Magic

I stood in darkness. Complete, suffocating darkness. At first, I thought my eyes were closed—but no.
This void was absolute, endless, hungry.
Then came the glow.
Crimson light pulsed from cracks in the ground beneath my feet. Like a heartbeat, but wrong—too slow,
too heavy. Each throb sent sickly warmth crawling up through my shoes, seeping into my skin. My own
heartbeat tried to match its rhythm, as if something alien was reaching inside to grab hold of my pulse.
The burning started in my palms. Tiny needles pricking from within, multiplying until my hands felt like
they were being shredded from the inside out. I opened my mouth to scream—
Cold flesh slapped across my face. Fingers like ice pressed against my lips, dead things trying to
silence me. My chest heaved in panic as tears froze on my cheeks.
He appeared between one pulse and the next. No warning, no sound—just suddenly there, inches from
my face. His eyes were empty sockets, flesh rotting around the edges. The space between us filled with
sweetness so thick it made me gag, like fruit gone to syrup-wet decay.
His grip found my wrists, fingers damp and clammy as corpse-flesh. I couldn't pull away as he lifted my
arms, sliding heavy bracelets over my hands. The metal felt wrong against my skin—cold, yes, but also
hungry.
They began to tighten. A pinch at first, then crushing pressure that burrowed into flesh, grinding against
bone. I thrashed, but the bracelets only squeezed harder, cutting deeper.
"Stop..." I whimpered as the hand finally fell from my mouth. "Please... stop!"
The only answer was more pressure, more pain, until—
*Crunch.*
My hands dropped, severed clean through. They hit the ground with wet, meaty thuds, fingers splayed
like dead spiders. Crimson light pulsed through grey skin, matching the rhythm below. I stared at my
wrists, now ending in raw stumps that wept dark blood into the cracks at my feet.
His grin stretched wider than any human mouth should go. Rotting teeth gleamed as he reached into
his cloak with deliberate slowness. The knife he drew caught the red light, edge already wet with what I
knew was my blood.
"Stay away!" I screamed, thrashing against bonds I couldn't see. "Stay away!"
My own voice shocked me awake, the scream still tearing from my throat.
Silence rushed in to fill its echo. My hands gripped the blankets, shaking, as the pounding of my pulse
filled my ears.
My heart was racing, phantom pain still burning at my wrists. The darkness pressed in, heavy and
absolute, broken only by faint moonlight filtering through the window.
For a long moment I just lay there, trying to steady my ragged breathing, flexing my fingers to convince
myself they were still attached.
The nightmare's grip lingered, raw and visceral. Without thinking, my hand went to my wrist, seeking
the comfort of Mom's bracelet. But the touch of cold metal against my skin sent a fresh wave of panic
through me. I yanked it off and set it on the nightstand, as far away as I could manage. Not tonight. I
couldn't bear it tonight.
The lingering weight of the nightmare clung to me, heavy and dark. My chest felt tight, like I was still
stuck somewhere between dreams and reality. Taking a slow breath, I reminded myself where I was.
Here, in this room, with real things around me. I let my gaze drift from one detail to another, focusing on
each in turn, grounding myself.
The morning light softened the small wooden table near me, its surface marked by scratches from other
travelers. I focused on the ridges in the wood, tracing them with my eyes, counting each line.
By the door, a strange potted plant caught my attention—a tangle of leaves in fiery reds and oranges,
like the middle of autumn. It looked odd, almost magical, against the green, lush trees outside. What
season even is it?
Its sharp thorns gleamed in the light. I thought about touching one, wondering if it would be enough to
hurt, just so I’d have a reason to ask Lyra to heal me again. The thought seemed ridiculous, but it
lingered.
I moved to the window, my hand trembling just a bit as I leaned on the sill. Outside, dawn light poured
over the medieval cityscape, casting the stone buildings in a soft gold. The first few people were
starting to appear on the streets, quiet shadows moving in the calm. Rooftops and spires rose against
the sky, each one worn by age, layered with years I could only guess at. I stayed there, watching,
letting the sight settle me.
I stared at the door on the opposite side of the room, standing there like a barrier. I wasn’t even close to
it, but the thought of crossing the room just to reach it made my chest tighten.
After a moment, I pushed away from the window, taking slow steps toward the door. Each step felt
heavier, like the space between us was stretching, testing me. It’s just a door, I told myself, nothing
more. But my fingers still shook.
I thought of Lyra’s healing, of the calm it brought me, like a warmth I hadn’t felt in years. I wanted that
again, something steady to hold on to. With a deep breath, I reached for the handle.
One step at a time, I thought, and this time, I meant it.
My fingers wrapped around the handle. Before I could second-guess myself, I turned it and pushed the
door open.
Steadily, I made my way downstairs.
Kai lay by the hearth, curled in her usual spot, her tail flicking slightly when she noticed me. Then I
spotted Lyra, already at a table, waving a hand. "Aria!" she called out with a grin, motioning to an empty
seat beside her. “Got you a plate.”
I walked over and slid into the seat across from her, grateful for the warmth of the room and her casual
welcome. Lyra looked me over, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
My hands still shook a little, but I took a breath. “I was just… um, wondering if maybe… you could teach
me magic?”
Lyra paused mid-bite, eyeing me with a raised eyebrow. “Magic, huh?” She leaned back, chewing
thoughtfully. “Well, I guess you’d need something to defend yourself out there.”
“I want to try,” I said, trying to sound casual. “You know… in case I run into monsters or something.
Seems… useful.”
She smirked, her eyebrow lifting a little higher. “So you’re looking to fight, huh? You, a small girl, out
there facing down monsters?” She folded her arms, clearly amused.
“Well, maybe not that exactly,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks warm. “I was actually… thinking about
that thing you did yesterday. The, uh, healing.”
Lyra studied me for a long moment, her usual playful demeanor fading into something more serious.
"Teaching isn't something I take lightly," she said finally. "Especially not healing magic. It requires
focus, dedication..." She paused, eyes searching my face. "And honesty about why you want to learn."
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away. "I just... I want to help people. To not feel helpless
anymore."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I couldn't tell her the real reason - that I was desperate for that
feeling of calm her healing gave me, that wave of peace that washed away my anxiety. That I'd do
anything to feel it again, even hurt myself. The thought filled me with guilt, but I kept my face neutral.
Something in my voice must have convinced her, because her expression softened. "Alright," she said,
standing up. "We'll give it a try."
Just then, Otto appeared, catching my expression. “Now there’s a face that says, ‘I’m ready for
anything!’” he teased, leaning on the back of an empty chair.
Lyra glanced over at him. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you teach her, huh? You’re the mage here.”
Otto chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, I would, but between keeping this place
running and never teaching anyone before, I’m hardly the best choice.” He gave her a pointed look.
“Besides, you’re the instructor, Lyra.”
She sighed and turned toward Kai, her tone softening. “What do you think, Kai? You coming with us?”
The wolf’s ears perked up at the sound of her name, but after a moment, she turned her head away,
clearly uninterested. Lyra chuckled, shaking her head. “Suit yourself.”
She looked back at me with a grin. “Alright, I'm off today so let’s get moving. We’ll see what you’ve got.”
I nodded, my nerves fluttering. As we stepped outside, the sun hit my face, and I followed her closely,
wondering what exactly I’d signed up for.
After finishing our food, we stepped outside. The sun was high now, casting bright light across the
bustling streets. I followed Lyra, nerves knotted in my chest, but I kept moving, fixated on one thought:
I’d get to feel that calm again, that steady warmth from when she healed me. The memory pulled me
forward, like something I was chasing just out of reach.
The streets were just as crowded as yesterday, people weaving past in every direction. The sounds of
voices and footsteps pressed in around me, but I kept my eyes low, counting each step to calm the
tension building in my stomach.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, a shadow darted into an alleyway just ahead. My heart skipped, but
when I glanced over, the alley was empty. Another figure appeared briefly in a second-story window,
staring down at me. I blinked, and they were gone.
A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. I clenched my fists, pushing down the urge to ask Lyra if she
saw them too. It’s just nerves. Just in my head. No need to embarrass myself over a few shadows.
We made our way north, the streets gradually opening up with fewer buildings around us. Ahead, the
academy came into view—a sprawling structure with wide courtyards where people were training under
the sun.
Just beyond it, standing proudly on a hill, was a massive stone castle draped in blue and white flags,
surrounded by guards and knights patrolling the grounds. The castle’s tall walls rose up, each stone
thick and weathered, with towers that seemed to touch the sky.
I couldn't help but stare. Lyra caught my gaze and smirked. "The Sakamoto castle, also known as Fort
Alerd," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Where I spend most of my days training the noble brats - when
they bother to show up."
"It's... enormous," I managed, taking in the sheer scale of it.
"Yeah, they spare no expense." She nodded toward the training grounds visible below. "That's where I
work - teaching combat, magic, whatever skills the family deems worthy. Pay's good though, can't
complain." She gave me a playful nudge. "We're almost there".
The road curved upward, leading us to an archway where the main path split. Lyra gestured to the left,
and we veered off, following a stone pathway lined with trimmed hedges and statues of knights in old
armor. As we passed through the arch, the air felt charged, buzzing with energy, and the sounds of
clashing metal and shouted instructions echoed through the grounds.
As we stepped into the training area, my breath caught. All around me, students were practicing, some
focusing on their stances with weapons, others casting spells I’d only ever imagined. Bolts of lightning
crackled from one corner, hitting targets with a deafening snap.
In another area, plumes of fire flared, dancing through the air before fading to smoke. I saw chunks of
ice rain down on a set of training dummies, freezing them in place before shattering on impact. I
couldn’t tear my eyes away, my stomach twisting with a strange mixture of nerves and excitement.
Lyra led me to an empty section of the grounds, her spear balanced casually on her shoulder. “Alright,
little lady,” she said, turning to face me. “Let’s start with the basics. Do you know anything about
mana?”
I hesitated, thinking back to a character in one of my games who used mana to cast spells. But I
shrugged instead, deciding it was better to play it safe. “Not really.”
Lyra chuckled. “Figured as much. Alright, here’s the short version." Lyra began, her tone shifting to
something more measured - the voice of an experienced teacher.
"Mana is the foundation of all magic, flowing through every living thing like blood through veins. Think of
it as a river inside you - always moving, always present. But just having mana isn't enough. You need to
learn to sense it, to guide it, to make it respond to your will." She paused, making sure I was following.
"Most people go their whole lives never truly connecting with their mana. They might feel it
occasionally, like a flutter in their chest or a warmth in their hands, but they never learn to harness it."
I nodded, a thrill of anticipation tightening in my chest, half-excited and half-uneasy.
“Alright, close your eyes,” Lyra instructed, her tone calm but firm. “Think of reaching for that mana, like
it’s somewhere in your core. Ju--st… try to feel for it.”
I closed my eyes and took a slow, measured breath. Nothing happened. I tried to focus harder,
searching for any hint of this power Lyra described, but all I found was that familiar weight of anxiety
pressing in around me, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. In my mind, a heavy door
materialized - my own mind's way of visualizing what blocked me from my magic.
Minutes passed. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I struggled to make any progress. My legs trembled
from standing still so long, and frustration built with each failed attempt. The door remained immovable,
my efforts seemingly useless.
"Don't force it," Lyra's voice cut through my concentration. "You're trying too hard. Magic isn't about
brute force."
I almost gave up then. But suddenly Mom's voice echoed in my memory: "The bow doesn't care if
you're scared. It only cares if you're willing to try." I remembered standing at the archery range, my
small hands shaking as I drew back the bowstring. "Breathe. Focus. Release." Her words had steadied
me then, and somehow, they steadied me now.
I let out a slow breath, just like she'd taught me. Instead of fighting against the door, I let my mind settle
into that familiar rhythm - breathe, focus, release. Old memories of peaceful afternoons with Mom
blended with the warmth I'd felt when Lyra healed me. My whole being yearned for that sense of calm,
that feeling of everything falling into place.
Something shifted. The door didn't exactly open - it was more like it began to dissolve, becoming less
solid with each steady breath. Through the fading barrier, I sensed something - a flickering heat, like
sunlight through leaves. My breath caught. Was this it? Was this my mana?
I reached for it tentatively, afraid it might vanish. The warmth responded, trickling through the dissolving
door like water finding its path. It wasn't the flood I'd expected - just a gentle stream, barely enough to
notice. But it was real. It was mine.
“Keep going,” Lyra’s voice broke in, steady and encouraging. “You’re right there.”
Her words steadied me, and I took another breath, gripping the door handle tightly. As it inched open, it
felt like a barrier inside me cracked, sending a faint rush of energy coursing through my body—sharp,
exhilarating, and foreign. My hands prickled, the sensation unfamiliar yet grounding, as though I’d
tapped into something waiting just beneath the surface. The heaviness lifted, replaced by a growing
sense of clarity—like taking the first step onto solid ground after being lost.
“Open your eyes,” Lyra instructed.
I slowly opened them, startled to see a soft green glow radiating from my hands. It shimmered faintly,
steady and alive, like a spark of something I’d never known was inside me. Lyra held out her hand and,
without a word, pricked her finger with the edge of her spear, letting a small bead of blood form.
“Mana’s flexible—it’s like a mold you can shape and use however you want. You said you wanted to
heal, right?” She glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Then hold onto that feeling. Picture it clearly in
your mind. Let the mana flow over this wound, mending it from within.”
I took a steadying breath, her words echoing in my mind. Healing. I held onto that thought, the memory
of how her magic had felt—calm, warm, steady. The green light around my hands brightened, a gentle
pulse that began to stir and ripple, building at my fingertips as I focused.
“Go for it,” Lyra said quietly.
I hesitated, then reached out, hovering my hand over her finger. The warmth in my fingertips felt
magnetic, almost alive as it buzzed beneath my skin. A faint green glow formed in my palm, and I
watched in wonder as the wound began to knit together, tiny threads of magic weaving the skin whole.
The scent of fresh-cut grass filled the air as my pulse synced with the flow of mana, guiding it from my
body into hers.
The glow faded, leaving her skin smooth and unmarked. For a moment, I just stared, my hand still
suspended in the air as if frozen in that final act of healing.
Lyra smiled, lowering her hand. "Natural talent. Guess I'll have to watch my back."
A smile broke across my face, and I looked up at Lyra. "I... I really did it!"
She chuckled, watching my reaction with amusement. “You sure did. That was light magic, by the way.”
“Light magic?” I asked, curiosity sparking as I glanced down at my hands.
She nodded. “Yeah, healing’s just one part of it. Light magic covers a few other things too—fire, ice,
lightning, various enchantments. But most people stick to one thing and try to get really good at it.
Keeps it simple.”
I nodded slowly, the possibilities widening in my mind.
Lyra stretched her arms over her head, giving me a grin. “Just be careful not to overdo it. Mana’s got
limits, and if you push too hard, you’ll hit mana sickness.”
“Mana sickness?”
“Yeah, it’s what happens when you burn out your mana,” she said. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go
there. Nausea, headaches, sometimes worse. If that happens, you’re stuck feeling miserable till it
wears off.”
I swallowed, the thrill of magic tempered a bit. Lyra shrugged. “We could keep going, but… you wanna
know the best place to practice feeling your mana?”
I looked up at her, intrigued. “Where?”
“A nice, hot bath,” she said, her grin turning sly.
I let out a laugh, thinking she was joking, but she stayed completely serious. “Think about it,” she
continued. “Hot water helps you relax and focus. Get your head clear, and it’s way easier to sense
what’s happening inside. Soak up the heat, and it’ll help you connect with that inner energy without any
distractions.”
I felt my laugh turning into a real grin. “I never would’ve guessed that.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” she said, giving me a nudge. “No wasting time. Let’s head over
to the baths and give it a try.”
We left the training ground, heading out through the east exit this time. The path took us around a stone
pathway bordered by hedges, and I could hear the clash of weapons and faint shouts from nearby. Just
around the corner, we came upon two figures both with blonde hair locked in a sparring match—a taller,
focused knight with long hair wielding a spear, and a shorter, younger fighter darting around him with
two flashing daggers.
“That’s Ash and Layne,” Lyra murmured, nodding toward them with a grin. “They’re brothers. Sparring
like this all the time. And Ash? He’s about to pull his usual move.”
I watched as Ash conjured a pair of sleek, all-black daggers, their edges lined with fierce purple
electricity that crackled like trapped lightning. He moved with sharp, fluid energy, darting forward with
unrelenting speed, each strike fast and aggressive. Mid-lunge, Ash suddenly feinted left, spinning low
and flinging a dagger toward Layne’s side. For a split second, it seemed like Layne hadn’t noticed—but
then his spear flashed in a blur, deflecting the dagger midair. Ash followed up with a second strike, this
time aimed directly at Layne’s legs, but Layne sidestepped smoothly, his calm precision never faltering.
"How'd you know he'd do that?" I asked, glancing over at Lyra.
She chuckled, her expression proud. “Well, they’re my pupils. Been knocking their heads together for a
while now. They’re good, but Layne’s patient, and Ash… well, he’s still learning patience,” she said,
watching as Ash threw himself forward, barely giving himself a second to breathe.
I grinned, watching as Ash conjured another dagger midair and tossed it toward Layne. "How is he
doing that with the daggers?"
Lyra nodded toward him. “Ash is conjuring them. Makes ’em from his own mana, then adds that
lightning enchantment. Looks impressive, but it drains him fast—especially when he’s tossing them
around like that.”
Ash lunged forward again, eyes blazing with determination as he sent a flurry of strikes toward Layne.
But Layne waited, sidestepping at the last second and sweeping his spear low. In a single smooth
motion, he knocked Ash’s legs out from under him, sending him to the ground, the daggers vanishing
midair as he fell, their purple lightning fading as they disintegrated.
Layne laughed, extending a hand to his brother. “What is it now, 500 to zero?”
Ash groaned, grabbing his hand as he pulled himself up. “Four hundred eighty-nine.”
Layne shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re not actually keeping count, are you?”
Lyra smirked, glancing at me. “See what I mean? He always rushes in, and Layne just waits him out.”
I nodded, still watching the brothers with fascination. Seeing magic used like this, watching the daggers
spark in midair and vanish as if they’d never existed, left me wondering—what else could magic do?
As soon as Ash spotted Lyra, his eyes lit up, and he dashed over to her, a grin spreading across his
face. “Teach!” he called, skidding to a stop just in front of her.
Lyra raised an eyebrow, then promptly tapped him on the head. “Ever heard of a plan, or is jumping in
all you got?”
Ash just grinned wider, rubbing his head before suddenly conjuring a sleek black dagger out of thin air.
He twirled it between his fingers, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I’ve got a plan…” In one smooth
move, he angled the dagger toward Lyra’s throat, the tip hovering just inches away. “Attack!”
Lyra didn’t even flinch. She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. “And that,” she said, “is
exactly why you keep ending up on the ground.”
Layne approached with a calm nod, then gave a small, respectful bow. “Good afternoon, Lyra.”
Lyra looked at both of them with mock disapproval, but a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I
don’t know what I’m gonna do with you two,” she said, shaking her head before nodding toward me.
“Boys, this is Aria. I’m training her now too.”
The contrast between the brothers struck me immediately. Layne carried himself with the practiced
poise of nobility, while Ash seemed to shrink under that same weight.
"Layne, first-born son of Noboru, of the Sakamoto family," Layne introduced himself with a measured
smile, every word carefully chosen.
I managed a small nod, my cheeks warming. Ash stepped forward, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.
"I'm... uh, Ash," he stammered, shooting a quick glance at his brother before looking back at me.
"Second son," he added quietly, following it with a nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Layne glanced at Lyra, his eyebrow raised with a hint of admiration. “You’re instructing even more
now? They keep you busy.”
“Busy’s an understatement,” Lyra said with a smirk. “But at least Aria here listens better than you two.”
Unable to meet Ash’s gaze, I looked down, focusing intently on a stray pebble by my foot, hoping the
ground would just swallow me up.
Layne raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Maybe Aria would like a tour of the castle?”
Before I could respond, Layne suddenly winced, bringing a hand to his temple as his face tensed for a
moment.
Lyra looked at him, a hint of concern flashing across her face. “You alright, Layne?”
Layne straightened, taking a quick, steadying breath before lowering his hand. “Yeah, just a bit of a
headache. Nothing to worry about.”
Ash grinned, glancing at me. “So, what do you say? I’ll give you the grand tour,” he offered, clearly
eager.
I looked up, feeling my cheeks heat up even more. I glanced at Lyra, silently pleading for her to save
me from the thought of stumbling around the grand halls of the castle with Layne’s noble formality and Ash’s awkward grins.
Lyra chuckled, catching my silent plea. “Sorry, boys, we’ve got plans already,” she said, placing a
reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Maybe next time.”
As we turned to leave, Layne gave a small bow. “It was a pleasure, Aria. Hope to see you around,” he
said warmly, with a polite smile.
Ash gave me a quick wave. “Yeah, see ya, Aria!”
I managed a small wave back, still feeling the lingering warmth in my cheeks as we walked away.
Lyra gave me a sidelong glance, a smirk forming on her face. “What was that, huh?” she teased. “You
looked like you were about to bolt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone blush so hard from just a
‘hello.’”
“I… I wasn’t blushing.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes with a laugh. “Just turning into a tomato for no reason
at all. And that little look down at your feet? Bonus points for that one!”
I huffed, crossing my arms. "Fine, enough already..." Even back home, I'd never handled attention well.
Meeting new people always tied my tongue in knots, and apparently that hadn't changed here either.
Lyra just laughed, nudging me as we walked. "Let's just get you to the baths. Maybe some hot water
will calm down all that fluster."Lyra just laughed, nudging me as we walked. “Let’s just get you to the
baths. Maybe some hot water will calm down all that fluster.”
We made our way through the bustling city streets, the noise a steady hum that filled the air. Lyra kept
a We made our way through the busy streets, Lyra leading confidently while I stayed close behind. The
familiar anxiety of crowds pressed in, but I focused on following her steady steps.
Up ahead was a raised podium, where a man with a booming voice was calling out prices. Beneath
him, chained and standing in a row, were children, dressed in plain, worn clothing, their eyes wide with
fear. Each looked… different, with features I couldn’t recognize or explain. Some had pointed ears,
others small scales on their skin, or tails swaying nervously.
A prickling anger rose in my chest. I looked up at Lyra. “What… what’s going on?”
She sighed, her expression darkening as she glanced over at the podium. “It’s an old tradition,” she
replied, her voice low. “There are many races out there—elves, beastfolk, orcs, you name it. Thing is,
none of ’em really get along. Us humans… we’re the majority.” She paused as the crowd around the
podium broke into loud cheers, the auctioneer’s voice rising above the noise as he called for higher
bids. Lyra’s mouth tightened as she waited for the commotion to settle.
After a moment, she continued, “After the last war with the beastfolk, they brought in a new ‘King of
Ares,’ though… he’s a bit of an oaf if you ask me. Not like the last king—who, well, didn’t exactly leave
the throne by choice. Still, rumor is he’s trying to get rid of practices like this.”
I turned back to the podium, watching as the auctioneer shouted numbers to the crowd, faces eager
with anticipation. The sight made my stomach twist. It felt wrong, seeing them up there, scared and
helpless, with people bidding on them like objects. What could I possibly do?
A dark shape caught the corner of my eye—a shadow, a figure watching from behind a stall, lurking. I
blinked, and it was gone, leaving just the shifting crowd in its place. Then I saw another—a quick
movement slipping into an alleyway just as I looked up.
The noise, the crowd, the faces all around me—it pressed in, too close, too much. A prickling unease
crept up my spine as I glanced at Lyra. “Maybe we should go,” I suggested quietly.
Lyra looked at me, then gave a slight nod. “Good idea. Let’s get going.”
Leaving the crowded market, we made our way through the winding streets until we reached the baths.
The large stone building was quiet, with steam rising from within, a gentle warmth radiating out to meet
us. I tried to push away the unsettling sights from the podium and those shadows, knowing I had a
different kind of challenge ahead: a public bath.