The decision to actively guide Velian—rather than merely observe his growing abilities—marked a subtle yet profound shift in the atmosphere of Azuris Keep. The passive air of quiet marvel gave way to something more focused, more deliberate. Especially in Elara. She immersed herself in the oldest, most fragile scrolls of their modest library—texts long undisturbed, their vellum brittle, ink faded with age. These were remnants of the Azuris family legacy, not the usual musings on minor elemental affinities, but something rarer, more potent: whispered mentions of Celestial Meridians and the elusive Star-Forged Core she had once referenced to Kaelen.
Much of it was maddeningly obscure, wrapped in allegory and lyrical phrasing. Tales spoke of ancestors who could "hear the whispers of the firmament" or "draw strength from the night sky," but practical instruction was nearly nonexistent. It seemed that whatever connection their bloodline once held to these celestial forces had thinned across generations, leaving only these cryptic echoes behind.
Still, Elara persisted. Her scholar's mind sifted through myth in search of meaning. She cross-referenced star patterns, tracked the constellations prominent at Velian's birth, and unearthed ancient meditative practices said to align one's essence with the cosmos.
Velian, now five, watched his mother's deep study with wide-eyed curiosity. He couldn't comprehend the full weight of their concern, but he could sense the change—the shift in how they looked at him, spoke to him, guided him.
"Mama, are you looking for star songs?" he asked one afternoon, finding her amidst a sea of unfurled scrolls, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Elara looked up, momentarily startled. "Star songs? What do you mean, sweetling?"
Velian tilted his head, his snowy-white hair catching the afternoon light. "When I'm real quiet… sometimes I hear them. Like the stones near the old tower, but way bigger. Farther away. They sound like… like starlight, if light could sing."
Elara's breath caught. This—this was it. The very connection those ancient texts only hinted at. Velian wasn't just seeing the System—he was feeling the universe, resonating with it in a way no ordinary soul ever had.
"Yes, Velian," she said softly, awe in her voice. "Yes… I suppose I am looking for star songs. Can you… can you teach me what you hear?"
And so began Velian's unconventional training. It wasn't about recitation or drills. Instead, Elara would take him to the highest battlements on clear nights, when the stars blazed sharp and cold against the vast dark. Kaelen often accompanied them, a silent, watchful presence.
"Close your eyes, Velian," Elara would whisper, her voice barely louder than the breeze. "Don't look with your eyes. Feel them… like you feel the sun on your skin, or the sea wind on your cheeks."
At first, Velian would simply stand, small and still, face turned skyward. Then, slowly, the atmosphere would shift. The faint silver light that sometimes danced in his eyes began to grow steadier. The air itself hushed—the distant chirp of crickets, the cry of a night bird—all faded into stillness.
"The big, bright one… it hums," he said one night, pointing to a radiant star within the constellation the old texts called the Silver Wolf. "It's strong. Like Papa's heart when he's running."
Elara returned to her scrolls. The Silver Wolf was linked to guidance, inner strength, and a celestial energy once called Luminaris.
Following a cryptic passage about "breathing with the stars," she introduced Velian to simple meditative techniques. She didn't call it cultivation—not yet. She called it "listening to starlight." She taught him to steady his breath, to quiet his thoughts, and focus on the inner hum he heard from the heavens.
Kaelen watched these sessions with a mixture of curiosity and concern. A man of steel and muscle, this world of energy and unseen forces felt alien. But he couldn't deny what he saw. Velian was changing—calmer, more attuned. And sometimes, after their sessions, Kaelen would swear he saw a shimmer clinging to the boy's form, like moonlight that refused to fade.
Then one night, as Velian sat cross-legged in silent meditation, his breathing slow and even, a new System prompt appeared before his eyes. Clearer this time. The glyphs were crisp and unmistakable.
[Celestial Affinity Detected: Nascent Attunement to Luminaris (Silver Wolf Constellation)][Passive Mana Absorption Initiated (Trace Amounts)][Physique Tempering (Microscopic): Starlight Infusion Commenced]
Velian's eyes flew open, wide with wonder. "Mama! Papa! The shiny words are back!"
Elara and Kaelen exchanged a quick, meaningful look.
"What do they say, Velian?" Elara asked, voice careful and calm.
He recited the glowing phrases as best he could, squinting slightly. "'Luminaris'... like the star songs. And 'mana absorption'? Is that… like drinking starlight, Mama? It feels kinda warm… here." He touched his chest. "And 'physique tempering'? Is the starlight making me stronger?"
Elara's pulse quickened. Passive absorption. Tempering. These were foundational steps of cultivation. Velian's body wasn't just perceiving the stars—it was interacting with them.
"I believe it is," she said, finally allowing herself a genuine smile. "I think you're learning to draw strength from the stars."
Kaelen rested a hand gently on his son's head. "You're doing well, my boy. This… this is a gift."
The Star-Forged Core remained a distant goal, something far beyond their current reach. But this—this passive alignment—was the beginning. Velian's body was slowly adapting, his meridians perhaps starting to shift, aligning themselves with the celestial current.
In the weeks that followed, progress was steady. Velian became more adept at identifying star songs, distinguishing between them. Some were "sharp and quick, like lightning," others "slow and deep, like the ocean." Elara diligently documented everything, comparing his impressions with the fragmented lore, slowly constructing a rough map of celestial attunements.
The System notifications began to appear more frequently, especially after focused sessions. Most affirmed new connections or minor increases in mana flow. There were no skills yet, no abilities. Only the foundation being laid—drop by drop—under starlit skies.
Then one day, Kaelen tested a theory. He brought Velian to the armory, to the rack of wooden training swords.
"Do you remember these, Velian?" he asked. "When you were very small, you said they felt… buzzy."
Velian nodded. "Like they wanted to move."
"Try again," Kaelen said. "Reach out to that feeling. Like you do with the stars."
Velian closed his eyes. The room fell silent. Seconds passed. Then—the faintest quiver. One of the light foils, the same that had once stirred under Velian's gaze, gave a subtle but clear shudder.
[Telekinetic Potential Detected (Latent)][Mana Threshold for Active Manifestation Not Yet Reached]
Velian opened his eyes, breathing a little faster. "It… it moved, Papa! I felt it!"
Kaelen let out a breath and laughed softly. "You did, son. You really did."
The road ahead remained long, full of uncertainty. They were navigating by glimmers and fragments, following starlight through darkness. But the spark within Velian had caught—small but unmistakable. Guided by his innate bond with the cosmos and the love of two parents who dared to believe, he was beginning to brush against the edge of the extraordinary.
And the universe, ancient and vast, was beginning to stir in response. The foundation had been laid—stone by starlit stone.