My parents hadn't punished me, but I essentially am on house arrest and can't leave without the company of one of them or our maids. In hindsight, they never forbade me to go near the woods in the first place. Akin to parents forgetting to teach their kid to look both ways to cross the road. I think they partially blamed themselves more than me for the incident. Even the maids give off a gloom, feeling negligent of their duty. I had apologized to May but she deflected.
"It is my fault to have neglected my duty to your well being," she had said.
To be fair though, I never want to go near those woods ever again. I keep thinking about what had happened. I know I was practically at Death's door – my body broken like a human humpty-dumpty, paralyzed from feeling pain. And then I started feeling better after I had reached out to the creature. After I had touched it. Almost like [Life Tap]? It didn't make any sense though; It would require a weapon with the appropriate mod or being an undead class and/or race. I thought about asking my mother but didn't quite know how to bring it up. Questions like these would result in confusion, maybe even suspicion. I couldn't exactly reveal knowledge I know from the game – at least not yet. I need to shelve those questions for a later opportunity.
The only bright spot in the house nowadays is being able to see Fvenn every day, albeit helping the maids with the daily chores. The only time I get to speak with him is in the morning or the evening before dinner; Fvenn even eats with the maids and, not with the rest of us. Though, the time we do have isn't enough for a short game of tag, rather just sharing pleasantries and promises to speak later.
I also wonder if my mother is having Fvenn's time occupied non-stop to keep him away from me. She still treats him coldly in passing and when giving him instructions, but isn't as angry or hateful of him as she had been. I'm sorry Fvenn, please endure until the wrath of my mother has been quenched.
I am glad, however, that after about a week of rest (by which I was forced) that our Thaumaturgy lessons began once more.
[Wind Sphere!]
I finish the last line of the incantation, letting loose a small but well formed ball of compressed air across a flower patch, petals dancing around it in a mini-vacuum. Since recovering, I feel more alert about the Ether around me. More confident with the Eth within me.
My mother claps with pride, quickly hiding her full smile with a cough, her face returning back to its placid calm. Still it brings a prideful smile to my own face. Even May claps happily, standing beneath a tree a short distance away.
"Since I've mastered that spell, what will we learn next?" I ask, trying to (unsuccessfully) hide by excitement. "Water? Fire?"
"You did well to improve your wind channeling, but we are far from mastering it. We will learn Fire, an extension of wind, however, once you show sufficient mastery. For now, we focus on runic principles and mastering your control," she explains.
"But why?" I ask. I felt good for once, sufficient even at it. The Ether around me is now more distinct, more tangible. Almost like I can reach out and grab it, a fluffy web of cotton candy amid the air.
"You need to better your flow," Y'Silda says.
My mother brings up an index finger. Ether starts to revolve around a single point above her nail. Like an atom almost.
"Even the smallest amount of force can move boulders," Y'Silda explains. My eyes strain – indeed, the Ether gather around a miniscule amount of Eth.
"Use too much and you will find yourself constantly exhausted. Use too little and even the simplest spells will not come to fruition. Show me this mastery, and we can move onto more complex spells and elements," she explains matter of factly.
I look down at my own hands. Eth control. I knew that even after several repeat castings I'm mentally exhausted, dizzy and lethargic. What she says makes sense but still . . .
"Can't I just practice that with the new spells?" I ask. "At least teach me a new spell like [Wind Slash] or [Respiration]?"
My mother raises her eyebrows and I mentally bite my tongue. Did I make her suspicious?
"Have you been perusing the study? No – those spells are too dangerous without the fundamental controls. They can maim, rebound, kill. Even [Respiration] cast by an inexperienced neophyte can do more harm than good. First the fundamentals, then we move forward with advanced spells."
Her tone is final and I know I've been pushing it a little too much. I need to be more patient. And anyway, I can practice more on my own to speed up my progress. As we finish the session with channeling control, I silently wonder what "level" I have reached thus far. I want to progress as fast as I can – especially if I'm going to survive monsters like that beast.
I don't dare go exploring on my own, but I have to be ready.
I have to become stronger.
. . .
I wait until after dinner to plan my evening excursion. It's essentially like I'm on house arrest, being accompanied to and from places, no allowance for unaccompanied time alone. I consider practicing in my room but picture broken mirrors, torn drapes and bedsheets. I need to practice beyond the hill, sufficiently away from the wooded edge but obscured from my mother's prying eyes.
I never imagined making an escape by tied bedsheets, but I manage to make a sufficient length knot of them to clamber down from my upstairs window, landing bare feet landing deftly into the soft grass below. I enjoy the green beneath my heels and toes. It makes me feel closer to the surrounding nature and its ether. Maybe another inherited trait and not surprising – many Vasque players favored the magic classes like Mage, Druid, and Priest with nature god affinity, or even rarer hybrid classes like Ethereal Knight and Storm Archer.
While I still have a small twinge of guilt, I rationalize this permissible – I'm not in the woods after all. A child's logic. But hey, I'm a child. Hidden behind the hill, I begin to channel my Eth as little as possible. The object is to let it flow at a low constant pressure – enough to "ignite" or fire off a spell.
However, while this makes sense in theory, I struggle to master the concept in practice. Either my Eth "drips" into my hands, my heart shuddering in arrhythmic spasms before falling dormant, or I let what my mother considers "too much" to flow out at one time. Indeed, I was only able to fire off three [Wind Spheres] earlier in the day before exhausting myself. And they were tiny too. Embarrassing.
A branch snaps and I lose concentration, my energy sputtering.I look towards the perimeter of the woods. I step backward, my eyes narrowing, noting the etheric outline of a tall, humanoid figure. As it grows closer I see that it is the Huntsman: Nystrom. Our eyes meet and his aura vanishes. There's a stillness in the air as if I have just discovered a secret.
"Evening, my Lady," Nystrom says with a flourish. His hands tighten a pouch that hangs from one of his belt loops. An apothecary pouch.
"You're an Alchemist?" I ask.
Nystrom smiles and nods.
"You've a good eye," Nystrom replies. It explains his aura – perhaps using [Apothecary's Sight].
"Aye, there are some fungi and plants that only flower in the night," Nystrom says, patting his pouch. "But pray tell your reason for skirting the boundaries of the woods? Hast not our Lady told you these are out of bounds to you? Wish to give her another fright?"
Shit. Red handed.
"I wasn't planning on going near the woods. I just needed a place to practice away from the house," I say in my defense.
"A likely story. To practice what?" he asks.
"M-magic," I say. "I mean, Thaumaturgy."
"Ah, our Lady is finally teaching you her family trade as one might say," Nystrom says, approaching and kneeling before me. "Still, this close to the woods at night is risky. If another animal has drinken from the font, another devil may go on the loose."
I bite my lip. He's right after all. No matter how hard I tried to justify, it still was a dumb move.
"I will escort you back home," Nystrom says. Whatever sense of lingering fear I have being near the woods washes away as the Huntsman walks me home. However, we detour around the house a few minutes southeast of the manor. It's another spot, partially obscured by wayward trees.
"I think I know your nature. Tis be a safer spot here to practice, my Lady. This place will be a secret if you promise me to stay clear of those woods," Nystrom offers.
"Deal," I say, extending a hand.
Nystrom shakes it in agreement and we return back home, newly made conspirators.