Valkan was born in conflict. When the slaves of Aldcrest rose up against their masters, they divided the nation in two. Aldcrest still claims dominion over the escaped slaves of Valkan. They hold the same beliefs and practice the same customs. The two nations hate each other bitterly for it. It has been less than a century since their civil war began, and it shows no sign of stopping. Their border, marked by the Highfall River, is inhabited only by military outposts. Valkan has only survived due to their extreme cohesion as a people. The entire nation has turned its collective will towards survival. - Observations of Cultures, Opening Statement about Valkan.

The pressure between Darian's ears made his head feel like it would pop. He slumped from the circle as his body caught up with the rush of sensation that flooded him every time he completed an exercise. Darian realized he was lying on the floor, his head resting against the cool stone of Lys's floor.

It felt good against his skin.

Darian rolled over and groaned. His eyes refused to focus, and he kept seeing double of everything around him. He closed them. Their confusing input only served to hurt his head all the more.

The sound of his beating heart, the dusty smell of the floor, the feel of smooth stone on his skin, even the taste of his own tongue—not even closing his eyes gave him complete relief; every input made his head hurt.

But underneath the pain, he was satisfied. Three, this time. Just under a month had passed since he'd gone with Lys, and he was finally seeing progress. A month… the thought made him realize just how little time was left. He had five months left. Judging from how Lys talks I might be lucky to get even that.

Darian had been progressing well. Two weeks ago, he'd count himself lucky to hear a single note and could only last twenty minutes in the circle. Now, he always heard at least one note, regularly heard two, and more and more frequently, he would hear a third. He'd also been capable of doing more sessions. Now, he could complete three full sessions where he'd struggled to complete one full and another half session.

Will he let me push for a fourth today? At first, Darian had hated the sensory training; in fact, he'd thought it a form of torture after his first few attempts, but once he'd heard that first strange, enigmatic chime, he'd been hooked. Despite the pain and discomfort, he couldn't refuse the call. He'd found himself hesitantly eager to enter the circle time and time again.

It didn't take long for Darian's headache to lessen enough for him to crack open one eye cautiously; thankfully, his vision focused. He slowly scanned the room, looking for Lys; Darian's eyes found him sitting patiently in a simple wooden chair.

"How many," asked Lys in his regular flat tone.

"Three." Darian couldn't keep the smug grin off his face.

Lys nodded, his brows wrinkling.

"Where did I mess up?" Darian was confused by Lys's reaction.

Lys waved his hand, "You've done nothing wrong. In fact, in terms of your sensory development, you are excelling. There lies the problem."

Darian was even more confused. "I thought that was the whole point, to train my magical senses for the operation."

"It is. The problem lies not with your skill level but with the rate at which your body is adapting to the awakening. The lock I put on you isn't slowing you down enough, but anything stronger could have unpleasant long-term consequences." Lys stood and placed a hand on his chin as he began to pace. "Extra time isn't going to happen. We'll be lucky if you have another five months." He stopped pacing and looked at Darian.

Darian nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "You've been thinking that for the last two weeks, haven't you?"

"Since you heard your first note."

That stunned Darian, and he could only blink in surprise.

Lys continued, "I knew we were in trouble when you heard the first so early. I hadn't planned for you to be able to hear notes for another week."

Darian sat up as he felt ice shoot through his veins, ice that was quickly replaced by burning anger, "Why didn't you tell me," he demanded.

"Because where you place your focus is vital right now, and I didn't want to distract you with something I wasn't certain of."

"And what are you certain of now," asked Darian through clenched teeth.

"That you are extremely gifted in terms of magical senses. Whoever your father is, he must be one hells of a mage," Lys said.

Darian was taken aback; the mention of his father threw him off. It wasn't something Darian thought about; quite the opposite, actually. He actively prevented himself from thinking of the unknown man who had helped conceive him. A bitter ball of anger and resentment flared in his chest whenever his thoughts turned towards his unknown sire.

"But back to the point," Lys continued, "Your skill is improving, but so is your natural baseline sensitivity."

"What does that mean," asked Darian.

"Time is not on our side."

Darian clenched his jaw and straightened his back. "I want to push for a fourth session then."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Darian saw a rueful smile tug at the corners of Lys's mouth before he shook his head, "I've never had a student so doggedly determined to hurt themselves."

Darian raised an eyebrow.

"You remind me of myself. When I first started learning magic."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Lacking intelligence might be comforting, Darian, but it definitely wasn't a good thing. The extra work I had to put in to keep up with my fellow students was substantial."

Darian's mouth dropped open. Had Lys just called him stupid?

"I think that's where you and I are similar." Lys smiled a slight twinkle in his turquoise eyes. "We are both willing to work ourselves past the point anyone with sense would stop."

Darian sat there gaping like a fish at Lys as he tried to speak. He just made a joke. A real joke. Darian thought. "That is the most backhanded compliment I've ever received," Darian chuckled.

Lys shrugged, "You're welcome."

Darian's chuckles turned into full-on laughter. That didn't help his headache, but he felt a tension he'd been holding onto for weeks draining away.

Lys smiled at Darian. "It does raise one question, though. If your senses are already abnormally good, what will they be like after the operation? You might put all of us to shame, Darian."

Darian's laughter faded, and a question struck him, "You say, 'all of us' and mention other students; how many of you were there?"

Lys froze, his expression turning forced, painfully so. "Four… there were four of us."

All cheer had disappeared from Lys's voice. He's in pain. Lys's turquoise eyes had lost their regular strength, and while they were still hard, they looked brittle, like his iron resolve might shatter. Darrian nodded his head in response, dropping the subject.

Lys stood from his chair, "No more sessions today. If you hurt yourself now, then you almost certainly won't be ready for the operation in time." He stepped towards the kitchen, "I'll cook dinner; in the meantime, go read."

Darian nodded before slowly getting to his feet. Reading with a headache was never fun, but he'd power through. He couldn't stop a slight smile. Dumb enough to keep going when anyone with sense would stop. For some reason, he liked that.

Darian went to his room and sat at the desk; the book he'd been slowly working through was already open where he'd left it. Darian hadn't enjoyed reading at first, but as he'd worked his way through the alphabet, memorizing each letter and then began to understand how to piece them together into full words, he'd started to enjoy the process. That was until Lys had given him the children's books.

He'd been forced to read books filled with more pictures than words and read them aloud while Lys listened and corrected him. It had been humiliating. I swear if I ever have to read another book about some stupid pigs and their inability to build houses. It was ridiculous. Who builds a house out of straw? That pig had deserved to be eaten.

They'd spent hours working on his reading and writing, and thankfully, Lys had recently let him move to reading alone. Darian still had to read aloud and follow along with his finger, and he read with all the grace of a rock slide, but still, he found slight improvements almost daily. When reading the simple books, it was rare that he found a word he couldn't decipher. Still, Lys had a rule; he would write down any word he struggled with or didn't know, and Lys would help him with the definition and pronunciation.

It was tedious but effective practice, and despite the difficulty increase, he was glad Lys had given him a more challenging book. His new book, A Collection of Tales, was full of different stories from all over the continent. He was currently reading a story of a landless mage knight who stumbled onto a town fighting an incursion. The town had been surrounded by monsters who'd dug up from the earth below. The gallant knight had fought through the small horde and made it over the wall. That was where Darian had last left off.

Darian gazed wearily at the pages and, with a still-aching head, began to read.

It was a simple story. The mage knight couldn't save the town but ultimately created a path for the townsfolk to escape. He'd fought alongside brave men who volunteered to battle alongside him, and in the end, they'd all fallen, but the men, women, and children of the town had managed to escape—to live another day.

So stupid. Darian couldn't help the bitter thought. No mage lord helped a town he didn't own. The idea was silly. Darian had heard many stories of self-sacrifice; preachings from the Book of Faith were full of them. Sermon after sermon about the sacrifice their gods had made for humanity. It had all been so self-righteous and self-aggrandizing. It was only made worse by Ailis's zealous demeanor. Others had preached the same virtues; almost everyone did around the time of the surge.

Yet, who of them ever sacrificed for me? Not one of them had ever stepped up for Darian. He'd seen disapproval on some faces when Ailis targeted him, but not one person had tried to shield him. They were all too concerned about their reputations. Darian was working himself up; he could feel his heartbeat increasing its pace and a slight flush to his face as he fumed. Then it struck him. One person had stuck up for him, regardless of what it cost. I wonder how Mason is doing. Calm returned to Darian as he thought of his friend.

Thinking of Mason also made him think of Ava, and he couldn't stop his lips from curling into a slight smile. She always fought for me. Her fights had all been verbal; her mother had made her understand in no uncertain terms that she was not to get physical with others.

It comforted Darian to realize that there were people who had sacrificed for him. I'd die for them. The realization surprised Darian, but it warmed him inside to know that there was someone, two someones, that he would fight for, that he would die for.

Mason always had my back, and I always had his. Darian thought of all the scraps they'd been in together. Funny, looking back, it all feels so… small. They all felt so distant like they'd happened a lifetime ago. And maybe they did. Darian looked around the room, at his bed, and gazed out the window towards the great red cliffs covered in verdant forest. It was a lifetime ago.

A chime broke Darian out of his thoughts. It was a simple sound spell that Lys used to let Darian know dinner was ready. Darian eyed the book in front of him. Closing it gently, he revealed the book's title, embossed in gold lettering on dark brown leather: "A Collection Of Tales." Surprisingly, he found that he looked forward to completing the book.

His stomach rumbled. Dinner first.

The smell hit him as soon as he opened his door. The acrid fumes of charred something slammed into him like a wall. Making his way to the kitchen, he found a scowling Lys glaring at what looked like lumps of coal.

"They've got a thick crust." Lys huffed.

"How are we meant to eat lumps of coal," demanded Darian.

Lys grumbled something untilligable in return.

"These can't be edible."

"They're fine," barked Lys as he cut into the steak, revealing meat so cooked it might as well be shoe leather. He took a bite and grimaced while chewing before he swallowed. "Perfectly fine."

"How is your cooking so awful," asked Darian.

"If you don't like it, then cook your own damn meals," huffed Lys.

Darian blinked before he looked to the kitchen and then back at the lump of charcoal on a plate in front of him. "Yeah… why not?"

Lys raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Darian looked around the kitchen. He didn't know where to start, but as he looked over the dirty cookware Lys had used to prepare dinner, a thought struck him. He turned to Lys, "Do you have any books about cooking?"