It was subtle. The first time, I almost missed it—a feather to the neck, the slightest tickle gone before I could even pay attention to it. The second time, I picked up a bit more—a prickling across my skin, but just across my front. As much to verify as to better sense the phenomenon in front of me, I brought a hand closer. Aether. Somehow, she was shaping an Aether field in a small area around the plant.

As she continued the process, the area shrank, and the intensity grew. As the Aether grew stronger, the flower reacted, opening its petals slightly. The markings took on a subtle sheen, which turned into glowing veins of blues, reds, and purples. A faint, eerie blue light came into being and danced above the flower's cup. The sweet scent lost its subtlety, and in the center, a small pool of liquid began to collect. Just as the light started to fade, she plucked the flower at its base, careful not to spill the pool of liquid contained by the petals. She poured the liquid into a vial that she had tucked away in a pouch. Then she popped open another leather pouch lined with leather—or possibly wood—cylinders and delicately slid the flower into one of those small tubes.

She continued with the other flowers, though the duration of stimulation before harvesting varied. She only harvested some of the flowers, leaving the others uncut, though she always took the dew.

That has to be on purpose.

I studied the plant, trying to pick up any changes. This technically wasn't truly controlled. Each plant was different, some responding to the Aether field better than others. However, by the fourth harvest, I detected a few possible patterns. I also had enough confidence in the procedure to ask a few questions. "Is there a reason you always, uh, stimulate the flower and not the stem or vines?"

"Yes."

I waited for the answer, but the silence stretched. I sighed. "You want me to give you my take."

"Yes."

So the Socratic method is universal.

"Fine." I rocked back on my heels and interlaced my fingers while I put together my observations. "As best as I can tell, you are somehow infusing—"

"Stimulating. What I am doing is called stimulating, not infusing."

"Okay then. Well, you're stimulating the entire flower, but it is the petals that are reacting the most. You could probably just stimulate them instead of the entire blossom."

She confirmed my supposition by tightening the Aether field to encompass just the ends of the petals. The local Aether density spiked. I opened myself up, moving beyond the Aether's thrum. My eyes went cross, and emitted vibrant blues, reds, and purples, blurred into a turbulent violet band. The light—no, Energy?—cascaded along the channels to the center.

I flinched, a brief zing along my nape shattering my attention. When I had finished blinking, the flower had dimmed, though the Aether field had not.

Esper cocked an eyebrow, and I let out a slight cough. "By increasing its Aether exposure, you are driving the plant to create…Energy?" She nodded. "It then channels the Energy to its center for use. The timing sets the yield. Waiting longer tends to generate more of the liquid at the expense of, if I had to guess, harvestable material, probably Energy and essence."

She studied me for a few seconds before nodding. "Perhaps you'll not be that hard to teach." She pointed towards the base of the flower. "All living things have a natural response to Aether fluctuations. If Aether appears in higher concentrations, they will pull in resources to utilize it. This works well for plants, which have easier ways to store Aether than animals. Of course, just like you experienced, too much Aether is toxic. In this flower's case, it will cause overproduction. It's a balance. In this plant's case, I can force it to create the dew, but that will drain its Energy and possibly damage its Spark, limiting its use for crafting. Even limited use starts to injure the plant, and excessive harvesting will cause it to wither and die."

"Is that why you harvested some of them?"

"Good. You noticed. Yes, these were going to start decaying soon. Better to harvest them. Now, what do you think the dew is good for?"

I eyed the plant. Near the ground. Hidden from sight. But still opens and closes.

"I am guessing, but I think it uses dew to encourage insects for…reproduction?"

She just laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"You have a nice way of phrasing the liquid's purpose." I cocked my head in confusion. "I have heard that this is different in the land in which Humans live. However, in high-tier areas, many plants use their abilities to kill what they attract. This liquid will draw insects. The plant will find ways to trap and kill its prey quickly enough that it can then harvest its nutrients, Energy, and essence."

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My eyes snapped to the innocent-looking flower. "So that liquid is…"

Once again, she laughed, and with actual delight. "You can be so amusing. It's only poisonous to insects. As long as we don't bathe in it, we can handle it. I say we, though, at your level, you may need only a slight dip in the bath."

"Note to self: don't drink innocent-smelling liquid," I muttered before turning my attention back to the carnivorous flowers. "I understand the general principle, but somehow, I doubt stimulating the plant is a simple process."

She snorted. "Of course not. It requires a bit of finesse. You have to manipulate the Aether in a way that feeds the plant and gives us what we want."

I nodded. "I picked up on the Aether variations. Is there a reason you can't use Energy?"

"You can, but it requires even more finesse—unless you are using a skill."

"Which you don't have?"

Her countenance shifted, taking on a deep frown before she sighed and relaxed. "You have a knack for unknowingly insulting people."

My eyes widened. "What? What did I—"

She fought back annoyance. "Any [Healer] of note learns [Harvest] or some variant. We all need access to the Mother's bounties to aid in healing others. Even my Master, at some point, had to use additional remedies to supplement her healing."

Apparently, the distribution of labor and specialization wasn't a big thing here. I eyed the plant. Was gardening going to become a major part of my life? And if she had a skill, why did—

"Oh, you're just doing it this way to help me understand."

She nodded. "Energy transfer is not easy. Our bodies and those of the plants, beasts, and monsters can only hold so much Energy at once and for so long. We need Aether to replenish it. Without the Mother's gift, we would not have the power to use the abilities bestowed by our Marks."

I thought back to my experience with trying to light the light stone. I had felt tingling in my fingers. Was that Aether? Energy? What the hell was I doing then? With any skill for that matter? "When I turn on a light stone, am I using Aether?"

She bobbed her head. "Light stones are different. They are designed to resonate easily and have a low threshold for activation. Whether through direct Energy transfer or Aether manipulation, they require little to turn them on."

I raised my hands. "You are going to have to slow down and explain things more. Resonate? Thresholds? What do you mean by those things?"

"You should at least know about Resonance. No?" She sighed. "You are a child in so many ways."

I held my tongue at the slight. It was probably true. When it came to knowledge about this world, I doubt mine exceeded a kindergartner's. "I'm happy to learn."

"Unfortunately, we can't afford the time, not this deep in the Wilds. I will find some time to teach you the basics about Resonance."

She stood up, but I hesitated, giving the vibrant flower one last look. "Hey, by the way, what is this plant called?"

"A deathweave violet."

"You're joking, right?"

She just turned and headed towards the other side of the small glade, a throaty, lilting chuckle her only response.

***

"We are making good time."

I missed my step, cracking a twig at her words. She scowled but said nothing more. It had been a long, quiet hour—or what I thought was one. I had no clue how long we had been out here. I rubbed my bare left wrist again for the countless time. Next time, I would be better prepared.

I kept close as she continued through the forest. I would have said that I had lost my bearings, but I never had any since the moment I stepped into the forest. Still, I took it in stride, focusing on my immediate surroundings. Even knowing danger could lurk just outside of eyeshot, the forest's beauty didn't grow old.

Every bit of the land teemed with life. Stumps and fallen trees served as beds for new life to sprout. The fern- and moss-covered floor with towering trees conjured memories of hiking through old-growth forests in the Pacific Northwest with a girlfriend before the bowels of a hospital consumed my life—and my relationship.

For the umpteenth time that day, Esper paused next to a small hollow. In the short time, we had fallen into a routine; the only thing changing was how much worse my feet ached. Some plants weren't ready for harvest. Others weren't there at all. I waited. I had made a few attempts at creating Aether fields to assist in harvesting, but those opportunities remained sparse. When she didn't call me over, I pulled down a branch, taking a second to study the markings on a leaf. The canopy had needles, but trees and brush closer to the ground had broader leaves. Greens had lost share to more vibrant colors. Purples and blues predominated, though reds, yellows, and oranges popped through. If I squinted while twisting a leaf, I could even make out a shimmer in every color.

She was back up in less than a minute, saying nothing; she returned to cutting through the undergrowth. She moved with athleticism and grace through the ferns and underbrush, navigating past piles of dead pine needles that suffocated most other plant life. The needles also hid fallen branches, which I, of course, continued to find with surprising adroitness. You would think that the pine needles and the vivid purple and green moss that coated the trees, rocks, fallen logs, stumps, as well as the occasional sections of the ground, would suppress the sound. They didn't. Esper had long stopped looking back, having realized no degree of scolding would help my terrible skill at walking through the forest.

Something tickled the back of my neck after a very loud snap filled the air. I stopped, the thudding of my heart suddenly too loud in my ears. That branch I had just cracked with my foot rated as one of the day's worst, but no matter how much noise I had made, the forest had always retained some ambient sound afterward.

"It's too quiet—"

She shushed me with a rapid raise of a hand. I tensed. She, too, had noticed the unnatural quiet. When she crouched down with a blade in her hand, I followed suit, drawing my knife. Though I had yet to trust the utility of a wood blade, I gave thanks that it made no sound when drawn.

Esper scanned the forest as she slinked backwards, waving me to follow. I followed step by step, cringing at the sounds I made as we moved until we had our backs to the trunk of a giant tree. Once there, neither of us said a single word. We waited, my grip on my knife never loosening. She never once gave me any indication of the level of her concerns, but then again, I didn't need it. The forest remained eerily quiet. Something was out there.

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