The almost primal scream made Victor flinch. The young man’s back arched as his eyes rolled back.
“I told you!” Alarien hissed, rushing towards the Oracle. Her pale red mana swooped in, creating a protective field around the esteemed Oracle.
Wide eyed, Victor watched. Seconds turned into minutes, the young man’s screams died down as he lost consciousness, leaving only the rare whimper as the purging ritual continued.
Eventually, the Oracle let out a sigh and allowed her mana to dissipate. “He will live.” She stated. “I did not expect to find any Soul Magic clinging to him, but it hid in his hand, within the scars…” She scowled. “Within the mark.” She carefully placed his hand on the bed, with the crimson mark glowing brightly.
She wiped a bead of sweat off of her forehead, then shot Alarien a glance. “Please examine the other children, and alert me if there is anything suspicious.”
Alarien nodded. “Of course.” She said with a tired voice. Victor watched his wife as she walked out of the room, only turning to face the Oracle once the door closed behind her. “What is it, esteemed Oracle?” He asked. She had sent Alarien away for a reason, he could see it in her eyes.
The Oracle gestured towards the young man. “He will live,” She told him again. “But only because lady luck has deemed it so.” She leaned against the bed. “He has no mana heart yet, but a vast pool of mana. No affinity to any attribute either… he is lucky.”
Victor’s eyes widened. “Grey mana?!” He exclaimed without thinking. The Oracle nodded. “Rare, and unfortunate in any other circumstance.” She pursed her lips. “Why are you so surprised, Victor?”
Victor ignored her question. Instead, he lifted the young man’s scarred hand. “Did he tell his name was Ash?” he asked as dread loomed over him. “Yes,” The Oracle replied almost absentmindedly. She seemed lost in thought.
Victor looked at the mark on the back of the young man’s hand. His heart sank as he recognised it. It was his, of course it was his mark. How had he not recognised him at first sight? That golden head of hair, those bright blue eyes…
“What happened, Victor?” The Oracle asked once more, with a much firmer tone. “Tell me.”
He hesitated. “It’s my mark.” He said a few moments later. “I remember the kid, he begged me to take him with me.” He clenched his fists.
“It would have been against the Emperor’s decree, may he be blessed.”
“I’m well aware.” Victor snapped. If only it hadn’t been… he would have taken that child away from that small village in an instant. He still vividly remembered the bruise on his face, and now when he looked at his scarred hand… he felt nothing but regret.
“Very well.” The Oracle placed her hand on his shoulder. “I worry for you, Victor. But now I also worry for this child. Something isn’t quite right, yet I know not what.” She scowled, “I have seen many who were almost taken by Soul Magic. I have seen those who were lost to it, and those who came back from the very edge. Yet in none had I felt the same void I felt within him.” She seemed almost uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand…” Victor looked at Ash. The painful expression on his face was gone now. He was in deep slumber, and it was probably best he remained that way for a while.
“Neither do I.” The Oracle admitted. “His sight is extraordinary, he could see my mana when I could only feel it.” Victor’s eyes widened. “And such golden hair… surely you know what that means. Who oversees his education?”
Victor looked away. “Balthazar Maple.”
The Oracle’s otherwise calm expression suddenly twisted. “I… see…” She clenched her fists. “I will not comment on that. Do send him my best regards if you see him. And do tell him to make sure this child receives a good mana heart.”
Victor awkwardly smiled. “Of course.”
The Oracle took a few deep breaths. “I have much work to do.” She said with a calmer voice, though her twitching eye gave away her emotions. “Let him sleep. We shall speak of the Apostle and the movements of the cult at another time.”
With that, the Oracle left. Victor remained by the young man’s bedside for a while longer, repeating their first meeting over and over again in his mind. Feelings he wasn’t used to surfaced, but he was quick to drown them out. No matter his own rather complicated relationship with this young man, Ash was a friend to his daughter. The least he could do was to make sure he always had a way of finding him, just like he had with Maya and Fionna.
He used a bit of mana to sharpen the air in front of his finger, then cut a sizable bit of Ash’s hair. After making sure to wrap in it a bit of cloth, he let out a sigh, pushed his feelings aside, and left the room.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
----------------------------------------
He woke up the next day, the memory of that incredible pain still fresh in his mind. He felt sick, his throat hurt, and he couldn’t really move too well, not without feeling dizzy.
There was a new glove prepared for him, with a little note from Maya. She apologised for the loss of his old glove, and promised to visit as soon as she was done absorbing her mana heart. Apparently, they had been able to find the purchased mana hearts along with the unconscious professor in their room in the Auction House.
His first visitor was Professor Maple, who didn’t talk much. He walked with the help of a cane, and his speech was slightly slurry. The visit was short, he simply informed Ash that he was taking a break from teaching for a short while.
It took a few days for Ash to be able to walk unassisted, and during that time, he could do nothing but try and cycle his mana. Somehow, he found the void he had been feeling up until now to be much less terrifying.
“How close are you?” Fionna asked wide eyed. She was the only person aside from him who wasn’t ready to receive a mana heart, and as such, the only person who wasn’t busy absorbing one. She spent a few hours with him every day.
“I’m not sure.” Ash admitted. “I don’t even know how I will know when I’m ready.”
Sitting upright on the bed, his legs were folded, and his hands comfortably rested on his knees. He cycled his mana slowly, something he had been able to do since waking up. Before, he wasn’t able to do this without help from someone else. Now, it was possible. Difficult, but possible.
“Well, Maya described it as feeling full.” Fionna shrugged. She was reading a book while sitting on the only chair in the room. “How full do you feel?”
Ash awkwardly smiled. “Not much, I suppose?” The void was still there, and it was still hungry. Was that what Maya had meant, he wondered. “Is there no other way to know?”
Fionna closed the book. “Well, I suppose you could use a Seer’s Orb. I don’t have one with me, but I can ask Maya’s dad to bring one.”
Ash’s lips formed a thin line. “Do you know him that well?” He asked as unpleasant memories surfaced. After promising an easy and fairly painless ritual, the Inquisitor and Oracle had dragged him through what he could only describe as hell. The pain was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed every time he thought of those two.
Fionna shrugged. “I suppose you could say that.” A faint smile appeared on her lips. “I’ve been staying with them since I was about ten years old. Maya’s parents have always been incredibly kind to me.”
“I see.” Ash muttered. She had mentioned that once before in passing. “Incredibly kind isn’t the first word that comes to mind when think of the Inquisitor.” He let out a sigh. Despite his words, he was well aware he owed his life to the Inquisitor. Maya’s letter also detailed how he was mortally wounded, and how her father gave up the chase on the Apostle to save his life.
“Well, he does always look angry.” Fionna chuckled, then placed the book on his bedside table. “I should probably get going. You said they were letting you come back to the dorms tomorrow, right?” Ash nodded. The healer who brought him dinner a few hours ago had told him so. “Great!” Fionna chuckled. “Then I’ll see you there.”
She left, carrying a cheerful expression.
----------------------------------------
It was shortly after dawn that the healers came to give him a new set of clothes. After he got dressed, they had him walk around the room, watching him to make sure he wouldn’t just collapse.
“We can’t heal your hand, or the scar on your chest without extensive preparation.” One of them informed him as they escorted out of the hospital. “And even then, it would cause a great deal of pain to you.” Seeing Ash shudder, she chuckled. “We assumed you wouldn’t want to endure that, and I see that we were correct.”
They had arrived at the entrance to the hospital. It was on the ground floor of the High Tower, near the entrance hall. The entrance was visible from where they stood, and Ash could see the constantly coming and going patients.
“Thank you for everything.” He said, bowing his head.
“We did naught, it was the Oracle and the Inquisitor who saved you.” The healer said with a gentle smile. She bid him farewell and went back inside.
With a sigh, Ash slowly made his way through the ground floor, towards the set of stairs that lead up. As he walked, he watched the people around him. The High Tower was much more crowded than before. Everywhere he looked were either guards or mages. He spotted two women quietly talking with stern expressions next to a statue of the third emperor by the wide stairwell. Their intricate tattoos covered half of their faces, making them instantly recognisable as Inquisitors.
Ash made sure to stay well away of them. He had learnt at a very young age that getting noticed by powerful people had only two outcomes – either he benefited of it greatly, or he suffered even worse. He looked at his right hand, tracing the still glowing mark with his fingers over his glove.
He remembered that day clearly. How that enforcer marked him, and how he asked about his family. How he talked to his father, and to his stepmother. How pale and afraid his father was, and how he took his anger out of him as soon as they were back at the secluded Serenpetal fields.
People in positions of power were nothing but trouble. Even if they approached him with the best of intentions, he still needed to stay away from them.
His steps came to a halt as he noticed he had already arrived at the dorms. He opened the door and stepped into the common room. The fireplace was lit, its warm, gentle flames illuminating the round room. On the couch in front of it, Fionna had fallen asleep with a book on her lap.
He quietly closed the door behind him as to not wake her up, then headed towards his room. As he turned towards the men’s side of the hallway, he stopped in his tracks. Two doors were wide open, and mana spilled onto the hallway from both. From one, he could see deep blue mana, dark like the depths of a lake. From the other door, a mix of brown and green mana spread into the hallway.
Unable to curb his curiosity, Ash walked to Damien’s door. The dark blue mana swirled around his feet and legs. It took a bit of effort to step forward, like he was walking in knee-deep water. He leaned to the doorframe and peeked inside.
Damien was sitting on a pillow, on the ground at the centre of his small room. Sitting cross legged in a lotus position, his hands were resting on his knees, palms facing up. A crystal about twice the size of a closed fist floated in front of his chest, glowing brightly. Streaks of mana flowed from it to Damien, and along with it did particles. Bits of the crystal – of soon to be his mana heart – were breaking off and vanishing in Damien’s mana.
Mesmerized, Ash watched the process.
He could taste the power in the air. The smell of fresh snow reached his nostrils as he watched. He wanted this, needed this.