"Take shorter breaths. Make them shallow. Stop breathing. Now—breathe."
Miss Nyra's voice was calm, steady, but her instructions felt impossible.
I'm trying. Damn it, Zephyr thought, teeth gritted.
For the umpteenth time, his body began to lift again—an involuntary float, as if untethered. His senses wavered, detaching from the world. Before he could fully drift, a ripple of Aether surged through him. Miss Nyra had cleared his channels again.
"That's enough for today," the blindfolded woman said, her tone final.
She ushered the students out of the meditation chamber, her steps as silent as the breath she'd just taken from them.
Zephyr had come straight to this class after choosing the Alchemist path. There were only two classes under this track—
Meditation.
Weaving.
He had learnt something about the first one. But the second? He didn't know a thing about it.
