Blood from a fresh cut slid down my palm. The book below soaked the red ink into its rune covered pages. Flickering, the flames of the candles danced to its rhythm. I tightened my fist, extracting every last drop as I muttered the written incantations.

My chest tightened as I struggled to swallow my saliva. The thickness of the air had tightened and acted like a noose around my neck. However, I didn't dare stop with the runic hymn. I put in far too much time and effort in preparation to mess up at such a critical juncture.

Time passed to the point where I could no longer keep track until the last words escaped my lips as nothing more than a breath. "The one lost within the dream... wake up."

With no warning, the surrounding light—snuffed. The world—silenced. Not even my innate darksight helped me in the pitch black.

A chill ran up my spine as words echoed from the darkness in front of me. "So it is you who have awoken me."

Yet the words weren't cold. In fact, the voice was warm and inviting. Reminiscent of a weighted blanket in the dead of winter. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, unsure of what exactly I should say.

That didn't seem to matter as the voice let out...an annoyed groaned? "Ugh. Surely you could have done a better job."

I already didn't know what to say, but those words amplified my confusion to an even higher degree.

"I can't believe how weak my ethereal form is," the voice complained. However, it no longer carried a grand presence to it and instead sounded—normal and feminine, if not still a bit silver-tongued and muddied. "Seriously? How did someone like you even manage to wake me up?"

Even though I was still in a state of unsurety, I decided to speak. "Magic?"

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before the voice let out another annoyed groan. The blunt thump sounded out and vanquished the surrounding darkness. My eyes stung for a second as it readjusted. In front of me stood a translucent taller than average height individual. The feathery black robes enveloping their body and wide-brimmed hat masking their head and face masked most of their features.

I adjusted my posture and kneeled on one leg while ignoring the tingly feeling from how numb they were. "Whatever you wish from me, I am willing to deliver."

"Even if what I desire is your soul?" the individual asked.

"I did say anything."

"You have conviction at the very least." They looked down at a puddle of water on the rocky floor and let out a pensive sigh. "They really buried me in such dreary attire? Who allowed this?"

"Not me," I said.

"Obviously."

"Would you like some new clothes?"

"Nice try, but I'm not going to downgrade from your soul for some clothes."

I shrugged. "Well, it was worth the attempt."

"Truth be told, I don't want your soul either."

"Hm? Why not?"

"Let alone the fact that I don't have the ability to extract it from you, even if I could, I have no use for it. Especially for one so weak."

"No matter how true that maybe, it hurts," I said, clutching my chest.

"I also want you to know this—if I could reverse this process, I would. Luckily for you, the first part and binding of the contract is now completed." They pulled their hat off and unraveled the hidden honey colored hair, allowing it to unfurl down to her waist. Her tanned face now exposed as well. "Still, I want to know how you managed to summon me. Someone like you shouldn't have been able to gather the proper materials to wake me up."

"Oh, I just substituted all the ingredients with stuff I had access to," I said with a smug and satisfactory grin. After all, the process of altering the recipe had easily taken thousands of hours away from me.

"No wonder my form is so weak," she said, examining herself even further.

"Are you some sort of ghost?"

"No. I'm an eidolon. Which, while similar to a ghost as in, I'm still an incorporeal manifestation of my soul, do not abide by the same rules." She examined my body with her eyes. "What is your name?"

"Aleister."

"No surname?"

"I do have the one I was born with, but..." I hesitated for a second. "Due to some circumstances, I don't use it."

"Tell me."

"I carry the blood of House Belmont within me, but I go by Aleister of Stillside."

"House Belmont?" She said, pressing a finger against her lip. "That doesn't ring any bells. Neither does Stillside, but I suppose that means you currently live in some rundown no name little village."

"That's quite a harsh way of putting it," I said. Although she wasn't incorrect. "Well, now you know my name, so it's only fair if you tell me yours."

"There is no such thing as fair in this world." The woman waved the book in her hand around. "But you can call me Syn."

"No surname?"

"Ah, it seems as if you used to work as court jester."

"Not yet, unfortunately," I said with a shrug. "Well, what exactly do you want from me?"

"What I desire is not something you can grant. At least, not yet. Instead, let's discuss what you want. After all, you went through all of this trouble."

I clench my fist as my whole body tensed up. My mouth changed from a smile to a wry smirk. "I wish to...live longer."

Syn tilted her head as she stared at me with her grey eyes. Her expression blank.

My heart beat accelerated and became audible, causing me to clench my chest even more than I stared back. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't look away.

"What year are we in?" she finally asked. Although, I wasn't sure if it had been just a few seconds or a lifetime.

"It's the eleventh month of year 992."

Syn furrowed her brow and bit her thumb. "That doesn't sound right."

"If it helps any, we're currently in the Post Division era."

"It didn't."

"Well, then, what exactly is the problem?"

"Unless I somehow went back in time, the year should far exceed double digits."

"To my knowledge, we restarted the calender year after the world was split into two, so that might explain it?"

"The world was split into two?" Syn asked, biting a piece of her nail off.

I tugged the collar of my robes several times and aired myself out. "How exactly does knowing the year correlate to my question?"

She cracked her fingers and looked back up at me. "I'm astounded that you managed to summon me for such a simple and basic request."

"Well, you see." I tapped a finger against my forehead. "That was just a trick answer."

"What?"

However, before I could continue, the crunching of wooden sticks sounded out from behind me. It was a sound cue I set up using some ice, informing me of the passage of time. "Damn. Unfortunately, it looks like I don't have time to mess around, so just know that my previous sentence was a joke."

Syn frowned and rested her hands on her hips. "So you do or don't want to live longer."

"I do. Very much so."

"Disappointing."

"Sorry, but it shouldn't be all that surprising, I don't think."

"You're right. It's not." Syn crossed her arms across her chest. "Point and case, me. The only reason I'm in this state right now is because I too didn't wish to die."

"This means you can help me, right?"

"Maybe."

I slumped my shoulders.

"The easiest way to extend your life is for you to become a Weaver."

"But, I wasn't born—"

"There are many methods of becoming a Weaver. This, however, is part of the reason I said maybe. I can do my best, but it still depends on how much effort you put in."

My ears perked up. "I'll take it."

"In exchange, you must help me. Understood?"

"I indeed included helping you when I said anything." I took a quick glance towards the cave's exit and noticed the dim light. "Sadly, I have to take my leave now."

"Why?"

"Because the sun is starting to set, and I need to head back to town."

"Fine, I'll come back with you."

"Uh—"

"No one but you can see or hear me in this form unless I willingly show myself," she said. "And you signed the pact. So it's not actually a choice you or I have anymore."

"I should have expected that."

"Actually, anyone with truesight can see me, but I doubt you know anyone with such an ability."

"Truesight? Definitely not ringing any bells."

"This also now belongs to you." Syn tossed the book in her hands over to me. "This book is more important than your and my life combined."

I nodded and stuffed it inside my knapsack before leaving the cave. It had already shown its value by helping me summon the person in front of me. Who knew what else it held?

"Ah, how long has it been since I cast my gaze upon the outside world," Syn said, spreading her arms wide.

The earlier harsh sunlight no longer blinded me. Instead, an orange and purple twilight sky littered with stars was as clear as ever. Yet thin flakes of snow descended down from nothing. Following suit, a heavy rush of wind violently rustled the multi-colored leaves and branches, disheveling my hair even more. I brushed the black hair strands that covered my face back up.

"Earlier, you said that I woke you up. In fact, wake up was the last part of the incantation, which implies you were asleep the whole time, but were you cognizant of time passing? Or was it like normal sleep?" I asked, while covering up the entrance.

"It was like a refreshing nap," she said with a complex expression. "Also take note, this is the maximum distance I'm able to travel away from you."

"This is like what?" I stretched my arm outward to approximate the distance. "Five feet?"

Syn sighed. "How unfortunate."

I shrugged and made way back to the heavy sled. Wrapped on top of it were exactly a dozen tree trunks. Their gathering being the primary purpose of my visit into the woods today. Well, what was supposed to be the main reason, at least.

Father complained about how I had been skipping out on his boring training far too often recently and somehow schemed with Manager Tulsi behind the scenes, relegating a multiple person task to the lonesome me. But this turned out in my favor, as I no longer had to come up with a silly excuse to enter the woods again.

An ominous air whistled throughout the forest and caused goosebumps to crawl across my skin. Not wanting to be stuck in these woods at night, I stretched my back before grabbing the rope and dragging the sled through the remaining neck of the woods.

"How do I become a Weaver?" I asked.

"Patience," Syn said. "There's no need to rush things?"

I nodded and continued, although it was hard to stop myself from thinking about my future now. However, after several minutes, I came to a stop and took another whiff of the air. There was an unfamiliar scent mixed in with the usual fern and sweet sap smell. It was slightly spicy and reminiscent of anise. I sniffed the air several more times and followed the smell to its origin. The source wasn't far off.

I crouched down onto his knees and stared into the hollow center of a dampen, dead log of wood. Multiple fungi with twisted, textured black stems and slimy blue hemispherical caps occupied the interior. It took me a few seconds, but I eventually recognized the strange growths as Bluejacket Keys. An uncommon type of fungi that typically grew inside old ships—not in forests.

Next to the shrooms were a few maggots and...one devious, large and rotund cockroach. Just the sight of such disgusting vermin made me want to erase this find from my memory, but the growth of this particular strain of shrooms in such an uncommon location was simply far too enticing.

I unsheathed the survival knife attached around my waistbelt and grimaced. I stretched my hand deep into the moist wooden interior. Peering through a thin crack located on top of the log, I navigated the knife carefully, and stuck the tip of the blade underneath a Bluejacket Keys growth. However, for some unknown reason, instead of moving away from the sharp and unknown foreign object, the cockroach instead crawled onto my steel knife before gracing my hand with its presence.

Based purely on instinct, I pulled my hand out of the hollow trunk faster than I thought possible and shook it furiously.

The cockroach fell onto the ground and, with no hesitation; I lifted my foot up and crushed it under the sole of my boot. A crunch snapped out, leaving only the carapace and some brown ooze behind. Fucking disgusting. I kicked the remains away from my foot before crouching down again.

During this horrific event in my life, Syn, who stayed quiet until moments ago, cackled like a maniac.

Wasting no more time, I ignored her and pierced the knife into the ground once more. Luckily, the maggots stayed put, allowing the Bluejacket Keys, along with their roots, to pop straight out. I promptly dumped them into a spare glass jar and tucked it into a side pouch in my backpack.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Although there were a few more shrooms left over, I left them alone, because even though the chance was low, there was a part of me that hoped that the unique environment would cause them to mutate into a brand new strain. In fact, maybe they already were a brand new strand, but they just looked like the Bluejacket Keys. My mind wandered, coming up with a bunch of silly and interesting mutations as I continued back.

----------------------------------------

"Having fun there?" Athas asked in an obviously forced, energetic voice.

His sudden voice startled me. I snapped my head up from the ground. Athas looked at me from the sentry post attached to the wooden village fences. He uncrossed his arms from his thin gambeson, and cranked a winch, opening the gate.

"Seeing as I just wasted my day away, I will actually say yes. I am having copious amounts of fun. Anymore and I might just die from happiness."

"Don't worry, it's only a quarter past nine. The night is still young."

"A fact which is only positive for me and negative for you."

"Watch duty is not that bad."

"You don't need to lie to me."

"Then I'm sorry to inform you that I think the safety of the village is more important than catching up on some beauty sleep."

With a smug satisfaction I grinned, mentally patting myself on the back. "Good thing Stillside has people like you keeping an eye out for all those monstrous creatures that attack us... oh—wait."

Athas rolled his eyes and lightened his grip around the rope.

Even though there was no way he would actually close the gate on me, I finished dragging the sled through with haste.

The gate closed, and Athas continued as if nothing happened. "Also, don't pull one of your stunts. If you do, I'm not involved."

"Why do you insist on repeating words I'll ignore?"

"I mean it," Athas said in a straight voice. "I went to sign in for my shift and found out that some officers from the Oxcross garrison are stationed here for a while."

"Oh?" I tilted my head. "Why?"

"How would I know?"

"Are you telling me that you didn't even try to listen in on them?"

"I'm not you. I would rather not get involved with business far above my pay-grade. Besides, I only found out because Chief Osald and the soldiers were wrapping up their conversation as they left the meeting hall."

"Fair, but something tells me that you once again didn't ask if you could join them."

Athas shuffled and straightened his posture. "They were still in the middle of a conversation. It would have been rude to interrupt them."

"If they were in the middle of talks, then they weren't wrapping up—now were they?" I said, smiling to myself.

"I hate it when you play these stupid word games." Athas averted his gaze and looked straight ahead.

"Well, don't wait until you're about to die of old age."

"I know," Athas said with a heavy sigh. "I just don't know if I'm ready."

"Trust me—you aren't."

"Thanks."

"No problem. But, to be honest, it doesn't matter that you aren't ready. Their strict training regimens aren't for fun, you know."

"I know."

"And you also know that I know you can't stand another night of watch duty."

"It really isn't that bad. In fact, it's very calming and relaxing."

"Uh-huh."

"Piss off."

I chuckled and dragged the sled once more. My destination being where Athas had just come from as the storehouse where all the wood was stored was located right next to the village hall.

Upon arriving at said location, I knocked on the heavy door. And then again. And then once more for good measure. Noting the lack of an answer from Manager Tulsi, I just left all the tree trunks on the sled. I already did my job of cutting the trees down. What happened next was none of my concern.

As I left, a series of light footsteps echoed from behind. "Oh, Little Al!" said a raspy and almost singsong voice. "Perfect timing. I have something to ask of you."

I pressed my hand against my face. "I'm busy."

"Don't worry, it's nothing major," Branne said, stroking his wispy white beard.

"Oh, really?"

"It's true. I have a good friend in town tonight that I haven't talked to in years. I told him all about you and he requested me to introduce you to him."

"A good friend of yours? And weird hand thing? Really?" I sighed, but ignored the poor description of my abilities. "I wonder why there's such an influx of visitors in Stillside today?"

"There are more visitors?" Branne asked.

"Are there?" I asked in return.

Branne looked like he was about to say something, but instead shook his head and moved on. "He'll be in town for a while, so if you're busy now, I can introduce you two at another time."

I contemplated the idea for a second.

"Go," Syn said as if she read my mind. "No need to get impatient. But it wasn't like I had any other plans in store for tonight. Even with my help, it will take time."

"Since this is a friend of yours and he wishes to meet me, there isn't a good reason for me to refuse."

"Excellent. I'll see you at the Dancing Deer in an hour," Branne said as he walked away.

I sniffed my arm, yet—nothing.

"Trust me when I say the stench of blood and the woods drenched you," Syn said. "And I no longer have the ability to smell."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised."

A quarter of an hour passed as I entered the backyard of my house. At this time of night, the bathhouse was no longer open. Or rather, it was open, just for more...illicit reasons.

After noting that no one was in the area, I tossed my dirty clothes into a basket and tied my hair up.

I lathered some wood ash over my body and then submerged myself underneath the calm river. My teeth chattered as I grabbed my shoulders. My back jolted upright and my eyes opened up wide as my hand came to a stop over the scar across the left side of his chest.

"That looks like a fun story," Syn said.

"Unfortunately, whatever you might come up with are more exciting than reality," I said with a sigh.

"There you are," Father said, walking towards me from the backdoor. "Talking to yourself again I see."

He wore his typical cobbler clothes and a brand new white tape measure hung from his neck. A gust of wind swept his brown hair, which fell back down perfectly in place.

"Your mother and I were worried that you might have been eaten by a direbear being in the forest alone, but no. I find you here splashing about."

"The way you ended that made it sound like you would have preferred me to have been eaten."

He shrugged. "The result I prefer is you taking your training seriously again."

"I took it seriously. Nowadays, doing the same thing over and over ad nauseam is just headache inducing."

"Without perfecting your foundational skills, there's no use in learning more advanced techniques."

"Sure, but—"

"I'm not interested in hearing another one of your nonsensical excuses again," Father said, turning his back towards me. "You'll be back in the forest from here on out until you decide to focus more on your training. Oh, and dinner is almost ready." He had already entered the house again before I got a chance to say anything else.

I shrugged.

"Don't be so dismissive of your father's words, they have some merit."

I stepped out of the river and untied my hair, letting it fall back down to my shoulders. "Dismissive or not, it doesn't stop running, sparring, weight lifting all from being dreadfully boring."

After donning a pair of black tunics and trousers, I walked past the slightly open kitchen window. The smell of something delicious invaded my nose, causing my stomach to grumble. Unfortunately, dinner would have to wait a little bit longer.

----------------------------------------

Sometime passed as I stepped into the only inn in town. Martin was the name of the man who ran this place. He was rather rigid and terse, but he paid fairly well, making his grueling tasks less of an issue. Well, at least I felt that the work was grueling during my short stint of trying to learn my way around a kitchen. I wasn't meant for such work, either.

Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw Branne sat at a table in the back, in discussion with a man dressed in a rather luxurious yellow and blue jacket. I made my way over, careful to not interfere with any of the servers or customers in the way.

"Little Al! There you are!" Branne said, standing up from his seat.

The well-dressed man followed. And now, much closer, I also noticed that the man looked quite young. Much closer to his age than Branne. "So you're Aleister?" He put his mug down. "I've heard a lot about you. My name is Cyrne."

"Hopefully not too much, otherwise you might end up disappointed," I said whilst shaking his firmly gripped hand, thinking about why his name sounded familiar. "Ah!"

Cyrne looked at him with a perplexed expression as he sat back down.

"Now I know why your name sounded familiar. You're Delilah's brother." He had left Stillside to join the Oxcross garrison just two or so years before I drifted into town.

"You know my younger sister?" Cyrne asked with a smile. "Actually, I'm more surprised to know that she's even mentioned me since I left?"

I scratched the back of my head. "Actually, it came up in passing a while back when I performed a palm-reading for your dad."

"Figures." Cyrne shook his head. "That fact piqued my interest, but I was more so interested in meeting the person Mister Gilmore and Miss Ryellia adopted."

"Oh? You know them?" I asked, as if it was surprising when it really wasn't.

"It was them two that trained me in sword fighting and a big reason of why I joined the Oxcross garrison."

"Oh, they trained you?" Branne asked before downing another pint of ale. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Well, I'm more confused to why Master Branne called you a good friend, and you called Master Branne, well—Master," I asked.

"That's because Cyrne has long since become a Weaver and made his way up to now being a Vice-captain, making his status far above mine," Branne said, taking a large gulp out of his pint. "Him allowing someone like me to call him a friend is already humbling himself too much."

I raised both of my eyebrows for a second. After all, becoming one was an extremely rare occurrence, with about only one percent of the population ever managing such a feat. As such, society valued most Weavers and granted them prominent positions.

"How did you manage that?" I asked, hoping to gain more knowledge, even though Syn said she could help me.

Cyrne placed two fingers on the bottom of his chin, but before he could say anything, an out of breath server arrived at their table. I was tempted to skip out, but since Cyrne decided that everything tonight would be on him, I caved and ordered a dish I hadn't heard of before called squanna alongside a pint of local hard apple cider.

"Before I retell how it happened, I want you to know that even now I still don't know how it happened. In fact, I don't think anyone can, or else wouldn't everyone try becoming a Weaver?"

"A fair point."

"Then I'll tell you it happened fairly abruptly. I had been with the garrison for a little less than a year and was still undergoing the standard training regimen when suddenly a group of aggravated direboars attacked us. None of us at the time were properly geared to fight against such creatures, but in that moment, some sort of power awakened in me and I was then able to barely fight back against the direboars. Upon learning about my success and how no one died, Captain Helman promoted me to lieutenant, and since then I've made my way up to my current vice-captain position in just two years. "

"So you just became a Weaver? Interesting," I said, nodding my head. It wasn't of any actual help in understanding how to become a Weaver, but it would help him with in a few minutes, as doing cold reads was a mixed bag. The more information I had, the better. "Not useful in any sense, but still, compelling nonetheless."

"Once you understand how one becomes a Weaver, it will make sense," Syn said, garnering no attention or a response from me.

"I told you it happened out of nowhere." Cyrne chuckled. "Now, before we get interrupted again..."

"Its time for what I'm here for," I said.

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Right palm," I said, asking for his primary hand. I noticed earlier when he went for a drink that he put down his mug with his right hand. A minor trick that seemed more impressive than it really was. Especially when you consider the fact that most individuals were right-handed in the first place.

"Great, you're one of these charlatans." Syn rolled her eyes.

I ignored her again, as there was no way for me to respond to her.

Cyrne flipped his hand over as I held the bottom of it.

Using my left index finger, I traced the lines of his palms in a mysterious fashion that was full of intent. None of this had any practical use, but it sure helped to sell the trick. It would have been ever better if the environment wasn't a noisy inn with overly drunk guests and the local bard hitting every single undiscovered note, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Square-ish, ruddy, slightly shorter fingers," I said, throughly examining his hand shape.

"Is that—"

"Shh," I hushed, shutting Cyrne up. "Optimistic and confident in nature. Maybe too confident, which may lead to a colorful yet dangerous life."

Two of my fingers traced the line near the thumb. "Nice and rotund, with each end connected. Yes, I can sense boundless amounts of life, vitality, and energy. No wonder you not only became a Weaver but are already a vice-captain."

Moving up, I traced the top line, starting from the index finger and ending at the end of his palm with no bumps or disconnects. "Looks like you'll also face a happy and long-lasting love life."

"And your luck continues as not only your love life, but the rest of your future will be endowed with good luck and maintain a sense of stability," I said after tracing the long and straight middle fate line.

"Not too bad if I say so myself," Cyrne said with a smile. "What happens if your predictions are incorrect?"

"They aren't predictions," I said, slouching back in my chair. "I'm simply reading into what fate holds for you at this current time in your life. It can always change. Of course, if you would like to know a little more about the specifics, I can always do a tarot reading. However, know I charge extra for those."

"How much extra?"

"One gold per card."

"Highway robbery."

I smirked. Our server came back and placed several barreled mugs down. The price was only so high because I knew Cyrne obviously had the money to shell out. Besides, he knew that coins were relatively useless in Stillside unless used at a few special locations or if a travelling merchant came around. We bartered every other good and service.

Cyrne looked over at Branne, who had been unusually silent.

"Why are you looking at me?" Branne asked. A wide grin spread across his face.

Cyrne shook his head and closed his eyes. After several moments of deep thought, he took out three gold coins and placed them on the table.

I slid two of those coins over. "You know what this is for."

"Come pick it up on your next day of work." Branne pocketed the coins without hesitation.

"What just happened?" Cyrne asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry, I was purchasing a material for my own personal use," I said, waving my right hand and taking out a tarot deck with my left. Being a reading, I didn't need to do anything fanciful with the cards and just enacted several hand shuffles and cuts before spreading them out. "Pick three cards and put them face down. Don't think too much about each card either. Rely on your initial instinct."

Unsurprisingly, Cyrne still hesitated for a second before selecting each card. Once over, I collect the remaining cards and place them to the side.

----------------------------------------

The squanna arrived at our table not long after I finished the reading. Cutting the pastry open with my spoon revealed a thick white sauce stuffed with mushrooms, squash, shallots, and venison. I gave it a couple of cold blows before taking a bite. It was good, but since it was free, it tasted especially good. While sipping on the cider, I noticed Cyrne's overly introspective face and snapped. "Thinking about what I said is good and all, but don't think about it too hard."

Cyrne shook his head. "I wasn't thinking, I was...formulating."

"Oh, that is completely different. Just ignore me and carry on then," I said, taking another bite. "Actually, wait. Before you do, quick question. Why are you—or rather, why are soldiers from the Oxcross Garrison in Stillside?"

"Not because we're on vacation. That's for sure," Cyrne said with a discouraged chortle. "The reason is that an ambassador along with a large supply caravan from the Vallonian Empire is travelling to the capital."

Vallonia? I stopped prodding at the bowl of squanna with my fork.

"Since Stillside is right on the border, they will rest up here for a few days before continuing west to Osetia."

"Does this mean the civil war ended?"

"Sort of? All I know is that a ceasefire was issued several weeks ago."

"Safe to say it's over then," Branne added as he slouched back. "Feels like I heard news of it just last week."

"Seven years," I raised my left hand, "seven days." I raised my right hand and balanced them out. "Yeah, same thing really." I downed the rest of my hard apple cider in one gulp and stood up. "Anyway, it's late and I truly must get going now. It was my pleasure meeting you, Captain Cyrne. Branne—don't forget."

"I'll be around." Cyrne waved.

Branne grumbled.

I waded through the crowd and left the inn. By now the sky was a pitch black.

"Vallonia?" Syn floated in front of me. "Another place I haven't heard of. However, it seemed to have gotten you all riled up."

"Not at all," I said in a calm and collected demeanor.

"If I hadn't heard your voice tremble earlier, I might have believed you just now."

I ignored her and continued my walk home. "Is there a way I can talk to you without saying words out loud? Because right now it looks like I'm just talking to myself."

"Like this?" Syn said. Her voice flooding my head. However, her lips didn't move at all.

"Actually, yes. Exactly like that."

"We'll be able to telepathically communicate once you become a Weaver. In fact, you shouldn't have even been able to awaken me up unless you were one, but it seems as if I was mistaken." Syn shrugged.

"On the bright side, if I already was one, you would have had to wait even longer to wake up."

"Seeing as you have the book, it would have been what—ten years? Twenty? It makes no difference to me if it was later. In fact, it would have been preferable since you would have a lesser chance of death."

"Didn't ask."

Syn let out a sharp exhale through nose and closed her eyes. I shrugged and continued the walk back home in silence.

I slipped out of my boots and walked past the front staircase into the kitchen. Upon doing so, my jaw dropped down as jagged blue crystals struck out from the ground, ceiling and everything in between.

Father stood in the other doorway with his arms crossed and a twisted frown. Mother, on the other hand, carried a nervous smile across her face.

Mitre, who was sitting at the dining table with a half eaten plate of food, turned his head and looked at me with a grin that reached his ears. "Bro! Look at what I can do!"

"Uh." I stammered, trying to process the events that had happened. "Nice one?"