Page 79 of The Awakening of Essensia

18

Legacy

Vaelira emerged from the tunnel into a forgotten storage room off the refectory, her palms sweaty and heart racing, unsure if she would return.

She had.

She slipped away after curfew most nights, blowing out the slowly shrinking candle on her nightstand before hurrying back through the secret passage to train with Galfri. No one had caught her yet.

A few weeks passed and her days had settled into a rhythm. Mornings were spent on sparring and drills, and afternoons were split between patrols and lectures. Ressa had stopped asking questions, and she seemed more distant now, but at least she and Fang had started speaking to Vaelira again. It was something.

She still patrolled, though the routes had changed since Erryn had them reassigned. Now they rotated through different districts each day, covering the whole of Old Town throughout the week. They hadn’t run into much trouble, only having to break up a tavern fight or two, and that had proved relatively simple. One glance at the Royal Crest pinned at Erryn’s cloak and people resolved their issues with impressive speed.

Even if the lack of summoning activity didn’t bother her, something else did. She hadn’t heard from Elijah. Not once.

She decided he’d regretted their kiss, or perhaps not even thought about it since. He was the Crown Prince of Caerthalyn after all. He had court obligations, scheming lords, and a thousand other things demanding his attention. Beyond needing her to find relics, she was clearly nothing to him. Just a recruit from an outer town.

She’d had no plans to pursue him. Any future she’d once imagined had crumbled the moment she found out who he truly was. The moment she found out their meeting had been tainted by a lie. Even so, knowing that their kiss had meant nothing to him made her feel used.

Vaelira walked the frigid mage tunnel in silence, her hand outstretched, a small flame cupped in her palm. She could make it larger now, had done so once or twice, but holding it steady left her lightheaded and off balance. Galfri had said essensia took a toll on the body, but like any muscle, it could be trained. Soon, she would be strong enough to light the tunnel fully and run its length. She just needed more practice.

Her fingers trailed the damp stone wall. In those first nights, when the flame had sputtered out before the halfway mark, she’d relied on touch alone to guide her. Now it was a habit, a ritual, almost. It helped her focus and keep the rest of her thoughts at bay.

The tunnel sloped upwards and Vaelira reached a dead end. She placed her hand on the cool stone above. The flame winked out, replaced by the familiar prickling hum over her skin. The stone warmed beneath her palm and the rock groaned and slid open.

Vaelira climbed into the storage room and unlocked the door using the cast Galfri had taught her. She crept through the quiet halls, slipping deeper into the heart of the mountain. She reached another hidden entrance, secreted deep behind rows of shelves, and stepped into the torchlit chamber.

The floors, walls and ceiling were all the same uneven mountain rock, and large rusted iron braziers encircling the room cast everything in endless shifting light. This was where mages once stood. Where they had honed their battle skills and trained to protect the very people who would one day hunt them.

Seated at the edge of the room was Galfri, a book open on his lap. He looked up and placed the book on the bench beside him. “Welcome back,” he said, stepping into the centre of the room. “Are you still able to hold your flame through the passage?”

She nodded.

“Then you are ready to proceed to the next step.” He raised his hand, conjuring a flame. With a twist of his wrist, fire engulfed his hand. He let it dance along his skin for a moment, then whipped his hand outwards. The fire launched across the room and slammed into the wall, vanishing on impact. All that remained was a cracked black mark on the stone.

Vaelira’s brows lifted.

“You have the strength for it,” he said, slightly breathless, “you just don’t trust it yet.”

“That can kill a demon?”

“It depends on the demon.”

“And summoners?” she asked. “Do they have essensia?”

Galfri’s expression darkened. “Not their own. They rely on relics. Ordinary objects imbued with dark essensia. Someone else did the work of binding power into them long ago.” He paused. “All it takes to activate one is a few spoken words and blood. Always blood.”

The thought turned her stomach. Using blood to call forth the very things that slaughtered innocents. And to what end?

“Have you been practicing your breathwork?” Galfri asked.

When summoning new essensia, breathwork helped clear the mind and steady the heart. Galfri had said that once she succeeded in producing a new manifestation, she would be able to summon it again without significant effort, but the larger the manifestation, the more mental effort it would require that first time. Until now, she hadn’t followed through with the breath work practice, at least not fully. She’d been too eager to summon the flame and watch it shimmer in her palm, and every time she tried to clear her mind and focus on her breath, dark images had emerged, throwing her from that momentary state of mental composure and leaving her curled on her side sobbing. She hadn’t been keen to try it again.

When she didn’t answer, Galfri’s expression softened. “I understand the hesitation, but to truly master the full potential of your essensia you must face those dark parts of yourself. If left suppressed, they will fester and it will only become harder to manifest your power.”

“I see him. Every time I try, I see Jon.”

Galfri nodded slowly. “You must face him, Vaelira. Do not turn away.”