The next few days were quiet—but not for me.
Every chance I got, I ran to that old hill. I kept the book hidden in a cloth bag under a loose rock. Safe from eyes. Safe from questions.
Each day, I trained.
First with fire again. Then with stones. Just small stuff. Tiny sparks, little glows. Nothing crazy. But it felt right. Like I was waking something up—inside me and in the world around me.
The book wasn't just pages. It felt like a teacher.
No—more than that.
It felt like it knew me.
When I'd open it, some pages would show up that weren't there before. New words. New drawings. Almost like it was reading my thoughts. It never talked—but I felt it.
One day, I opened it and saw a new line at the top of the page.
"You've seen fire and earth. Try water now."
I blinked. I hadn't told anyone. Not even the book. But somehow… it knew.
There was a river near the edge of the village. Not too deep, mostly calm. I used to go there as a kid, throw rocks in, watch the fish swim. I went there that evening.
The sky was orange, the water clear. I sat on the edge, feet dangling above the flow. The book rested on my lap, open to a page with a ripple drawn across it.
I reached out, hand above the water.
No heat. No push.
This time, I had to listen.
Water didn't burn like fire. It moved.
Soft, slow, smooth. But strong underneath.
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
And then it happened.
Just a little swirl.
The water under my hand spun, like it was dancing with me.
My eyes flew open.
I pulled my hand back—and it stopped.
I smiled. Big.
This… this was real.
But then… something felt off.
I looked around. Trees, wind, sky. Normal.
But that feeling in my chest… like I was being watched.
I stuffed the book back in my bag and stood up.
Didn't see anyone.
But the trees?
They felt too quiet.
Too still.
I walked home, fast but chill. Eyes on the path. Ears open.
Whatever just watched me… it didn't come closer.
But it knew I was here.
And now, I knew the world wasn't done with Alchemists.