Back in my room, I sit at the desk, flipping through the pages of that strange book. Man, I wish I could read it. If I get a chance, I’ll ask Laura to teach me.

I wonder what she’s doing now. She wasn’t near that large door when the guards escorted me. She probably has her own problems to worry about—why would she be thinking of me?

Rhythmically tapping on the open book, my thoughts drift to the gift the Goddess gave. It left a sour impression on the clergy, but I suspect it’s more than it appears.

I set my hand on the table, palm facing up, and concentrate. The strange liquid appears—this time, more than just a drop. I’d say about 10 milliliters, give or take.

It’s odd. It seems to be hydrophobic, as it doesn’t coat my hand, and its temperature matches my body’s, so it doesn’t even feel like I’m holding anything.

The opaque red color makes it look like blood, but when I dip my tongue in it, there’s no taste. It’s peculiar, but if I’m going to make use of it, I’ll need to analyze it in excruciating detail.

Its consistency is like water. Given that the Goddess seems to be symbolized by a blue flame, and the priests deemed my power blasphemous, I’d say “Red Water” would be a fitting name for this ability.

I concentrate, and the liquid shrinks; focus a bit more, and it returns to 10 milliliters. I can excrete it and absorb it back through my skin.

I extend my finger, just as I did in the throne room, letting the droplet form and drip down. Once again, it evaporates the moment it loses contact with me.

Just like before, the moment the water evaporates, I feel a faint sense of emptiness, like mild hunger or thirst. I resummon the water in my hand, and it appears to be one droplet short. Hopefully, it recharges over time.

With some concentration—and a bit of effort—I manage to make the water jiggle without moving my hand. I spread it out across my palm, then pull it back together into a small sphere.

So, I can make it move and influence its properties. To make it spread out, I somehow adjust its surface tension. I wonder what else I can do.

I gaze at the red sphere and touch it with my other hand. This time, it doesn’t feel like water but more like gelatin—soft and squishy, no longer entirely liquid.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I “let go,” and it spreads out again, returning to its liquid form. Liquid, somewhat solid… I wonder if I can turn it into a gas, or even plasma.

I concentrate, imagining the material’s particles moving faster and faster, and I can feel it heating up. It’s as warm as tea now. Then, I picture the particles slowing down, and it cools, becoming lukewarm, almost cool.

Next, I experiment with shaping it. I form it into a ball again, then a crude cube, and finally a crooked pyramid. The more complex the shape, the harder it becomes, but with practice, I could get the hang of it.

Feeling clever, I try to turn it into a torus—or a donut, in layman’s terms. To my surprise, I can’t do it. I can form the donut if it’s lying flat, but when I try to make it stand vertically, it falls apart.

Assuming my body acts as an extension of it, it’s safe to say that Red Water is homeomorphic. In other words, I can stretch, shape, and deform it in countless ways—just not cut it or create holes. Interesting.

I absorb the donut shape back into my hand and extend my finger again. Concentrating, I summon the water to my fingertip. It accumulates, enveloping the tip with its opacity.

As I relax, it begins to sag, losing its firmness and stretching downward like a strand of slime. Holding my hand about ten inches above the tabletop, I watch as the string of Red Water extends until it touches the wooden surface.

To my surprise, I can feel the table without physically touching it. The substance acts like an extension of me, granting me the ability to feel through it. Fascinating.

I touch the stretched strand with my other hand; its texture feels mucous-like. An idea strikes me. I rip the corner of the book and place it on the red strand. As expected, it sticks.

Concentrating a bit more, I retract the tendril, lifting the piece of paper with it. I can feel the paper through the water. The slimy strand bounces slightly, like a rubber band.

Growing more confident, I gather the Red Water into a ball in the middle of my hand again. This time, I’m going to try something else.

I take the bed sheets and cover the window, trying to make the room as dark as possible. Shaking with excitement, I sit back down at the desk and gaze at the orb once more.

I make it heat up again, and this time my eyes widen at what I see—it glows faintly. The red light isn’t strong enough to read by, but it’s close.

I continue experimenting with it for about ten minutes. That strange, empty feeling inside me grows, and I notice the water volume has shrunk.

Movement, transformation, temperature, elasticity, stickiness, luminosity… The possibilities are endless, but the limitations are clear. If I continue developing my skills and if I could increase the volume, this ability could prove very useful.

I stand and gaze through the window at the vast cityscape before me. It resembles the old town of the city I used to live in. I wonder if I’ll ever get back.

The thought fills me with uncertainty. I was only summoned this morning, but it feels much longer than that. The summoning, the Blue Flame Ceremony, and the fiasco in the throne room…

I’m tired. Some sleep would do me good. I’ll need to keep my mind sharp if I’m to get out of this mess.