"I'm feeling that thing Ioana mentioned," I say through gritted teeth.

Virginia's voice cuts through the haze of concentration. "Proceed."

I raise my hand, feeling like a complete tool, and make a horizontal chopping motion. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a sound like tearing silk, the tree splits perfectly in half. The cut is so clean, so precise, it looks like it was done with a laser.

The two halves of the tree slowly topple away from each other, crashing to the ground with a thunderous boom that echoes through the meadow. Leaves and splinters rain down around us, and I can't help but stare in awe at the destruction I've just caused.

Holy shit. I did that. With my fucking mind.

Dumitra's slow clap breaks the stunned silence. "Well done, little one," she purrs, her ruby eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're doing quite well. It's a good thing my hypothesis was correct so far."

I lower my hand, still staring at the bisected tree. "So, what now?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"We still have to figure out the range of your abilities," Dumitra replies. "And how you can activate the flying like before. But I think that can wait for another day. For now, let's focus on the range of your gifts."

Dumitra's ruby eyes gleam with a predatory light as she surveys the meadow. Without a word, she strides over to the fallen tree and hefts a sizeable log onto her shoulder. The casual display of strength is both impressive and unsettling.

"Now, little one," she calls out, her voice carrying easily across the clearing, "we shall test the reach of your newfound gift."

I watch as she paces away from me, her movements graceful despite the weight of the log. When she's about twenty paces distant, she sets it down with a solid thud.

"Begin," she commands, stepping back.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the log. The pressure between my eyes builds again, and I make the now-familiar chopping motion. The log splits cleanly in two, just like the tree before it.

"Excellent," Dumitra purrs. She retrieves another log and moves further away.

And so it goes. Log after log, Dumitra placing them at increasing distances. I slice through them all, the invisible force of my will cleaving wood as easily as a hot knife through butter. It's exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

Thirty paces. Forty. Fifty. The logs keep splitting, but I can feel the strain growing. It's like trying to thread a needle from across a room – possible, but requiring intense concentration.

At sixty paces, I falter. The log remains stubbornly whole, despite my best efforts. I grit my teeth, anger flaring in my chest. Come on, you piece of shit. Split!

But it's no use. The log sits there, mocking me with its wholeness.

"Enough," Dumitra calls out. She turns to Ioana and Virginia, who've been watching the proceedings with rapt attention. "Measure the distance."

The twins move with eerie synchronicity, pacing out the distance between me and the uncut log. When they finish, they speak in perfect unison:

"Fifty-seven steps, Mother."

Dumitra's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "Fifty-seven steps!" she announces, her voice ringing out across the meadow. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

I lower my hand. My head throbs, and I can feel a trickle of something warm running from my nose. I wipe at it absently, my fingers coming away stained with blood.

Fuck me sideways. This magic shit is no joke.

As I stand there, hand lowered and blood trickling from my nose, I hear Dumitra's voice carrying across the meadow. "I can smell that! Enough for today!"

I watch as Dumitra, Ioana, and Virginia approach, their otherworldly grace a stark contrast to my own blood-smeared, disheveled state. Ioana's melodic voice breaks the silence first.

"You must engage in activities you enjoy to replenish your gifts," she explains, her emerald eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "Mere slumber will not suffice."

Virginia chimes in, her voice a perfect echo of her twin's. "Aye, partake in pleasurable pursuits - cooking, mending, socializing, carnal delights. Whatever brings a smile to your visage and joy to your heart."

Oh, for fuck's sake. So now I have to get my dopamine fix to recharge my magical batteries? Do drugs count? Give me that opium poppy. I'd kill for a hit of something stronger than mead right about now.

Dumitra's ruby eyes narrow, as if she can read my thoughts. "Take heed, child. This is no trifling matter."

I sigh, resigning myself to this new magical reality. "Fine. I'll just cook. I love cooking, after all."

Virginia's eyebrows shoot up, her perfect features marred by a look of confusion. "Were you not a man in your past life? You found joy in culinary pursuits?"

"Yes," I reply, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "I was a dying breed. Most people in my world stopped eating altogether. They had little machines deliver sustenance directly into their stomachs or bloodstreams while they slept."

Virginia lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. Ioana leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Your world sounds far more intriguing than this one."

I can't help but scoff at that. "This world has some pretty advanced tech too, you know. The spellsinger, those ritual tattoos that heal people - that's some next-level shit."

Dumitra's lips curl into a smug smile. "I am the one who invented those ritual tattoos."

My jaw drops. "You?! You're a fucking historical figure all by yourself! People talk about those tattoos - even Erik says they predate Jesus Christ himself."

Dumitra nods, her expression a mixture of pride and amusement. "I am older than the current calendar, after all."

Holy shit. I'm standing in the presence of some kind of immortal magical genius. The scientist in me is practically salivating at the possibilities. "I want to learn how to etch those tattoos," I blurt out. "And how to make 'magic' tools like the Spellsinger."

Dumitra clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "I know how to craft magical tools, but the materials are the true bottleneck. As for the tattoos, learning to etch them as I do will take years of study and practice. Clerics attend specialized schools for more than a decade to master the art."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Fucking schools made for learning about what you invented. Do they even know you're the one who came up with this shit?"

Dumitra shrugs, her nonchalance infuriating. "Even if I were to approach them and claim the invention as my own, they would not believe me."

"How did you come up with them?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Dumitra's eyes take on a faraway look, and she begins to speak, her voice low and mesmerizing. "I discovered the markings etched in a cave in Francia. From there, it was a matter of trial and error. I began by etching them onto tools, but they yielded no results. So, I moved on to animals."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

She pauses, a wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Some died, of course. But others... others exhibited remarkable healing properties. It was then that I knew I was onto something truly extraordinary."

I listen, fascinated and horrified in equal measure, as Dumitra continues her tale. "Human experimentation was the next logical step. The first attempts were... messy. Some subjects quite literally exploded. But those who survived... ah, they demonstrated healing abilities beyond anything I had ever witnessed."

She goes on, describing in gruesome detail the various ways her test subjects met their ends. Spontaneous combustion, rapid aging, grotesque mutations - the list seems endless. Yet for every failure, there was a success that pushed the boundaries of what was possible.

"The breakthroughs came at a cost," Dumitra muses, her tone almost wistful. "Each failure taught me something new, each success drove me to push further. It was a dance of death and rebirth, with the tattoos as my partner and humanity as my canvas."

As she speaks, I can almost see the centuries of experimentation unfolding before my eyes. The dark, dank caves where she first discovered the markings. The makeshift laboratories where she conducted her grisly experiments. The faces of those who suffered and died in the name of progress.

When Dumitra finally falls silent, I find myself both awed and sickened. "How many humans had to die for you to perfect your craft?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dumitra's response is chillingly casual. "Around ten thousand humans perished, but honestly? I ceased counting after the first thousand."

Jesus fucking Christ. Ten thousand people. That's a small town's worth of bodies, all sacrificed on the altar of magical science. And she just... stopped counting? Like they were lab rats or fruit flies?

But then again, how many animals have died in the name of medical research in my own time? How many human test subjects suffered and died before we perfected things like vaccines or organ transplants? Hell, how many people did I indirectly kill when I unleashed Lilith on the galaxy?

I take a deep breath, pushing aside the moral quandary. In for a penny, in for a pound. "It was worth it," I say, meeting Dumitra's ruby gaze.

Dumitra's ruby eyes soften, an expression I never thought I'd see on her face. "I thank you for not passing judgment, child. Few can comprehend the necessity of such... extreme measures in the pursuit of knowledge."

I shrug, trying to ignore the chill that runs down my spine. "Progress always has a price. Sometimes it's steeper than others."

Dumitra nods, a hint of respect in her gaze. "Indeed. Now, as for your inquiry about crafting magical tools like the spellsinger..." She pauses, her expression growing serious. "The true bottleneck lies in two key components: mage blood and a mineral unknown in your past life. In this world, we call it Silverstone."

My ears perk up at that. A mineral that didn't exist in my time? Now that's interesting.

"This Silverstone," Dumitra continues, "possesses the unique property of canceling out magical abilities. However, it is highly unstable once extracted and purified. Without the use of mage blood and a tether to the user - such as Sean's wolf medallion or Erik's talisman - the mineral rapidly decays."

I furrow my brow, my mind racing to process this information. "Hold up. If this Silverstone cancels out magic, how the hell can a tool made from it have magical effects when used with mage blood?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, a horrifying realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit. This Silverstone... it's radioactive. It has to be. The instability, the rapid decay, the need for a stabilizing agent... it all fits. And if it's anything like the radioactive materials I know from my past life, the poor bastards mining it are probably dying in droves.

I can see it now - miners with their skin sloughing off, their hair falling out in clumps, their bodies riddled with cancers that have no name in this medieval hellscape. All in the name of magical progress. It's uranium all over again.

"Fuck me sideways," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "This Silverstone of yours... it's radioactive, isn't it?"

Dumitra's eyebrows raise slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "I understand the meaning of that word, child. But I do not know if it is... radioactive."

Well, isn't that just peachy? Not only do we have magic and vampires, but now we've got radioactive minerals being mined by unwitting peasants. This world just keeps getting better and better.

"Do you have any idea what that means?" I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "The people mining this stuff... they're probably dying horrible deaths. Radiation poisoning isn't exactly a walk in the park."

Dumitra's expression remains impassive, but I catch a glimmer of... something in her eyes. Concern? Guilt? Or just cold, clinical interest? It's hard to tell with her.

"The risks are... significant," she admits, her voice carefully neutral. "But the potential applications of Silverstone are vast. It allows us to create tools that can channel and control magical energies in ways previously thought impossible."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Yeah, at the cost of how many lives? It's the Manhattan Project all over again, but with magic instead of nuclear fission."

Ioana and Virginia exchange confused glances, clearly lost by my modern references. But Dumitra's eyes narrow, a hint of steel entering her voice.

"You, of all people, should understand the necessity of sacrifice in the name of progress," she says, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "Did you not create an AI that led to the destruction of entire alien civilizations?"

The words hit me like a physical blow. She's right, of course. Who am I to judge? My hands are far from clean. But still...

"That was different," I argue, even as a part of me knows it's a weak defense. "I didn't knowingly send people to their deaths mining some godforsaken magical uranium."

Dumitra's lips curl into a cold smile. "No, you merely unleashed a force that wiped out entire species. Tell me, child, which is the greater sin?"

I open my mouth to retort, but the words die in my throat. She's got me there, and we both know it.

I let out a heavy sigh. "You're right. My sins are... heavier. But that doesn't mean we should just ignore the risks these miners are facing. They should at least be told what they're getting into."

Dumitra shrugs, her nonchalance chilling. "It matters not. The location of the mines is a closely guarded secret, known only to the church and the kingdom. I have no knowledge of their whereabouts."

Well, isn't that just fucking peachy? Those poor bastards are probably being fed some bullshit about holy relics or magical crystals while their bodies rot from the inside out. It's the radium girls all over again. I can almost see the recruitment posters: "Join the Silverstone miners! Get that healthy glow!" Seriously, fuck me.

"We have the mage blood at our disposal," Dumitra continues, gesturing to herself, Virginia, Ioana, and me. "And I possess knowledge of the runic language required for crafting magical tools. However, without the mineral itself, this knowledge is rendered useless."

I scratch my chin, an idea forming. "You know, we might have access to it in Norway if I manage to install myself in a position of power there."

Dumitra's ruby eyes gleam with interest. "You had best succeed, child. I yearn to experience these 'video games' of yours eventually, and I have no desire to seek out your other seven doppelgangers to make it possible."

Virginia and Ioana perk up at this, their eerily synchronized voices chiming in. "Doppelgangers? Video games? Pray tell, mother, what are these things of which you speak?"

"Later," Dumitra responds.

If I pull this off, I'll be single-handedly responsible for turning three immortal bloodsuckers into NEETs. I can see it now - Dumitra rage-quitting Dark Souls, Virginia and Ioana fighting over the controller during Mario Kart. It's enough to make me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"I hope I do find these doppelgangers eventually," I muse, pushing the ridiculous mental image aside. "Another me could be a huge asset in increasing the nation's power. I just hope they weren't tricked, especially the one Gwenhwyfar is crafting specifically to ruin me."

I pause, remembering another tidbit from my encounter with the pale woman. "Gwenhwyfar mentioned that one of my doppelgangers is convinced this entire world is just a video game."

Dumitra's expression darkens. "I am aware. It is a terrifying prospect indeed."

I nod, a chill running down my spine. "Yeah, no kidding. Imagine someone with my knowledge and abilities running around thinking none of this is real, that there are no consequences to their actions. It's like giving a toddler a loaded gun and telling them it's just a toy."

The implications are staggering. If that doppelganger decides to go on a rampage, thinking they can just reload a save file or start a new game... the devastation could be unimaginable. And with access to magic and advanced technology? It's a recipe for disaster on a scale that makes my creation of Lilith look like a minor hiccup.

"We need to find that one first," I say, my voice grim. "Before they do something we can't undo."

Dumitra nods, her usual air of amusement replaced by something more serious. "Indeed. The balance of power in this world is delicate enough without such a wild card in play."

I look at the three vampires, their inhuman beauty a stark contrast to the very human fears we're discussing. It's a sobering reminder that for all their power and immortality, they're just as vulnerable to the whims of fate - or in this case, the machinations of a twisted AI - as anyone else.

"Right then," I say, squaring my shoulders. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Step one: Norway. Step two: Silverstone. Step three: Track down my possibly insane doppelgangers before they break reality. Should be a piece of cake, right?"

Dumitra's lips curl into a wry smile. "Your optimism is... refreshing, child. Let us hope it is not misplaced."

I snort, my face contorting into a grimace. "Optimism? You think this is optimism?" I gesture wildly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What comes off as optimism from my mouth is just a coping mechanism for this shitshow of a world. Fictional characters are real, historical characters are real, supernatural and mythical creatures are real, and now I find out that radioactive material in combination with some 'mage' blood and some carvings can make things like the Spellsinger or Erik's Thor's Axe."[...]