Chapter Nineteen: Dancing With Blood

I wake up depressed. I’m supposed to meet Yue today, but there’s no way that’s happening. I’m too wounded. I can barely move. It feels like a thousand needles are in my body, and moving drives them deeper. I feel uncomfortable so I shift in bed.

Searing pain. I groan. My body has never felt this bad. My friends still haven’t visited and that saddens me. I’ve been alone since I woke up with no motivation and no one to help me.

The nurse visited me, and clearly, she thinks that I won’t leave the hospital soon. I hope that’s not true. I want to be able to go outside, to take a breather. To relax.

To heal. Not from the outward wounds. From the inward ones this fight has caused. Not from the trauma of the knife, but the trauma of the soul. I know I’m worthless, and that kept me up at night. I don’t know what to do anymore. It feels like the only thing I’ve been striving for has been taken from me.

I just wanted to mean something.

It’s too late for that now. As my chest burns with pain like a fire burning inside of me, I recall everything since I’ve arrived at Magefell.

I left Jade. I joined the Zenyth Academy. I befriended Xavier and Astil. I learned the fundamental basics of magic. Some of them, at least. I met Jade, and tried to help her with the Cult. I fought Raakhshas. I fought the Cult.

And I failed. I failed my friends. No wonder they don’t want to talk to me.

As I’m reminiscing on myself, I hear the medic ward door open. I expect the nurse, but am shocked to see Th’ul there, Xavier and Astil following him. Astil has a guilty look on his face, and I bite my lip and hang my head.

“I’m sorry—” I start, but Xavier interrupts.

“We’re really sorry, Zade,” He says. “We should’ve come here before.”

I nod. “I’m glad you’re here now. Why didn't you come before?”

Astil looks nervously at me. He's jittery, and obviously his conscience is bothering him about something. “We thought you blamed us.”

“Blame you?” I ask incredulously. “For what?”

“When you fought the cult, we didn’t show up,” Th’ul butts in for the first time. “We should’ve, but we didn’t, so we thought you were rightfully mad at us. Only reason we showed up at all is because we were too worried.”

“No, it’s my fault,” I respond. “Astil told me not to do this, but I did it anyway. But I do have a question. Why didn’t you arrive?”

“A Cultist found us, and we had to run away,” Xavier responded. “We wanted to come back, but they were guarding the door. We also tried to contact the High Mages, but the Parliament was in session, so the High Mages were attending it. When we got back, the Cultists were already gone. We found you half-dead on the floor, bleeding out. Th’ul was able to stop most of the blood, and we got you to the medic ward. High Mage Aegon visited in the middle of the night, and dropped off your book for you.”

I nod again. “Thanks, guys. I couldn’t figure out any of their names. I know that’s disappointing, but…” I trail off slowly, not knowing how to finish the statement.

“You think you failed, don’t you?” Th’ul asks. I look away hurriedly, and his lips curl upwards grimly. I think this is the first time I’ve seen him smile. It's a pity he’s grinning for the wrong reason. “You didn’t fail, Zade. I knew you wouldn’t be able to uncover them.”

My eyebrows rise in mild anger. “What? You’re the one who wanted to go forward with the plan! You were sacrificing me?”

Th’ul shakes his head. “No. I made the wrong decision. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t tell you the truth, and I should’ve.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew there was no way you would figure out who they are. No offense, but that’s a terrible plan. I had a better one. I wanted them to know we were after them. They knew we weren’t for them, but I needed them to know we were against them. When you told me your plan, I thought it was a good way to tell them we were coming for them. It worked. They may act arrogant about it now, but they can’t hide the truth. They know now that we know they will try something. I’m just sorry I didn’t come to save you.”

“I don’t know what to think about that,” I say, thinking. “Why did you want them to know we would fight them?”

“It’s easier for them to make a mistake by being nervous. Knowing this will make them nervous.”

I scoff. “This would not make them in the least bit nervous.”

“You underestimate yourself, Zade. You have only been here for two weeks, and you had the balls to confront them. Not only that, but they used many people to overwhelm them. Knowing you, I bet you used the sword against them and to some degree, it worked. They know this will humble you, lead you to keep going. They know that you're strong. They know you won’t quit. Just like we do.” He says this pointedly, as if he knows exactly how I’m feeling. Maybe he does. “We’ll leave you alone now. Just know we’re here for you.”

I smile. “Thanks, guys.” They nod and exit the medic ward.

I feel much better now. There was something Th’ul said that is really motivating me.

They know you won’t quit. Just like we do.

I glare at nothing and smile.

I won’t quit.

I’m not worthless.

I haven’t failed.

At least, not until I really try.

I grimace and get out of bed. I start doing pushups, and immediately the pain overwhelms me. But I don’t care. The pain is good. I welcome it. It motivates me, and I persist. Pushup after pushup, up and down, like my beating, inflamed heart. I switch to one arm and keep going. I don’t know how long I do this, but I switch to situps eventually. I’m bleeding again, but I drink it in softly, and keep doing my exercises. My bandages are starting to fall off, too. But I’m not feeling tired at all, merely excited.

I take a break for a minute and drink some water, then get right back to my exercises. I grab my sword and routinely stance myself, thrusting and parrying an invisible opponent. I’ve never trained this hard with myself, and it feels invigorating. My muscles cry out to my brain, and it feeds my resolve.

I imagine throwing my problems in a furnace. I start to smile, inhaling deeply. I feel good.

Eventually, my imagined opponent falls to the ground, dead, but I’m not done. Ten more opponents rush at me wildly, and I swirl around madly, cutting here, dodging there. My motions become swift and fluid, a violent dance with an enemy only I can see.

I kill one, severing his head. I can picture the blood flowing off, leaking on me. I can feel it due to my own blood. Another dies, sword through the heart. One of my opponents scratches me on the arm, but I retract quickly, downing him too.

Another goes down right after, followed by another one. They’re falling like leaves, my sword slicing through each of them like paper, me standing tall and still as a tree.

Three others go down. The other two flee, and I mentally chase them, catching up to them, and releasing them from life.

I breathe deeply again. I look around the medic ward. There’s blood everywhere from me moving around swiftly.

It’s my bloody dance. And I love it.

I walk back over to my bed and sit down, grabbing my book. I flip to the first page, where the now familiar words stay. Nothing has changed in them yet. I make a vow to myself.

I will get to Level 3 today.

I summon Master Thul. He guides me through my routine: The Flame Finger, the Levitation, the Fireball, the Core Shield, and finally, the last magic I learned, and the one where I’m more wooden, the Magic Shield. I put more of an effort into this routine than I’ve ever done before. By the end, I feel alive, and not a little tired. I’ve kept the magic up for longer than ever, and I don’t feel my Mana depleting.

“I want to learn more.” I tell Master Thul.

“I don’t know if that’s wise,” He responds. “Given your current state, rest is a much better option.”

“I want to learn more,” I repeat stubbornly.

He huffs. “Fine. If that’s what you want, we’ll do it. But you must rest.”

“I will. After this.”

“Today, we will learn another essential part of magic. You have learned about Fire and Air. Today, we will learn a little about the Soul. It controls life and death. As a Necromancer, this will hopefully be your biggest strength. Healing also deals with the soul. But while Healing deals with strengthening or weakening, Necromancy is more about extracting or giving. You will learn more through your book. Suffice it to say for now, Necromancy is dangerous.” He smiled. “But it’s also fun as hell.”

“What will we do today?”

“Today, we will learn how to identify when something is living or dead.”

“How is that important,” I ask, eyebrows furrowed. “I can tell that I’m alive, and that you’re not.”

“Oh, really?” He asks. “How do you know I am not alive?”

I sputter. “It’s obvious. You’re not real. You’re a…construct or something.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t prove it, can you?” I think for a minute and shake my head. “Exactly. With magic, you can.”

Realization dawns on me. “So this will help me identify and focus on people or animals to use magic, right?”

“Excellent. That is correct. Every living… creature has a core. Most have no magic in them. But they are traceable. A true mage learns to identify cores and who they belong to. Some mages do hide their core, though. The most powerful defense mages are able to truly shield their core off from anyone aiming to find their core.” I shudder with excitement. When Master Thul talks like this, I remember how much I have to learn. I’ve never felt this excited about another topic. I’m enthusiastic to learn more.

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“Okay,” I say, “What do I do?”

“Straightforward, are you?” Master Thul chuckles. “Very well. Close your eyes, and relax your core.” I obey him. I’m used to this exercise by now, so by the time I close my eyes, my core is already ready. I wait for Master Thul to keep giving me instructions.

“Identify your core,” Master Thul drones, “Make sure you know everything about your core. Make sure you can identify it. Picture it in our mind without looking at it. If you can do that well, you are on the right track.” I try to do that. It’s easy enough. I’ve memorized the look of my core fairly well. I nod to show I’ve done that, and Master Thul speaks to me once again.

“Now imagine a new core. Not yours. Someone else’s.” I try to do that. I imagine a core similar to my own, but different in feel somehow. Like the difference between a used and an unused teacup. “Now search with your mind. You know this room well. Picture this room in your mind, and search for a core. Any core.” In my mind, a realistic picture of the medic ward appears. I look for a core, and locate one easily. It’s here on the bed where I’m sitting. Is there anyone else here? The core pulsates familiarly, and I sigh in relief. It’s mine.

I walk slowly through the room in my mind, searching for something, anything that resembles my core or the different one I imagined. I feel a glow somewhere behind me. I turn around. There’s a small core somewhere below my bed. I can barely see it. I look under the bed. Even squinting, it’s barely there. It must belong to an ant or maybe a grasshopper. I open my eyes.

“I think I found one,” I say.

“Good. Check to see if you really did,” Master Thul says. I nod and crouch down. Under the bed, I strain my eyes, and I can see it. It's a cricket. I reach over and cup it with my hands. I bring it up to my bed.

Master Thul beams. “Well done! You have found your first core.” I smile and put the cricket back on the ground. It hops away, and I stare at it until it hides.

I rest for five minutes, but right after, I go back to exercising.

I can’t stop.

I need to keep going.

— — —

“How are you feeling?” High Mage Aegon asks me, body language showing signs of his worry, though he tries not to show it.

“All things considered, not too bad,” I respond.

“What you did was brash.”

“I know. I’ve figured that out by now.”

“You should’ve contacted me before. From now on, you must tell me if you mean to do anything.” His voice is stern, but kind. “I am an expert with magic. I know the Cult well. I will be able to tell if a plan of yours is smart.”

I nod. “I’ll do that. I promise.”

“Nurse told me you weren’t resting,” High Mage Aegon says. “You need it.”

“I don’t have the time,” I respond. “I can’t afford to stop. The tournament comes soon, and I have to be ready.”

High Mage Aegon sighs. “I understand the sentiment. I felt the same way when I was your age. But it doesn’t work that way. You’ll end up burning yourself out. What’s your Mana right now?”

I take out my book. “83 percent.”

High Mage Aegon frowns. “That high? Interesting. I guess there isn't too much of a problem with you continuing. Just be careful. And sleep when you need to. Have you had any more visions yet?”

I shake my head. “Thankfully, no.”

The High Mage grimaces at me. “Don’t take it as a good sign. Often, the Mysticist would stop having visions days before something important happened. If he stopped having visions, the Mysticist would prepare for the worst. So should we. The tournament is closer than ever.”

“See? That’s why I need to keep training! If I don’t, I’ll have no way of stopping what’s coming.”

“I don’t know if anyone can stop what’s coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever the Cultists are planning, they've checked every issue that could hamper it. So I don’t think we can stop them from bringing about their plan. What we must do is defeat them after their plan has started. They’ll expect us to try and stop them from bringing about their plan. The only thing we’ll try and stop is them finishing it.”

“Do you think we can do that?”

High Mage Aegon thinks about it for a minute.

“Don’t lie to me,” I warn him.

“I don’t know if we can stop them. But I’m praying we can, because if we can’t…” He leaves the statement unanswered and I gulp.

I can’t let them finish their plan.

I need to keep training.

— — —

Push down. Push up. Clap. Push back down. A never ending cycle. I barely even feel the strain in my muscles. I’m sweating, though. Sweating more than ever. The nurse came by and rebandaged me. She scolded me too. According to her, if I keep this up, I won’t heal. But she doesn’t understand.

I’m more healed than I’ve ever been.

I sit up and throw a fireball. I’m starting to be able to throw it without thinking about it much, and it zings away quickly for about ten feet. I put a lot of my core into this one, and still I didn’t lose much Mana. I know I should probably be reading the second chapter in my book, but I don’t have time for information right now.

I throw more Fireballs, aiming at different objects this time. One of the Fireballs actually lights a candle and I smile proudly. In the back of my mind, I search for the core. I think there are three in this room, but I can’t be sure. I’m still not too good with that particular bit of magic.

It’s past noon now. I was supposed to meet up with Yue around this time, but I wasn’t able to. I managed to tell Xavier to get a message to her. I hope he remembers to.

I’ve been practicing for about two hours now. I haven’t eaten lunch yet. Xavier brought it, but I’m waiting until I feel starved. I need to keep going.

I go back to my exercises, and this time I do sit ups. My scars are aching, most of them open by now, but I’m not struggling. I close my eyes and bring my torso up over and over. I can feel my bandages falling off again. They’re stained with blood. I think I’m bleeding again.

After a couple hundred sit ups, I finally take a break. I pick up the plate of rice and beef next to me and chow it down. It takes me only a few minutes to eat and by the end I feel re-reinvigorated. I can’t afford to stop.

Back to sword training. I pretend I’m at the Magefell Tournament, defending myself desperately against the best swordsmen and swordswomen there. I switch to sparring with Alyx. I know how she fights, and it’s hard to beat her, even in my head. My left foot goes forward, my body moving back. I duck as a sword flashes above me.

The glint of sunlight in the medic ward illuminates me as I continue my bloody dance. The drops of blood on the ground show the movements I’ve done, and I smile, noticing how many mistakes I’ve made. None. I disarm Alyx, her sword flying above her and sticking to the cobblestone. I smile and shake her hand, telling her she did well. She smiles back, congratulating me.

I’m proud of what I’ve done, even if it’s all in my head. I could take on the Cultists with my sword now, as long as they didn’t use magic.

I’m breathing hard now, and I know if anyone could see me now, they would find a vicious monster bent on willpower. My chest heaves up and down, blood spilling out slowly. My feet sore from where the wounds ache, my arms flexing softly.

I sheathe my sword, and breathe softly, gaining my breath back. I look in the book to check my mana. 65 percent. I still have enough to practice more magic. So I go again.

I start the workout again, straining my chest and arms, then moving to my legs. I’m determined to see this through.

I move to my magic, throwing fireballs, shielding myself, levitating objects. I’m able to lift heavier objects. Eventually, I'll try to lift a human.

Once again, I return to the sword. I dance with blood, with the invisible, with my problems. And for the first time in years, I win.

Then back to exercising. Then the sword. Then exercising again. Magic. Sword. Magic. Exercise. Repeat over and over again until I can barely see.

Eventually, it starts getting late, and Xavier and Astil return to visit me.

“You ok?”

I nod. “Never better. Did you talk to Yue?”

“I did. She was concerned. She told you to get well soon. We’ll need you soon.”

I wince. “I know. How long until the tournament?”

“About a week,” Astil says, “Some people have already arrived for it.”

“Inns getting full?”

“Some of the most popular ones, yeah. Ember On The Waters has no vacancy, but that’s only to be expected. Some shops have started making their wares more expensive. Tourists won’t tell the difference.”

I frown. “That sounds wrong.”

Astil shrugs. “Foreigners are willing to pay more, so the shopkeepers take advantage of that.”

“I visited Arcadia once,” Xavier tells us, “And it was the same thing, except worse. Inns had two different menus: one for the foreigners and one for the natives. The foreigners’ one was much more expensive. Thankfully, my dad knew they did that and he was able to stop it.”

“I never had to go through that,” I say, “Because I lived close to Arcadia, so I got all the normal prices. How’s Zenyth? Has anything changed because of yesterday?”

Xavier nods slightly. “Just a little. Some people heard about what happened, and there are rumors spreading. I heard Anni spread some of them.”

“That’s not true,” Astil huffs angrily and Xavier chuckles.

“What are the rumors?”

“Some are pretty normal, saying you picked a fight with the wrong crowd, or that you tried to join a group that rejected you. The wild rumors are my favorites, though. Some people are saying you fought off several Cult leaders, barely surviving, but killing plenty of them. Some even think you were fighting a troll.”

“It definitely felt like I was fighting a troll,” I respond.

“What happened, though?” Astil asks. Xavier glares at him, but he keeps going. “You haven’t told us the story. If you don’t mind, I would like to know.”

I nod and tell him what happened in the Trophy Room. Starting with the arrival of the cult which quickly turned into a one-sided sword fight. Eventually, the leader got tired and decided to torture me himself.

I don’t remember too much of the torture, but what I can remember haunts me. It’s not something I’m likely to shake soon. The cold feel of the metal biting my skin, digging into it. My inability to speak. His smile as he carves me. It’s something that I never want to think about ever again.

By the end, Astil is in tears. Xavier looks horrified. I smile at them and try to encourage them.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I lie. “I’m feeling great.”

“You’re bleeding,” Xavier points out.

I shrug. “I do that all the time. So do you. We all bleed. It’s normal.”

“Not like that.”

“I guess we can agree to disagree.”

Xavier crosses his arms. “What have you been doing today? You should’ve stopped bleeding by now.”

“Oh just a couple of exercises.” I respond. I look at the blood on the ground, and Astil notices me looking at it.

“What is that?” He asks, a little worried.

“I was just practicing with the sword a little.”

“You what?” His voice sounds incredulous. “You don’t want to heal, do you?”

“The nurse already told me that. I need to keep going, though.”

Astil sighs. “I know I can’t convince you, but you really should stop. Wait until you’re healed.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. Speaking of exercising, I need to go back to it.”

“That’s our cue,” Xavier says. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

I nod. “I’ll hold you up to that.”

— — —

It’s almost midnight now. I’ve been working nonstop, and I do need to get some rest now. Just need to finish my practice.

I keep my Fireball up for a long time until I send it towards my book. As the book is magical, the Fireball dissipates when it reaches it. I close my eyes and expand my core slowly. I feel the shield around me, and I know that it is stronger than I’ve ever made it.

My mana is down below 40 percent now, so I’m at risk of Burning, especially as a mage-in-training. So I do one last thing.

I try to identify any cores within the medic ward. I can feel four or five bugs around, and definitely a rat. I can’t affect them in any way, but I know where they are. It’s a success.

I hear a sound in my mind. It sounds almost like…victory, maybe? It’s almost like a set of bells rising in pitch. I hear a female voice in my head.

Level 3.

That’s strange. Nothing happened when I reached Level 2. I wonder who the female is. Maybe I didn’t level up. I check my book, and soon I’m grinning madly.

I did.

I reached Level 3.

My practice paid off. I’ve finally reached it, and I feel like I’ve accomplished something great.

I can’t take on the cult. Not yet.

But I’m one step closer.

I need to keep going.

Every day I will get stronger until I can fight them head on.

It’s time to stop playing.

It’s time to get serious.