During the night, a sudden, searing pain jolted him awake. WACK! His subconscious barely caught the soft “woosh, woosh” before a sharp line of burning fire seared across his arm. What the…? Still half asleep, he struggled to sit up. “What is going on?” he said. WACK! A new line of fire, burning. The relentless wooshing filled his ears as he turned his head. Bad idea. The sudden barrage of hits left him reeling, each blow echoing in the quiet night. With blurry eyes, he saw a figure looming over him, a willow branch cutting through the air. Jake pushed himself up, temper flaring. “GARETH, YOU CRAZY BASTARD!” Jake roared, pain and disbelief crashing over him. The wooshing rhythm quickened. Jake’s legs were hit next, the lines of pain sharp and unrelenting. “GARETH, STOP!” Jake caught the glint of a wild grin in the dark. Then came the gravelly voice: “Escape, boy. Escape.”

  Gareth swiped again at Jake. The thief’s eyes grew hard. As the branch was about to strike him, he phased—WOOSH!—leaving only air and a strand of pink mist in its place. Jake reappeared a few steps away, gasping as pain radiated from his cheek. His mentor dropped the branch and gave him a thumbs-up, which slowly turned into a thumbs-down. “You took your sweet time; you gave me five hits. I was lucky if I could land one on your father.”

  The giant then turned toward his mattress and lay down. Soon, obviously fake, over-the-top snoring sounds disturbed the night. My father… Jake shook his head and sighed. This is going to be a long night. He thought dimly he should be more annoyed, but he was too tired to really care.

  After a long, grueling night of relentless training, dawn crept over the camp. Jake stirred, hearing Gareth already up and moving. He decided to pretend to be asleep a while longer. He could feel his stiff body complaining about the rough treatment it had endured. A few more minutes. You owe me that, Gareth. His mentor had decided otherwise, though. Small pebbles began hitting Jake’s head regularly. He groaned, “Fine, fine, I’m awake.” Scowling, he struggled to get up. It felt like navigating a maze, but instead of dead ends, every wrong move brought a jolt of pain.

  Gareth’s infectious grin quickly melted Jake’s anger into a reluctant smile. After a quick breakfast, they ventured to an open patch of grass next to the camp. His mentor made a grand gesture and boomed, “Second day: same as yesterday, but we fight!”

  Gareth assumed a battle stance; Jake mimicked him, wincing at the inevitable surge of pain. Here we go again. Seeing the worried look of his student, the brawler reassured him: “Don’t worry, we’ll spar lightly.” Jake braced himself. Yeah, can’t wait to have my bones lightly broken. Thankfully, it was not a full-on beating his mentor had in mind. Instead of punches, Gareth threw light slaps at Jake. The apprentice found that those stung in a whole new way. “Come on, boy, dodge by phasing.”

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  Jake started to enjoy the training process; it was not as painful as the previous day, and he progressed quickly. Phasing in and out around his opponent on flat ground was much easier than doing it during acrobatics. Gareth started to use feints and increased his speed, matching Jake’s progress with increasing difficulty.

  The sun was high in the sky when they stopped. “You did well, boy,” said Gareth, patting Jake’s shoulder. Jake smiled back; he was at a loss for words for once. His mentor's expression grew serious again. “You can’t dodge forever, though.”

  He faced Jake and showed him his open palm. He then made a fist, and a thin strand of mist swirled around over his moving muscles. “Now, you need to bring some mist into this world.” Jake tried, focusing on the feeling in his hand and arm, but to no avail. “Don’t give up, boy.Continue.” The next attempts didn’t yield any visible results.

  Gareth frowned at his apprentice. Jake gave a helpless shrug toward his mentor. Their frustration grew at the lack of progress. The warrior held up a hand to stop Jake. “Mmmh… maybe we should try something else. Go into the mist and try again.”

  Jake phased obediently. As he stepped into the mist, it greeted him. It almost felt like home. Jake moved his arms around and saw the swirling mist follow his motion. He threw a punch, and the pink fog moved around it. He didn't really feel much; the mist moved by itself. He threw another punch, phased back to the real world, and as his fist finished the motion, a thin puff of pinkish smoke went forward.

  Gareth arched an eyebrow. Answering the silent question, Jake said, “I think I can do it; I just need a few more tries.” Gareth nodded and went to sit under a tree.

  The “few more tries” took the whole afternoon. Finally, Jake managed to keep ribbons of mist wrapped around his fists. He smiled at Gareth and beckoned him forward. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Jake and Gareth were back in a battle stance, there was a faint pink glow around the young man’s fist. Gareth's gruff voice commented, “Not much to work with, but it’ll do for now.” He cracked his knuckles and added, “Hit me.” He looked Jake in the eyes, letting his lazy half-smile shine, “If you can.”

  The sparring resumed; this time, Jake tried to switch from dodging through the mist to attacking with a power-infused fist. None of his hits landed, but Gareth was smiling all along, obviously enjoying their fight.

  As the sun was setting, Gareth called the training to a stop. “We still have tomorrow; I need you well-rested for what I have in store.” Daring to test his mentor further, Jake asked, “Gareth, why three days to train me?” Gareth's face darkened. He met Jake’s gaze, then turned toward the setting sun, as if the weight of truth was too much to bear. The world held its breath. A cold shiver ran through Jake as unease coiled in his gut. The haunted look on his mentor’s face was wrong. A slow, insidious terror crept into Jake’s bones. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, Gareth finally spoke.

  “Because we’re being hunted.”

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