She calmed herself and looked at her brothers, trying to focus and find some comfort in numbers. Yet this cost her to freeze and completely shiver up. All the way till it tingled her head. Soft, round, and sticky wet. Those words coursed through her being—sandwiched by her hand and the wooden floor. Or even perhaps where she sat.

She dared not look at it, by no means, at all. Instead, she gulped air to her guts, halted for a moment as she winced when air grazed her parched throat, and took her little hand to her dress—wiping it gently. But she didn't move—couldn't move as she had hoped. It wasn't work that had sapped her strength useless. It was something else. The fear might have not fully discouraged her, but her body was. It was afraid. Tense. Not shivering, but frozen still. It was like the wood that made up the room. Old, faded, shivered, splintered, frozen. And it gnawed at her chest, passing through her bones with coldness that was eating the little warmth she thought she had with numbers. Still, she breathed. Calmed.

But only for a moment.

That changed until she saw something behind one of her brother's horrified eyes targeted behind her. And she mirrored what her brother's expression was upon laying her eyes on something past him. If not worse.

It lay there—no, it hung there. But not exactly. She could see none of the once gray color she was familiar with. What remained were scratches and cracks that littered around the dark, hollow sockets. Skin bleak, shriveled, and blemished with blood almost all over.

Skewered. A decoration. She didn't dare look, observe and find what was to fear about it. Of how it was impaled on a shaft of wood diagonally protruding from the cracks of the wall.

All she saw were the tendrils emerging from the empty socke—

You have been ejected from the God's Crypt.

I awoke with the series of sounds ringing inside of my head. Not the headsmaid's frantic shouts, nor the other maid's stern words. Not even that of my brothers' whispers and nudges. It was a sound awfully new to me, monotonic. And as I opened my eyes, luminous words easily lit up my view.

I jolted in surprise then it faded. And as I did, pitters assailed my ears and hollow wind caressed my body to wake. But what I took notice most was whatever made me sweat and frown had stopped. I knew I had dreamt, but no memory came to confirm it. As it always does. Still, the undefined feeling it brought spelled it clear for me. It wasn't anything better than what took me to oblivion. Or maybe it was the same.

"Spiders," I blamed. And winced as I felt a hollow sting prick my tongue and the side of my cheek. Then I realized again. Pitters, wind, hollow lights. I looked around and only saw a stretch of land. No hallways nor torches nor doors. Neither Miss Ignis, the old man, and Mr. Endar were anywhere. No one. Obviously. They managed to run and escape. So was this death then again?

Pitters, wind, hollow lights. Insects, breeze, moon.

I brought the words back to life.

You have been ejected from the God's Crypt.

Maybe I wasn't? There was no darkness like I had suspected. The dim lights cast over me proved I remained alive. I came alive. Not from... death, but from consciousness. I didn't know how. Or if the spiders that took me was just a figment. But that denial was proven untrue by the magical words.

You have been ejected from the God's Crypt.

So I escaped? I wondered if it was that. And remembering how I could cast magic despite Miss Ignis telling I wasn't able to, I believe something must be going on. Or was this a dream?

I had no answers so I breathed. And that made me more sure that it wasn't a dream. I remained alive.

Moreso when my heart constricted with the memorable pain. It wasn't the sort that was passing—that, I knew. And the faint taste of blood reminded me that it was worse. Mine would last.

I spat. Ruddy, bubbled fluid splashing on blades of green and brown spots.

Or maybe it was just from biting my tongue?

Headsmaid and the spiders. That was all I could think. Until I shivered as the cold wind and the gentle light of the orb above shed my doubts away. It wasn't bright and fiery, nor it had the warmth I badly needed. Yet for me, it would suffice to know I was in a familiar place. It was the darkness no more. So even if my trepidation was replaced with pain, a kind that a hitched breath couldn't undo and one that I couldn't help but wince and tremble upon, I still assessed my surroundings with rekindled vigor. Lips tugged.

Plains.

Though obscure, I was sure that it was flatlands beyond. This familiar sight further eased my still doubtful mind. I believed that no spider could ever hide from this. And even when I turned around to find that abundant swaying silhouettes wasn't far from where I sat, I remained relieved. I still had my feet to carry me away in the worst case that the thriving trees offered no solace.

I shook my head at that. No spiders, I hoped. Then believed. There are no spiders. Reiterating, I stared at the waving darkness hoisted by thick, firm woods for a while. Lined up like an army of muscled beasts, it reaffirmed that safety is more likely not within its definition. There could be monsters too but... no, none of them. Another shake of my head. Thinking pessimistically have its own perks, but not now.

The sudden blow of cold wind made me shiver again, but this time, with the un-tensing of my furrowed brows. It smelled of earth, cut grass, of an unfamiliar sweet scent. A reminder once and again—I'm alive. The cold touch of the grass helping to fully undo the creases that wove my face a grim one.

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Yet it stitched back a second later as I pressed my chest. A sudden burst surprising me to a curl. It ached again, stung far worse than the opened wounds I once endured. Those, I could press to numbness. But this, impossible, and I was sure how it came to be. Still I grasped the front of my chest as if wanting to remove what made it hurt. I took a breath in and then it... it still hurts.

I winced once again, slowly growing more worried that it wasn't easing up, but was actually worsening. I bit my lips and resolved again. A huff, and then—pain. All I had was crumpled fabric that writhed on a tight grip.

"Healing magic," I whispered towards the pain, the wound in my mouth hardly an issue, in hopes the mana would allow me what I needed.

There was no spider. No odd cloth. No perpetual darkness. No unfeeling body. What I had now was what I really needed. The comfort of breathing, the sight of the familiar plains, the rough yet secured touch of the garbs I always wore, and the soft whispers the rustling leaves strummed.

And now, I had magic above all.

"Heal!" A hope whispered. Then flickered out. Mana remaining uncast, unmoved, unwilled.

I thinned my lips at that, curling at the unrelenting twists. I took a breath to steady myself. But that didn't even help. Spiders, I blamed again. Knowing it was ineffective, I pulled my weight towards the nearby boulder propelled with a kick, all the while enduring the embracive knots my movement did. Rest. I needed it now. Beyond that of physicality.

Still, if there was only magic for this, I hoped, pressing and fumbling on my chest. A futile attempt. And then I remembered, amidst the skipped heartbeat that flinched me to another curl.

Magic. I had them.

Book of Spells:

Mana Manipulation • Lvl 7

Candlelight [Derived Spell] • Lvl 5

Blue-embered Dagger • Lvl 0

Adaptive Flame • Lvl 0

And none would work. Each of them had their own uses, of which could never comfort my situation.

I huffed and the words faded, but I wasn't without hope. I've got a filled-up mana core, and that's more than enough to attempt something. It's magic after all.

Redirection • Lvl 0

Imbue mana to form a transparent, one-feet wide sphere to redirect light physical objects.

My first magic. It too had nothing to offer me. But it was different. Its name wasn't tantamount to the badly needed magical healings the reclusive mages of our town had. What more, all it could do was move objects. And pain was never tangible.

That is as I believed.

But does magic adhere to the same definition? Was it restricted to words?

I didn't want to believe it was. It should be free, chained not by words but by... wills. Like the bellowing wind that traveled lands before meeting wood, the scorching sun burning soils then clashing against clouds, the withering winter flaking rivers only to be flamed by a hearth. Magic should be like that, bending to change.

So a sheened sphere coalesced into a hover. Atop my hand, I didn't have to wonder what machination it does.

Redirection. That's what the magic is, and so I willed it to how I wanted it. Forced it forwards my chest despite its unwillingness to go past any impediments.

Redirect. My. Pain.

I blanked my mind of its definition, of what its design is. The only thing I did was pour more mana into the spell even if it had halted. And think. Think how the pain would move into the sphere. Think how the pain would unlatch.

Yet that belief was in vain, for moments later, the dim sphere was gone with a blink.

Another knot that scrunched my now numbing face worse than before also informed me. My chattering teeth forewarning of panic.

No. I mentally voiced. Not now. A deep breath in, then I exhaled the forthcoming forebodings despite the protest of the still stinging pain. It worked. If only a little bit. A little while. It still was there. And if I couldn't do this, it'd only get worse.

But if stabs can be endured, if that fiery and unforgiving magic could be relived, I didn't believe I couldn't go past this. I have magic, I know how to use it. And so I will use it. I took my attention back to the spell, never discouraged.

Mana Manipulation • Lvl 7

Core [88%]

Redirection formed again. This time, I gushed an explosion of mana towards the spell. Continuing to do so as I kept my mind with a chant. With imagination. With belief.

Redirect.

Sphere.

Then pain.

And I objectified it. Like how I created a spell, like how I used a spell. In my mind I pictured how strands of white light encapsulated a beating object—something that had been punctured and faltered. Then I reversed that meaning. Changed its meaning. Light shone on the beating heart. Not burning the invisible shards, not unshackling for it to beat with freedom, but scooping something intangible within it with the light. As if taken away. Yet remaining latched onto the white strands of light as it took off from my chest. Outside of my thoughts. Towards something else.

Onto reality.

Sometimes, a little bit of desperation was all it takes to manage the insurmountable. I've always believed that. And did as it told. Now, magic formed, bent, and accorded unto my will.

The shored suspiration the pain had occluded in my chest was quickly untied. Like the time when I had swam and braved barrels—I took the needed breath I deserved, pain not impeding my hunger for it. And that made me appreciate the place I was in despite the danger of the night. Cut grass, of earth's, and of a sweet scent. Now I felt not only that. The vague memory of spring was rekindled. Those assailed the walls of my lungs as the coldness and freshness of the breeze explored my being.

But that didn't mean the pain didn't vanish. Or magically fade like I had hoped. It remained there, but no longer dampening my very self. Still, I gulped minty airs as I felt the promise of breathing. The most important of them all.

"I'm alive!" I choked a whispered yell with a smile, feeling silly. And there's no one else around to see me do so.

Between unhampered breaths, I noticed half of the transparent sphere was within my chest, passing with little to no visual impediment even though it looked material. As if it could oppose the obscure and solid form of my clothes. And of my body.

Sheened with imperceptible white to almost unseen, the other half sphered steady a distance from my now trembling hand crunching fabric. Where the pain had latched onto.

Originally, I had wanted the pain move to the empty part of the sphere, thinking that it would work that way, but that attempt remained unsuccessful. My hand still bearing the pain. Even then, it was manageable. Way better than my heart choking my breath away. Which was the most serious thing I'd ever faced.

So even within the midst of the grimace trekking my face with ease, and my hand a continued shudder, I still cast a smile at it.

Magic had worked. And promise it holds. Now, I only hope it would last longer than a minute.

Mana Manipulation • Lvl 7

Core [53%]

That's... a lot used. I couldn't spare a second to find out how much exactly, so I opted to further compose myself instead. I let go of the haunting feeling that woke me, disengaged on unnecessary rekindlement—both that had worsened the pain in my heart despite it being easily manageable. Then I allowed myself deep breaths to purge them out. Slowly, I felt my mind and body recompense onto stability. That at least would help me bide some time to juggle my situation. And if the spell lasts briefly, I've already composed myself to endure the pain.

For now, I flicked gazes and inspected the uncertain forest, my back on the flatlands I knew was safe.