Silas knelt at the stream's edge, hands pressed flat against the cold stone. The magic pulsed beneath his palms, a rhythm that matched his own heartbeat when he let it. He was learning to listen instead of fight. That was the theory, at least. But a red fox stepped into view upstream, walking straight toward him. It should have bolted the moment it caught his scent. Instead it came closer, close enough for him to see the glaze over its eyes, the wrongness in its gait. Its legs moved stiff and jerky, like something else was pulling the strings. Silas pulled his hands from the stone and stood slowly. The fox stopped three feet away, staring through him. He pulled the meter from his pocket. The crimson glow had spread past the first marker, brighter than it had been this morning. The fox took another step, then collapsed sideways into the grass. It lay there breathing, eyes still open, still wrong. Silas backed away from the stream and felt roots shift beneath his boots to let him pass. That was progress yesterday. Today it felt like the forest was making room for something it didn't want to touch. He walked until he found the monument, that twisted structure of bone and blood that nothing living would approach. He'd kept his distance before, treating it like a warning. Now he sat down ten feet from its base and watched the crimson lines weep slowly down white bone. The meter in his hand pulsed with the same rhythm. The fox hadn't come to him. The magic had reached out and pulled it forward like a puppet. He looked at the monument again, at the skull crowning its peak. Someone else had been here before him. Someone who hadn't stopped in time. Silas walked north until the trees opened into a clearing he'd never seen before. The castle rose from the earth like it had grown there, all purple and blue crystal catching the late sun. He'd passed this way a dozen times and never noticed it. The magic was showing him things now, offering answers he hadn't asked for. He stepped through the entrance and found the interior bare except for smooth crystal walls that hummed with the same pulse as the meter, as the monument, as his own blood. He set the meter on the floor in the center of the room. The glow steadied, then dimmed slightly. Here, at least, he could practice without the forest paying the price. He had a place to fail safely now. That changed everything.