The fleeting ripple in the junction's Aether became Rhys's new obsession. It wasn't just a matter of security – though the memory of the Undermarket probe kept him perpetually wary – it was a matter of understanding. If Aetherium Weaving involved interacting with environmental energies, then understanding their nuances, their 'flavors' and 'signatures' as he'd begun to think of them, was paramount.
He spent hours extending his Echo Sense, trying to catch the phenomenon again. It remained elusive, appearing randomly, lasting only moments. Was it tied to pressure changes in the pipes above? Gravitational fluctuations? Or was it, perhaps, the signature of something living interacting with the Aether source, something subtle enough not to register as a blatant presence? The mutated creatures he'd encountered before had chaotic, jarring Aether signatures. This was different. Harmonious, almost melodic, yet distinctly other.
This pursuit naturally led him to contemplate the next logical step implied by the fragmentary knowledge he possessed: Elemental Attunement. The Weaver's Scrawl had hinted at aligning oneself with specific elemental forces within the Aether. His own accidental energy discharges had often manifested as sparks or gusts of air. The environment itself was dominated by water and earth – the dripping stones, the flowing effluent, the ancient masonry.
Water seemed the most logical starting point. It was abundant, its Aether signature relatively clean and stable here, thanks to the unique properties of the junction. He recalled the feeling of the pure Aether he'd been circulating – cool, flowing, cleansing. That felt like a water-aspected energy.
Sitting near the edge, overlooking the main flow channel below, Rhys shifted his focus. Instead of just perceiving the Aether, he tried to resonate with the water element within it. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of the dripping water, the sound of the current, the feeling of dampness on his skin, the memory of coolness. He extended his Echo Sense specifically towards the flowing water, trying to feel its energetic signature not just as a source of generic Aether, but as water energy.
His Aether Pool, now denser and slightly more controlled, responded sluggishly. He attempted to subtly shift its resonance, trying to make his internal energy mimic the cool, flowing signature he perceived from the water below. It was like trying to tune a complex instrument by ear without knowing the notes.
His first attempts were clumsy failures. He either pushed too hard, causing his Aether Pool to churn uncomfortably, sending jolts of cold through his limbs, or his focus slipped, and he lost the delicate connection entirely. The mental strain was different from the circulation practice – less about brute-force concentration, more about subtle sensitivity and intuitive alignment.
He tried focusing on the shard. It resonated faintly with his internal Aether, but it didn't seem to offer specific guidance towards water attunement. It felt more like a general stabilizer, a grounding influence. Perhaps its true function was more complex, related to purification or weaving itself, rather than basic attunement.
He changed tactics. Instead of trying to force his entire Aether Pool to resonate, he attempted to isolate a small portion of his energy. He drew a thread of Aether from his pool and projected it gently towards the nearest dripping stone, trying to match its cool, steady vibrational frequency.
Failure. Failure. Then, a flicker. For a bare instant, he felt a connection. It wasn't just perception; it was a feeling of understanding. He felt the slow, patient process of water seeping through stone, the subtle energy exchange, the inherent coolness and weight. It was like hearing a single, clear note in a cacophony. The sensation vanished immediately, leaving him feeling slightly disoriented and chilled, but also exhilarated.
He tried again, focusing on that memory, that specific resonance. This time, the connection lasted a fraction longer. He felt a pull, a sense of wanting to merge with the water's energy, a feeling of fluidity spreading through his own Aether thread. It was intoxicating but also alarming. He instinctively pulled back, severing the connection, breathing heavily.
This was it. Elemental Attunement. It wasn't just about sensing; it was about aligning, harmonizing, becoming one with the element's essence. And it was clearly dangerous. Losing control, even for a moment, felt like it could lead to being overwhelmed by the elemental energy, potentially causing internal damage or imbalance. Kaelen's cryptic warning echoed in his mind.
He practiced cautiously over the next cycle, making tiny, incremental gains. He learned to establish the connection more reliably, hold it for a few seconds, and withdraw safely. He focused solely on water, not wanting to complicate things further. Each successful connection left him feeling subtly different – calmer, perhaps, more grounded, but also strangely heavy, as if absorbing the water's inertia.
During one such practice session, deeply focused on resonating with the main water flow below, his Echo Sense caught it again – the subtle ripple, the harmonic overtone. This time, being attuned, however slightly, to the water element, he perceived it more clearly. It wasn't just a fluctuation; it felt like a thought, or rather, the echo of a thought, imprinted on the water's energy. Faint, alien, but undeniably there.
Before he could analyze it further, a different sensation intruded, sharp and unwelcome. His Echo Sense, passively scanning the approach tunnels, picked up distinct movement signatures. Multiple individuals, moving with rough coordination, their Aether signatures murky and agitated. They weren't Crimson Hand – too clumsy, too undisciplined. They carried the familiar, unpleasant resonance of petty violence and territorial aggression.
Corbin's crew. They were heading directly for the junction.
Rhys snapped out of his meditative state, instantly alert. He signaled silently to Boulder, who had already tensed, his hand tightening on his pry bar. The whispers in the flow were forgotten, replaced by the immediate, physical threat approaching their sanctuary.