Xerion headed straight for the main compound, his back slick with sweat despite the chilly evening air.

Perfectly trimmed lawns were to each of his sides, though he paid them little mind. Spots of darkness started to appear in his vision, narrowing it down, blocking everything besides what lay just up ahead.

Dread filled him as he took in the monstrous thing. Building upon building, each of different heights. All fused together and extending, like the ragged spine of some primordial beast. At its front two towers loomed, tall and sharp and full of menace.

They reminded him of fangs, made to shred and tear and kill. Ridiculous. If such were the case, he’d be putting himself now in the monster’s maw. A laughable notion, truly.

Xerion gulped, grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and entered the foyer in full.

The sound of his footfalls traveled far, through the many hallways leading off in half a dozen directions. Each rang loud and clear to his ears, the marble flooring seemingly magnifying them to an ungodly extent. Or maybe not. Maybe it was all in his head, the ringing from outside combining with the one coming from within.

It was anybody’s guess, really.

A body free of thought was one that moved on instinct. Xerion’s feet took a sharp left the moment he entered, bringing him ever closer to the stairs there and, by extension, to his room.

But then he stopped. Or rather, something stopped him. Why was there a palm on his shoulder?

“Young master,” a beautiful voice said.

“Maria,” Xerion answered, the word dripping with barely-hidden joy.

All worries left him as he turned and saw the face of a woman, one who could put his heart at ease with a single smile. Crow’s feet marked the corners of her eyes, and well-earned they were, given how extra crinkles appeared around her umber orbs as she took him in.

Hers was the traditional maid outfit, black and white all over, though not one of those exaggerated things he read about in some novels.

Truly, what were those authors thinking, making the women clad in skimpy dresses, full of frills, bowknots, and whatnot? Not to mention their fixation on the always-pronounced bosom. Were they purposely forgoing the practical in the favor of, what, the sexual?

Oh.

Hmmm. Hmmmm. It’s been a few years since Xerion dived into those works, and he was beginning to believe he might’ve… misinterpreted some of them.

But didn’t I grab this one off of Lindani? He did look unusually flustered as I did so…

“Your head’s still in the clouds, I see. That’s good. I was worried you might return… different.”

“Never you fear, Maria. As long as there are things to think about, I’ll be here doing just so.”

Her smile widened. The hand on his shoulder, rough yet well-manicured, rose and almost touched his face, but withdrew before doing so. That saddened him a bit.

“Everything went well, I take it? I must say, knowing what the process would entail, the thought of young master going through that… was most distressing,” Maria said, her face expressing nothing but reassurance, as if to tell him to speak of all his woes, and that she’ll be there to listen.

“Yep,” Xerion said, grinning. “You’re looking at the youngest Practitioner in Virsha.”

“That’s excellent news! Would you like to share it with the mistress? She’d love to hear it, I’m sure.”

“I…” he said, trailing off.

Maria didn’t push, she never did, simply standing right ahead and waiting for his answer. She knew all too well how he felt about… everything, really.

His eyes roamed around the foyer, lost and chaotic, until they met hers. So soft and filled with joy and pride, those were. Xerion blinked, and another set replaced them. Ocean blue, just like his, and full of… not coldness, but… distance.

“Yes,” he said and nodded, a bit of steel creeping into his voice. “I do have some words for my mother.“

Maria opened her mouth. Would she try and assuage his anger? He hoped not, for he valued her enough to swallow it down. Or maybe she would—

And then she closed it, nodding. “Then let us go.”

Xerion followed, away from the flight of steps leading to his room and into a corridor below the central staircase that run along both of its sides.

Marble flooring soon gave way to plush carpets which hid things of no real import. Some different type of stone? He couldn’t find it in himself to care to ask.

The walls were painted with a color mixing gray with brown, and it seemed warm, at least on the days when his mood was the opposite of dour. Today was not such a day.

And then they entered.

His eyes zeroed in on a single, thick braid of ginger hair, with multiple insignias and other ornaments woven throughout. It always looked so pretty, especially with the background of pure white, silky robes.

The woman’s back was toward him, always toward him. A frail little thing. A lie. The monstrous strength it held could rip a man thrice her height in twain.

She was sitting on a wooden stool, bent over a table, tinkering on an item of some kind as Enchanters were wont to do. Not paying any attention to their arrival.

“Hello, mother,” Xerion said, enough chill to his voice to make one think the seasons changed. “I’m alive, as you can hear. Aren’t you glad?”

The woman’s head snapped to the side, but just not far enough to see him. Her braid swung through the air, settling in its new position as she spoke out.

“…Yes, I am. Of course I am. You know that.”

A few seconds passed, with no one acknowledging her words. A soft sigh echoed, and she continued.

“How was the ceremony?”

“If you’re so damn curious, then you should’ve come and seen it for yourself,” Xerion said in a harsh tone, his anger and disappointment apparent to all who heard it.

A loud ‘clung’ followed that statement but the boy dismissed it, too absorbed in his own feelings. And so he missed the sight of the woman’s trembling hands, and how a few simple words from him made her roughly drop the item of her work.

“I know, son, but you told me not to. I simply wished to honor your request.”

Well then you’re an idiot and I’m too for expecting better, he thought but held his tongue. He should’ve headed straight for his room, should’ve avoided this, this… whatever this was. Why did he come here?

Xerion ran a palm over his eyes, looking over the room as he tried to regain composure. Multiple tables were scattered throughout, each packed full of parchments, writing utensils, and exotic ingredients needed for her craft. The floor held all the failed products, and they were many, for Enchanting wasn’t easy even with his mother’s level of mastery.

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Paintings hung on various walls, most depicting landscapes unseen since before the Dawn of the Dark, but there was one in particular that caught his attention. Little skill went into its creation, clearly made by a child on his beginning steps into artistry. It depicted a boy with hair like falling sunshine, holding out a hand to a woman with a smile he hadn’t seen in years, while the whole scene was enclosed by a giant golden heart.

Why do you have this one, but not the one with all three of us? Why do you care so little about him?

“Okay,” he said, his tone even. “Okay. The ceremony went as well as it could’ve, given that baldy presiding over it.”

Xerion thought he heard a light snort, but he must’ve imagined it. His mother didn’t laugh, not with him.

“That’s good. Try to bear with him, son. As vexing as that man is, he earned his position. Few would call him incompetent. Annoying, yes, but not incompetent.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Xerion barked out.

Another sigh echoed, fueling his anger and his irritation. “And what is your concept, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Courage,” he said simply, for no more was needed. She’d understand.

“…I see.”

“Yeah, I thought you would. I will excuse myself now.”

Without another word, Xerion turned around and left. Maria tried to follow, but he told her, “I want to be alone, please,” and she listened.

The travel to his room was nothing but a blur, his mind hazy from the entire experience. And he was so tired. So many ups and downs today, and he still had things to do, and she was all he could think of, and why couldn’t he be happy for once, and why wasn’t he here, and—

“Stop it,” he said out loud. “Stop. It.”

Xerion entered his room, threw himself onto his bed, and spent the next fifteen minutes thoughtlessly staring at the ceiling. It helped, somewhat. The fire in his chest, the figurative one, was still there, but it was contained now. Ready to be channeled into something more productive than being angry at his mother for her earlier absence.

He just wished she would’ve come.

Muscles screamed at him in protest as he urged them to move for the umpteenth time this day. They did, and he dragged himself to the mat in the middle of the room. When there, he breathed in deeply and took everything in.

The walls that surrounded him, painted to express all of his ideas and the contents of his heart, the various drawings that hung from them, especially the one portraying a happy family of three, the junk that came as a result of his experimentation…

Then he went deeper, taking in the softness below him, the ever-present golden light streaming in through the window, the air that filled his lungs.

Time passed, and once enough of it did, he felt ready.

Only for someone to knock at his door, because of course they would! Gah!

“Young master, may I come in?”

Xerion sighed, already aware how he would answer. “Of course you can, Maria.”

The middle-aged woman entered, her smile a tiny little thing. Brittle. Gods, why did she look at him with so much compassion, so much understanding?

He felt so guilty under that gaze.

“Can I help you?” he asked, eyes focused on the pile of books in her hands.

Maria’s head swiveled from side to side, her lips pursed in obvious annoyance at the state his bedroom was in. A sigh left her, and so did the frown.

A few careful movements, precisely placed so as to not step on any of his various forever floor-bound knickknacks, took her to one of the tables. Papers strewn all over its surface left little room for new additions, but with a push here and a shove there, enough space opened up for what she came to give him.

The giant collection dropped onto the wood with a muffled ‘thump.’ Xerion peered at it, an intense light of curiosity overflowing from his eyes.

Maria patted the topmost tome.

“Mistress asked me to bring those to you. Stop! Young master, please don’t scowl. It takes away from that handsome face of yours.”

She shot him a wink, and a begrudging smile settled onto his lips. He’d give her this one. She continued.

“Those were… written by your father. Mistress, she… If your concept ended up being anything else, she was afraid that… She wanted you to have them, to give them to you herself, but she…”

Xerion barely listened, his mind filled with static after he was mentioned. Numb legs fought with and run into each other as he scrambled off the floor, putting everything he had into getting to the table faster.

Careless fingers grabbed at the highest book’s cover, flipping it over, only to reveal text written in a style of one he longed to see so much.

“This’s his handwriting. Those, he really wrote them…”

Xerion grasped at the treasure that he was given, holding it close to his chest on instinct. He had so few things left of him. There was this fear inside him, clawing at his heart, that one of these years, nothing would remain, even the vague figure in his memories fading into the river of time.

He looked at the one responsible for granting him such a gift. Kindness incarnate, she was, her eyes containing all emotions that his soul yearned to witness. Sadness. Compassion. Understanding. And a complex mix of things beyond his comprehension.

Words came to his lips, unbidden.

“Maria.”

“Yes, young master?”

“I became a Practitioner today.”

She smiled a smile that no other stood to match. “I know, Xerion. And I’m so very proud of you.”

Tears came in a stream as he threw himself into her open arms, holding onto her dress with every point of Power he had. Moments such as this were scarce, and he treasured each of them.

Minutes passed before his grasp loosened. As his head rose, leaving a spot of dampness on the black-and-white outfit, Xerion gazed upon her face.

The color of Maria’s skin mirrored his so closely – almost the exact same shade of beige – that in those rare few instants when their bodies touched, he liked to imagine her as kin, and wonder what such a life would look like.

It’d be a happy one, he thought.

----------------------------------------

With no small amount of reluctance, Xerion put the journal to the side. He might’ve been months, maybe years, ahead of his peers when it came to understanding all Practitioner-related matters, but with no practical experience to his name, his hopes of comprehending the personal cultivation notes of someone like Xafram, the Golden Defender of Visha, were close to nil.

His father was a great figure indeed.

But he’d match up to him in the future. Exceed him, even. What choice did he have? No one knew what was required to leave the void, for no one ever managed. Not even his dad. So it wasn’t hard to reason it’d require prowess and powers leagues beyond his clansmen.

Today, he’d start on that long journey, by creating two abilities.

Xerion took on the lotus position, his hands freely resting on his knees. A breath of icy air entered through his nose, traveled to his lungs and back, then exited his mouth in a controlled stream.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the lack of junk near his position. Not that he cleaned it up, simply sweeping it all to the sides, but even that made a sizeable difference.

He was ready.

Texts of tomes detailing the Conceptual Essence Usage system floated through his mind, each word so clear given the mere few hours passing since he gazed upon their contents.

Mind free of distractions, his overeager imagination blossomed with a million images of glory. He discarded them. A specific one was needed, of a heart so brave to stay unchanged, despite the darkness ever nearing, ever whispering, always trying to creep in.

Xerion saw a head without a face, a figure filled with scars and little else. They criss-and-crossed across its form, hiding skin, gender, all.

But its size apparent was. The colossus seemed unending, growing when a need arose, its life purpose was protecting, the reason why its back was never shown.

Golden Courage lined its frame, pathways building and expanding. They made a pattern of an inward-facing flame, the void’s madness barred from arriving.

Yes, this was it. The perfect image.

Xerion grasped at it, his hands subconsciously extending, reaching for a thing existing only in his mind. Then it arrived in his heart.

A tiny Spark, its color so faint as to be nearly translucent, flared. Essence poured forth and flowed, its power guided by a will, his own.

Seconds passed in silence as a pattern formed. A simple thing, it was. A single origin birthed five curved lines, all arching upwards and meeting in a sharp point. Throughout the thing, little filaments grew, facing inwards.

Xerion opened his eyes.

A shadow of the faceless figure came to be behind his back. Its arms extended, then lowered, placing his body within their safe embrace.

Gold flowed as the thing dissolved, cladding his skin in a thin layer of protection against the void. A closer look would show how uneven it was, as if made of millions of tiny scars gained in the battles with the ultimate foe.

Xerion’s lips held a tiny ask, and the existence listened, unfolding the new ability’s Sui Scroll before him.

[Sentinel’s Embrace] (Half-Step Expert) (Rank 1)

An essence ability created by Xerion Säkene Širdis.

Its roots stem from the Conceptual Essence Usage* system. Formed using an image of an undiscernible protector, and realized with Courage-attuned essence woven into a pattern of an inward-facing flame.

Sentinel’s Embrace conjures a golden shadow – made entirely out of the Practitioner’s Courage-attuned essence – which proceeds to merge into the user’s body, covering them completely in a protective film.

Such a coating will bar all harmful and unwanted essence-based effects from affecting the user.

The ability’s duration, as well as the strength of its protection, is largely dependent on its grade and the user’s power.

*As the first ability created by you through the use of this system, its advancement and usage will come noticeably easier than the following ones. Its initial grade has also been boosted.

It was perfect.

The void could try to twist his mind, to change his flesh, to break his will, but with this protection in place, none of it would matter. He’d be safe.

And that grade! Xerion knew the first cast, the first making of a power would be different from all others, but this was beyond his expectations.

Maybe, if he worked hard enough over the next two weeks, he could try and push it into Expert in full.

A mad grin slipped onto his lips. Time to create the second ability.