Chapter 2: Lost

"Divine alchemy is about transmuting Hajin—the god-particle that can be found everywhere in nature— and turning it into supernatural abilities," Rowan began.

We are known as the Wheezer— an alchemist who transmutes Hajin by breathing.

There are many types of Alchemy other than Wheezing. Your mother is a Tippler, and your late uncle Han was a gobbler. However, we won't be talking about them today."

"But, father, how did you know that I am a wheezer if my power hadn't been awakened yet?"

"Hmm. I saw you."

Ivar gulped. Did he know about the vines? Does he know all this time that it was him who have caused them to moved in the cabin?

"Last night, I saw your Lifesphere for the first time. And I can tell from it that you are Wheezer like me, and your brother."

Ivar sighed in relief. What would they do if they knew?

"Back to our lesson," Rowan interrupted Ivar's thought.

"There are 3 pillars of Wheezer's Alchemy,

"These are the fundamentals you have to master as a wheezer."

Ivar sat on a tree stump in the clearing, trying to focus on his father's lecture.

"First is to worship nature. Second is discipline. And third, is to Master your breathing."

"Worshipping nature means valuing life— which you have learned since you were a toddler."

Now that his father mentioned it, the memories of praying, meditations, and offerings to the spirits now made sense to Ivar. Back when he was a child he simply mimicked what his parents did.

"Remember, that mastery of this skill is determined by your relationship with nature. You have to make friends with the souls and spirits that reside in everything. Even the earth that you step in. Even the single blade of grass.

Discipline, on the other hand, is a broader topic. But to summarize, avoid unnecessary battles, and never kill unless you need to."

"... or what the ancients often quote, follow the Tao," Rowan said.

"Know what to do, when to strike and how to act. If destroying someone aligns with the will of nature, such as hunting for food or burning dead wood to fend against the wolves, then you must do so."

Ivar remembered killing the deer. How it cried when he stabbed it to death. He remembered his father too, killing one of the imperial guards back in their previous home in the town of York when he was nine. It was the reason why they moved to Frulenberg. 

And from Frulenberg to here, in this messed up forest camp. Those men serving the tyrant emperor... Do they have families too?

"Can we justify killing by saying it's the way how nature works?" Ivar said.

"Look at their intent. Is it evil?"

"But what is evil father? Why do we have to live in hiding like this? Those Seekers who came here, I want to know what they want."

"Ivar, the emperor himself fears that our existence could hinder his plans in the future. He wants total control over his dominion and he sees us as a threat to his position as the all powerful ruler. You ask what is evil. Evil is a selfish thought that manifests through action— an intention that aims to benefit only oneself while causing harm to others.

It is an act that you can find anywhere, especially at the hands of the Immortal ruler. 

 Although the emperor himself and his army possesses immense power, we have something he doesn't have."

"What? Power to move plants?"

"No," his father said.

"The favor of the wind."

It didn't make sense to Ivar at first, but then he recalled the moments when he controlled his breathing to make the vines move. Their power lies in the air around them. He could imagine why the Emperor envied them for a thousand years just by realizing how vast their resource of power is.

"This... favor of the wind. How can I use it, father?"

"Ah, that's something you have to figure out yourself. Like I said, you have to strengthen your relationship with nature by doing everything that brings harmony.

There are breathing techniques though, to give you temporary control over an object. 

"Our lives follow the lead of our intention, as the herd to the sheeps," his father continued.

"Self leadership is a must, and that is why you must know when to begin. Know when to stop. Everything must be done in moderation.

"Your relationship with Croven is the foundation of our gifts— Power. Not power over nature, but power against anything that disturbs it's harmony. And this foundation, I believe, is starting to develop in you. But that is still not enough."

The wall of trees parted beside Rowan, creating a gap. 

"Go out," his father said. 

Ivar did as he was told, but as soon as he stepped outside, the gap closed and the trees locked together, shoving him away from the Cabin.

Tendrils wrapped around his shoulder and it drags him deeper into the forest. He could hear his father's words as the vines blocked his vision.

"Get lost. Let nature guide you back here."

Ivar rubbed his eyes. Quick! he said to himself.

He followed the tendrils that abducted him back to where he was standing minutes ago. Surely it would lead him near the camp.

To Ivar's frustration, the vine climbed the tall birch and then started crossing from one tree to another. He couldn't see the vine from above— not with the thick leaves and other sorts of vines that grow there, which confuses him even more. 

Things went worse, the plants repositioned itself whenever he walked past them so he cannot retrace his steps and start again if he lost—which he already was. At sun high, he found himself at the edge of a cliff. From there, he could see the vast woodland below with the white river that slithers around the forest.

He dismissed the idea of following the river upstream back to Frulenberg where it is much easier to find the camp. 

Easier? he said to himself. Harald spent hours on that front to divert the imperial guards themselves to another direction. Moreover, it was dangerous. 

He couldn't afford to make that one mistake again by attracting attention from the enemy. So he sat there and waited until sundown. It's no use anyway. 

Ivar dozed off and was awakened by a groan of a large animal before him. He wasn't scared at first, not until the bear stood on two legs like a human, doubling its size.

This isn't going well, he said to himself.

It was dark, and he had to run. But where to? He zigzagged in the woods hoping to confuse the bear. But the pursuer took another route, and surprised Ivar, who believed that he had lost the bear.

He lost his footing as his foot slipped on a rock. With a thud, he slammed in the ground and went rolling down the ravine. 

He laid there unmoving. Ivar pretended to be dead for a moment while the bear sniffed his arm down to his legs. Somehow he managed to fight his urge to move.

Finally, the creature left him.

"Mighty Croven!" he cursed, standing up. Luckily his bones were intact, there were no serious injuries other than the gash on his shoulder when he ran into a sharp branch.

Around him, a faint light was forming. It danced around as a cold breeze blew. 

Fireflies, he thought. The tiny glob- like creatures seemed to be following the wind as it moves. Or perhaps, they were the winds themselves. Spirits. They surrounded Ivar, forming a protective sphere around his body. But to Ivar's surprise, another wind came with different glowing spirit. It scared the previous one and the sphere around him was gone.

"Come home, Ivar," whispered the gust of wind that made him jump. It was his father's voice. Had he been watching me the whole time? And how did he do that?

The vines that he was chasing slithered on his feet again and it led him towards the cabin.

Nice playing into the woods, he muttered to himself. It was a fun game of tag with a bear. 

 Ivar missed his friend, Jasnah who lives next to them. There wouldn't be excited discussions about whose kites fly higher, or whose miniature boat sails faster in the Quadi river. What would he think of me, now that I suddenly disappeared after the incident? 

He trekked for an hour, the wind spirit still with him to light his path. Finally he'd caught a glimpse of his father waiting for him under a beech tree, illuminated by the same globs of light that accompanied Ivar.

"And look at you." his father clapped him in the back. He was surprised to see his father in the middle of the forest.

"I was deeply lost out there, father. I don't know what else to do. I simply cannot make Nature teach me the way home. He only taught me where the bear lives, and had me running for my life."

"But nonetheless you have returned."

"You helped me, because I gave up."

"You did the right thing, by giving up. It is a reminder that you cannot learn everything in an instant. That is why rituals were created to remind us to practice the form of art that we admire. And sometimes, there are battles you cannot win. You should know when to stop. The next day, you'll have to try again."

Ivar didn't know how to respond. He thought his father would be disappointed at him. But why would he? He's right. I'm just getting started. Does that mean it's always okay to fail? No. Perhaps next time he won't be soft to him.

"You didn't tell me more about the spirits. I didn't know you can command them." Ivar asked.

"As I told you, your relationship with nature does many things. Make allies with them. That alone would be a great help. But remember, spirits are not a tool. You have to respect them."