Training continued until dusk. Mira struggled with the [Mana Orb]—her control was still too delicate for something aggressive, and the orbs she produced tended to vibrate wildly before exploding prematurely. But on the eighth attempt, she managed to create a stable orb for ten seconds before releasing it at the straw target they had prepared.

  Rhen, on the other hand, turned out to have an unexpected talent for dodging. Using the [Mana Sense] he had learned that morning, he could "feel" where Mira would throw the orb, and move to dodge just before the orb launched. Not superhuman speed—only precise anticipation.

  "Good," praised Kieran after Rhen succeeded in dodging for the fifth time. "You have a strong survival instinct. That can be refined."

  As the sun set and they stopped for dinner, Kieran could feel a change inside the warehouse. Not a physical change—but a change in the dynamic between the three of them. There was a tangible sense of achievement, a growing trust, and something that was almost like... family.

  This is dangerous, he thought, watching Mira laugh at Rhen's dry joke about a mana orb that had gone astray. Forming bonds means having something to be betrayed by. Or something to lose.

  But he could not stop it. And, somewhere inside him that still remembered 327 years of solitude, he did not want to stop it.

  That night, after Mira and Rhen had gone to sleep, Kieran sat alone near Starlight Bloom. The flower pulsed with calm blue light, and the larger silver butterfly—the one he had bonded—perched nearby, its wings flickering occasionally.

  "[Limited Communication: Sensory Data Request]," murmured Kieran, Tier 3. He sent a request through the bond with the butterfly, asking for information about what it had sensed throughout the day.

  Blurry images appeared in his mind—trees, a river, footpaths. Nothing suspicious. No foreign presences. But there was something else: a faint vibration, originating from far to the east. The vibration was too subtle to identify, but consistent. Like the heartbeat of something very large and very far away.

  Kieran furrowed his brow. "[Vibration Analysis: Source Isolation]." Tier 3.5. He focused on the vibration, trying to determine its origin. But the source was too far, too muffled. All he could determine was the direction: east. Toward Frostpeak.

  Iris.

  Was it related to her? Perhaps. Or perhaps something else—something even larger. In the original timeline, the pre-Tower period had many mana "hotspots" that emerged spontaneously, often becoming places where the Tower later appeared or where ancient races built their bases.

  He noted it in his mental notebook, then stood. There was one more thing he needed to check.

  "[Leyline Scan: Whispering Woods Flow Monitoring]," he murmured, Tier 4. This was heavier—he felt pressure at his temples immediately after the magic was activated. But he needed to know.

  His willpower crept outward, beyond the warehouse, into the forest, touching the currents of earth energy they called leylines. In Sunken Grove, the leyline should still have been stable after their intervention a few weeks ago.

  And indeed—the leyline was stable. But something was different. Its flow was smoother. More... vigorous. As though something had opened a valve that had previously been partially blocked.

  The world's reaction, thought Kieran as he dispersed the magic, sitting back down with slightly labored breath. Our magical activity, however small, is beginning to influence the environment. The leyline is responding.

  That was both good and bad. Good because it meant their magic was aligned with the world—not fighting against the current of reality. Bad because changes in leylines could be detected by other sensitive parties. By the Keepers of the Earth Grove. Or by other entities.

  He looked at Starlight Bloom. The flower appeared normal—but when he focused, he could see something new: at the base of its stem, near the soil in the pot, there was a small protrusion of pale green.

  A bud.

  Kieran bent down, examining it more closely. Yes, it was a new bud—tiny, not yet fully open, but clearly alive. Starlight Bloom was propagating.

  He had not done anything to trigger it. The plant had done it on its own.

  "[Life Analysis: Plant Condition Scan]," he murmured, Tier 2. The results came immediately: the bud was perfectly healthy, growing at a normal rate, showing no signs of anomaly. But there was one interesting detail.

  The bud was not growing straight upward as would be expected.

  It was bending toward the east.

  Kieran slowly rotated the pot, making sure the direction changed. The bud continued bending in the same direction—like a compass needle that always points toward the magnetic pole. Toward Frostpeak.

  "[Influence Test: Controlled Rotation]," he murmured again, Tier 2. He rotated the pot 90 degrees. Waited ten minutes. The bud, slowly but surely, began bending east again.

  Not sunlight—the window in this room faced west. Not wind—there was no consistent air current. Something else was pulling it.

  Kieran stood, staring at the small bud with a swirl of mixed feelings: wonder, worry, and an acknowledgment that felt almost like fate.

  Starlight Bloom was a plant born from temporal contamination, from the moonlace flower that had survived after the purification ritual. It had a connection to the world that ordinary plants did not possess. And now it was propagating—and its offspring were drawn toward the city where Iris Valmont lived, where Cassian had mentioned "echoes without sound," where the mysterious vibration originated.

  This was not a coincidence.

  But it was also not a disaster. It was a clue. A sign that the world was changing, that the lines of fate were beginning to converge, and that their role—Kieran, Mira, Rhen—would soon become more complex.

  He would not rush. Would not change the plan. But he would prepare.

  Kieran picked up another notebook, beginning to write down his observations: date, time, direction of the bud, vibration detected. Data. Always data. Because amid all the uncertainty, data was the only anchor that could be relied upon.

  He wrote for an hour, until the candle on his desk was nearly spent. Then he stood, walked to the window, gazing at the darkness in the direction of the east.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The darkness in the east still hung thick when Kieran opened his eyes on his straw mat, exactly as he had closed them three hours earlier. No dreams—only the familiar restless silence, the sense of a mind that continued working even in unconsciousness. He sat up, the young bones creaking with small protest, and his gaze went directly to the pot in the corner of the room.

  Starlight Bloom stood calmly, its blue light pulsing slowly in a sleeping rhythm. But it was not the main flower that drew his attention.

  The small bud—which yesterday had still been the size of a pinky fingernail—had now elongated to twice its size. Its pale green stem, as thick as a toothpick, curved with an almost visible determination toward the east. Kieran had rotated the pot 180 degrees before sleeping, ensuring the bud's side faced west. Now, the bud had bent at least one hundred and twenty degrees, creating an elegant and unnatural curve at its base, like the neck of a swan raised toward a horizon that only it could sense.

  "[Growth Analysis: Acceleration Measurement]," he murmured, Tier 2. Numbers floated in his mind—a growth rate 4.2 times greater than normal overnight. No magical stimulants in the soil. No changes in light conditions or humidity. Only a directional steadfastness that was hardening further.

  Kieran rose, approaching the pot with silent steps. His fingers nearly touched the bud, but stopped just before contact. "[Life Diagnostics: Structural Integrity Scan]," Tier 3. His willpower crept like fine mist, examining every cell of the young plant.

  The results: perfectly healthy. More than healthy—the bud was growing with suspicious efficiency, as though every drop of nutrient was directed precisely toward one purpose: to grow larger and bend east.

  "Still not enough," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse from the morning. He needed more data. A one-night pattern could be an anomaly. A repeating pattern was evidence.

  He spent the next hour meticulously. Measuring the angle of the curve with a simple protractor he made from wood and thread. Recording air temperature, humidity, light intensity from the west window. Taking soil samples with [Layer Extraction: Non-Invasive Collection] Tier 2, analyzing mineral composition and mana residue. All normal. All ordinary.

  Except for the plant that refused to be ordinary.

  When dawn began to pierce the window with pale golden light, Kieran was already sitting at his desk with notes spread out. Lines, angles, measurements. In the center of the page, he drew a simple symbol: a large point (Ashvale), and a thick arrow pointing east (Frostpeak). At the tip of the arrow, he drew a star.

  Possibility: High-class magical resource newly activated, he wrote in neat letters. Heartstone or a variant. Natural mana absorber/emitter. Estimated distance: 25-30 km based on strength of pull on temporally sensitive plant.

  He stopped, pen hovering above the paper.

  Or a man-made artifact. Or an experiment. Or an awakening.

  He crossed out all three. Too early for speculation without data. But one thing was clear: something in Frostpeak was now emitting a magical signal strong enough to draw a plant's attention from a distance of tens of kilometers. That was not ordinary mana concentration. That was a beacon.

  Kieran put down his pen just as noisy footsteps were heard from the next room—Rhen's morning ritual that always began with sneezing and the creaking of wooden floorboards. Mira usually woke more quietly, but today Kieran heard a long sigh followed by the sound of a pillow falling. He smiled faintly. The night before, Mira had been practicing [Mana Orb] until late, and magical fatigue always paid its sleep debt that had to be settled in the morning.

  "[Room Warming: Even Temperature Distribution]," murmured Kieran, Tier 1.5. The cold morning air slowly warmed, not with a burst of heat, but with the patience of a rising sun. He stood, tidied his notes, then walked to the main room.

  Rhen was stirring a pot at the fireplace, his face creased in concentration. "I'm trying a new recipe," he said without looking up. "Oat porridge with beans and a little cinnamon. If it fails, we always have dry bread."

  "Inspiring optimism," said Kieran, taking a seat at the long wooden table.

  "You said we should practice making decisions with incomplete information." Rhen ladled porridge into a bowl. "This is the training. Incomplete information: whether or not I've already added salt."

  Mira appeared from her room, her blonde hair disheveled like a bird's nest freshly attacked by a storm. Her eyes were still half-closed. "I dreamed that small portals were chasing me," she mumbled, reaching for a bowl. "They were talking about geometry."

  "Your subconscious is integrating the lessons," said Kieran. "That is good. It means the spatial concepts are beginning to take root."

  Mira sighed, spooning up porridge. "Could it integrate without making me run from singing circles?"

  "Unfortunately, no."

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, filled only by the sound of spoons and the crackling of fire. Kieran observed them both—Rhen with his unshakeable practicality, Mira with the magical fatigue that brought a new depth to her eyes. This was his team. Small, not yet fully trained, but his.

  After the last bowl was emptied, Kieran raised his notes. "We have a development."

  He explained about the bud, the curve, the acceleration in growth. Showed his measurements, his diagrams. Mira listened with eyes growing wider, Rhen with brow furrowed.

  "So our plant has an internal compass?" asked Rhen at last.

  "More than that," said Kieran. "It is responding to a mana concentration gradient. Like roots seeking water, but in the magical dimension. And a gradient strong enough to influence it from this distance can only come from a high-class resource."

  Mira stared at the pot in the corner of the room. "Heartstone. Like you mentioned in your notes."

  "Highest probability." Kieran interlaced his fingers. "A natural mana-absorbing and emitting stone. Usually used for advanced magical research, artifact creation, or as a core for large magical constructions. In the original timeline, Hearthstones were rare—mostly mined at great depths by ancient races long before humans realized their value."

  Rhen leaned back in his chair, his face shifting to the expression of "tell me something I don't want to hear." "And this one is in Frostpeak. The city where Cassian is wandering around and his strange scholar named Iris lives."

  "Coordination."

  "You call it coordination. I call it too many coincidences for comfort."

  "That is why we must investigate," said Kieran. "But not as Kieran the Archmage or Mira the spatial student. As herbal merchants."

  Rhen raised one eyebrow. "Herbal merchants."

  "A plausible identity for traveling between village and city. One that carries valuable but not suspicious goods. One that can explain knowledge of plants and remedies without drawing excessive attention." Kieran took a blank sheet of paper. "[Visual Projection: Flow Diagram]," Tier 2. An image appeared above the paper—a route from Ashvale to Frostpeak, with marked stopping points. "We need two weeks of preparation. Collecting quality herbs from Whispering Woods, processing them into simple medicines, studying the map and customs of Frostpeak."

  Mira furrowed her brow. "Why two weeks? Why not leave now if this is important?"

  "Because that very importance is why we must prepare properly." Kieran looked at her. "Entering a city without preparation is like walking into a battlefield without armor. We need a solid story, convincing goods, and enough knowledge to avoid making foolish mistakes."

  "Additionally," added Rhen, "we need time to practice. If we are going to disguise ourselves, we have to be able to play the role. I'm fine—already used to interacting with merchants. But the two of you..." He glanced at Kieran and Mira.

  Mira flushed. "I can act normal!"

  "You read spatial theory books for entertainment, Mira."

  "That is entertainment!"

  Kieran raised his hand to settle the matter. "That is part of the preparation. During these two weeks, besides gathering herbs and making supplies, we will practice being... ordinary. Talking about the weather, about the price of grain, about village rumors—not about portal stability or leyline consistency."

  Mira looked as though she had just been asked to swallow a live frog. "I have to pretend not to be interested in magic?"

  "You have to pretend to be interested in other things." Kieran stood, walking to the bookshelf. He picked up a thick volume about common medicinal plants—a book he had bought from a traveling merchant last month and had not yet had time to open. "Starting today, we all learn practical herbalism. Names of plants, their uses, how to process them. That will be our cover, but also a useful skill."

  Rhen nodded, his face serious. "So the plan is: we prepare for two weeks, then set out for Frostpeak. Me as the front face—a merchant with two assistants. We sell herbs and medicines, while simultaneously observing the situation. Gather information about strange magical activity, perhaps find out about the Heartstone. But no rushing to approach Iris or that resource directly."

  "Exactly." Kieran looked toward the east, though the stone wall blocked his view. "We gather information first. Map the terrain. Only then act."

  Mira drew a deep breath. "I am nervous."

  "Good," said Kieran. "That means you understand the risks. Now, let us begin with the first lesson: the difference between willow bark for pain and feverfew for migraines. And please, do not correct my explanation with theory on the transmutation of herbal substances through the principle of mana conservation."

  "But that is relevant!"

  "Not for an ordinary herbal merchant."