“Did you wait a lot?” Kewin asked as he approached breathless.
“Barely,” Isyd said. “You are getting faster each time. It is good.”
“I feel like you are slowing down for my sake though,” Kewin retorted, pointing at the glowing [Light Ball] floating overhead.
Isyd conceded with a smirk and a nod. Without a word, he took off his darkveil as well as the greatcoat and tie of his red and white uniform before setting them on a low branch of a tree, leaving only his Inian knife strapped to his waist.
The meadow was situated deep in the forest from the perspective of the Academy. In their jog, they had passed the crumbling remains of the walls of Vilriver that used to surround the islet of the Inside centuries ago. Following the Little Stream downstream after it separated from the River, they would need to cross the Waving Bridge to properly leave the forest and to enter the Fields. So even if the demarcations were not set in stone, the meadow they were in was considered outside the boundaries of the Academy. Not that it would have been easy to stumble upon; it was far from the well-trodden paths, near a pond that had frozen over due to the frigid temperatures of the past nights.
The timid light of dawn poured through the naked branches of the trees circling the clearing, providing a spotty and distorted illumination. In the middle of the meadow, Isyd began stretching and Kewin followed suit. Isyd’s movements were slow and methodical, almost ceremonious. Kewin barely dared to make a sound to not disturb the religious silence that usually accompanied their ritual. One stance after another, Isyd went through the motion to unlock the full range of his body. At last, he expelled a long breath and opened his eyes. There, Kewin knew that the session of the day was finished and he slumped down on the hard soil. Isyd also appeared to relax, though it was more subtle.
They still had around three hours before the start of the day classes at the Academy. This gave them ample time to return to the inn if they needed to even though Isyd usually preferred passing by the Thermae of the Academy while they were still empty.
“Did my notes help you?” Kewin asked Isyd.
“Yes, thank you for that! It was quite a time saver!”
Isyd was regretting not taking notes during the past semester. He mostly counted on his good memory to carry him through and he had assimilated most of the classes he attended that way. A problem arose from the classes he missed during his various adventures away from the Academy or at the Atelier; even if he knew what subjects had been covered, he didn’t have time to go through entire books covering the specific topics. Thus, he relied on the summaries and notes Kewin had gladly given him.
“I’m happy you find them useful,” Kewin said. “At least, they’re not entirely wasted…”
“It doesn’t need to be the case. Why should you stop studying? As far as I know, the Natural Sciences or History have little to do with the Holy Grace. You only have to gain in pursuing your education.”
“I… I don’t know if I can… It would be useless anyway since I can’t take the Evaluations…”
“You cannot?”
“I assume not…? After all, they are supposed to decide your tuition for the next semester. Since I can’t continue, there would be no point…”
“Still, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me. In fact, I think I’d prefer it if you did especially when Jadwia is around. She’s a ball of stress those past few days and she could do with your help…”
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“Help…?”
“It’s not like you have something else to do, right?”
Kewin couldn’t argue with that. Isyd approached and handed him a flask filled with water. Kewin took a long swill.
“So, how do you feel?” Isyd asked him, changing the subject.
“I am feeling better after sitting down. Still, sore from yesterday’s run though…”
“That wasn’t what I was asking, Kewin…”
Kewin met Isyd’s dark eyes and understood. He gave him back the flask and flexed unconsciously his scarred palms, feeling the ruggedness in the skin as he opened and closed his hands.
“I feel… fine. I still get headaches from time to time. It hits suddenly and leaves similarly. Besides that, … I… I almost feel normal again…”
A flush came over his cheeks and he looked away. “As if I could ever be normal again…” he muttered.
Isyd nodded silently, though Kewin didn’t see him. “I made you a promise didn’t I, Kewin?”
“You did… Do you think I can… be unbroken…?”
“I wouldn’t know how to do such a thing. This is why I didn’t promise you this. This is not the goal of what we’re doing.”
“What is the goal then?”
“To make your body stronger.”
“Stronger? Why?”
“The headaches you’re having, they will not go away anytime soon,” Isyd explained. “As far as I know, they are caused by momentary spikes in Grace Concentration in your surroundings, which is as a natural phenomenon as is the weather. All of this is to say that you have little control over it. But this doesn’t mean you are powerless.”
“I am not sure I understand…”
“You feel broken inside. That’s how the Apteyka described you and you can’t unhear it. You were confronted with your own weakness and you’re no longer sure anymore of who you are. I know this because I felt the same once too, Kewin. I know how it feels to have your own body betray you, fail you.”
Kewin’s eyes moved to Isyd’s bandaged right arm. Somehow, Kewin knew that it was what Isyd was referring to. Isyd suddenly put his hands on the hard soil and performed a handstand. Without missing a beat nor showing signs of exertion, he continued speaking.
“But in this world, your body is the only thing you truly own. It is where it all begins and where it all ends. You cannot let it become your prison, Kewin. You must struggle to take back control over it. To own it once more, no matter how hard. Do not let your injuries define you. You ask me if you can be unbroken? I cannot promise you that. What I can promise you is strength. Strength of the body to match the strength of the spirit.”
From two hands on the ground, Isyd removed one and remained on his bandaged arm then finally only on one finger. There he stood in front of Kewin, almost like a statue of taut muscles and sinews, unflinching and immobile, and yet Isyd made it seem effortless. Then, after a few seconds, Isyd pushed off the ground and went up in the air – much higher than it should have been possible – flipping once, before landing on his two feet in front of a flabbergasted Kewin.
“The road ahead will be difficult, Kewin, but there is a road ahead if you are willing to take it…”
Kewin found his throat suddenly dry with a nod.
“I had told you another thing as well back in the Spital,” Isyd said. “The Grace has yet to give up on you. I intend to prove it to you in due time. The Apteyka said you were ‘Spurned by the Grace’? How laughable! I can still hear it, its Song humming through you…”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about… A Song? Am I not Disgraced?”
Isyd eyes shifted all over Kewin and he grinned. “Remind me again of what is the 1st Law of the Arts?”
“The Law of Ubiquity: The Holy Grace is present in everything, it can never be created nor destroyed, only altered by the Arts.”
“I guess your trials will put the Law to the test… Come, let’s go to the Thermae before people start arriving.”