Chapter 52 - Abnegation

Clovis sits heavily in the chair at her workbench, the stained towel still resting in her lap. 

The initial, feverish excitement of her breakthrough has cooled, leaving behind a deep, thoughtful stillness. 

My own mind is still racing, trying to assemble the scattered pieces of our shared theories into a coherent picture.

“So let me get this right, we believe there are three different types of mana?” I begin, thinking aloud. 

“One that responds to a person’s will and is what we believe to be similar to our yet undiscovered ambient mana, a second type that responds to emotion, then a third unknown type that potentially feeds on other types of mana.”

Clovis nods along. “Yes, that sounds right to me.”

“And the corrupted stones,” I continue, “they’re saturated with the third type. They’ve been transformed from the first type into the third type. We’re recategorizing my idea about mana sickness into this new type of mana based on what we have observed?”

“You’ve got it, I’ll be sure to write all of this down when you leave for the day. We have a theory. A good one. But that’s all it is. We have no way to test it further.” Her words pop the bubble of our joint excitement. 

She’s right. Our last experiment ended with her bleeding from her eyes. Pushing these two forces together seems like a guaranteed path to self-destruction. 

We’re stuck.

I lean against the workbench, the rough wood digging into my palms. 

I know there is something we haven’t tried yet but I am scared that if I suggest it to Clovis she’ll be too caught up in the moment to consider the consequences.

Even though the answer feels tantalizingly close, I worry that if we push it further one of us could end up hurt. I can’t let Clovis take that risk, she’s too important.

“Can I have a cup of water please?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the idea permeating in my head.

“Yeah of course help yourself, the basin is out there somewhere I’ll come with you.” Clovis replies cheerfully.

 “Do you have any other ideas, Shikara?” She says as she grabs a mug for me. 

“Sort of yes…” I can’t lie to her, she’ll realise it too, all too soon.

“Ok let’s hear it.” She puts her hand out as if to say the floor is mine.

“It’s just an idea, I don’t want you to feel like you have to test it straight away if you don’t want to.” I keep a cautious and open tone in my voice in hopes Clovis understands how worried I am about her.

“That’s very kind of you but I think I will be alright.” Her eyebrow slopes up as if she thinks I’m underestimating her.

“Ok well, given the fact that we believe emotional mana exists. What if it gives us a different reaction when we force it to collide with the corrupted mana stones. We haven’t tried it yet and it might give us an idea of what to experiment with next.” I blurt out my idea and wait to gauge her reaction. 

I watch Clovis’s face as she processes the suggestion. I see the flicker of intellectual curiosity. But I also see a shadow pass through her eyes.

Her eyes have already bled. The reaction this time could be much worse since the cost is so personal. 

“Sorry, you’re right, it’s too dangerous.” She finally concludes with a serious demeanour. “We don’t know what could happen. I don’t think I can afford to risk my ability to cast incantations.”

She looks away from me. I know what she’s weighing. The academic thirst for knowledge against the primal instinct for self-preservation. 

She is this village's healer, but she was once a student herself, eager to learn. 

To leave such a question unanswered… it must feel like she is going against her very nature. For a long moment, she just stands looking out the window sipping on her water. 

“I think I have to do it, if I don’t we won’t be able to move past it.” She places down her mug and storms back into the study.

As I enter she is taking a few deep breaths, her hands opening and closing at her sides. I can see the slight tremor in her fingers. 

She’s scared. 

And seeing her fear makes my own stomach twist with guilt. This is my idea. If something goes wrong, it’s my fault. 

I should stop her.

But I can’t, my own intellectual lust has taken a hold of me. 

“I’m not going to try to do anything complex.” she says, more to herself than to me. “Just a simple, stable spell. Something that enhances skin durability. Although it's a lengthy incantation it isn’t very taxing on the body, which will give us more time to observe the reaction.”

She closes her eyes, her posture shifting. She becomes still, gathering her focus, building the emotional foundation for the spell. 

My eyes naturally dart between Clovis and the stone as every nerve in my body is on high alert.

She begins to chant, her voice steady as a melodic river of words stream from her mouth.

"This skin I wear, a mortal shield, the first to break, the first to yield. The fragile line of silk and thread, that holds the living from the dead. I know its warmth, I know its make, how easily its strength can break…”

A soft, silvery light begins to coalesce around the corrupted stone on the workbench but the stone itself remains dark, inert. Despite the spell forming. 

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is a dead end.

She continues, her voice gaining power and conviction. “"I remember an ancient oak, which bears the storm through its cloak. I call to mind the mountain stone, whose silent strength is never known…” 

The silver light around the stone is growing brighter, casting it in a beautiful shimmering aura.

A sudden, acute intake of breath. 

Clovis’s voice cuts off mid-word. 

Her eyes fly open, wide with shock and pain. Her hand clutches at her chest, trying to pull its way through the fabric of her tunic.

Her entire body convulses, as a tight shuddering spasm makes her stagger back a step.

A cough, wet and ragged, rips from her throat. She doubles over, and a small spray of blood spatters against the clean wood of the workbench.

The silver light of the incantation has vanished plunging the room back into quiet lantern-lit gloom. 

Clovis remains hunched over, her shoulders heaving as she gasps for air. The experiment is over. 

Before I can comprehend the reaction I am down by her side checking she’s still alive. Feeling unfathomably guilty that I put her through another round of torture.

The only thing that has been proven with sickening clarity is that these different types of mana cannot, under any circumstances, come together.

Clovis finally straightens up, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face is pale, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. 

“We should… rest.” she rasps, her voice hoarse. “Let’s rest for now.”

I can only nod, my own voice lost somewhere in my throat. 

I help her to her cot, fetching her a clean cloth and a cup of water. 

I debate whether to stay at her side or retreat to my own bed. I need to be there for Orville but I also need to be here in case there is any further reaction.

I ultimately decide that Orville’s condition is known to be delicate whereas Clovis’s seems to be stable. 

I see myself out after making sure she’s settled. 

The walk back to Orville’s house is a blur. 

The cool night air does nothing to clear the image of blood on the workbench from my mind. 

We’re standing on the edge of a discovery, but the ground beneath our feet is crumbling.