His control over water was considered "early blooming," his plant growth spells showed strong ancestral resonance (something the teacher noted was rare in half-blooded users), and he'd even demonstrated a basic air current nudge during sparring class.
Crafting lessons were a favorite. Oliver was quick to adapt to the Elorian fusion of science and Vita alchemy, combining ingredients and catalysts using principles reminiscent of chemistry back home. The Periodic Table of Elements—rewritten with Elorian glyphs—became his playground.
But not all subjects were so kind.
> "Mathematics and language comprehension… you seem to lose interest," the teacher, an old rabbitfolk named Mr. Thistlewhisk, said one afternoon.
And it was true. Reading felt too much like Earth—like textbook-heavy, eye-tiring, mind-numbing work. And math? Still too grounded in structure, symbols, and logic that reminded him of forgotten bills and late-night calculator apps.
> "They feel too real," Oliver whispered once.
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🦊 Minya's Smile
At recess, Minya, the clever little fox girl with fire-tipped ears and bright red eyes, twirled her tail in thought.
> "You really grew that moss wall in 30 seconds?" she asked, nudging his arm.
Oliver nodded, quietly proud.
> "You're kind of scary good at plant and water. I bet the school's gonna give you an early mentorship if you keep it up."
He shrugged.
> "I don't think I'm meant for College."
Minya tilted her head. "Nobody is. Not until they're sixteen. And even then, most of us will just… go wherever fate pulls."
Her words stuck with him. Eloria's education wasn't built around careers or degrees. It was about readiness. At sixteen, all students would simply leave—and fate would decide if they trained with a Guardian, joined a village guild, or journeyed into the larger world.
It was a strange system… but somehow, it fit. After all, wasn't Oliver himself a child of fate?
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✨ Small Victories
Later that day, Oliver helped a clumsy beastkin student named Doma recreate a failed crafting recipe. They built a stone water-filter pipe, infused with Vita runes, to purify dirty river water.
Their project earned a glowing green approval stamp—and a cheer from the class.
And even though his math score came back as a tepid 58/100, Oliver couldn't stop smiling when he saw the handwritten note from Mr. Thistlewhisk:
> "You may not get the numbers, but you're learning how to read the world—and that's far more important."
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🌱 Looking Ahead
Back at home that evening, Oliver scribbled notes on his plant growth scroll while Lyra practiced throwing dyed pumpkin seeds in patterns.
He looked around at his new life—his second chance.
Maybe he wasn't meant for college. Maybe fate had something else in store.
But for now?
> School was going just fine.
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