While walking around the valley, I discover a lengthy tunnel that winds like a great serpent. I walk through it, the walls enclosing me like the embrace of ancient stone giants. My heart quickens as I emerge on the other side, greeted by a wide meadow that opens up before me. The beauty of the landscape fills me with awe, but I know better than to let my guard down in this enigmatic realm.
As I look around, my instincts send a shiver down my spine. There's something amiss—something that causes my spirit magic to prickle with unease. I immediately lower my head, feeling an assault of arcana on my mind. I can feel my presence has been detected, and I instinctively tense, ready for whatever may come.
And then it happens—before my eyes, I can sense a spell conjured, its arcane energy building like a tempest within the meadow. My heart races, and in a matter of seconds, I see it—a giant ice shard hurtling toward me with deadly precision.
Without hesitation, I summon my powers. My pulse quickens, and my staff surges with energy as I conjure a giant tendril the same size of the ice shard. The air crackled as the two opposing forces collided—ice against spirit magic, each vying for dominance.
With a resounding burst, the giant shard explodes into a thousand little pieces, scattering like crystalline dust in the morning light.
As the meadow echoed with the remnants of the ice shard's destruction, a sense of caution gripped my heart. The figure standing afar, obscured by the mist that danced around them, emanated an eerie aura that sent shivers down my spine. The ethereal-looking shades that materialized beside them only heightened my suspicion—this person is a Spiritmancer.
As I prepared for the impending onslaught by conjuring a spirit barrier, the enigmatic figure's question echoed in the air like a whisper of ancient secrets, carrying the weight of her curiosity and perhaps a hint of caution. "Are you also a spiritmancer?" Her keen perception had detected the familiar traces of Spirit Magic woven into my protective barrier, prompting her inquiry.
The enigmatic figure must have realized the traces of Spirit Magic in my barrier to ask such a question.
"Yes, I am," I responded with a measured tone, acknowledging our shared connection to the spirit arts.
"What are you doing here?" the enigmatic figure asked, her voice holding an air of authority, and her eyes seemed to pierce through my very soul, searching for answers.
"Because you kidnapped someone's daughter," I replied, my gaze unwavering as I met her mysterious eyes.
The enigmatic figure lowers her hood, revealing a woman not much older than myself. The hint of annoyance on her face betrayed a vulnerability beneath her enigmatic facade. "I'm getting there," she retorted, her gaze shifting to a child sitting nearby. "This girl. See her? She's a pain in my rump."
I doubt her words.
"Feel free to read my memories to see just how annoying that little Basila is," the woman said, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. Her offer to delve into her mind to confirm her story was a risky gesture, but I hesitated to pry into her thoughts without solid evidence.
"It's just a misunderstanding," I replied, seeking to defuse the tension between us. There was more to this situation than met the eye, and I wanted to find a resolution that went beyond accusations and anger.
"I know what you want," she stated, her eyes piercing through my defenses. "I will accept your challenge, but I need you to get rid of her," she gestured towards the timid girl named Basila. "I've told her a hundred times! She's got no talent for arcana, but she just. Wont. LISTEN!" Her frustration was palpable, revealing a side of her that hinted at the complexities of her character.
Despite the woman's assertiveness, I sensed a hint of desperation in her plea. The situation was more delicate than I had initially assumed, and there was more at stake than a mere confrontation.
"Alright, I accept," I replied, making a decision to step into the unknown territory of mediating between them.
"Please, help make my days a little quieter," she implored, as if revealing a vulnerability that had long been guarded. Beneath her stoic exterior, there was a sense of weariness and burden she carried.
Just as her father described, I found Basila, a girl with short hair, dressed in clothes made out of canis skin. She looked timid and seemed to be suffering from a slight bout of malnutrition. Her presence exuded an air of uncertainty, as if the weight of the world pressed upon her fragile shoulders.
As I approached Basila, her wide eyes filled with a mix of fear and curiosity, she began to shrink away from me—a reaction I had grown rather accustomed to during my travels. The aura of fear that surrounded her was a reflection of the uncertainty and harshness she had encountered in her life.
"You must be hungry, huh? Here, have a snack," I offered, taking out a piece of meat and extending it towards her.
She hesitated for a moment, her wide eyes glancing between the offered treat and me. After realizing that I meant no harm, she accepted my snack and began gnawing away with cautious yet hungry fervor.
"Take your time," I continued, trying to ease her anxiety. "I've got some water here too. Thirsty?" I handed her my waterskin, which she accepted with a mix of gratitude and timidity. As she downed a few giant gulps, she began coughing violently, and I quickly stepped forward to pat her on the back, helping her catch her breath.
"But I want to learn from Nadira!" she replied, her voice tinged with awe and admiration. "I've seen her magic with my own two eyes!"
As I took in the surroundings, I noticed another familiar presence nearby - Nadira? So that's her name.
I stood up and introduced myself. "Hi, Basila. Nice to meet you. My name is Saika," I said, extending my hand towards her. The gesture was meant to be a friendly one, hoping to ease the tension and let her know that I bore her no ill intent.
"...are you here to take me away?" Basila responded, unsure of my intentions. Her vulnerability was palpable, and she clung to the hope that I might understand her situation.
"That's what Nadira has asked of me, yes, but I want to hear your thoughts first. Why do you want to be a sorceress, and why choose spiritmancy?" I asked Basila, seeking to understand her motivations and dreams.
"Spiritmancers... can erase memories, right? I want my father to forget my mother's accident... He's been sad for such a long time..." She confessed, her voice trembling with emotion, and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The weight of her past burdens was evident in her words, and it was clear that she sought a means to bring solace to her father's heart.
"If that's all you want, I can help you," I offered, my heart empathizing with her pain. "Erasing such a painful memory is a simple task for a novice witch."
"It's not just my father, though... So many of us have spiritual wounds that need healing. Spiritmancers can cure just as well as healers from the White Rose... I want to be a sorceress like that. Someone that can help everybody." She said with resolute conviction, her eyes shining with determination and compassion. It was evident that her goals extended beyond her personal sorrows, and she aspired to use her powers for the greater good.
"But... Nadira isn't willing to take you as her apprentice." I replied, trying to broach the subject delicately. It seemed that Nadira had already made up her mind about the situation, and it would take more than just words to persuade her.
"I know what she told you. She said that I'm talentless, right?" Basila said with indignation. "She can't change my mind though... she can't even read it!"
Drawing upon my Spirit Magic, I decided to peer into Basila's heart, seeking to understand her true potential and talents. To my surprise, I found nothing but an empty void, a clean slate upon which she could write her destiny.
Only skilled Spiritmancers could present such impressive nothingness within their thoughts, and it became clear that she not only possessed the right talent to become a Spiritmancer, but also the incredible potential to be the greatest in the future.
"I know I'm right," Basila asserted with newfound confidence, trusting her own instincts over others' doubts.
"You are more than talented, but..." I continued, hesitating for a moment, "perhaps Nadira doesn't have the talent required to teach you." It was clear that the enigmatic figure possessed her own limitations and that mentoring Basila might be beyond her capacity.
She just stared at me, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty. The weight of her dreams and the decision to become a Spiritmancer hung in the balance.
"Fine, I'll go speak with your 'master' again," I said with a hint of indignation, feeling determined to reach a resolution for Basila's sake.
"Thank you," Basila responded, her eyes glimmering with gratitude.
Approaching Nadira once more, I found her chuckling, seemingly amused by her own forgetfulness. "Ah, me and my memory!" She exclaimed, her laughter echoing in the meadow. "I had forgotten you were a Spirit Witch too, sister."
I just stared at her, my thoughts and emotions tangled like a web of enchanted threads.
"I'll admit it—I was lying," Nadira finally confessed, her demeanor shifting from amusement to seriousness. "She's got what it takes, but I don't want to be responsible for her. Why don't you take her as your apprentice, hmm?" Her mischievous tone hinted at her underlying motives.
"I'm on a more important journey," I replied, my resolve unwavering, unwilling to be swayed by her cunning persuasion.
"See?" Nadira continued, "Neither of us want her as our apprentice. Stop trying to convince me otherwise." She turned away from me, her stance firm and unyielding. "Becoming someone's master is no simple matter. My mind is made up. You won't persuade me unless you can alter my psyche."
I respected her words, acknowledging that my efforts to sway her decision might be futile.
It appeared that I must try to persuade Basila once more, knowing that she possessed a gift that deserved nurturing and guidance.
But Basila is proving to be headstrong and continued to refuse to leave, her determination evident in every fiber of her being.
""You were born with a knack for spiritmancy, and Nadira is indeed an excellent Spiritmancer," I continued, searching for the right words to convey my thoughts. "But that doesn't mean that she's obligated to become your master."
"But the divines intertwined our fates. The River Goddess guided me here." She replies.
"Spiritmancers and the divines don't really get along, kid," I said gently. "Gods want you to experience, remember, and feel, right? Spirit Magic destroys, reverses, and controls..." I continued, "If your faith in the gods is strong, then you should avoid becoming a Spirit Witch like me. For the faithful, time heals spiritual wounds, not our spells."
"B-but..." Basila stammered, torn between her desires and her beliefs.
"Barqash, your father? He's been waiting for days without food or water, hoping you'll come out alive," I said, hoping to make her aware of the impact of her choices on those who cared about her. "If you really care about other people's pain, perhaps you should consider the feelings of those around you first," I urged, emphasizing the importance of empathy and understanding.
"B-b-but if I leave, I'll never have another chance to learn!" Basila replied, her voice tinged with desperation and fear of missing out on her dreams.
"I promise plenty more will come your way. This land is teeming with wizards; I or Nadira are not the only ones that can harness Arcana," I reassured her, knowing that her potential would not go unnoticed.
"Don't be afraid to keep moving forward," I urged her, echoing the advice that had guided my own journey.
As my words lingered in the air, memories of my former master flooded my mind. I think back on him and how he left me dead in the middle of a blizzard, testing my will and resilience.
I was even younger than Basila at that time, thin as a sheet of paper and nearly torn asunder by the dagger-like arctic winds. I felt as if he cared not for my wellbeing - only my achievement and victory over the storm.
My master was a storm wizard - in fact, he was an archmage, the strongest of them all. I had realized then that even if I had struggled and worked hard my entire life, I would still never surpass his powers.
But I didn't care to be his flower - I desired to forge my own path and write my own legend.
"Don't be afraid to keep moving forward." This was my mantra, whether my master intended it to be or not.
"I..." Basila trailed off as she came to a profound realization, her inner turmoil beginning to settle.
"You understand that I could conjure a spell to force you out of here, right?" I said, holding nothing back, wanting her to grasp the reality of the situation. "But I'm not doing that because I want you to really hear what I'm saying," I continued, locking eyes with her to convey the sincerity of my words. "I know why you're here, and I can see your determination."
"You're right..." Basila finally conceded, the weight of her choices settling upon her. "And I do miss my father." Her vulnerability was raw, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
She contemplated for a few seconds, her inner turmoil evident, before she reluctantly bid farewell to Nadira and turned to leave.
I followed suit and escorted Basila out of the valley with Nadira, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders. Barqash leaped to his feet as he saw his daughter approaching, relief and worry etched onto his face. Basila hesitantly bid farewell to me, her eyes holding a mix of gratitude and determination, before leaving with her father.