The journey towards the Barony of Grimfang continued, the rugged terrain giving way to rolling hills covered in pine forests. Elara found his secret practices becoming more focused, his connection to the "unseen aura" feeling less like a fleeting whisper and more like a tangible extension of his own will. He experimented in the quiet moments, during his watch at night or when he ventured slightly off the main track to relieve himself. He discovered he could not only push objects with this unseen force but also, with greater concentration, pull them towards him. It felt akin to flexing a muscle he never knew he possessed, a muscle that existed not within his physical form but just beyond its grasp.
He learned that his emotional state seemed to influence his control. When he was calm and focused, the aura responded more readily. When he was agitated or fearful, it became erratic and unpredictable. The memory of the bandit's broken arm still lingered in his mind, a stark reminder of the potential harm his uncontrolled power could inflict. He practiced with small stones, levitating them, sending them spinning in the air, trying to master the delicate balance between intention and execution.
Borin kept a watchful eye on Elara, his earlier gruffness tempered with a newfound curiosity. He hadn't pressed the boy for more details about the fight in the pass, but his knowing glances made it clear that he suspected Elara was hiding something significant. Lyra, ever the pragmatist, simply observed, her sharp eyes missing nothing. The other mercenaries, though less openly inquisitive than Borin, had clearly noticed that Elara was more than just a strong farm boy. Whispers of "lucky strikes" and "beginner's magic" occasionally reached his ears.
One evening, as they made camp near a dense thicket of thorny bushes, a frantic cry echoed through the stillness. One of the packhorses, startled by a rustling in the undergrowth, had bolted, its reins snapping, and was now charging headlong towards a steep ravine. Theron, his face pale with panic, screamed for someone to stop it.
Several of the mercenaries reacted instantly, scrambling to intercept the panicked animal. Borin barked orders, trying to coordinate their efforts. Elara, his mind racing, saw the horse was mere moments from plunging over the edge. He knew he couldn't reach it in time through conventional means.
Instinct took over. He focused all his will, all his burgeoning control over the unseen aura, on the horse. He pictured it stopping, planting its hooves firmly in the ground. He felt that familiar tingling sensation intensifying, a surge of energy flowing outwards from him. It was a more potent surge than he had ever managed before, fueled by the urgency of the situation.
An invisible force slammed into the horse, not enough to injure it, but with enough sudden impact to halt its headlong rush. The animal skidded to a stop just inches from the edge of the ravine, its legs trembling. A collective gasp of surprise rippled through the camp.
For a moment, there was utter silence, broken only by the frantic whinnying of the terrified horse. Then, all eyes turned to Elara, who stood frozen, his hand outstretched towards the now-stationary animal.
Borin was the first to break the silence. "By the frozen beard of Grimfang… What in the blazes was that, Elara?" His voice was a low rumble, filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Theron, his earlier panic replaced by stunned gratitude, rushed towards the horse, his words tumbling out in a torrent of thanks. But the mercenaries' attention remained fixed on Elara.
Lyra's eyes were wide with a genuine surprise that Elara hadn't seen before. "I knew there was something… but that…" She shook her head, unable to find the words.
The other mercenaries stared at Elara, their earlier whispers of luck and beginner's magic now replaced by something akin to reverence… or perhaps fear. The impossible had just happened before their very eyes.
Elara, his heart pounding, finally found his voice. He struggled to find an explanation, to downplay the impossible feat they had just witnessed. "I… I don't know. It just… stopped." He knew it sounded weak, unconvincing, even to his own ears.
Borin approached him slowly, his gaze intense. "Lad, you didn't just stop a runaway horse. You stopped it like it ran into a bloody stone wall. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?"
Elara hesitated, the weight of his secret suddenly feeling unbearable. He knew he couldn't hide the truth any longer, not after this blatant display of his power. He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around at the faces of the Iron Fists, each one filled with a mixture of wonder and apprehension.
"There is something," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I can do things. Things I don't fully understand."
Borin placed a hand on Elara's shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle. "Then maybe it's time you showed us, lad. Before someone gets the wrong idea." He gestured to the surrounding mercenaries, their faces etched with curiosity.
Under the watchful eyes of the Iron Fists, Elara tentatively demonstrated his abilities. He focused on a small rock, and this time, with a greater degree of control than before, he lifted it a few feet into the air, held it there for a moment, and then gently lowered it back to the ground. A collective gasp went through the group. Even the most hardened veterans amongst them had never witnessed anything quite like it.
Over the next few days, Elara slowly began to reveal more about his "unseen aura," his control growing with each attempt. He learned to push and pull with more precision, to create stronger bursts of force, even to manipulate multiple small objects at once. The mercenaries watched him with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. Borin, though initially surprised, seemed to take it in stride, his years as a sellsword having likely exposed him to more than his fair share of the unbelievable. Lyra, however, remained his most astute observer, her sharp mind trying to understand the mechanics of his power.
The atmosphere within the Iron Fists began to shift. Elara, once just the strong, green recruit, was now something… more. He was still the same hardworking and earnest young man, but a layer of wonder, and perhaps a touch of fear, now surrounded him in the eyes of his companions. He was no longer just Elara of Willow Creek; he was Elara, the boy with the unseen power. The journey to Grimfang continued, but for Elara, the true journey, the journey of understanding and mastering the extraordinary ability that lay within him, had only just begun. The winds of change had begun to blow, and the world around him, and within him, would never be quite the same.