CHAPTER 31

As Avary’s being inside a white void peered through the small window that granted her a limited view of the outside world, she sighed. She was profoundly irritated at her boredom, as the only thing that her vision could grant her was the sight of the room she had been in for almost two years.

She would spend most her time inside of this damned room, she was sick of it. She could recall every little detail of the room her vision had granted her, as she had scanned it thousands upon thousands of times, trying to find something interesting to chase away her boredom.

She had every little detail of the room engraved in her memory in an attempt to escape the boredom this state caused. She had seen the small illustrations on the plinth, she had observed the patterns on the bark of the tree that made up the ceiling and walls, she had looked at every little detail on the floor, she had paid close attention towards the different books sitting in the bookshelf to the right of her, she had cast her gaze upon the frilled bedsheet. She was filled with agony, as she was retracing the observations she had already made a hundred times.

So, as the outside world lacked any means of entertainment, she turned inwards, as she recalled everything that had led up to this point. She felt the memories flow in as they overwhelmed her psyche like a flood, causing her being to flinch in pain as it had difficulty processing all of it. However, despite the pain, one memory stood out, the memory of the day she entered this sorry state. She cringed as she remembered the events that had transpired that day. She had lost almost everything that day, but she knew that what she had retained was paramount to everything she had lost.

She remembered her husband’s judgement, she remembered their escape attempt, their failure in escaping, and she remembered the contract that she forged most of all, as it gave her reassurance that Cyrus would survive this ordeal. She did not know what that god had done, but Cyrus had never been bothered by the Tyrrith family again after that day, and he had been able to live a happy and peaceful life since then.

Each day in this state was agony, as she could only sit in that damned room, and stare at the wall opposite of her. Her body refusing to move her vision even a centimetre in any direction, as it had less intelligence than a slime.

She had only a few moments of respite from this state of anguish, as she would either be taken outside by the servants of the Elrieden household to enjoy the view the forest provided in all of its glory, or she would be visited by her son.

While those trips outside of the house did help her fight the boredom, they did not give her the same feeling of joy and relief as when her son visited her.

She felt great happiness from seeing him sound and sound, but she still felt despair as she was imprisoned in her own body. She was denied the right to experience her son’s growth first-hand, but the stories he told when he visited were enough to put her worries to rest, as he vividly described the adventures he had in and around the Theandor house.

Stories of them exploring the forest around the village, encountering all types of creatures they had read about, and setting a few traps to capture some. He described attempts at hunting that were thwarted by their inexperience, encounters with some of the more powerful forest critters, which would result in the two boys quickly running back towards the safety of their home, and encounters with the smaller and more docile forest critters, which would sometimes still result in them running home, as Cyrus had asked Lyvia multiple times if they could have a pet, only to be turned down with the reasoning that they didn’t have enough space, and that the animal in question was too weak.

Avary was greatly amused as she heard those stories, as she could clearly picture the soft red fur of the fox they had encountered,  she could visibly see its dark pupils, and the gentle swaying of its tail. She could almost follow them through the routes they took as they patrolled the small area around the house, she didn’t doubt that she could make the simple traps they had crafted from Cyrus’ enthusiastic descriptions, and she could clearly envision their reactions as the two boys had encountered their first monster, a giant forest rat. He described it’s grey fur with hints of green with great detail. He seemed to remember even the smallest detail of its body, as he vividly described its green eye colours, it razor sharp and bloodied claws, and its large size.

Avary could clearly picture the scene, as if she had been there herself. She felt the memories and emotions that were attached to the encounter carry over to her as Cyrus explained everything in detail, she could clearly picture the oversized mammal coming out from the foliage, she swore that she could feel its gaze land on her, and she felt the overpowering presence that it carried.

She was frightened yet greatly exhilarated by the story, as every time that Cyrus would visit her and tell one of these stories, she could immerse herself in them, she could feel his emotions, thoughts, and actions clearly, and it gave her great respite from both her boredom and her despair. She felt that every time he came, she would experience his growth and his upbringing, and she would revel in it, as she would feel connected to him, despite her inability to function on a basic level.

However, while she was enjoying his stories, and while she revelled in connection she shared with him, she felt sorrow. She became despondent every time his stories ended, as she was brought back to reality and realized that this connection was a one way street. She could not respond to the stories he told her, she could not share his joy, calm his anxiety, or chase away his loneliness. She could only watch as he poured his heart out every time he visited. She could only find relieve in the realization that this state would not last forever, and she was greatly excited as she heard his stories about his growth.

As Cyrus was telling about the start of his training, Lyvia had supplemented the already interesting story with Cyrus’ insistence on becoming stronger despite his young age. Avary was greatly bemused by this, as she was both proud of her son, and amused by the embarrassed expression Cyrus had formed on his face as Lyvia revealed the little boy’s insistence in front of her.

She enjoyed those moments the most, as she felt that she was truly a part of the conversation, and truly a part of his life.

Those moments were the ones that reinforced her decision time and time again. She would endure this state, until she knew that her son was strong enough to defend himself. She would refuse to terminate the contract, until she had seen that he could protect himself from the evils that this world harboured. She realized that this might take decades, but she didn’t worry. Dark elves normally live multiple centuries, what is a few of them lost to the safety of her son?

The days she spend in this state turned to weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, until she could finally mark the second anniversary of her unmoving state. She was eternally thankful to Cyrus, as he had not only been able to entertain her with his stories, but he had also given her the means to record the number of days that had passed in a meaningful manner.

With his visits being every other week, she could pinpoint the date simply by recalling them. Every one of them were ingrained in her mind, as they were the brief moments of respite that freed her from the restraints of her mind and body, and allowed her to bask in the joy she felt from her connection with him.

She had even created a calendar with the ambient energy inside of her soulspace, as influencing the energy around her being was one of the more effective ways she could fight the ever present boredom. With the creation of the first piece of furniture during her imprisonment, she decided to put her proficiency in influencing the energies around her to the test, and created a comfortable chair, a small table to go with it and a large bookcase, which housed all of her memories.

Every time she would grab a book, she would experience the memory affiliated with it as she read through it. She would read days after days about her childhood, her explorations and discoveries of the capital in her teen years, and the short but precious time she spent as an adventurer.

Continuously manipulating the ambient energy had led to her gaining great proficiency in influencing mana, as she had been able to gain and level the skill [Mana Manipulation] to level 15.

While Avary was improving herself slowly but surely during the imprisonment in her own body, the two boys of the Theandor family weren’t being slouches either. On the contrary, they continued to train under their respective tutors, as they made their first steps on the path to power despite the obstacles they had already encountered. Hardship seemed to only serve as an incentive for the two boys, as every obstacle they faced was met with a greedy desire to overcome it.

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Cyrus had made a conviction the day he first saw his mother in that awful state, a conviction made from the pieces of his shattered hope. He had forged it in the depths of his despair. He had used the hatred for his own weakness as the hammer, and the despair from losing his mother as the anvil. They had smashed the shattered pieces of his hope into shape, they had moulded them under his guidance, and it had created a devotion for power, and a conviction for peace.

He carried out his devotion, by restlessly training as he pushed his body to its very limits. Well, he would do that when the time was right.

He had asked Lyvia just after the meeting to train him, and when they got home, he had asked her once again to train him, and to make him into a warrior.

She had complied, but under a few conditions, the first condition was that he would listen to every word she said, and the second condition was that he would enact every one of her instructions to the letter, as he was not allowed to do any more or less.

Cyrus had quickly complied, thinking that he was taking the first steps towards gaining power, the first steps to becoming a force to be reckoned with, his first steps to becoming a full-fledged warrior. However, he would soon realise that he would be taking baby steps, as Lyvia’s training sessions were less gruelling and intense than he had imagined.

The only thing that was really being pushed was his mind, as he was instructed to study a multitude of different books on battle tactics, resource management, and even some more outlandish philosophical books which talked about the morals and virtues of a warrior.

He had been training his body, but he had only done it in a very basic manner, and as he felt that he hadn’t changed much over the last two years, he voiced his concerns to Lyvia, only to be rebuffed by her with a quick yet silencing explanation.

“Why you aren’t training your body yet? If you were to train it now, it would only cause problems for you in the future. The body of a five year old dark elf is comparable to a human between the age of two and three, if you start training now it will only slow you down later on. The books are supposed to learn you a lesson. A warrior without insight to the battlefield is nothing more than a mindless berserker, someone who can’t manage their resources in a meaningful way is nothing more than an idiot, and an individual without a purpose will be lost inside himself. Being a warrior isn’t just swinging around your fists, it is about having a goal, and fighting for that goal.”

While Cyrus was still disgruntled with the situation, he did not retort, as Lyvia had a valid point. Hindering his growth would be the last thing he would want to do, and swinging your weapon around in a circle of death wouldn’t do much to retain a purpose, or your sanity for that matter.

Despite his understanding, Cyrus was still wracked with irritation at his slow growth, as he had seen the growth Daelyn had experienced over the last two years. He was overwhelmed with jealousy, as he realized once again that Daelyn would thread upon the path to power first, leaving Cyrus in the dust as the little boy was limited by his slower again process. He had considered throwing Lyvia’s advice to the wind many times, but each time he came back to the understanding that being rash wouldn’t help him.

While it helped him tolerate his slow growth, it did not put his jealousy to bed, as he saw Daelyn come home day after day with an excited yet tired smile on his face, and as that smile betrayed his emotions, so did his words reveal the progress he had made that day under Orthrus’ tutelage.

Daelyn had made some progress towards becoming an auramancer, as he had practised it almost every day for the last two years since the day his lessons had started. While this greatly irritated Cyrus, it also irritated Daelyn.

He had not been able to do anything but auramancy. Orthrus had forbidden him from any other kind of dark magic, until Daelyn was a competent auramancer in his eyes. This had resulted in Daelyn practising auramancy for the last two years, as it had taken him several months to even create a stable connection between him and his aura. If it weren’t for his outrageous affinity towards darkblood magic, it would have taken him even longer.

Orthrus had recognised the lack of talent in his student, and he had given him harsh guidance at every step of the way. He had lectured Daelyn on auramancy for hours on end, and he had scolded him for every mistake he made.

While Cyrus had longed for intense training, Daelyn had longed for a break from his insane training regime, as the old mage could drive him to despair by having him iron out every little mistake in his aura and the connection to it, only to receive the tiniest bit of praise for his ‘mediocre’ performance.

Despite Orthrus’ harsh lessons, Daelyn did not give up. He felt that his auramancy had improved greatly under Orthrus’ guidance, as he was now able to conjure up auras with ease and maintain them in normal mana density for a good hour, and that was without using his heart to increase the aura’s efficiency. He had even been able to maintain his aura in the above average mana density of the second door, but only for a few minutes.

Daelyn remembered that lesson, as it had been an excruciating one.

He had made a deal with Orthrus that day. Daelyn had had enough of the hellish lesson Orthrus dished out, and issued Orthrus a challenge. If Daelyn would be able to hold an aura for 15 minutes in an above average mana atmosphere, Orthrus wouldn’t be so strict with his lessons anymore.

The old sun elf’s grin grew to cover most of his face, before he had complied. The challenge had started shortly after.

Daelyn had confidence in himself, as he had been able to keep up an aura that engulfed half of the room for at least half an hour in an atmosphere with normal mana density, and he thought that above average mana density wouldn’t make for a large difference.

He only all too quickly realized his mistake, as the moment he entered the room, he was overwhelmed by the ambient mana. Whereas with normal mana density it provided the feeling of having thick clothes on, above average was like he was submerged in water and his only means of survival was keeping up a flimsy water bubble made from his magic. He felt that his aura was assaulted on all fronts, and whereas he previously could have managed an aura with a four meter radius, now he could barely manage a two meter radius, as he was constantly under assault from the ambient mana that seemed to use battering rams to attack every square centimetre of his aura.

Daelyn quickly caved in after three minutes, as he had used every possible means of prolonging the duration of his aura. He had even used his heart to increase the efficiency of the mana flow in his aura, but it was all in vain, as he could do nothing but give in as he was met with an overwhelming power.

He woke up an hour later, and had to endure more of Orthrus’ brutal aura training, as the old man would engage in a game he liked to call ‘Aura pulling’. Daelyn figured the old man had gotten the name from rope pulling, but he had no idea why he had named it as such.

Daelyn thought it would be more aptly named ‘Aura warfare’ as it would entail two auramancers standing off against each other by trying to either overwhelm or penetrate the other’s aura to win. Orthrus had made this game a regular exercise after Daelyn had experienced the above average mana density, causing his efficiency and battle proficiency in auramancy to rise.

Daelyn had despised these exercises, as they were more akin to torture than anything else. It was basically fighting a losing battle every single day after comparable intense and excruciating training, if it weren’t for alchemy, he would have slowly gone insane.

He had been making steady progress under his father’s tutelage, as he had been able to create several of the most basic potions, and he had made some interesting discoveries concerning alchemy.

Apparently, there were multiple types of alchemy. The most used type of alchemy was artificial alchemy, which used one or two magic infused herbs to create powerful potions. This was more popular as it was easier to make, and the potions normally had more effect.

The second type was organic alchemy, which combined the properties of multiple different herbs to create potions. A healing potion for example, would be made from several plants which had mending, regenerative, and cleansing properties. These potions were quite hard to make, as you would have to be very accurate with the proportions you use, and higher level potions would also require a lot more accuracy and a lot more different herbs to create.

Daelyn did not have a preference, as he enjoyed practising either trade. He did put more focus on organic alchemy however, as it was a lot harder to master than artificial alchemy, and he enjoyed the challenge it posed.

The two years had passed quickly like this, as he had practised his darkblood magic during the week, and his alchemy on the weekends.

Despite his growth in both crafts, he was still unsatisfied with his current power, as he knew that he would be killed quickly in a one on one fight. He did not have a strong body, his magic could hardly be used in a direct fight, and his potions were too hard to craft to throw away like that. He understood his weakness, and he knew that it made him next to useless in a one on one fight.

However, this would quickly change, as Orthrus had deemed him a competent enough dark mage to branch out. He would finally make a dark mage’s deadliest weapon his own, as he would make his first minion.

He would take another step on his path towards power, a step that would define him, and the souls that will enjoy his reign in the future. A bright yet grim future awaited him, as he would once again know the limitations that his power had brought him, as creating minions would not be as easy as it was made out to be.

While Daelyn was eagerly awaiting his first unique creation, another force would make its own unique creation.

The council would gather once again, they would propose their own plans, and they would decide on how to drive back the hordes of monsters pouring from the wastelands.

The would have to decide carefully, as their decision would dictate the continuation of the forest, and it would influence the existence of dark mages as a whole.