Viria struggled to keep the blade’s shape even as she molded it. No. That wasn’t quite right. She was trying to maintain its properties, not its shape. Those were two very different things.

A blade was sharp. It cut. That was its purpose: there was nothing that dictated it must be stiff, or hard, or even hold its form. Common sense perhaps, but then– magic was something that directly opposed the very notion.

Of all the exercises taught by Veile, this was by far the most difficult– and the most illuminating. Magic was not bound by shape or purpose, but by will. To bind it to something so concrete was to cripple it.

“You seem more confident.”

Her fragile concentration shattered at Valandor’s off-handed observation. The glowing construct dissolved into formless essence, bleeding away into the world around them.

The old elf only chuckled as she glared at him, having no doubt interrupted on purpose. “Yes, I realize that you’re practicing something new. I thought it best to offer my assistance in learning to keep your focus.”

Viria huffed, but couldn’t keep the smile from her face. For all his… unusual mannerisms, Valandor had proven good on his word. He had become a confidant, if not a close friend– and if not the latter, it was certainly something to do with her.

“It still worries me.”

“Why?”

She looked down at her hands; one scarred, the other unblemished. How am I supposed to answer that? “I’ve hurt people before,” she finally said, clenching her scarred palm. “I’d rather not do so again.” A loss of control during their diplomacy mission would be catastrophic.

And there was more to it than just that. Vane would still be alive if not for her. That was something she’d wrestled with ever since his death. Not that she’d ever reached any sort of resolution. The dead couldn’t speak, after all.

“Your uncle went with you willingly.”

Viria frowned. “Don’t you get tired of saying that?” She didn’t bother asking how he knew what she was thinking about.

“No. It’s how he felt.” Valandor glanced meaningfully to the side, where Varial practiced against a training dummy. She was, in many ways, an even stranger addition to their entourage. Older than Viria, but younger than Valandor by more than half– and completely uninvolved in politics.

At first, Viria feared her position here was taking Variel away from whatever life she led prior; but when questioned, the young soldier simply shrugger her shoulders. And pressing the matter seemed not to work– she simply avoided the question.

The three of them made for a rather odd group. The daughter of a fallen Grovetender, a soldier of the nameless war, and someone else completely unrelated.

“She’s waiting for you to ask about her, you know.”

Viria sighed. “Can you read my mind?”

“No. You’re just easy to read.”

“... I thought asking unprompted would be rude.”

Valandor snorted. “What’s she to do, then? Just begin prattling about her past?” And, he said, sighing, “she no doubt thinks your trials and tribulations greater than hers. She won’t speak unless you ask her to.”

“Then I’ll ask her.”

“About that.” The old elf shifted uncomfortably. “I would like to ask for a couple days off. We would like to ask for a couple days off,” he amended, seeing Viria’s look of confusion.

“I don’t mind. I assume it’s something important.” Technically speaking, they were her bodyguards. Despite Valandor’s flippant attitude, she knew it was a duty he did not take lightly.

He nodded. “Aye. That it is.” He took an audible breath, hesitated, then seemed to think better of it. “She’s an orphan. That much is clear, yes?”

Viria nodded in return.

“She wants to visit her home before we leave. Neither of us know what awaits us… or if we’ll be returning. It’s important to her.”

“Do as you please. I will suffice for however long you need. Nor is it my desire to control your lives.” She sighed. “Really, you two take it too seriously at times. My life is certainly not worth both of yours.”

Valandor grinned, then reached out to ruffle her hair. “This is what we signed up for,” he said gently. “I know you’ve not quite grasped the gravity of your position, but this is what it demands.”

Viria batted his hand away. “As for the danger, I suspect this is one of the reasons my sister decided to tutor me. The dark of Umbra, at least, should pose no real danger.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“I can fight in Umbra as long as I need to,” she said, keeping her answer intentionally vague.”

“Reassuring as that is, I’d still prefer to accompany her.”

“Of course. My words weren’t meant to deny you that.”

“Aye. You should ask your sister for temporary replacements.”

“I don’t see her for two more days. And it’s not worth the bother.”

“Still. Surely you know where to find her?”

“I do…” Viria trailed off. “Perhaps you’re right. I could use her help with something else.”

“Oh?”

“Take as much time as you need. I may be gone for longer.”

“What do you have planned?”

She sighed. “Something I’ve been avoiding. Not, not avoiding… I just wasn’t ready for it. But I think I’m ready now.”

“Would you tell me if I asked?”

“I don’t know,” Viria answered honestly.

“Then I’ll save you the trouble of deciding.” The old elf’s voice softened. “It sounds like this is important to you. Best of luck.” His tone was sincere.

“Thank you.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/T7fdvjj.png]

Viria ran one hand over the wall as she walked. Its worn surface had grown smooth with time. At first, she remembered little of this place, but after so much time spent under its roof, fragments of her childhood had begun to return.

Running through these halls with her sister.

A faceless man wearing a long gown guiding her to a bed. A bed with a woman on it. Her face was hazy, as if covered by a layer of murky liquid.

And that was all she remembered.

Viria was certain that the faceless man was her father, and the woman her mother, but she thought little of it. It was difficult to long for something that you hardly remembered.

In some ways, that made it easier.

I wonder if Veile feels the same. That seemed unlikely. Her sister’s claim to knowledge surely trumped the uncertainty of childhood. She filed that question away for later. This visit was already unscheduled. Veile might not reject her, but that made brevity all the more important.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

She stopped short of her sister’s door. And before she could knock–

“Come in.”

Her sister’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

Viria pushed her way in after a moment’s hesitation.

“Ria.” Her sister’s warm voice sounded out as she stepped in. “It’s good to see you. What brings you here?” She sat behind a desk covered in papers. Some were stacked, others were scattered haphazardly.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it.”

“I’d like to return… home.” That word felt strange on her lips. This was her home, in a manner of speaking, but not truly. That moniker was reserved for a different place. She feared, for a moment, that her sister would take offense to it.

But instead, Veile nodded knowingly. “I thought you’d ask sooner.”

“I don’t think I was ready until now.”

“You don’t need my permission to travel as you wish.”

“I know. I gave Valandor and Variel a few days off.”

“Then you should have at least one replacement. I’ll–”

“No,” Viria interrupted, shaking her head. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

“Of course it is.”

“That’s the favor. If your attendant can take me there, I doubt anyone will think to look there. Not after everything. And… I’d prefer to be alone, there, for a few days. At least.”

“I understand,” Veile said consolingly. “What say you, Mara?”

“I can.”

Viria jumped as another voice sounded from behind her. She hadn’t noticed her there.

“But just because I can, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

“Mara.”

“I mean it.”

“And if I order you to do it? I know it’s no real trouble for you.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Mara frowned. “But you shouldn’t. You know that’s not the problem.”

“I’m ordering you to do it.”

The older elf audibly sighed, then stepped forward to grasp Viria’s shoulder.

“The house in Vristala, correct?”

“Hold on. Ria.”

“Yes?”

“That building in Vristala. It’s yours now.” She picked up one of the many papers strewn across her desk. “It’s been cleaned and stocked by trustworthy allies. I know it’s some distance away, but you may always find refuge there.” Veile paused. “Your attendants are trustworthy. I would not trust many others.”

“I understand.”

“For now, I will have Mara bring you there and back. I’ll know when you’re ready.”

“... Thank you.”

“Of course, my dear sister.”

“Vristala?”

Viria nodded– and then stumbled as the ground beneath her feet shifted. It was an odd, unnerving sensation. One moment she was simply there, and then the next moment, somewhere else. The telltale sound of shattering glass was deafening.

The combination was disorienting; she would have fallen, if not for Mara’s strong grip.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice light.

The stern elf simply nodded, then disappeared again.

Viria nearly fell again. How pathetic am I? She straightened, shaking herself to clear the last of it. She recognized where she was before her vision cleared.

It was her home in Vristala; where she’d grown up with Vane. The joy she felt was tainted, though; this was where she’d been apprehended. Still, though, this place was important to her. The good far outweighed the bad.

She stood on the front porch. That was impressive in itself for multiple reasons. Mara had exerted so much power, so accurately– and then presumably, done it again. Where did she find such a capable attendant?

Just another mystery to add to the list.

And it wasn’t as if being here was any more unnerving. Not for fear of harm or death, but for the lack of trees. It felt unnatural to be so bright, for there to be a patch of lifeless grey in the otherwise vivid green.

Viria pushed it aside, just as she pushed her way in. Even that tiny action brought with it a tide of nostalgia. She’d done the same so many times as a child. She hadn’t been as bothered by the landscape, back then.

The house itself was extraordinarily large, no doubt taking advantage of the area’s natural solitude. It had two separate wings, each with two bedrooms and a kitchen to either side of the entrance. She’d half-expected the building to be derelict, but, true to Viria’s words, it was spotless.

Viria twisted her bracelet. She’d already prepared a week’s worth of supplies. Not that she expected to stay that long, but better to be safe. She sighed. It’s not as bad as I thought.

Though just being there still invoked a great deal of emotion, it wasn’t overwhelming like she’d initially feared.

That, in itself, made her uncomfortable, for a reason she couldn’t quite understand. Had she properly grieved Vane’s death, or was she just numb to it? Death seemed to come to many in her life, after all.

There’s no point in worrying about it. Viria pushed the thought away. There were many others that had it worse; even if not Selerim, then Variel. Perhaps Valandor, even. I am thankful. And she was, in a way. She still had a family member left– and one that lover her, at that.

She stepped forward. The two wings were joined by a large, two-floor center. The bottom was a lounge area, and the top was a library. The library itself was rather large, composed of many bookshelves stacked on top of one another; so many, in fact, that they frequently needed a ladder.

Viria stepped up the stairs, taking each one slowly. She ran one hand over the bookshelves as she walked to the end. Three, two, one… there. Her favorite. It was nothing special, written by some nameless author– there were many such stories in this library– but this had captivated her.

Not for story or wit, but for the scale of its dream. That many not have been her lucid thought as a child, but she read it many times, and her uncle always encouraged her to think about things. And that was the conclusion she’d reached after reading it many, many times.

It was, by all means, a rather odd story. A normal story about a normal person in a normal world– without essence.

That, of course, was an impossibility– and precisely why it had captivated her so. It was something so foreign and different that even vocalizing it felt odd. And that feeling was only reinforced after her time in Cress. She’d seen firsthand just how deep the dark of Umbra reached; felt the crushing weight of all the world’s essence.

Viria pulled it from the shelf. She walked to the far corner, sitting down and pulling a blanket from her bracelet. Vane would always scold her when she did this, but his reprimands were always half-hearted.

And so she had spend many nights falling asleep like this, curled up in a corner, only to wake up in her bed.

Well.No chance of that now.

That thought, of all things, was sobering.

The blanket was enough to keep her warm. That in itself was slightly odd. The house always seemed to remain slightly chilly regardless of the weather. That was surprising. Regulators were expensive.

For the first time, she found herself wondering just when Vane had this made. It was obscure, but luxurious, in many senses.

Viria held the book to her chest. It didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep. It was already late, and the blanket’s weight and warmth were comforting.

She was sore when she woke the next day.

No wonder uncle always moved me. She hobbled to the lounge– part of which was covered in a thick leather mat– and shook off the discomfort, warming her body up as she’d learned. It hurt, at first, but the pain was short-lived.

Viria ate a quick, light breakfast in the kitchen area, careful not to make a mess. She was determined to keep this place orderly, and the best way to clean was to avoid being messy in the first place.

She spent that second day going through a variety of stories; not quite reading, but skimming. Vane head read many of them to her, and though bittersweet, she relished those memories.

She spent the second night in one of the guest rooms. One of the ones that neither she nor Vane occupies. She’d considered spending it in her childhood room, of course, but decided she wasn’t quite ready for that. For what reason, she couldn’t quite explain, but she abided nonetheless.

That was saved for the third night.

She spent the fourth night in Vane’s room. That was odd. It made him feel closer, but at the same time very distant. This was somewhere he’d been, and that made him feel close, but at the same time, made his absence feel all the greater. Viria shed many tears that night.

She decided to go back to her room on the fifth night.

On the sixth night, she felt ready to return, but to her surprise, there was no sign of Mara.

The stern elf appeared seventh day. She wordlessly grabbed hold of her hand.

Viria braced herself this time, determined not to stumble. It felt less intense this time; perhaps because she was expecting it.

To her surprise, she found Veile in front of her.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.” She bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I knew you were ready to return earlier, but your attendants took their time– just as you suggested. I thought it would do you some good.”

“It did.” Viria deepened her bow.

“Stop that.”

She straightened.

“Good. With that said, I’m sure you understand your role in the coming days, yes?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Be sure to keep practicing until then.”

“I wll.”