Zelnard needed no further encouragement to get away from the slow market day. He darted off towards the docks, his excitement building as he neared the rolling waves of the curved docks by the ocean water. The docks were always a hive of activity, with ships arriving and departing, their sails billowing in the wind, and dockworkers shouting orders as they loaded and unloaded cargo.

As he reached the edge of the docks, Zelnard noticed a large Auric Exchange ship approaching. It was an impressive vessel, with tall masts and intricate carvings along its sides. The dockworkers scrambled to bring it in, securing ropes and preparing to moor the ship. The ship's hull creaked as it nudged against the dock, but before it could settle, a rogue wave slammed into the side of the ship, pushing it against the curved stone wall of the Crystal Quay docks with a jarring thud.

A young man on deck lost his balance and tumbled over the bulwark. Zelnard watched in horror as the man fell, almost in slow motion, between the ship and the dock, his leg becoming trapped and crushed against the stone as the recurring movement of the boat returned to squeeze the man’s leg.. Without thinking, Zelnard acted. He summoned his magic, focusing on the water around him. With a swift motion, he raised the water between the ship and the wall, creating a powerful wave that forced the ship away from the dock just enough to release the man’s leg and as it did he slipped down between the ship and the dock into the water.

The air on the dock was thick with the scent of salt and fish, punctuated by the creak and groan of the docked vessel. A young man, a deckhand perhaps, momentarily distracted by the bustle, lost his footing on the damp, slick planks. He pitched forward with a cry, an abrupt interruption to the rhythmic industry of the port. Zelnard, who had been leaning against a coil of rope, watched in paralyzing horror as the man tumbled over the low bulwark.

It was a slow-motion nightmare. The man fell into the narrow gap between the ship's massive hull and the unforgiving stone dock. The vessel, a heavy merchantman, was never perfectly still; the slight, constant movement of the harbour tide and the subtle shifting of its ballast meant it nudged the dock with a sickening regularity. As the man fell, his leg became a terrible fulcrum. The bulk of the ship swung back, pinning and crushing his limb with a dull, sickening thud against the granite quay. A choked scream escaped the man’s lips, quickly drowned out by the renewed, inexorable movement of the ship returning to squeeze him again.

There was no time for deliberation, no room for the cautious deployment of his gift. Instinct, training and urgency, seized Zelnard. He shoved the terror aside, grabbing a crystal from his pocket he let raw power coil in his chest. His focus snapped to the water surrounding the trapped man, the dark, churning brine of the harbour. It was an extension of his will, a fluid medium he commanded. With a soundless roar of concentration, Zelnard didn't just push the water; he willed it to rise, to become a force much like one of his water spouts.

A sudden, violent surge erupted in the narrow channel. The water between the hull and the dock swelled, momentarily defying gravity. It wasn't merely a splash...it was a contained, pressurized wave, an immense, watery shoulder that rammed the ship's side. The force was staggering. The massive wooden hull groaned in protest, but the pressure was too great. The ship was driven violently off the dock, just enough to create a fleeting, precious space between the hull and the stone.

The pressure on the trapped man’s leg vanished in that instant. As the gap widened, the momentum of his fall, which had been momentarily arrested by the crushing weight, returned. His body slumped, released from the vice, and he slid completely down between the ship and the dock, vanishing into the cold, dark water with a faint splash.

Zelnard’s breath caught. He maintained the pressure on the crystal in his hand for a heartbeat longer, ensuring the ship wouldn't immediately swing back. The roar of the water subsided, leaving only the urgent, panicked shouts of the nearby dockworkers who had finally grasped the severity of the incident. Zelnard didn't wait. His eyes were already fixed on the churning surface where the man had disappeared, his next, desperate course of action already forming in his mind. He slowly raised the water that the man had slumped into and lifted all of it with its flailing passenger onto the dockside allowing the water to disperse and the man to be released from its grasp.

The crowd that had gathered to witness the commotion erupted in cheers and applause. 

"Did you see that? He’s just a boy, and he did that!" one of the dockworkers exclaimed.

"Must be one of those Zouken lads," another said, nodding approvingly. "They’re teaching them well at that monastery."

"That boy’s got talent, mark my words," an older fisherman remarked, clearly impressed.

Zelnard, his heart still racing from the adrenaline, ran forward to help the man who looked no more than Twenty. The man winced as he was lifted from the water, but his expression softened when he looked up at Zelnard. "Thank you, lad. You’ve got a strong gift there," the man said, his deep voice calm despite the pain.

How does this episode show that Z is ready for the biggest adventure of his life?