“And then, Inesorin told the warlock - that’s a Chanter that eats the flesh of other Chanters to absorb their magic by the way. I still don’t know how that works - to flee, like the vermin he was!”

Daphne gushed, eyes aflutter. Despite the frustration simmering within her, Everie looked upon the older girl’s antics with amusement.

“I wasn’t aware you liked stories like these, Daphne,” Everie said, absentmindedly.

“Oh, but this isn’t a story,” Daphne said, spinning. Everie twitched, slightly taken aback by the spark that seemed to appear in the cognoscenti’s eyes. “It’s all truth! Archmage Inesorin is - in my personal opinion, of course - the greatest Chanter ever.”

Then she wrinkled her nose. “At least, after any of the heroes, of course. He’s at the Ninth Layer right now, but I’m sure he’ll break through eventually.”

Daphne gave her a lopsided grin. “That would make him the first to... become divine in the past thousand years, then.”

She sighed. “Oh, I can’t wait. I just love his work. He’s moral, upstanding, just-”

Everie stifled the urge to roll her eyes. She had grown somewhat fond of the fallen noble these past three years - enough to trust her a little more implicitly, at the very least. With her help, and the Manor’s support, Daphne had regained some of the effervescence she was apparently known for in her college years. One could spot her flouncing around the house at almost all hours of the day.

Of course, Everie knew better than most that scars still remained on Daphne’s psyche. From what she’d learned of the Purge, Daphne had never been truly close to her parents. Their deaths, too, had come through the newspaper - in Daphne’s context, at least, not at all an impactful way to receive morbid news.

But family, Everie thought, clenching the hem of her skirt in her fists, runs deeper than just that.

I understand that much now, at least.

“-I actually met Archmagus Inesorin once, you know?” Daphne said. Everie blinked. “He’s pretty young for a magus. Only three hundred years old - so he’s never undergone any rituals to extend his longevity.”

“Was he at least good looking, then?” Everie said. She almost immediately raked her tongue with her teeth.

Can’t believe I said that, she thought, wincing. I guess gossiping like this has a group-mentality aspect to it? Making you behave like the most energetic person in the room?

“Oh, he was,” Daphne sighed, dreamily. “But that’s not what really impressed me. Most people that practice magic are handsome, y’know, miss? I was an assistant-professor back then, at Therellian’s, before...” she trailed off.

Everie swallowed. She moved to take Daphne’s hand in hers, but the girl gave her a weak smile and shrugged her off.

“‘S alright, miss. Before the Purge,” she said. “I worked in Magical Research and Development. Worked in the study of ether capacitors. You do know what-”

“I know what a capacitor is, Daphne,” Everie said. Then she tilted her head. “But... you said ether capacitors?”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

In retrospect, Everie thought in the future, ruefully, that was a mistake.

Daphne wasted no time, immediately embarking on a rambling spiel about the science of ether circuitry. Everie wasn’t exactly unused to sycophantism, but the sheer passion with which the girl exposited her research took even her aback.

A true cognoscenti, this one, she grumbled in her head.

Fifteen minutes was when Everie decided she’d had enough.

“-see, miss, existing magical circuitry just isn’t advanced enough to run complicated simulations. Only the greatest of artificers and enchanters in the current day can make physical algorithms above the fifth-circle in power. But with this new research, as well as progress made by my fellow scholars in the departments of mana-reactive transistors, we could make life! Something artificial, capable of casting magic on its own, meaning it has its own will-”

“-right, right,” Everie said, holding up her hands. “Gosh! Half of that flew over my head, Daphne.”

Daphne blushed. “I-I’m sorry, miss,” she said, breathlessly. “It’s just-”

“You’re enthusiastic, I know,” Everie said. “Just... make sure to stick your head down from those clouds and make time for us mortals ever-so-often, alright?”

Everie twitched.

Bad joke.

Daphne sighed. “Well,” she said, with a throaty flourish. “We have our work cut out getting you to speed. How’s your magic training been going, mistress?”

Everie’s face fell.

“Not... well,” she admitted. “I’ve read Inesorin’s Elegy of Ether, as you requested. I get the concepts of actualization and literalization, but...”

Everie sighed. “It’s just... something about it seems wrong. I understand it, but it doesn’t work for me. I understand Literalization - it’s the act of solidifying ether. Making it permanent. Making it a- Inesorin called it a fixture, in his book. But... even that feels like an incomplete explanation. It- it almost feels like something’s missing.”

Daphne leaned over and ruffled Everie atop her head. She squawked, startled. “Don’t get so worried, miss,” the maid, tutting. “You’ll know when you understand how to do it. Some things you just have to do. And you have tons of time - you’re only four years old! Why, most noble children start studying the magical arts when they’re twelve!”

“It’s just- it’s been three years,” Everie protested. “And I’ve yet to make more than a single ounce of progress.”

Everie froze, realizing that Daphne was glaring at her. “What?” Everie said.

“I-sorry, miss,” Daphne said, frowning disapprovingly. “Did you just call yourself slow? When you’re four-years old, and already reading texts fit for students more than ten years older than you at Therellian’s?”

“No, I-”

“Well, I don’t want to hear it,” Daphne said. “As not just your caretaker, but your friend, I don’t want you to stress about something so trivial. Magic isn’t everything, Everie, as much as it pains me to admit. There’s more to life than just strength or knowledge.”

She clasped Everie’s hands in hers. “What is it you’re so afraid of?” Daphne said. Everie flinched, averting her eyes from Daphne’s gaze... until something about it drew her back in.

“What is it you want to become, Everie?”

“What do you live for, Everie?”

Everie swallowed. She opened her mouth to respond, but by then Daphne had already steamrolled over to her next talking point.

“Very well, then!” Daphne said, grinning. “Since you’re so deep in whatever’s troubling you, it’s my duty as maid, mistress, to bring you back out. We can go talk to the duchess about a trip downtown. In fact, we could go altogether!”

Everie blinked. Then a smile stretched across her face.

“Could we really?” she said, eagerly. “That would be amazing, Daphne.”

Daphne winked. “I’m your friend, after all, lil’ miss. You called me that all those years ago, remember?”

She froze.

“Right.” Everie said. “Right. I did.”