Dominitus and Okun exchanged a brief, amused look—then both smirked and gave a slow nod of consent. Dominitus stepped forward and rapped Liam's shoulder twice, then once more in a rhythm that felt almost like encouragement, his grin wide. "That look in your eyes," he rumbled, voice proud, "is the kind we like. All right—tell me, which method do you want to try first?"

Liam met Dominitus's hand with steady calm. "The first one." He said without hesitation—the safer-sounding one; the one that felt like teaching rather than outright physical trauma. "Soulura Transference."

Dominitus clapped his palms together once and chuckled. "A reasonable choice." He glanced to Okun. "Sir, if you will?"

Okun nodded, then his expression went all business. "This method is performed most cleanly with both parties seated." He explained, voice soft but precise. "Liam, sit cross-legged. Cup your hands in front of your chest, palms up, with a small gap between them—imagine you're holding a large invisible bowl. Keep your back straight and breathe steadily. The posture helps anchor the flow and gives me someplace to place my hands."

Dominitus didn't wait for further instruction; he sank to the floor and folded his legs into the same cross-legged position. He held his hands as the chief had described—cupped, space between them—offering Liam a clear model to copy. "Like this." He said, a short nod of demonstration.

Liam mirrored him, slightly self-conscious but methodical. He settled cross-legged on the floor, arranged his palms just like so. His face went analytical for a second before raising it to meet Domitius' gaze. "Did you undergo the first method before?"

Domitius nodded while grinning. "Aye, I did, years ago. Unfortunately, it didn't work for me. Don't worry though, I came out of it with no lasting injuries, if that's what you're worried about!" He laughed, remembering Liam's earlier reaction to the risks.

Okun eased himself down behind Liam, folding his legs beneath him with the easy grace of someone who'd done this a thousand times. He rested his hands near Liam's shoulder blades, the position precise and noninvasive. "Remember, the intent is to overflow your bodily gates briefly so your entire body can feel and, most importantly, remember the flow. It'll be a controlled surge—enough to show you the pattern, not to take you to the breaking point."

He paused, the gravity of the moment clear in his look. "Before I begin, I need you to summon as much of your own soulura as you can. Use it as a base. Since you can't control it yet, the easiest way is to call to mind a memory that pulls strong emotions from you: fear, grief, love, fury, anything. Soulura magnifies with emotions and the heart. Think of something that lit a fire in you, and hold it there."

Liam took a moment to process Okun's words before giving a small nod, then closing his eyes. His thoughts turned inward, combing through the folds of his memory for something that could ignite what Okun had asked of him.

At first, he found only quiet resistance—his life had not been carved by the kind of battles or scars men like Domitius carried, nor the instinct that Miuson embodied, and far from the talent of Okun. He had not suffered the sort of calamity that could sear itself into one's soul like flame to parchment.

But then, the faces returned. The sounds. The smells. The fevered cries and restless coughing of those afflicted by the Hiyan Plague. He remembered the way his small family clinic—his family's legacy—was overrun by the sick, the desperate, and the dying. He remembered the suffocating weight of it all, the helplessness that clawed at him as he stood as the only doctor in Enohay.

He remembered how he had only been barely reaching his twenties when the plague struck. And he remembered why he was alone. His parents, gone in an accident when he was still a boy. His grandfather Donnel Leir, the man who had raised him, taught him, nurtured him, taken by the gods only a year before the Hiyan Plague gripped the land.

By all rights, Liam should have collapsed under the weight of the world then and there. But he wasn't alone.

Through every sleepless night, when his eyes refused to remain open and his body screamed for rest, Alexandra was there. His childhood friend, his fiancée, his other half, vowing herself to him since they were young. She had stood by him, unyielding.

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For every patient that was carried into the already cramped infirmary, Alexandra was there to steady his hands, to keep him upright when he swayed. For every moment he slammed his head onto the pages of his grandfather's old medical texts—either out of despair or out of exhaustion—she was there, pulling his head into her chest, whispering words of comfort, running her fingers through his hair until he remembered why he had to endure.

A soft smile touched Liam's lips even now as the memory enveloped him. His heart swelled, not with grief, but with a warmth that pulsed and spread through his chest like a slow blooming flame. Gratitude. Love. Resolve. An eternal thankfulness to the gods for granting him someone like her.

Okun, palms resting firmly, yet gently against Liam's shoulder blades, raised his brows ever so slightly as he felt it—a faint warmth stirring beneath the surface, fragile but growing. "Good…" Okun's voice was low, steady. "You're doing well, Liam. I can feel it—your soulura, faint, but it's there."

Liam's brow furrowed, but he didn't open his eyes. His breathing slowed, deepened, as the warmth inside him seemed to pulse in rhythm with each inhale.

Okun's expression grew solemn. His thumbs pressed slightly firmer against Liam's back as he gave his next words the weight they deserved. "Now brace yourself. I am going to channel my soulura through you. If all goes well, it will flood your bodily gates and awaken the flow of your own. However, the surge will not be gentle."

A hard swallow worked its way down Liam's throat. His body tensed instinctively, but he forced himself to nod, his voice quieter than he intended: "I'm ready."

Still smiling faintly from the memory of Alexandra, Liam steadied himself for what was about to come.

The chamber seemed to freeze in time. The dim firelight along the walls flickered, shadows stretching and recoiling as if they too held their breath. The only sound that dared disturb the stillness was the quiet, uneven rhythm of Miuson's and Dama's breathing—both young men caught in anticipation.

Okun's palms remained firm against Liam's back for an extra moment, his focus deep. He tracked the faint pulses stirring within Liam, each pulse like a promise of potential. His brow creased as he closed his eyes to focus more.

There was potential, yes, he could feel that much. But the truth pressed on him all the same: it wasn't quite enough. Liam's soulura, while present, was faint and sluggish, like an ember burning on old sticks. Combined with his own, Okun feared it still would not breach the bodily gates.

Not only that, but he knew Liam and Dama have never really trained their bodies like Miuson and Domitius, so the risk of their bodies not being strong enough began to rear its head in Okun's mind.

For a moment, hesitation gripped him. His jaw tightened as he weighed the risk. But then, a quiet resolve settled in his chest. What was the worst that could happen? He had mastery over his soulura. His control had been honed over decades. If something went awry, he trusted himself to stop it before true harm was done.

He drew in a deep, grounding breath. No more waiting.

Okun's eyes opened, glowing faintly with the intensity of his focus and power. Without another word, he let loose a surge of his soulura—a massive pulse, thick and sudden, coursing from his palms into Liam's body.

The effect was immediate.

Liam's eyes flew wide as the wave struck him. His entire body jolted as if seized by lightning. The force reverberated through him like a crashing tidal wave, slamming into his inner self, pounding against his chest and stomach. His lungs spasmed under the crushing pressure, as though they were being squeezed from all sides by invisible hands.

A strangled cough tore from his throat. He doubled forward, his entire frame convulsing as he gagged. His breaths came ragged, desperate gasps that scraped his throat raw. His chest heaved violently, his body trembling under the alien flood running wild within him.

Okun narrowed his eyes, his focus sharp as he monitored the flow, but even he could see it. The current wasn't taking. While Liam's did soulura respond, it did not rise to meet the tide.

Domitius's confident grin faltered, his arms crossing as he frowned. Not out of disappointment, but out of regretful sympathy, as Liam met the same fate he did when he tried the first method.

Miuson's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face twisting in worry.

Dama froze entirely, eyes wide, the color draining from his face. Mumu and Nini made their way to Liam's side, making sure he's okay.

Through the gasps, through the heaves, Liam still struggled upright, his teeth clenched in defiance. However, the truth lay bare for all to see all the same.

The attempt had failed.

-

Next: (Chapter 83) Forced Awakenings: The 1st Failure

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