Part I: The Eagle and the Strider

  The wind was a cold, sharp blade against Arthur’s face. He and Edwin lay prone on the rocky cliff's edge, the vast, grassy plains of Qesh sprawling below them.

  "Ah, would you look at that," Edwin whispered, a note of genuine appreciation in his voice.

  Arthur squinted into the distance. A herd of wild horses, perhaps two dozen strong, grazed peacefully. "What is it?"

  Edwin was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed. "You managed to tap into Aura, right? Try this instead." He looked at Arthur, a rare, teacher-like glint in his eye. "My brother calls it 'Eagle Eye.' It’s just focusing your mana into the lenses of your eyes. Lets you see the fleas on a dog at a hundred paces."

  "Archers like Maeve live by it," Edwin continued, "and I hear surgeons use it to stitch things no normal person could even see. But, a word of warning." His voice became serious. "Hold it more than ten seconds and you risk going blind from the strain. Now, focus. Tell me what you really see."

  Arthur took a shallow breath. He closed his eyes, centered himself, and then opened them, pushing a thread of his newfound power—not the raging Aura, but a fine, controlled stream of mana—into his vision.

  The world snapped into brilliant, painful focus. The distant herd was suddenly, impossibly close. He could see the twitch of their muscles, the insects on their hides. He let go with a gasp, his eyes already stinging.

  "I count twelve," Arthur managed.

  "Numbers are worthless," Edwin replied, still staring. "Look again. The two mottled grey ones, on the flank."

  Arthur focused again, the strain already building. He found them. "They don't look like the strongest," he observed. "The stallion in the middle, and the one beside it... they're in far better condition".

  "Amateur," Edwin scoffed, though without malice. "Look at their hooves."

  Arthur looked. The world sharpened. "That's... unusual".

  "Unusual?" Edwin let out a low, impressed laugh. "Boy, those aren't horses. They're Split-Hoof Striders. What in the hells are they doing this far from the deep forest?"

  Arthur's love for horses, a ghost of his old life, took over. "Are they... special?"

  "Special? They're a ticket to a small fortune," Edwin said, his mind clearly racing. "Look at the front hooves. Closer."

  Arthur strained, his eyes beginning to water. He saw them: two dark, cloven hooves, segmented and sharp like a mountain goat's.

  "Tougher than iron," Edwin explained, his voice hushed with a hunter's reverence. "They can grip sheer ice walls or run up wet tree bark like it's a paved road. All-terrain, right from the gods' own forge. Now, look at the back ones."

  Arthur blinked, forcing his vision to hold. The back hooves were different. They were crescent-shaped, glowing with a pale, aquamarine light, and seemed to hover an inch above the grass .

  "They contain wind magic," Edwin whispered. "They don't just run; they accelerate. One second they're grazing, the next they're a speck on the horizon. C-rank, technically, since they're just herbivores. But if you're trying to catch one? Good as a B".

  "But in the wild," Edwin's voice turned cold, "never approach a creature by its rank. Underestimate nothing. Not a goblin, not a dragon".

  Part II: The Taming

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Edwin shifted, his mind now on the capture. "I wish Ingrid was here. One Quicksand spell and this would be simple . I don't imagine your earth magic is quite there yet?"

  Arthur shook his head, a pang of his earlier failure returning. "No. Maybe two small walls, barely my own height".

  "Useless," Edwin sighed, disappointed but not surprised. "Right. Limited options. I guess I'll have to use fire to box them in" . He turned to Arthur, his gaze all business.

  "Here's the plan. You're small. You don't look like a threat."

  "Approach them. Gracefully" .

  "If you see their ears pin back—"

  "I know," Arthur intervened, the knowledge surfacing instinctively. "It means I'm too close. They're warning me before they get aggressive".

  Edwin looked at him, genuinely surprised. "You speak horse?"

  "I... I grew up with them," Arthur replied, the memory a hollow echo .

  "Good. That makes this simpler," Edwin said, relieved. "Get their attention. Lure those two Striders. I'll circle wide and cut off their escape with a firewall. Then we rope them."

  "And if that doesn't work?" Arthur asked, the strategic flaw obvious.

  Edwin’s face darkened, the easy-going twin replaced by a pragmatic killer. "Then I slaughter the rest of the herd. That might make them surrender". He saw the look of horror on Arthur's face and sighed. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

  He dug into his pocket and produced a few hardtack biscuits. "Here. Poisoned. Enough to kill a man, but on a beast this size, it'll just slow them down. Hopefully, they take the bait."

  Arthur took the biscuits, their weight heavy in his hand. He descended the cliff and began his long, slow walk.

  From the ridge, Edwin watched him go, then set off at a sprint, circling wide to get into position.

  As Arthur approached, the herd grew agitated, the stallion snorting a warning. But Arthur didn't stop. He didn't even look at them. Instead, he began to hum.

  It was a sound without thought, a melody that surfaced from a place deeper than memory. A quiet, simple tune that spoke of warm hay and gentle hands.

  Edwin, now in position, froze. "What in the hells is he doing?"

  The agitated horses grew calm. The sea of bodies seemed to part, a natural, trusting path opening before the boy. The two Striders, their ears pricked with curiosity, stepped forward to meet him.

  Arthur stopped humming, his hand outstretched with the biscuits. He felt a strange, profound sense of calm, a feeling of... rightness. The Striders ate from his hand.

  The mission was over.

  Edwin walked up, his boots loud on the grass, and the rest of the herd finally scattered. The two Striders, however, merely nuzzled Arthur's jacket, one of them licking his face.

  "Where in the gods' names did you learn to do that?" Edwin asked, utterly baffled.

  Arthur's smile faded. He looked at his hands, then at the horses. He... didn't know. The memory was a blank, white wall. The feeling of rightness curdled, replaced by the familiar, dizzying sensation of the void.

  "Never mind," Edwin said quickly, seeing the change. "What matters is the job's done".

  He expertly tied snares around the horses' necks. He mounted one, taking the reins of the other, and looked at Arthur with a wide, triumphant grin.

  "How about a race back to the Guild?"

  Before Arthur could answer, Edwin was off, the Strider launching from a standstill into a blur of motion . Arthur laughed, the cold void forgotten, and vaulted onto the second beast, a cheeky, competitive smile on his face as he gave chase.

  Part III: The Price of a Glimpse

  Dusk was settling when they returned, the carriage now a glossy, dark red. Faelan was hammering the last strap into place.

  "Woah," he breathed, his eyes wide as they trotted up. "Two Split-Hoof Striders. You could buy a small inn with these". His gaze shifted to Arthur, and his professional appreciation turned to concern. "What happened to your eyes? You look like you've been weeping for a week".

  "Nah," Edwin said, already attaching the horses to the carriage harness. "Just taught him the Eagle Eye technique".

  Faelan looked impressed. "How'd you even catch them? You didn't just sing them a song, did you?"

  Edwin paused, then let out a bark of laughter. "That's exactly what he did."

  Faelan looked at Arthur, a new, appraising respect in his gaze. He just nodded. "You did good. Go get ready. We leave as soon as the ladies are".

  As Arthur headed inside, Faelan turned to Edwin, his curiosity piqued. "What's this 'Eagle Eye'?"

  Edwin puffed out his chest, reveling in the chance to teach the veteran. "Focus your mana into your eyes. Simple".

  Faelan tried. He closed his eyes, focused, and pushed. A vein in his temple bulged. His face tightened into a mask of profound, constipated effort.

  Edwin let him strain for a comically long time before bursting into laughter. "Gods, stop, you're going to pop something!"

  Faelan opened his eyes, glaring, his face red.

  "Let it be, old man," Edwin grinned, clapping him on the back. "Aura-users like you are all brute force. I don't think you have the delicate control for it".

  Faelan just grunted, rubbing his temples as he felt the beginning of a massive headache, his respect for the "delicate" magic growing tenfold.