> True mastery is less about the magnitude of your power and more about the control you exert over it." — Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune

Another day eclipsed without the return of the Sun, its usual brilliance supplanted by a meagre parade of stars and the ethereal glow of the nine moons. They made a feeble attempt to shine, yet their combined light fell far short of replicating daytime brightness. Nevertheless, the settlement hummed back to life, each person resuming their assigned duties as though the day were as bright as any other.

Faeries bent over washboards, scrubbing clothes along the riverbanks. Nearby, men and women huddled around open fires, stirring pots of simmering stew, its aroma mingling with the dusky air, as hunger began to set in among the people. In a secluded corner, Magis were mentoring the younger folk in the intricacies of the Trial of Elements. No hands were weaving the air with chanted incantations; their lessons were purely on the theory of Elements and how they combine.

Lost in this hive of activity was Prince Xendrix, leaning against the rough bark of a tree. His eyes scan the dark landscape, with dots of lights moving around before him. It wasn't the first time he felt forgotten, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

As he lingered in his chosen shadow, his eyes picked up a movement that disrupted the otherwise seamless flow of the camp's routine. A young woman paced in a small area, her eyes darting across the grass and stones, a look of concentration furrowing her brow. In her hand, she held an oil lamp, its feeble light casting an intimate circle around her.

She—Ulencia—was pretty, and that was enough to pique Xendrix’s curiosity, tugging him away from his self-imposed isolation. The woman seemed distressed, her every step and glance tinged with an urgency that intrigued him. Casting one last look at the humming camp around him—people who would hardly notice his absence—he pushed off the tree and approached the young woman.

As he drew closer, he could see her frustration mounting. Each sweep of her lamp seemed to heighten her anxiety rather than relieve it.

"May I be of assistance?" Xendrix finally broke the silence.

The young woman looked up, with a startled scream escaping her lips before she could contain it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you!" Xendrix blurted out, taking a step back, his hands held up disarmingly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hand clutching her chest. "I felt my heart trying to bolt out of me!" She stood as a beacon of soft light, her oil lamp casting tremulous golden hues that danced on her face. Its dim glow accentuated the strawberry-blond strands of her hair, illuminating them with a coppery radiance.

Her blue eyes reflected an innocence etched on her face, a purity in the set of her mouth and the tilt of her eyebrows that lent her an almost ethereal quality. The darkness seemed to recede around her as if afraid to taint her radiant presence.

"I'm really sorry," Xendrix said again, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"No, no, don't worry about it. It's my fault I didn't see you there," she replied, her voice still trembling a bit but regaining its composure.

"In this light, that's hardly surprising," Xendrix said, a slight smile breaking the tension as their eyes met. "I'm Xendrix, by the way," he added, extending his hand, only for the gesture to be ignored.

"Oh, the prince who wants to learn alchemy," she mused as if savouring an inside joke.

"Yeah, that would be me," Xendrix replied, somewhat self-conscious.

"Have you started your Trial yet?"

"Trial? I wasn't aware there was a Trial involved."

The girl chuckled. "You'll come to understand in due time."

"Well, nobody has taken me under their wing for any lessons yet," Xendrix admitted with a subtle impatience woven through his words.

Ulencia sighed, her eyes momentarily drifting as if lost in thought. "Things have been... complicated. But if I were to make a guess, it'd be on Magi Jear initiating you into the craft. I can't think of anyone better suited to introduce you to the complexities of alchemy. Albeit," she paused, meeting his eyes again, "it's somewhat useless for Menschen.”

“Is that so?”

"Oh, and I’m Ulencia," she responded, taking his hand with a grip that was both gentle and firm. "And sorry, that must have seemed so rude of me, almost yelling directly into your ears."

For a moment, both stood in the light of Ulencia's oil lamp, their eyes locked in an embrace of foreseen connection. Xendrix felt the spark of something enticing. Something familiar. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ulencia let out a nervous laugh, her eyes momentarily darting to the ground before meeting his again. "Spiders."

"Spiders?" Xendrix raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes, spiders. I was tasked to see if any little crawlers had infiltrated our camp. If they have, well, let's just say it would be a prelude to a grave knock on our doors—a very, very unhappy Dame," she explained, her lips curling into a wry smirk.

"I'm not sure I follow," Xendrix admitted, squatting down beside her to scrutinize the ground for any sign of the eight-legged invaders.

"You're a human, aren't you?" Ulencia asked, scanning the area around them.

"Yes. And you? Are you Menschen?"

She chuckled, a soft, mellifluous sound that seemed to infuse the surrounding darkness with a touch of levity. "No, I'm just a halfling with pretty blood colour."

"No magic?"

Ulencia shifted her posture slightly, crossing her arms over her knees, before locking eyes with him. "I possess as much magic as you do."

"I came here to learn," Xendrix shared. “I guess I would leave with some, even a tiny bit of it.”

"Learning magic is as hard as finding a spider in the dark," Ulencia retorted with both humour and a hint of something more weighty.

"Why spiders, though?" Xendrix asked.

She fixed him with a stern gaze, her tone striking a chord in him. “Do you know our dame?”

"Queen, you mean?"

Ulencia clicked her tongue, a soft, chastising sound. "She is not a queen. She is the ruler over all."

"Ruler over everything?"

Ulencia's eyes flickered, animated by a fervour that seemed almost religious. "Veilla Mageschstea, our Herbstdame—she's also known as The Harvester, the Ruler of the Fall, The Spiderqueen! She brings prosperity to us all. Crops to pick, fish to pluck from the river, winds to scatter seeds across the fields. You cannot overlook her magnificence."

Xendrix paused, contemplating Ulencia's description. "It sounds as though you're speaking of a god."

"She is just different," Ulencia clarified, her voice softening a bit. "Different like the Commander."

"Different?"

A new voice cut through the still air. "She means there are two types of magic holders."

Xendrix and Ulencia swivelled their heads as they found Mediah emerging from the darkness. He crouched down, locking his eyes onto theirs.

"There are two kinds of Magi when it comes to handling magic," Mediah began, his words punctuated by the slight movements of his hands as if shaping the very thoughts he spoke of. "The more common type is the Syphon—Mages who draw upon the magic of an element they have an affinity with. Imagine a water mage; they might channel energy from lakes, rain, and even tears. But then you have the rarities. Those who are born with their own inner core, or seed as we call it, of magic. Picture it like an eternal flame, feeding off itself, never extinguishing."

Xendrix studied Mediah, his gaze switching between the young mage and Ulencia.

"So, you're saying the majority of Magi act as conduits, borrowing from the world around them," Xendrix said, miming a pulling gesture as if he were drawing power into himself.

”Yes, but only the elements they resonate with.”

Xendrix nodded. "Yet there exists a smaller group, almost self-sustaining—generators of their own magic. They're free from the dependency on external sources, is that right?"

Mediah tilted his head, agreeing, and his face brightened with a pleased nod. "You've grasped it well! These self-sufficient mages have a pull, almost like a magnet, that attracts Spirits. They form alliances and partnerships, but mostly, those mages become the Master. It's why many rise to be leaders among us—whether you call them Magi, Dames, Rames or Commanders."

Ulencia leaned forward, her eyes catching the warm dance of the nearby oil lamp's glow. "That's what sets Veilla apart. She's not just a ruler; she's a Herbstdame—a mage with an alliance with a Spirit of Spiders, the weavers of shadows, granting her capacities and insights beyond the ordinary. She stands in the same light as Yeso does with the Sun."

Looking at Mediah, who seemed as common as Ulencia, Xendrix's curiosity finally got the better of him. "What about you, Mediah? Where do you stand on this continuum of magical existence?"

Mediah smirked, a blend of modesty and mischief playing across his face. "That's a rather private matter, don't you think?"

Ulencia's eyes momentarily veered towards the ground. It was only when Mediah gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear that she looked up, her gaze meeting his in a silent conversation. "Are you still up for tonight?"

Mediah's voice took on an uncharacteristic softness. "Are you sure?"

"I am if you are," she replied, her voice carrying the trace of a promise.

His eyebrows arched slightly. "Oh, you mean like now?"

“Did you ask anyone else?”

“No…”

With a nonchalant shrug, Ulencia turned her eyes toward Xendrix. "It was very nice to meet you, Xendrix." Rising, she felt Mediah's arm slide effortlessly around her waist. Their forms melded into the encroaching shadows, leaving Xendrix alone.

For a moment, Xendrix lingered with a sensation gnawed at him, a splinter of annoyance wedging itself into his thoughts.

His eyes went downward, and he caught sight of a black spider leisurely making its way beside his foot. With a sudden, almost reflexive burst of irritation, he lifted his foot and brought it down hard, crushing the small creature beneath his heel.

“One…”

> "The Incubus has long been regarded with a mixture of fascination and disdain. Known primarily as siphoners of emotion, they've gained an unsavoury reputation for exploiting the most intimate interactions—sex—as a conduit for gathering magical energy. Among all classes of Mages, they are often deemed the least reputable, relegated to the darker corners of our collective consciousness.

>

> Yet, exceptions define every rule, and for me, that exception was Magi Mediah. Far from a mere manipulator of emotions, Mediah possessed a talent for magic that transcended the limited scope of his kind. His service to three different Dames—a rarity in itself—testified to his unparalleled skill and loyalty. As my Hexe’s mentor, he didn't merely teach her incantations and magical theory. He imparted the subtleties of the ethical use of magic, the nuances that distinguish mere power from true greatness. It's easy to categorize and condemn based on the worst examples, but figures like Mediah compel us to reevaluate such prejudices.

>

> For me, personally, I only meet the man once. I wished I had more time to know him."

>

> ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. I by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune