Time passed on as Jerome kept cycling. His core absorbed the essence from the Sunfire stone with excruciating slowness. If he went any faster, he’ll probably end up in the afterlife. Jerome endured. Before long, he started to feel the cold. Jerome was surprised at this. When last did he feel the cold?

The Royal estate was on a higher elevation than the rest of Farryn since it was built on a mountain. A mountain that was one of the mountains that made up part of the outskirts of the mountain range. This sure was one of the reasons the temperature would be lower at this elevation. But still. He never felt cold as a Blank. Why now?

He stopped for a while to practice with the fire attribute essence, kindling a flame just above his palm.

“Ash,” he called out. She had slept off while he was in meditation and it was night already. Long eyelashes fluttered open and she sat up on his bed and stretched. Those long limbs did things to Jerome’s body as he watched. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Is that…did you just…” she asked excitedly, not even completing one question before asking the other.

“It’s quite small but it’s a flame nonetheless,” Jerome smiled as he spoke gazing excitedly at the flaming dancing on his palm.

“How did you do it?” she asked. The gaze in her eyes was glued to the red orange flame in his hand.

Jerome smiled. “It was quite easy actually, like snapping my fingers.” he snapped his fingers.

Ash gave him a coy smile. “That was how I lit the special match we use in the estate.”

“But it’s quite like snapping a finger. Really,” Jerome said. “But like it’s happening inside. You just move essence to the top of your palm and put pressure on it. Then you…” he had no words to describe the last part. He just snapped his fingers.

“You put pressure on it?” Ash asked.

“Yes. Right before you snap your fingers, you put pressure on them.”

“Ooh. I get it.” Ash went through the motion of snapping her fingers to test it out. “Too bad I’m not Sprout.”

Jerome smiled at her. “You’ll get there, Ash. I’m gonna ramp it up a bit more.”

He adjusted the essence feeding the flame but kept it small and compressed. The temperature of the room began to rise soon after, and the flame warped into the shape of a ball, burning bright red-orange.

“Uhm, Jerome,” Ash called out, frightened.

He looked over only to see her sweating profusely. The flame changed color instantly, bathing the room in brilliant blue, and the temperature soared!

“Jerome, put it out!”

The flame became so dense yet small that it felt like it would explode. Jerome stopped pouring essence into the flame and slowly absorbed it back into his body. That was easier than I thought it’ll be, he thought.

Ash collapsed onto the bed breathing heavily. “Next time you wanna train, I’ll be at least a mile away from you,” she grumbled but heard no reply from him. “Jerome?” she called. He would have at least chuckled when he heard that. She raised her head only to see him deep in thought.

Ash quietly climbed out of the bed and went back to her quarters leaving him to his epiphany.

~~~

“Are you ready for this bad boy?” Rihal asked as he walked into the underground training hall.

Jerome thought he was being chipper today, even though they had left off on a bad foot the day before. He turned to look at the ‘training crab’ he pulled when he was Blank. He couldn’t believe he’d be pulling it again… and as Sprout at that.

“I created a flame last night,” he said, checking to see how his master reacted.

Rihal feigned surprise. “Oh, wow! Well, congratulations, Jerome.”

“Get out. She told you, didn’t she?” Jerome’s lips quirked up at the corners. Now that he knew the reason for Rihal’s behavior, it wasn’t so strange.

He should have known Ash would tell Rihal. He felt betrayed. A bit. He and Rihal were still on rocky grounds, but it seemed they were mending the bridge between them. Albeit, slowly.

“What are you talking about? Would you like to celebrate?” Rihal said, feigning ignorance. “Alright, let me see it.”

Jerome raised his hand slightly and a blue flame kindled on his palm. Rihal would probably pat me on the back and promise to help me improve it, he thought until he looked up and saw Rihal’s face.

His master was truly stunned this time around. It took him a while to school his features as he peeled his eyes away from the flame to stare at Jerome like he was seeing him for the first time.

“Did I do it wrong?” Jerome asked, putting out the flame and leaning on his staff for support, holding it with both hands.

“No, no, that’s not it,” Rihal said, his expression one of seriousness and confusion. “How did you do it, though?”

Jerome recounted what happened the night before. The look on Rihal’s face was golden. Why is there no camera in this world? he thought to himself with a smile of satisfaction.

“Jerome, humans don’t just up and make flames after absorbing a few strands of fire-essence. That’s the expertise of magical beasts — which by the way has to do with their affinity for fire. It takes a lot of practice just to produce the first spark… except,” Rihal smiled at him. “You have a very deep comprehension of fire.”

“That could be the case,” Jerome said with a thoughtful nod. “Fire is produced when fuel is burned — the essence, in this case, being the fuel.”

“But it’s not just fuel,” Rihal interjected. “Which brings me to how you created ‘blue flame’. It takes years to do that.”

“Air,” Jerome stated. “It needs air,” Oxygen to be precise, he thought with a smile. “But both air and fuel need to strike a balance to prevent wastage,” he continued. “It’s not actually about pouring more essence into it, it’s about preventing wastage.”

His master stopped to stare at him for a long time. “Very well. Let’s see how well you can use your flame in battle,” he said with a smile.

“What about the crab?” Jerome asked.

“Is that what you call it?” Rihal turned to look at the crab-shaped contraption.

“It’s shaped like a crab!”

Rihal gave it a once over and just shrugged. “We’ll practice later with it.”

He approached a weapons rack and picked out a staff before walking ten paces away from Jerome.

“Go ahead and shoot your best flame at me.”

Jerome attacked.

~~~

Nineteen

Mini quakes were continuously shaking Rihal’s palace. The head guard of Kilian’s Palace had to send a guard down to the training hall to find out what was going on. Why did it have to be him? He had no trouble with the royals, neither did he slack on his duty. Why was he the one to go confront a royal training his disciple in an underground hall.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Nineteen reached the entrance of the underground training hall and the quakes, as much as his fear of being punished, froze him in place. Little by little, he forced himself to calm down enough to cycle. His hands were shaking and it was his strength of will keeping him standing. He could already feel the oppressive heat coming from the doorway.

With a sudden bout of determination, he took two steps forward and leaned into the doorway to check things out for himself. What Nineteen found when he got there nearly popped his eyes out; a skinny crippled Jerome standing with the aid of a stick, spewing flames out of his hand. He could see a blur running around dodging the flame, which he took to be Senior Rihal.

The flames, however, were blue. Who creates blue flames?! The heat and pressure blasting out of the hall were so oppressive now that he had to run away before he was turned into roast meat.

“Stop there!” he heard someone say when he had only ran a few paces.

The voice was commanding and he almost wanted to run away like a thief who was caught red handed but he stayed. Running away from a Vorthe was a sure way to end one’s life. Nineteen turned around and nearly spat in shame.

“Were you talking to me, librarian?” he spat. The librarian in question squared his shoulders and walked up to him with a confidence that belied his station.

“I just wanted to know what you saw in there,” he said, holding out a small pouch to him.

Nineteen’s eyes shone with a knowing light. He swiped the pouch out of the librarian’s hand and weighed the contents, jingling the coins in it. A quick scan with his mental energy let him know the amount of lows inside. Not much but enough to get him some miscellaneous things.

“And who are you to ask me such questions?” Nineteen ordered.

The librarian responded by producing another pouch. Nineteen couldn’t hold back his grin. Fate sure knew how to turn back luck into good fortune.

~~~

Jerome kept his emotions under control as he tried to hit Rihal. That was the goal — shoot fast enough to hit a moving target. It was easier said than done.

“You’re slacking behind, Jerome. Put your back into it.”

“Easy for you to say. Any more than this and my channels will burn out. The seizure that follows will be unbearable,” Jerome said, almost as though he was talking to himself, taking stock of the growing pressure in his channels and his injuries.

Rihal changed course and headed for Jerome. In an instant, he was upon him. His staff stopped mere inches above Jerome’s head and the force of the wind it brought with it blew out the blue flame like a candle in a hurricane.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Jerome muttered, putting all his weight on the staff in his hand. His breathing had become uneven and his eyes unfocused.

Rihal looked around the training hall. “You’ve got a lot of work to do my dear disciple. Best get to it now.”

Jerome sighed as he looked around the hall. The whole place was covered in soot and many of the weapons had been destroyed.

“I’ll spend more time cleaning than actually training this way,” he complained.

“Cleaning can be training too,” Rihal pointed out. He wasn’t going to let him off the hook — injuries or not.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Any activity can be considered training, depending on how you see it.”

Jerome kept quiet, but shuffled over to one of the destroyed racks to search for a rag. He cursed out a while later. The rag had been destroyed. He looked back to get Rihal’s attention, but his master was nowhere to be seen.

~~~

Rihal

“You just had to destroy my weapons, didn’t you?” Kilian said with a sigh as Rihal appeared in front of his study.

“It’s not like you use it,” Rihal walked in and shut the door. “Where have you been all this while?”

“Research,” Kilian answered. “And I do use them. From time to time.” He muttered the last part.

Rihal waved him off. “I was surprised when I heard Jerome would be going to Terra Praeta. How did you pull that off?”

“I didn’t,” Kilian said. He picked up a pot of already prepared tea on his table and poured himself a cup. “It was the Sovereign’s suggestion.”

Why would the Sovereign suggest that? Rihal got lost in thought for a moment.

“Have you found out how he was able to keep the beast at bay?”

Rihal shook his head. “He’ll begin to question everything if I start asking questions. Heck, he already questions everything. He knows what we talked about after Pilgrims’ Keep… the ‘episode’ he had.”

Kilian’s gaze locked with his, dazed for a while. “I guess that was going to happen. You didn’t close the door on time.”

“I didn’t close the door on time?” Rihal asked and Kilian gave him a flat look.

“There’s no real way of getting anything without giving something in return,” Kilian said absently. “You could tell him about Terra Praeta…in exchange for what else he picked up during Pilgrims’ Keep.”

“He’ll see right through that, but it’s one way to go about this. Maybe I’ll try it,” Rihal stated.

“Good luck to you then,” Kilian said as he lifted his teacup to his lips.

“Did any fated Dark One ever find out what they were destined to be before taking on the darkness?”

“That would have been recorded in the annals. I do advise against it, though. I don’t think he’d want to know he’s destined to be…” Kilian sighed. “Just don’t tell him.”

“I wish I could talk to—” Rihal stopped and shook his head frustrated. “Argh, that’s a pipe dream.” He wished he could speak with the Sovereign.

“I can see he’s a lot healthier, though. How’s his training going?”

Rihal picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup as well. “He’s learning things on his own now. He created a flame.”

“That’s great, but you sound like it’s a bad thing.”

Rihal sighed. “He’s…gloomier and…angrier than his usual self. The look in his eyes, Kilian…” he shook his head with another sigh.

They both sipped their tea silently, sighing at the turn of events. Hedon had done a number on Jerome, not just physically, but psychologically.

“Did I tell you the flames were blue?”

Kilian was stunned. “His comprehension is that deep?”

“He’s a genius,” Rihal said, nodding with a smile of approval. “But he’d be resuming his session with Layla in four days. I wanted him to put on some muscle before then. Terra Praeta won’t wait for him to get better, you know.”

Rihal stood up to walk out.

“You’re going to replace all my weapons you trashed today, Rihal,” Kilian said flatly.

“That wasn’t me, that was Jerome.”

“Your disciple,” Kilian said pointedly. “Whom you were training. As his master, you should take responsibility.”

Rihal chuckled and vanished on the spot.

~~~

“Everyone’s trigger is unique to them,” Rihal said. “Mine was the fear of the unknown, the fear of not knowing when or where an attack would come from.”

Rihal had gone back to help Jerome tidy up the training hall and now they were sitting in his room talking about his senses which were more advanced than it was when he was Blank.

“I can’t teach you how to trigger your perception, but I can tell you what it’s like,” Rihal cocked his head trying to find the right words.

“It’s like…reaching out with hands to feel the world around you. You can literally sense everything within a few steps of you, or extend your perception in a specific direction — even through a wall.”

“That’s incredible,” Jerome muttered absently. “When I was at the south gate, someone tried to take my position on the line. I severed his arm and watched, I mean…felt him cycle. It was a thrilling discovery.”

Rihal nodded sagely. “It’s not the same thing but you get my explanation and that’s what matters.”

He stood up and gestured to Jerome. “Take a meditative position.”

Jerome got down from his bed and sat on the ground to meditate.

“Do not cycle. Just shut your eyes and look inward,” Rihal instructed.

He felt things like cotton buds pushed into his ears. The sound from the environment suddenly dimmed until it disappeared completely and he almost felt like he had gone into a trance. The silence was stifling and almost oppressive. Next, something covered his eyes and darkness was all he could see.

“You’ll have to meditate like this for a few hours.”

“How’d you do that?” Jerome asked. Rihal was talking into his mind!

“Shhh! Meditate, or I’ll shut your mouth too.”

Jerome tamped down his excitement and cycled to calm down.

“I said no cycling.”

“Sorry,” he said. It’s not my mind he’s talking into but it felt like it. It’s more like…he’s talking through the buds in my ears, he thought.

Jerome settled into a meditative state, his mind peaceful. He didn’t, however, know what to do next. He decided to look inward as he did during Mhen Agrh'ur. Nothing. Even after a good chunk of time. Impatience set in and his bearing was disrupted. Rihal smacked him on the back of the head.

“Patience.”

Jerome grumbled, offended. This isn’t working, he thought. I’d have to sit still like this without cycling? Just sitting?

Thwack! Rihal smacked him in the head again.

“It’s called meditation for a reason,” Rihal said, walking around him in circles. “Your goal is to achieve a state of absolute calm. Wanting for nothing. Aiming for nothing. Just…be…”