The grass cooled my back.
My chest heaved.
Every breath scraped against the fire that still lingered in my lungs. I didn't move. I couldn't.
The garden was quiet again.
The seals around me had now begun to fade.
Above me, the light stung my eyes.
Alteria reached for the fountain's edge and dipped her fingers into the water.
She began to speak under her breath.
Something too quiet for me to hear.
Too holy to be heard.
The water shimmered faintly around her hand.
I heard her foot steps.
Alteria knelt beside me, her dress folding neatly beneath her.
Dirty.
I doubt she cared.
She didn't speak. Her movements were fluid. Ritual.
Then, without ceremony, she cupped her palm and let the water slowly fall onto my chest.
I gasped softly.
The heat inside me didn't recoil from the touch. It settled.
Not extinguished, but calmed. Like the flame inside me, I finally had something to listen to.
Over my shoulder I heard apologies and praise.
Divine. Maybe I'm delusional.
Alteria poured another handful over my arm.
My skin seemed to sigh beneath it. Her hand hovered above my chest once more.
Her lips moving again.
She spoke under her breath again.
Pour.
I felt the water seep into me, through my skin and into the areas that I struggled to let mana free from.
Only when the last drop of water fell from her hand did she speak. Not as a girl. Not as a peer.
But as someone raised in sanctity.
[Ping!
[ Skill unlocked: Nyame's Son
control: +20% (temporary buff)
[tip: "discipline unlocks hidden depths." ]
"Magic is not freedom, Raze. It is not wild. It is not reckless. It is not yours to command simply because it answers you."
She stepped closer, each word stitched in silk.
Yet cut with steel.
This was something older. Something sacred.
"Magic is order. Structure. It is divine because it obeys. Because it can be directed. Because it chooses discipline over desire."
I stared at her. The wind shifted. The scent of stone and burning ash still lingered near me.
"Where I'm from…" she continued, eyes flicking to the sky as if remembering someone else's voice, "we are taught that magic is the whisper of the Holy. It does not come to those who demand. Only to those who serve."
She held out her hand.
The same gesture as before. Simple. Still. Water lifted again. Calm, obedient. No fire. No struggle.
"Each motion is sacred. Every seal we draw is a prayer. Every breath is part of the ritual. To wield magic without reverence is to defy the natural order."
My hands tightened at my sides.
"What happened with you… it wasn't reverence. It was instinct. Dare I say panic. You're a beginner however from this day forward you must use magic in control, not just to survive but to master it. Sure you survived. But survival isn't mastery."
The water coiled around her wrist again, if perfection was achievable she would have done it. "That was raw potential."
A pause.
"Unshaped. Untamed—My grandmother once told me that those who act on impulse only find destruction. But those who wait—those who listen—can build a kingdom."
She backed up slightly, lowering her hand. The water returned to the fountain without a splashing.
No disturbance.
I didn't speak. I couldn't. Not yet.
Then, almost softer than anything she'd said before.
"And if you are to be my Drakos, then you must learn not to burn."
—————
Castle Valvoral's halls around us.
They were lit.
Only sounds made were our steps.
My clothes clung to my body, damp from the sacred water Alteria had used to soothe the fire.
A sting danced across my skin.
Strangely, beneath that discomfort was a subtle feeling of accomplishment.
As though the pain itself was a lesson.
We moved in silence through the castle's winding corridors, each step punctuated by the gentle groans of ancient wood beneath our feet.
Shadows flickered across stone walls.
Gave light by candle flames that trembled gently.
The deeper we ventured, the less grand the surroundings became.
Rich stone gave way to polished wood, velvet curtains became humble linen drapes.
It felt less like a royal palace, more like a quiet monastery. Eventually, we stopped at a wide wooden door, slightly ajar.
Alteria knocked once softly, then pushed it open without waiting for a reply.
Inside, I was immediately met with a soft blend of herbal scents and the faint metallic tang of iron.
Near the back, a cluttered desk stood illuminated by the muted glow of a lantern nearly burned out.
It was stacked high with parchment, medical instruments, and scribbled notes.
The room's walls were lined with open cabinets filled with neatly rolled gauze.
Vials of potion, and bandages stained from frequent use. Bandages in dire need of replacement.
Alteria took notice.
Thalia stood by the desk.
Her sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in a towering stack of fresh sheets.
Her dark auburn hair was hastily tied back, revealing a smudge of ink across her cheek.
As if she'd brushed away stray thoughts without noticing. She turned swiftly at the sound of our entrance, eyebrows rising curiously.
"Oh?" Her eyes quickly scanned me before darting back to Alteria. "Who is this, Alteria?"
Alteria stepped forward, poised and unwavering.
"This is my Drakos. Raze."
Thalia blinked once, then again.
Confusion clouding her expression.
"Drakos? King Augustus didn't authorize the summoning of a Drakos. We have to report this immediately to the Pope and—"
"Don't burden yourself with my decisions, Thalia,"
Alteria calmly said, leaving no room for argument.
"Raze is under my care. He's stable, but the burns along his wrist need your attention. Any wounds I couldn't fully heal, I'm trusting to your expertise."
For a moment, Thalia hesitated.
Clearly holding back her questions. Then, with a quiet sigh of resignation, she nodded.
"Right. Of course."
Turning toward me, she offered a faint, cautious smile that barely reached her eyes.
"Nice to meet you, Raze."
I straightened instinctively, feeling oddly comforted by her directness. No pomp, no ceremony.
"Nice to meet you too," I murmured softly, the words quieter than I'd meant them to be.
But louder than I expected.
Thalia gestured toward a prepared cot by the wall.
"Take a seat," she said, a subtle warmth creeping into her tone. "I'll be gentle. Probably."
Alteria paused briefly at the doorway, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment.
"I'll return once you're treated,"
She said simply, slipping silently back into the corridor, leaving only echoes behind.
I watched her vanish, then turned back to Thalia.
She was methodically rolling up her sleeves.
Her gaze thoughtful.
"Drakos,"
She whispered quietly to herself, as if tasting the weight of the word.
"And here I thought today would be quiet."