Interlude A1.IX

Seven Years Ago...

Magdalena watched as the demon—the dark specter—approached from the forest’s edge.

It moved like a shadow given life, slithering across the snow-covered ground, its form twisting and curling in ways that made her skin crawl. The winter morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came after a fresh snowfall, and the air felt sharp and cold against her cheeks. Having woken earlier than the other children, she convinced her mother to take a stroll with her around the grounds of Soulgrave House. The manor loomed behind them, its dark stones mirroring the shadowy creature’s impression against the white and gray backdrop of winter. She could hear her mother’s breath behind her, calm and steady, as she sat in her wheeled chair, a bundle of nerves tightening in her chest. The Testing was today, and she hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined what could go wrong, what would happen if she failed.

“What do you see, Magpie?” her mother asked, her voice soft and smooth, like the snowflakes that still drifted lazily from the gray sky above. Her mother’s breath tickled the back of her ear as she leaned forward against the back of Magdalena’s chair.

“A Maldrath,” Magdalena replied, her voice barely a whisper as she stared at the creature. It had the shape of a person, but it was all wrong—too thin, too tall, with long, spindly limbs that seemed to stretch and snap back like elastic. Its skin was black as night, and its eyes were two glowing yellow orbs.

“And what is a Maldrath?” her mother asked, as though they were discussing something simple, like a flower or a cloud, not a monster creeping closer by the second.

“Maldrath are… they’re products of miasma. Miasma is corrupted aether,” Magdalena explained, her eyes locked on the creature. It moved in jerks and starts, like it wasn’t used to its own body, but there was something horribly deliberate about it. It had noticed their presence and continued to lurch closer to them. As it neared, something other than the cold in the air seemed to sting her skin and freeze her in place.

“Good.” Her mother’s voice was warm, reassuring. “And what does Maldrath mean?”

Magdalena racked her brain, searching for the answer. “It has something to do with the Morduin Order. . .” She thought of the strange, masked priests. “But I don’t remember.”

“You were on the correct path. Maldrath is indeed from the ancient Morduu tongue. It means Malevolent Tide.” Her mother squeezed her shoulders in an encouraging manner. “Now, tell me, what are the three ways of destroying a Maldrath?”

“The first is with magic,” Magdalena said quickly. That was easy. Everyone knew that Soulsingers could use their aura to destroy Maldrath. “And the second is with magical Artifacts—items and weapons that are invested with magic can hurt them. Like your sword.”

“Correct.” Her mother’s tone was encouraging, but Magdalena could feel the unspoken pressure in the air. There was one more way. She knew there was. But what was it?

She racked her brain, but the answer slipped away every time she thought she had it. Her heart started to race as the Maldrath came closer. Its inky black skin began to ripple and tear, the boiling edges of shadow distorting. The inky surface of its skin parted, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth in a mouth that was far too wide for the human-like frame. It was close enough now that she could see the fine details of its body, the way the darkness of its form seemed to absorb all the light around it, making the snowy ground look gray and dull by comparison.

Magdalena’s hands gripped the arms of her chair, her breath quickening. Why couldn’t she remember? What was the third way?

The creature was almost upon them now, its mouth gaping wide, ready to devour her. The sight of those teeth, glistening like polished onyx, made her stomach churn with fear. She could feel her mother standing calmly behind her, not moving, not doing anything to stop the creature. Why wasn’t she doing anything? Why wasn’t she saving her? Magdalena flinched.

“Somnyx!” Magdalena finally gasped, the word bursting from her lips like a prayer. Her whole body shook with relief as she finally remembered. “You can destroy them with Somnyx!”

She could almost feel her mother’s smile behind her. “Good.”

Just as the Maldrath was about to pounce, her mother calmly stepped forward, placing herself between the creature and her daughter. A gigantic blade was strapped to her back, a weapon so large that it should have been impossible for anyone to wield. The blade was jet black, its surface so dark it seemed to drink in the light, just like the Maldrath. Her mother reached to her side, and in an instant, the blade was in her hand, as though it had always been there, as though it weighed nothing at all.

Mithra. The name of the blade whispered through Magdalena’s mind as she watched, wide-eyed, as her mother raised it high. The sword was a cruel tower of metal, taller than her mother, who was already taller than most people Magdalena knew. But her mother held it in one hand as if it were no heavier than a feather.

With a casual, almost effortless movement, her mother brought the blade down on the Maldrath. The creature didn’t even have time to scream. The sword cut through its body like it was made of smoke, and the Maldrath dissolved into a cloud of black sand that scattered on an invisible wind, mixing with the falling snowflakes before disappearing entirely.

Magdalena’s breath came out in a shaky gasp. She looked up at her mother, who turned to her with a smile. She was so beautiful, Magdalena thought, with her smooth, dark skin and long, flowing raven hair that almost looked blue in the morning light. Her eyes were a crystalline blue, glowing faintly, the color of the coldest ice. There was no one in the world stronger than her mother. No one as perfect. I wish I could be perfect too, Magdalena thought.

“We should be getting back inside now,” her mother said, her voice gentle as she looked down at her. In a blink, Mithra vanished from her grasp, reappearing on her back. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

Magdalena nodded, still staring up at her mother in awe. As her mother turned to lead them back to Soulgrave House, Magdalena couldn’t help but think of the Testing and what it would mean. She wanted to be strong like her mother. She wanted to be perfect, too.

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Magdalena’s mother wheeled her into the central courtyard of Soulgrave House, her chair cutting soft tracks into the fresh snow. The garden, usually so vibrant with life, was now frozen over, the trees bare and skeletal against the pale morning sky. The fountain, once the centerpiece of the courtyard, was still and silent, its water frozen into a thick, opaque sheet of ice. Even the air felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

She felt her father’s gaze before she saw him. High above, on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, he stood like a statue, his face expressionless, his eyes cold and piercing as they followed her every move. His deep frown was ever-present, a shadow that loomed over her even from a distance. He was there to watch the Testing, just as he had been there for every other trial and obstacle he had manufactured for her and the other children, and the weight of his expectations pressed down on her like the weight of the world.

In the center of the courtyard stood the representatives from the Morduin Order. The presence of the foreign priests was as unsettling as it was familiar. The Morduu were the same as always—though Magdalena was never entirely sure if it was truly the same two people every time. They were both clad head to toe in white cloaks and robes, obscuring much of their physical features aside from shape and outline. Their faces were hidden behind masks. The shorter one was round and stout, with a red mask that bore a semi-human, semi-bestial face, shaped into a twisted, grinning expression, as though the joy it depicted was painful. The taller one was spindly and thin, their black mask shaped into a gruesome frown. The taller Morduu held a small wooden box in their bony hands, its lid closed with a delicate latch.

The other children were already there, standing in a line. Adrijan and Antonela, the Olenish twins, stood together, their hands clasped tightly as if drawing strength from one another. Qiang, the Laanian boy, stood apart from them, his expression serene, almost bored. They were all dressed in the same white tunics and trousers as Magdalena, their breath fogging in the cold air. None of them wore their winter coats—not being part of the traditional clothing for this ceremony.

Magdalena’s mother pushed her forward, the wheels of her chair crunching softly over the snow, until she was beside Qiang. The other children glanced at her, but said nothing. Magdalena’s heart raced, each beat echoing in her ears. The anticipation was suffocating.

The shorter Morduu stepped forward, speaking. “This morning, we shall assess the potential of each child’s soul,” they began, their voice echoing through the courtyard. Their voice was smooth and honeyed, and a chorus of whispers echoed beneath their words. The effect sent chills down Magdalena’s spine. “This assessment will also trigger an early Awakening, while also revealing the type of Awakening each of you have undergone in the process.”

The taller Morduu clicked open the wooden box, revealing a glass orb, no larger than his mother’s fist. It was clear, unremarkable, like a simple bauble. Magdalena frowned, wondering how something so ordinary-looking could hold the power they claimed. Despite years of preparation, neither of her parents had provided the children with details on what the Testing would actually entail.

The shorter Morduu continued, “This is a Celestial Treasure, a Reverse Mana Orb. It will tap into your naturally occurring mana and quickly diminish it. The stress of being brought to near zero should trigger an Awakening, revealing your potential. Simply place your hand on the orb, and focus all of your will onto it.” The red mask turned towards the children. “May the first child please approach.”

Adrijan was the first to step forward, his movements stiff with tension. He placed his hand on the orb, his brow furrowed in concentration. Magdalena realized that the instructions—to focus their intent and will onto the Reverse Mana Orb—was a similar exercise to the various meditations her mother ran the children through between their lessons and training. A moment passed, and then Adrijan grimaced, his body convulsing slightly as if the orb were drawing something out of him. Magdalena watched as the orb filled with threads of golden light, the delicate strands forming into a single leaf. The leaf crumbled into gold dust, which spun into a tiny tornado before vanishing. The orb returned to its empty state, and Adrijan dropped to one knee, panting heavily.

Antonela started to run to her brother’s side, but the tall Morduu extended a hand, halting her in her tracks. “You have a Diamond Soul,” the shorter Morduu declared, their voice ringing out. “You have affinities with the Roots of Air and Wood. You are an Evoker.”

Adrijan grinned despite his exhaustion, standing tall as he returned to the line. Antonela gave him a quick, encouraging smile before stepping forward to take her turn. The process repeated itself, but this time, the orb dulled, filling with darkness that crusted over in a shell of stone. The stone crumbled away, revealing the clear orb once more.

“You have a Diamond Soul,” the Morduu announced. “You have affinities with the Roots of Shadow and Stone. You are a Bonesinger.”

Antonela beamed, her smile a mirror of her brother’s as she took her place beside him.

Next was Qiang. He approached the orb with a calm, almost casual stride, his hand extending towards it without hesitation. The orb reacted before his fingers even touched its surface. The snow around it rose in a sudden flurry, the flakes hanging in the air, suspended in time. The orb filled with inky black liquid, which swirled into the center before bursting into a brilliant ball of light, like a miniature star. And then, just as quickly, it was over, the orb returning to its clear, mundane state.

“An Ascendant Soul,” the Morduu proclaimed, their voice tinged with something that almost sounded like awe. “You have affinities with the Roots of Ice, Shadow, and the Heavenly Bodies. You are an Evoker and a Conjurer.”

Qiang smiled smugly as he returned to the line, his confidence clear in every step.

Magdalena’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized it was her turn. She felt her mother’s hand on the back of her chair, ready to push her forward, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to be wheeled to the orb. She wanted to face the Testing just like the others. She felt strong today, stronger than she had in a long time. And for that, she was grateful.

With a deep breath, Magdalena pushed off the armrests of her chair, her legs trembling as she tried to stand. The ground felt unstable beneath her, her legs weak and unsteady. For a moment, she thought she would fall, but she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay upright. She took one step, then another, each movement a battle against her own body. The pain was excruciating. She glanced up at her father, but his face remained impassive, his gaze cold and distant.

Finally, she reached the orb. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch its glass-like surface, the coolness of the orb sending a shiver down her spine. She held her breath, waiting for the orb to take hold of her soul, to draw out her mana and reveal her potential.

But nothing happened.

The courtyard was silent, the cold air biting at her skin. She waited, her heart pounding in her ears, but the orb remained clear, unresponsive. She focused harder on the orb. Another heartbeat passed, and then another. Still, nothing.

Magdalena’s chest tightened as panic began to creep in. Why wasn’t anything happening? Why wasn’t the orb reacting?

The shorter Morduu finally broke the silence, their voice cold and unfeeling. “Sorry child, you have a dull soul. A dead soul. No latency for Soulsinging. No ability to access Yggdrasil . . . No magic.”

No magic. The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. No magic. No potential. She wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t anything.

She felt her legs give out beneath her, but before she could fall, her mother was there, catching her, lowering her gently back into the chair. Magdalena stared down at her hands, her vision blurred with tears. She had failed. She had failed the Testing, failed her family, failed herself.

And her father… she didn’t have to look up to know what his expression would be. He wouldn’t even acknowledge her. She was nothing to him now. Nothing but a disappointment. In a single moment, her entire world shattered.