Syndra sat by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the strait. Outside the temple beneath the grounds. It was late evening, a time where the students would hone their skills, meditate, or relax. She had considered training as usual but couldn’t be bothered. The lessons had degenerated. Rather, they hadn’t changed. They were much below her abilities, she hadn’t had the chance to push herself for seasons. She felt that she had distinguished herself, that her power spoke for itself. Yes her demonstrations clearly wasn’t enough for Konigen. They still trudged around the same topics and the same lessons. The greatest fisherman is not the one who catches the greatest fish he would say. Pushing all that aside, she fiddled with the straps of the satchel she had brought. Heart racing and goosebumps covering her bare arms, despite the sun’s best efforts. Looking over the lands so far away. Navorri. She didn’t know if her family was still in that town by the sea, or if they went back home. Nor did she truly care. She steeled herself and opened it with a quick movement. From within she drew a scroll she had taken from the library. It was not the first time she had taken from the library without permission, and every time she felt the same mixed feeling of adrenaline and shame for going against her mentor’s wishes. The knowledge contained within was varied. Esoteric knowledge, history of the Ionian isles, poems, and literature. She could never be exactly sure what she grabbed before she opened and read them. The stone was warm from sun and a cool breeze blew from the east. She took a moment to calm her nerves once more before she unfurled the first scroll. Carefully as to not damage the papers. Upon the yellowed pages was a reverse family tree. The bottom detailed the azakana, lesser demons. The further up, the purer the feelings associated. The information was sparse, seemingly inferred. The azakana all had names ands descriptions, but the further up the tree, the smaller the descriptions. Until at the very top few strands only had single words connected. From she gleaned that the more primal the feeling, the stronger the spirit connected to it. It would seek out and feed these feelings.

A thrill grew within her, this was definitely above her abilities. This would be a true challenge. She laid the scroll out in front of her, placing rocks to hold it in place. Pushing herself off the ground, jumping on the spot, spinning her arms to warm her body. Once again beholding the information upon the sepia parchment. While excited she let caution guide her, and focused on a lesser feeling, near the bottom of the lineage. Irritation formed from ambition, connected with the azakana Siji. She should be able to manage that. As she had done so many times prior, accessing the well of power resting within realm of spirits, this time using this particular feeling. She followed the ritual as scribed, molding the magic in part to expand her knowledge, and in part to challenge herself, but mostly to sate her curiosity and try something new. The ritual was in some ways much like fishing. Wherein the sorcerer was both lure, rod, line, boat, and fisher all at once. She threw this pool of concentrated feeling into the preverbal waters below. A deep focus on the feeling, keeping it as intense as she could muster. She had gotten better at wielding magic, to the point where it only ached slightly. This was new. Like using muscles, you aren’t used to. It was both straining and exciting to experience the need to push against boundaries. Her mind treading water struggling to find balance against the currents, explored the colourful mirrored expanse of the forest around the temple. Without using her eyes, she saw a world were all things seemed vibrant and ordinary, but the moment she squinted at something in particular, a rock, a tree, the wind itself, it would change take on a new shape or connotation. With all things remaining both usual and unusual. The colour drained from the surrounding area. The wind blew warmer. She knew she had attracted company. She felt a presence, more than she saw. A spindly creature, long legs and arms, with a thin torso crept between the trees. Long, jet-black, hairy arms took hold of trees, to pull its long body forward. Circling ever round the lure Syndra had placed, she questioned why she had even started the ritual. Slowly she began pulling back, step by step. The creature pulled forward, matching her tempo. A thirst visible in reflective eyes. She ran, up the mountainside, through the winding path. It was gaining on her. She could hear the strained breath. The rasping of a dog on a hot day. Long fingers closed around her ankle and she fell over, looking back, the arm seemed to extend far down in the forest, the arm extending from it like a long evening shadow. She opened her eyes, standing once more on the precipice of the cliff. Stumbling slightly to regain her balance. Her heartbeat was faster than ever before, against a threat more real and more ancient than any danger she had thought of before. Slowly she removed the rocks holding the scroll open and rolled it back up. It was both frightening and exhilarating. Packing the small satchel, she took a look around. The grass around her had turned brown, leaves had curled and dried up. She took a deep breath. As she stepped through the rocky terrain, cliff on her right side, she heard a twig snap from a footfall that wasn’t her own, and in the dark she saw two reflective eyes. She backed away slowly, the light insufficient to get a proper look who or what owned those two glistening pearls. A rustle of leaves betrayed movement, yet the eyes remained transfixed upon her. She backed away, slowly. Her breathing heavy and her mouth dry. A touch of something on her leg provoked a gasp. Her eyes darkened. She pushed with all her might around her leg, creating deep grooves and cracks in the ground. When she looked down the was nothing on her. Looking back into the forest the eyes were gone.

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She ran. She ran as fast as she could back towards the temple. The horrible breathing all around her, the sound of wood scraping against wood, and foliage pushed aside. She turned her head to see movement in the trees, bushes being pushed apart. Whether it was loose rocks underneath, a root, an incline she couldn’t be sure. One moment she had impacted the ground. An ominous presence around her. Once more she summoned all primal force what she could muster and attacked. Gale force winds straining the trees’ roots, ripping bushes out of the soil, and buffeting rocks in unpredictable directions. She knew she had hit it from the cough, reminiscing boiling tar, emanating from within the woods. She did not relent. Forcing her magic upon whatever was chasing her. Whatever demonic creature she had lured. The trees lost their vigor. Making the glade an early autumn, turning to winter, as they lost their leaves. Leaving behind a drowned forest. Her breathing ragged. She pushed her hair back, to investigate the forest. She saw no movement, no life. Heard only the distant fluttering of birds trying to escape the deadly phenomena. She leaned against cliff-face for support. Catching her breath, gathering her strength, regretting her rash decisions. She wiped her eyes she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She had defeated an azakana, a demon. She looked for the bag. It had come loose during the fall and was nowhere to be seen. Scouting across the naked trees, she saw no trace of it. When the sun rose again and more light would guide her, she would come back and look for it, but not now. She had to get back. When she passed through the gates, night had fallen. When she entered her room Yima gasped. She asked her something that Syndra didn’t register, instead she collapsed in her bed, exhausted. She awoke to what would be another boring day. Another routine, but when the lessons started, she was surprised to find that Konigen instructed them in new more advanced techniques. It filled her days. Exciting new magics around every corner. She never did find the satchel again, and it was probably for the best.