1217-02-02
Jay was taken off campus this Thursday, though I had no idea why. Besides, this seemed like a good opportunity to read the book he'd given me.
The Cost of Soul by Thorne Aido.
I hadn't given the book a chance before now, caught up as I was with combat training, history, and math. But now that I had some free time, it felt like the perfect moment to dive in.
Soul—a power that seemed to exist somewhere between the Lion's Armor and the Dragon's Aspect. It was said to be the manifestation of one's very essence, granting a unique ability that only its wielder could use. Unlike the elemental powers tied to dragons or the divine powers of the Lion, Soul was different. I wasn't sure if I trusted it. Thorne Aido, the book's infamous author, had been a dictator who used his abilities to train young soldiers, often violating the Varevensi Agreement. It's said that his son took over after his death, though Tobe remains shrouded in secrecy.
I sat on the couch in the center of my dorm, the darkness of the early morning wrapping around me. A pillow rested at my side
I began to skim the book. To decide if it was worth my time.
"Hello, everyone. I am Thorne Aido, the current ruler of Tobe and the person who discovered Soul."
I sighed. Of course, he'd open with a grand introduction. Ruler, savior, genius—he's really piling it on.
He continued, "Soul, often called Spirit, is a power tied to your very essence—a manifestation of your past, present, and future all at once. Harnessing this grants leaders tremendous strength, wisdom, and abilities beyond compare."
So, basically, it makes people like him untouchable. How convenient.
"There are three easy ways to activate Soul. The first is to have someone who has already unlocked their Soul initiate it for you."
I frowned. Sure, because everyone has a helpful Soul master.
"The second method is through meditation. When you are silent, your Soul speaks the loudest."
Easier said than done. Silence isn't exactly abundant.
"And the third is through self-reflection—examining who you are, what you want, and whether your actions align with your dreams."
I paused, my interest piqued despite myself. Self-reflection? That's... unexpectedly profound.
"Soul manifestations are unique. It's almost impossible to predict what someone's Soul will become. A librarian might gain a power related to books, a chef might summon a weapon, and a shy person could gain the ability to turn intangible."
Tailored to the person, huh? It sounds almost poetic. Or maybe just dangerously unpredictable.
"There are five classifications of Soul that I have observed:
Elemental: Powers tied to natural forces like gravity, fire, or darkness, distinct from the dragons' abilities.Enhancement: Powers that amplify physical or mental attributes, such as superhuman strength or heightened intelligence.Creation: Abilities that allow the user to generate tools, constructs, or even life forms from their Soul's energy.Alteration: Powers that reshape reality in small but significant ways, like manipulating time, perception, or space."Unique: Powers that combine all aspects, like Aldric Kundra's Edict and Soul, a prime example of mastery over all
I leaned back on the couch, letting the words sink in. This was starting to sound less like a guide and more like a sales pitch. What's the catch?
Then came the next line:
"The cost of Soul is—"
Creak.
Agatha's door swung open, the sound pulling me out of the book's world and back into my own.
I quickly slipped the book under my pillow, just in time.
It was Agatha.
"Good morning," she said with a smile. "You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep," I replied. "I was looking at the moon."
"The moon?" Agatha tilted her head slightly. "Alright."
"What about you? What are you doing this early?" I asked.
"I'm going to cook," she said casually.
"What are you cooking?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Can you teach me?" I offered.
She smiled again, this time more warmly. "Sure. Why not?"
"How about muffins?"
"Sure," I agreed.
As I stood, I made sure the book was securely hidden under the pillow, out of sight. I trusted Agatha, but she was a noble. If anyone ever found the book, I didn't want her implicated
Agatha laid out the ingredients on the counter.. "Alright, let's make muffins. It'll be fun!"
"Fun for you," I teased, grabbing a mixing bowl. "I'm not sure I trust myself in the kitchen. My mom only let me stir."
She laughed. "Then I'll take the lead. Just follow my instructions, and we'll be fine."
She started whisking eggs and milk, but her confidence quickly faltered as half the mixture splattered onto the counter.
"Nice job," I said, trying to suppress a laugh.
"It's fine! It's fine," she insisted, grabbing a cloth to clean up. "Baking is about creative expression."
"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes playfully.
As we added the dry ingredients, she took over mixing.
"Why is this so lumpy?" she muttered.
"Maybe you're overthinking," I peeked into the bowl.
"I am not!" She stirred more vigorously, only to fling batter onto her face.
I burst out laughing. "You're a natural, huh?"
She wiped her face. "Hey, it's a process."
"Maybe this is the wrong process, rich kid," I teased with a playful smirk.
"You know," Agatha started, her voice softer, "my family's not wealthy. Not in money, not in influence. But they've done everything they could to support me."
I paused. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "If I succeed, they succeed. Everything they've poured into me—it's all for this. For me to make it."
I turned to her. "I get it. My sister was the youngest Holy Knight and the strongest. I always felt like I had to live up to her. But I've learned that if you're happy, they will be, too."
She looked at me, her expression softening. "You think so?"
"I know so," I said, smiling.
Her grin returned, though it was smaller and more thoughtful this time. "You make it sound so easy."
The smell of muffins baking filled the air. Agatha leaned against the counter, her earlier energy creeping back as we joked about her batter mishap.
"So," she said suddenly, glancing at me with a knowing look. "How did it go with Jay at the lake?"
I blinked, caught off guard, then smiled. "It was... nice. Different, but nice."
She smirked. "That's all I get?"
"For now," I said, grabbing oven mitts.
"You've got muffins to check on, and trust me—you don't want them to burn."
"Would you... would you understand?" I heard her mumble.