I blinked. “My weapon?”


    At that moment, Yashka stood before me, arms crossed, watching me with that same measuring gaze he always had when he was about to test me.


    Then, as if making some final decision, he nodded. “Yes, your weapon.”


    “I am confused,” I said. “I thought I am a mage? What do I need a weapon for?”


    “Mages do not always rely on themselves to channel magic, Zenith,” he replied. “Magic is limitless, but your body is not. Even the most gifted sorcerers, even the Cardinal Mages, can be overwhelmed if they cast spells without a medium. A weapon is an extension of yourself—a conduit. With the right one, you can refine your power rather than exhaust it.”


    He raised a hand, murmured something (I guess some sort of summoning incantation) and out of nowhere, something materialized in his grasp.


    A bow.


    But not just any bow.


    It was sleek and elegant, crafted from shimmering silver metal. Its limbs were carved with swirling cloud-like patterns that shifted as I looked at them, as if they were caught in an eternal breeze. Indigo gemstones were embedded along its length, pulsing faintly with a soft, celestial glow. The bowstring wasn’t even a string—it was a thin thread of energy, humming with quiet power. It looked ancient, yet untouched by time, like a relic forged by the heavens themselves.


    “This is the Skyward Oath, a bow that was mine, once,” Yashka said, his voice softer than usual. His fingers ran along the polished surface, as if remembering something distant. “It channels magic directly. I never needed physical arrows during battles, which granted a lot of advantages. It draws magic from your own energy and shapes it into projectiles.”


    I frowned. “So, instead of weaving a spell, I just—what? Pull back the string and let the bow do the work?”


    He chuckled. “Not exactly. A bow like this refines and amplifies your magic. When you cast a spell, you have to shape the energy, control its form, and guide it to the target. That takes time, effort, and focus. With the Skyward Oath, you bypass that. The bow forms the spell into an arrow instantly, stabilizing it, sharpening it, making it more efficient.”


    “To put it simply—” he lifted the bow and pulled back the string “—this allows you to cast spells faster, more accurately, and with greater force.”


    As he did, the air itself condensed into an arrow of pure ice. The shaft glowed with an ethereal frost, and a cold mist coiled around the arrowhead, sharp as a dagger.


    “Like so.”


    He released.


    The ice arrow streaked forward, whistling through the air before striking a target I hadn’t even noticed—a snowman, standing a good distance away.


    Then—


    BOOM.


    The snowman exploded in a burst of frozen energy, sending shards of ice and snow flying in all directions. After a moment, each flying shard of ice and snow exploded, causing the air to feel even colder. The shockwave of cold washed over me, leaving frost clinging to my sleeves.


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    I gaped. “That—That was—”


    Yashka smirked. “A simple shot. You can do far more than that.”


    Before I could respond, he pulled another arrow—but this time, he aimed at the sky. As he did, an intricate indigo magic circle formed high above us, its runes shifting like stars in orbit.


    “What are you—”


    He fired.


    The ice arrow disappeared into the magic circle.


    For a long second, nothing happened. The silence stretched.


    Then, with a thunderous crack, the sky erupted.


    Arrows—dozens, maybe hundreds of them—rained down from the heavens, each one glowing with the same frost-laced energy. They hit the ground like a meteor shower, sending up bursts of icy mist with every impact. The sheer force of it shook the very air around us.


    I staggered back, stunned.


    “That—that’s amazing,” I sputtered, my eyes widening. “That was awesome! I can only imagine how many enemies you could take down with that move.”


    Yashka chuckled, lowering the bow. “On a battlefield, this technique turns the very sky into your arsenal.”


    I was still staring at the frozen battlefield when he nocked another arrow. This one crackled with electricity, sparks flickering along its length.


    His next target? Another snowman.


    He fired.


    The moment the arrow made contact, a bolt of lightning exploded outward in a dazzling burst. The snowman was obliterated in an instant. The electricity danced through the ground, arcing between the remaining snow and leaving behind smoldering streaks of melted frost.


    I barely stopped myself from yelling. “Okay, now that was sick.”


    Yashka finally turned to me, his gaze sharp. “Your magic isn’t bound by conventional spells. With this bow, you can turn your knowledge of the elements into weapons. Wind, lightning, ice—you can shape them into arrows and let your imagination run wild.”


    Something clicked in my mind. “So, the bow isn’t just a tool—it’s a bridge. It lets me use elemental magic with more precision.”


    “Exactly.” Yashka nodded. “It allows you to shape the magic around you as naturally as breathing. No incantations. No long casting times. Just thought and action. And with your discipline and understanding of how magic works, you can even use ambient magic, shape it into arrows, save yourself from exhausting your own magical energy or relying too much on the Gem itself. Your potential is unlimited.”


    Excitement surged through me. “Let me try!”


    But Yashka shook his head. “The real bow isn’t here, Zenith.”


    I froze. “What?”


    He exhaled, lowering his weapon. “This is the Plane of Consciousness. I can only show you fragments of memory—echoes of what was. The actual bow is with Andora.”


    I frowned. “Then why show me all this?”


    “To prepare you.” He stepped closer, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “When you return to the Woods of Silence, tell Andora you’re ready to harness the power of the air above you.”


    I tilted my head. “That’s . . . weirdly vague.”


    Yashka just chuckled. “She’ll understand.”


    I narrowed my eyes. “What?”


    But I didn’t get an answer before Yashka waved his hand.


    Suddenly, the world around me blurred.


    My vision distorted, the sky warping into streaks of color. My body felt weightless, like I was being pulled in every direction at once.


    The last thing I heard was Yashka’s voice, distant and fading.


    “I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”


    And then—


    I am back in the chamber. Nauseated.


    They really should warn us before they whisk us elsewhere next time.


    Havoc was beside me, groaning, complaining about the “trip back from the Plane of Consciousness.” I looked around and everyone was starting to come to.


    Andora was standing in front of us still, smirking.


    “Welcome back,” she scoffed. “You all look terrible.”