The Night's Unlikely Tutor

Sylv’s grip on my sleeve was surprisingly firm, a small, warm anchor in the cool night. She pulled me along without another word, her earlier frustration seemingly replaced by a quiet, determined resolve. She did not head for the main road. Instead, she navigated the labyrinthine network of narrow alleys and passages that snaked between the buildings. Her movements were fluid, almost silent, a creature of the shadows moving with an innate understanding of the city's hidden veins. I simply followed, my eyes scanning, absorbing every detail. More information.

After a few minutes of silent traversal, she finally stopped in a small, secluded courtyard, tucked away behind a row of shops. A lone, unlit lantern swung gently from an overhang. The stars above, unobscured by the city's meager illumination, were surprisingly bright. She released my sleeve, turning to face me, her golden eyes reflecting the faint starlight.

"Alright, Einar," she began, her voice subdued. "We need to talk. Properly. Without... without you trying to do that again." She gestured vaguely at her throat, a shudder passing through her small frame.

I remained silent, allowing her to articulate her parameters.

"Look," she continued, her gaze fixed on me, "what you did back there... it's not normal. People don't just... lean into daggers. You didn't look desperate. You just looked... empty. Like you didn't care." Her expression flickered, a hint of a different, older pain in her eyes before it vanished. "Like someone I used to know."

The last sentence was a quiet admission, a piece of data she had not intended to share. It explained the illogical persistence of her concern. I was a proxy. A ghost.

"My lack of emotional display is a consistent variable," I stated. "As is my disinterest in continued existence. Your observation is accurate."

Sylv threw her hands up in a gesture of pure exasperation, then immediately lowered them. "See?! That's what I mean! You just say things like that! Like it's nothing! Don't you... don't you feel anything? No fear? No sadness? No... joy?" Her voice was softer now, almost pleading.

"Emotion is a complex neurochemical response," I explained. "A variable that often introduces inefficiency into decision-making processes. I understand its mechanisms. I simply have not experienced it."

She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. "Neurochemical... what? You talk like a... like a book! A really boring, smart book!" She sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. "Okay, okay, new approach. Forget the big words. Let's start small."

She knelt down, picking up a small, smooth pebble from the ground. "See this?" she asked, holding it out to me. "It's just a rock, right? But what if... what if this rock was given to you by someone you really, really cared about? Someone who was gone now. Wouldn't that make it special? Wouldn't you feel... sad, if you lost it?"

"The intrinsic value of the object, a pebble, remains unchanged," I replied, my voice unwavering. "Its perceived 'specialness' would be an arbitrary emotional overlay, not a quantifiable attribute. Its loss would represent a reduction in physical assets, not a cause for 'sadness,' which is an unproductive state."

Sylv groaned, dropping the pebble. "Ugh! You're impossible! It's not about the value of the rock! It's about what it means! It's about the feeling!" She stood up, pacing a small circle in the courtyard. "It's what makes us... us. What makes life worth living. Even when it's hard." She looked up at the stars, then back at me, her golden eyes holding a strange, melancholic intensity. "He used to say things like that, too. That feelings were 'inefficient'."

The admission, another crack in her professional facade, recontextualized the entire interaction. This was not a lesson. It was an exorcism. She was arguing with a ghost, and I was its stand-in.

"You are literally impossible!" she finally burst out, running both hands through her hair. "It's like talking to a wall! A really, really smart, annoying wall!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! Forget feelings! Forget beauty! Let's try something you can actually see."

Her tone shifted, a spark of her earlier playful arrogance returning. "You know," she said, a sly grin touching her lips, "it's easier to see things from up high. From the rooftops." She glanced at a tall, three-story building beside us, its stone wall rough and uneven. "Want to see Raven from a different perspective?"

"The structural integrity of this building does not suggest a safe climbing route," I stated. "Furthermore, the friction coefficient of your footwear would be insufficient for a vertical ascent without specialized equipment."

Sylv's grin widened. "That's where you're wrong, smart rock. Watch this."

She took a step back, then launched herself at the wall. It wasn't just physical agility. As she moved, I felt it—a subtle ripple in the ambient energies, the same hum I had felt since arriving, intensifying around her. Her movements became almost effortless, defying the laws of physics I understood. She seemed to adhere to the wall, flowing upwards with impossible grace. In a matter of seconds, she was on the first-floor ledge, then the second, before pulling herself onto the flat, tiled roof.

She looked down at me, a triumphant smirk on her face. "See? Told you!"

My mind whirred. An external force. A manipulation of physical properties. The ambient energy... This is the 'magic' Rovy and Bane alluded to.

"Explain," I demanded, my voice flat, my gaze fixed on her. "The mechanism of your ascent. It defies conventional physics."

Sylv tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her golden eyes. "Oh, that? That's just... mana." She said the word casually, as if it were common knowledge. "It's everywhere, like the air. And if you know how to use it, you can do amazing things. Like stick to walls, or throw fire, or heal wounds. It's... magic."

Mana. Magic. The terms resonated, providing a label for the invisible force I had been sensing.

"The 'unfamiliar energies' are 'mana'," I repeated, testing the words on my tongue. "And 'magic' is the controlled application of 'mana' to alter physical reality."

Sylv clapped her hands together softly. "Exactly! See? You can learn! Now, are you coming up or are you just going to stand there and analyze the wall all night?"

She extended a hand down to me. "Try to feel it," she called down, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet street. "That hum you probably feel everywhere? Focus on that. Imagine it pushing you up, pulling you to the wall."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the subtle vibration that was always present, a constant background noise to my senses. I extended my hand, pressing it against the rough stone. I imagined the energy flowing, not from me, but into me, from the air, from the stone, a magnetic pull. I pushed off the ground, attempting to replicate Sylv's effortless ascent.

My foot slipped. My hand scraped against the rough stone. I slid back down, landing with a soft thud on the ground. Inefficient. The variables were not correctly integrated.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice flat, looking up at Sylv. "Your instructions were insufficient. The 'feeling' variable is too abstract. It resulted in a suboptimal outcome."

Sylv groaned, rolling her golden eyes. "It's not my fault you're a clumsy oaf! You have to try to feel it! Not just... think about it! It's like... like trying to taste food by just looking at it!"

'Don't think so much.' An illogical directive, yet perhaps a necessary one for a process that relies on a non-quantifiable input. I took a deep breath, focusing on the hum of the energies. This time, I didn't try to intellectualize it. I simply felt the subtle pull, the resonance. I pushed off, my movements more fluid, my hands and feet finding purchase with an almost uncanny ease. The rough stone no longer felt abrasive; instead, it seemed to cling to my touch.

In a few swift, silent movements, I ascended the wall. First floor, second, then with a final, effortless pull, I was on the roof, standing beside Sylv. My landing was precise, silent.

Sylv stared at me, her mouth slightly open, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of shock and grudging admiration. Her ponytail seemed to droop slightly. "You... you just... you just did it. Just like that. After complaining about my instructions." Her voice was a disbelieving whisper.

"The initial parameters were indeed imprecise," I stated, my voice flat, my gaze sweeping over the panoramic view of Raven's rooftops. "However, with sufficient observation and a slight adjustment in methodology, the optimal outcome was achieved. Your initial demonstration was adequate for pattern recognition."

Sylv just shook her head, a small, exasperated laugh escaping her lips. "You really are something else, Einar. A truly impossible, infuriating, smart rock." She looked out over the city, then back at me, a new, almost thoughtful expression on her face. "Come on," she said, her voice holding a hint of challenge. "The view is even better from the edge of the city."