***
Sevra twirled the strand of hair around in her finger, absently giving it a gentle tug as she poured over another tome, Fundamentals of Natural State Energy. The silver lock distracted her. Thankfully that spot she tore away in her fit a few months ago did grow back, but the dark sheen had vanished and was replaced by a snowy white. She liked it, the lightness added a nice contrast.
Returning her full attention to the book, she learned a trick recently that let her read much faster than she was previously able. With a little practice she could now devour nearly an entire paragraph in a single glance. The secret was to see the whole page at once and let her mind go to work on it, not waste time looking over each word. She was devising new strategies for learning almost daily.
All of her studies advanced quickly since her episode; once she recovered and had time to reflect, she felt a renewed sense of vigor and empowerment. She was stronger for having gone through it, and attacked her training with a strong sense of purpose.
Uncle Yuley stayed with her for a few weeks, and she was glad for the time she could spend with him, but also happy to have her daily routine restored. Bernard finally stopped watching her so closely, and began to treat her once again with the stern demeanor to which she had grown accustomed. He tried to hide it, but his concern had been overwhelming to the point where she felt he was treating her like a toddler.
Despite fully recovering, she continued to have nightmares daily. She didn’t tell Master Bernard about those, afraid he might stop her training again. In every dream she would find herself in a hall with a wooden door blocking her way. Eventually she would budge it open enough to see an old man’s face, the one who died in the infirmary when she was sick. He would stare at her, accusatorily. The decomposing skin on his face was mostly rotted away, exposing bone and muscle in places.
This is what you’ve done to me, what you will do to everyone you love.
Sevra sat up with a gasp, not realizing she had fallen asleep with her nose buried in the book. She couldn’t have been asleep long, the nightmare coming on quickly. Her stomach felt queasy, there was a rotting scent from the dream still lingering in her memory. She promptly leaned over and vomited. Usually the bad dream didn’t stay with her for this long, though the shaky feeling did begin to slowly fade as she lay there.
Thoroughly miserable, she cleaned up the mess and realized it was time for her next lesson with Master Bernard. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep for a few more hours, but didn’t want to let on that she wasn’t feeling well. Finally back to her normal routine, she didn’t want anything to interrupt her again. It was just a mild upset stomach. The only reason she felt off color was because the dream was so realistic, otherwise she was fine. Of course she was.
She hurried off to the courtyard, where Master Bernard likely already waited for her. She was only late for a lesson one time before, and spent the rest of the night copying parchments that were falling to pieces. Bernard said she could rest easy knowing future generations would share in the joy of obscure texts no one had looked at in a hundred years, and probably wouldn’t look at for a hundred more. Remembering the soreness in her wrist, she didn’t want to repeat that particular punishment.
The courtyard was her favorite place to take lessons; trees and hedges were carefully arranged in circles along short stairways. Each one had privacy without seclusion, giving the appearance of a small outdoor room. Two more classes were going on in other sections, while Master Bernard waited for her in one of the far corners.
“Just in time,” Bernard said, “I was beginning to think you were growing tired of our work.”
“No, Master Bernard, I’m here,” she answered.
“Good, today’s lesson then, is about control,” he continued. He held his arm out, and with a fluid motion turned his hand palm upward. An inch above it, a small red sphere appeared.
“You see, when you have control, your ability to concentrate improves, and you can devote your full attention to many actions at once – like me having this conversation and maintaining this orb.”
Sevra watched, noting the difficulty of what Master Bernard was doing. Many of the magi here would be sweating with their eyes clenched in concentration while just trying to keep the orb sustained.
“This orb,” he said slowly, “contrary to conventional wisdom, is red because it isn’t very hot. Only about three times the heat necessary to boil water or so… Now I can pull more energy into it, and it will change color. Of course, this takes more effort.”
The orb slowly changed in color from red, to orange, then white and blue. Sevra took a step back from the heat pouring out of it.
“When you have discipline, more options are available to you, and you never know when an extra option may save your life,” Master Bernard stated. Another orb sprang up from his other hand, increasing in intensity until it matched the first one in color.
“Have you ever created one of these before?” Master Bernard asked.
She shook her head, indicating she hadn’t.
“I’ll start over. Embrace the spirits and pay attention,” he instructed.
Doing as told she cleared her thoughts and ignored her senses, allowing her mind to float freely. This part was never difficult for her, the spirits were always there. Keeping them away seemed to take more effort.
“Good,” Bernard said.
She paid close attention as he siphoned some of the energy from everything around him – some of his own aura, the trees, plants, even some of her own. She felt a slight chill as he did so.
“Be careful not to take too much from any one source,” he said, going slowly through the process so she could see each nuance. “If you do…”
A rose bush along their border withered to brown, the flower drooping and falling off.
The collective energy swirled to a point, slowly building, then spinning ever faster.
“The motion creates the initial heat,” he said, “now if you seal it off properly, it will continue to accumulate. Do things correctly, and you won’t tire yourself out as fast. Give it a try.”
This was the first time she had been shown how to do anything that gave a physical result – the butterflies in her stomach added to her nausea, bringing some bile into her throat. She swallowed it back down with a grimace.
It didn’t look very difficult, and she began to pull small filaments from the surrounding environment in towards a ball above her hand. They drew together clumsily, bouncing off each other like trying to force two magnets together. At every moment the ball threatened to unravel, each strand bouncing outward under its own internal force. It fell apart, dissipating to nothing once again. It ended in the same result five times in a row.
Master Bernard watched impassively, studying her technique, occasionally frowning. She took to it once again, even though she thought she might have a better chance at sewing a sweater while holding the needles with her feet.
Stop placing strands next to each other that flow in the same direction, she heard. A little less force. Just guide, let it do the work.
She continued on, with a little more success than the last attempt thanks to the advice. It became easier, with each subtle movement of her hand critiqued and corrected. Soon she had a small red ball in her hand, if only for a moment. She let out an excited giggle once she succeeded, causing it to wink out.
“I did it!” she exclaimed, accentuated with an excited bounce of her feet.
“Yes, you did,” Bernard said, if a little slowly. He seemed genuinely surprised, though he tried to hide it. She began to think he doubted she would succeed.
She started to make another attempt but was interrupted. “No, no that’s enough for today, Sevra,” Master Bernard said. “You might not feel it right this moment but that probably tired you out a good deal. Go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon as free time. Don’t do this outside of my supervision. I don�
�t want you catching your room on fire, or worse.”
“Okay,” she said, wanting to argue to stay a little longer but thinking twice about it.
“Thanks for the advice,” she called back as she walked away. Without the help, she knew there was no way she could have made the sphere on her own.
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