Romane was disappointed in her work. The entire stone face was glowing red hot with thick lava sloughing down in flows. If you squint hard enough you could make out a crude copy of the Montrouge sigil: a rose snaking up an upright sword. Romane had intended to carve it into the rock but she was less than impressed with the workmanship. In her mind it glowed in the dim cave, but she used too much flame and the whole wall was melting.
"Argh," she growled and angrily bit her lip. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself down. 'A peaceful mind is the most powerful mind' the book had said. Sometimes it felt as if the author was addressing Romane directly. That made her uncomfortable since Romane made sure no one saw her temper, especially her aunt. Hiding one's true emotions and projecting fake ones was a useful skill. Romane had seen her aunt manipulate her noble friends and other merchants as easily as one might breathe.
If she wanted to be truly powerful she would need to learn the ways of a thespian first. But how could she control her face if she couldn't even control her magic? 'Deep breaths, deep breaths.' Her mind became clear once more as she opened her eyes. Maybe she should do something on a much smaller scale. She had been trying to sculpt the walls for the better part of the day. It was probably noon by now.
Romane decided to abandon the walls for now as sat down next to her grimoire. The ground was hard and unsuitable for a lady such as herself but good things come at a price. By the book's standards Romane evaluated herself to be a fifth tier mage. There were ten tiers of mages so Romane knew she was a particularly powerful mage. Most were third tier and below. Romane caught herself in the middle of a smirk. 'Control, composure.' Nan had warned her that pride can blind the most powerful dragons.
It was difficult not to be proud though. Romane might very well be the most powerful mage in the Semme at the moment, and she still had room for growth. Romane's mother had been a seventh tier mage at her peak; a force to be reckoned with. Maybe Romane would someday surpass her. Maybe she'd end up a tenth tier mage, on equal footing with the legendary hero Vanheim. Since the man's death a millennium ago, no other mage had come close to him. Romane could be the second ever tenth tier mage in history. The thought made her giddy and she lost her composure. Again.
To perform magic one needed to concentrate. If she couldn't concentrate she couldn't match up to the Hero of Men. Romane knew that she needed to learn how to concentrate and clear her mind. The grimoire had a concentration section. It simply read: "To reach the height of one's magical aptitude requires a mind like a cool, clear, still pond. Serenity can only be achieved from within. None can help an adept focus his mind. It is a skill they must learn on their own, of their own volition and initiative."
Romane knew it was necessary. She decided to exclusively work on her mind until she had proper control. It was difficult, but the young Countess kept at it. Every day she came to the cave she would sit in the darkness of the cave and meditate. Her mind became clearer and clearer. She was even able to subdue her emotions. She still felt them but she could now easily identify them and keep them from mudding her focus. Eventually when she closed her eyes she could see with her mind's eye the walls of the cave shimmering with a soft grey light. At the back of her head she could feel a dull throbbing coming from above her.
On a bright day at the beginning of the summer of her tenth year, Romane asked Jean to let her practise on the surface level. She wasn't expecting much but she gave the old man-at-arms a smile he couldn't say no to. "Just this once. We can't have anyone see you," he grumpily agreed.
"Oh I'm not doing anything flashy," Romane innocently told him. "I was just hoping the forest would help me meditate."
"Meditate huh," said Jean like it was the most useless and illogical thing to do.
'I don't need you to understand, just do as I say.' She did not dare say that out loud. Her uncle would be most displeased at the disrespect to his most loyal retainer.
Jean walked off to the makeshift chair he set up about 150 metres away. Once he was out of sight she sat cross legged on the moist ground. Hardly suitable for a lady but good things come at a price. She waited until she could hear Jean sharpening his knife. She didn't like him much, a stone had a more interesting personality. She didn't like Isidro either, who mercifully didn't come with them on most days. Even though he regularly bathed, Isidro had a cloying rural smell, most displeasing to the Countess. Isidro was three years older than Romane, and when they first met he had tried to act the big brother. Always talking, talking, talking. Romane found the chatter mind numbing. Eventually Jean had memorized the path and Isidro was no longer needed. Romane had smiled at Isidro and told him that she would be very happy if she stopped stealing Isidro away who had important duties at the docks. Internally, Romane had screamed at him to fuck off. Isidro was none the wiser though, and he was more than happy to oblige his 'little sister.'
Romane finally heard the sounds of Jean whetting his blade. She cleared her mind and began meditating. She plunged deeper and deeper into the still depths of her mind. Suddenly she was bathed in light. Her eyes were closed but she could mentally see the forest around her was glowing.
Romane was shocked to discover she could move. She knew that mentally she was still on the forest floor as her spirit soared up. The sky was pitch black with nary a star. She looked down and saw the Semme in all its brilliant glory. The forest was shimmering in a thousand shades of greens and browns and other colours Romane did not have the words to describe. Romane flew over the Semme, going higher and higher. She could see the gray of Bel Terra, but it was nowhere near as brilliant as the Semme. She felt herself overcome with wonder and awe and delight. Curiosity intoxicated her. Somehow, the Semme had projected her to the Astral plane. She wanted to learn more about this wonderful place.
Romane suddenly had a terrifying thought: what if she flew too high and got swallowed up by the sky? She quickly descended in a panic. It would be best not to wander far from the forest. The reassuring warmth of the Semme calmed her.
In the embrace of the forest Romane could feel the trees; they sensed her. The forest was alive. She could keenly sense all the leaves, the squirrels in the trees, the birds in their nests, the worms in the earth.
Since Romane was not in her physical body, she discovered she could move through the trees like a spectre. She had the mischievous idea to mess with Jean; he couldn't see her of course. Romane flew over to him and found him seated on a big root and staring up at the foliage. She couldn't make out his facial features. She could only see his body's vague form, shimmering like an apparition. Smiling to herself Romane charged at Jean, barreling into him with her shoulder. She thought she would go through him like she did with the trees, but to her surprise he fell over backwards. Jean's aura changed from a deep blue to a dim red.
Panicking, she turned round and zoomed away from him. She was unsure whether he could see her in this form but she wasn't taking any chances. She flew in a straight line for about a kilometre before she stopped to think. Maybe it was best for her to return to her physical body. Problem was, she had no idea how.
Suddenly, the forest became uncomfortably hot. The shimmering lights were now angrily flashing. Instinctively Romane knew she needed to return to her body. She did not need direction. She could feel her body; a beacon in this suddenly inhospitable environment.
Jean was vigorously shaking her when she opened her eyes. His big blocky face was knotted in worry as he held her in his arms. "Girl! Girl! Are you okay?" he asked, with a hint of fear in his voice.
Romane felt a flash of annoyance. "Jean, address me with respect. I am no peasant girl. And stop shaking me or you'll snap my neck." She stood up.
The big man was taken aback. "Apologies my lady," he said stiffly. "There are spirits about here, we should leave."
"What are you talking about?" Romane wanted to find out more of what he thought had happened.
"I swear on my wife's grave," he said gravely. "I was watching a woodpecker when it hit me. It knocked me over, took the wind from my lungs. I could not see it, so I guessed it was a Spirit. An evil one."
"That's absurd. Vanheim locked all the demons when he closed the Seal."
Jean swallowed hard. "I know I sound like I've popped my berries, but you have to believe me. I saw what I saw. The evil spirit came this way, toward you." Romane had been heading the opposite direction actually. "It possessed you, tried to take your soul."
Romane tried and failed to hide her surprise. "What are you talking about?"
"I swear," Jean said vehemently. "When I got here you were floating!"
"I was?"
"Yes! I tried shaking you awake but you weren't waking. I thought It ate your soul."
Romane didn't know what to say to that. She had never seen Jean so shaken.
"My Ladyship, we need to leave quickly, it might still be around."
Romane was still trying to process what Jean had said. "Wait, did you say I was flying?"
"Floating is more the word." He grabbed her wrist. "My lady, we need to leave." He started dragging her toward the horses.
Romane pulled her hand away. "I can walk on my own," she hissed.
"Sorry my lady. But we need to hurry."
With Jean's help Romane mounted her pony and the duo headed back to the city.