grievinglands
patreon
TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 23 (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-03-25 09:35:02 +0000 UTCChapter 23 - Crystal Clarity
There are two powers in the world; one is the sword and the other is the pen. There is a great competition and rivalry between the two. There is a third power stronger than both, that of women.
- Muhammad Alu Jinnah.
Seraphina did something she rarely allowed herself to do: she hesitated. She hovered before the display of scrolls, each one pulsing with arcane promise, every etched symbol murmuring of power. Every scroll filled with imparted madness upon their parchment and vellum.
It was not in her nature to pause—especially now, in front of curious onlookers—but this choice held profound consequences. If she admitted to already being Gifted by Mana, to already being a Mage, she would also have to explain exactly how. That meant revealing the lie of omission. On the other hand, choosing another Path meant willingly binding herself to a second torrent of magic, one that could warp her mind and unravel her sense of self.
For a moment, she stood there, a beautiful figure as if taken from a masterpiece, a figure with determination in her gaze and tension in the set of her shoulders. She remembered every scrap of lore and cautionary tale about those few who dared to master more than one element. Old mages who managed a single aspect of magic were already as rare as dragon tears. Those who mastered two were things of myth and legend.
Yet Seraphina, who in her opinion had lived enough for three lifetimes, needed power and needed power now. Real, formidable power. And she knew, with a certainty born from her own confidence and achievements, that if anyone could achieve the impossible, it was her. Still, traces of treacherous doubt disguised as caution remained.
“Oh, and the first test for you all!” Belfrost’s voice rang out in instruction. “Is not to cast your magic until I tell you to do so!”
Listening with only half an ear, she steadied her breathing and surveyed the collection of scrolls. The Elements Major. Each was laid out carefully, as though the Academy wanted to show the breadth of the known magic of the world. The scrolls seemed almost alive under the Zajasite lights, their symbols twisting at the edges of her mortal comprehension. First, she noticed a rare Scroll of Fire with a script somewhat different from her own family’s treasure. Next, as though mirroring the set from her past, Scrolls of Earth. Then Water. And, most perilous of all, a single Scroll of Wind—a Path so notorious that no mage in recorded history had ever truly mastered its call.
Further down, she glimpsed more esoteric Paths. A Scroll of Shadow caught her eye, sending a shiver down her spine at the memory of cautionary tales: those who embraced Shadow inevitably became shadows themselves—hollow, haunted, and half-gone from the world. Nature magic was likewise on offer. Popular, yes, and safer in theory, but working with her Holy magic would test her resolve at every turn. And even “safer” was a trite word, for to walk the Path of Mana was to dance on the razor’s edge of forbidden power.
She searched for a Scroll of Identify—one she would have liked above all else—but, the Sages of Quas kept their precious knowledge close, doling it out rarely and grudgingly. That door was closed as there was none available.
There had to be something else, something that would counterbalance the power of the Covenant magic that was growing its roots ever deeper inside her. If not a perfect opposite, then at least a Path that pulled in a different direction, one that offered clarity where the Divine threatened to make her too soft of memory and more altruistic. A fleeting mental image of a spreadsheet from her previous life wafted through her thoughts, but it was fading like an old dream, details blurring by the day.
She knew there was a Path that, at first, would be almost useless—precipitous in its use Mana and awkward in its utility and application. Still, it promised clarity, a sharp focus that could cut through the gentle haze Holy magic might one day impose on her mind. That same clarity could, if she was careless, tip her into obsession. But such was the gamble of power: to embrace it fully, was always a gamble.
Her decision crystallized in that instant. In this world, talk of souls weighed heavy. Magic tugged at that intangible core, straining a Mage’s sense of identity. Carrying two Paths would press twice as hard on her essence. She would face a constant struggle to remain whole, to stay Seraphina. But her entire life, especially the worthwhile parts, had been a vivid tapestry of struggle. Stagnation and safety were not options she could abide.
“So be it,” she whispered under her breath, setting her jaw. Gathering her courage, she gently slid Eloise, her ever-faithful lady-in-waiting, from her arm. Then, ignoring the curious stares of the other students still wrestling with their own choices, Seraphina squared her shoulders and moved. She was not entirely sure whether she chose the scroll, or if Fate itself chose the scroll for her.
Ironically, it was the same choice that the original Seraphina—her other self, with eyes for glittering jewels, had also taken. A slender hand reached out, drawn to an unassuming parchment set apart from the rest: Crystal.
The moment her fingertips brushed its surface, the scroll’s magic seemed to leap up, hungry and electric. Arcs of energy raced along her skin, colliding and mingling with the power she already carried within. There was a searing warmth, then an internal clash as Covenant magic fought to keep its territory. Like two wild beasts in the same cage, they snarled, hissed, and battled for space in her soul.
Seraphina felt her mind flooded and flayed with new words of power. They etched themselves onto her already straining spirit like living runes, demanding recognition and most demanding. The pain was shocking—an agony that pitched her onto her knees. She heard the collective gasp from the surrounding students, felt their eyes pinned on her, and a flush of mortification burned even through the bolts of torment that coursed along her nerves.
Dimly, she recalled her mother’s tales of childbirth, how she’d always promise Seraphina ominously that she would “understand one day.” Now the young noblewoman feared that she understood all too well.
Wait a moment… were those her memories or her memories? she thought for a moment before suffering from a fresh lance of pain.
She felt as though she was being reborn—her soul and body forcefully reshaped around the second Path. Clenching her teeth, Seraphina let out a strangled scream. The syllables echoed high into the domed ceiling of the Academy’s hall, bouncing among the torches and echoing in the hush that followed.
She might have fainted from the agony if not for her unyielding spirit. Instead, she rode the wave of pain, let it shudder through her in one final explosion of feverish light. When the bright agony began to recede, a tight pressure settled in her chest—an uneasy truce between Holy magic and Crystal, each occupying its own patch of her consciousness.
You have learned Crystal Dagger (lvl.1)
Eloise was at her side in an instant, her trembling arms wrapping around Seraphina protectively. Tears stood in Eloise’s eyes as she helped her mistress stand, but Seraphina refused to falter any longer. Fists tight at her side, cheeks burning, she willed herself upright. Bruised pride warred with a deep-seated worry settling in the depths of her heart. She had done it—she had taken within her a second Path and was walking down a road of impossibility.
The other students muttered, wonder and alarm mingling at what they had witnessed. Taking in a Manzaza Shiptu was not meant to be like this, and indeed it usually was not. But the blonde girl had been the first to make her choice, and now they say the potential price of it.
Seraphina looked around at the array of stunned faces, feeling the new and sharp presence within her. A single thought filled her pounding mind:
Let them stare, she would not break. Unless you were the main character in a story, nothing was ever easy. All she had to do now was master this new power.
Seraphina knew with absolute certainty that this would be the last time she took in a new magic. Any more, she knew grudgingly knew, would be beyond her. She could already feel the weight of Crystal magic clinging to her like an albatross around her neck, dragging at her psyche. Even now, the newly awakened Path tugged at her curiosity, urging her to use it. She fought back against the impulse, yet she could not resist checking her Status. With a shock, she confirmed that her newly gained Crystal Dagger spell devoured a ludicrous fifteen Mana to cast. Truly ridiculous.
And for what? A single shard of crystal. A flimsy, unimpressive dagger that any mundane blacksmith’s blade could outclass. At the start, Crystal magic was all but worthless. She could practically hear the Magister’s disdainful voice saying, You have chosen poorly, child. Not to mention that Crystal Dagger was one of the “better” spells she could have received as her initial spell.
Her eyes narrowed. But, that was just at the beginning of the game. If she was willing to dedicate everything to it, to purse the path of magic to the exclusion of almost everything else, it could grow to be somewhat useful. However, that was, unfortunately, something that the young girl was not entirely sure she could afford to give. Within that willingness to give was the very lure of the magic.
Magister Belfrost, their instructor, observed her with narrowed eyes. Her reaction was far from the typical wide-eyed wonder of a novice mage just discovering her new magic. Something about her haunted expression and the obvious toll on her made him wary. But to his credit, or perhaps guided by tact, he kept his silence. She was thankful for that. Her mind was still swirling with the aftershocks of the two magics vying for space inside her soul; she had no energy left to field probing questions.
Belfrost, his arms folded over his austere robes, waited a few more agonizing minutes as the remaining students milled about trying to make their choices. A slow hush fell over the training hall. More than a few of the younger, more timid mages eyed Seraphina warily, fear leaking into their whispers. Some, apparently deciding they wanted no part in risking their minds and well being to magic, quietly slipped out of the room. Belfrost watched them depart with a poorly concealed disdain.
“Theirs is a weak resolve,” he proclaimed, voice echoing off the stone walls. “Never base your convictions on how others respond to adversity. Ask yourself only this: How powerfully do the mysteries of the arcane call to you?” He looked at them all, his eyes filled with conviction. “You have half a turn of the glass left. Make your decisions, or leave.”
Seraphina suppressed a bitter smile. Half a turn of the glass was hardly enough time to decide the fate of one’s soul. Clearly, Magister Belfrost was no master of inspiring speeches. She sensed that he believed resolute action proved one’s worth more than any gentle encouragement ever could. So be it, she thought, I’ll find my own way through this.
Still exhausted, she tried to steady her trembling limbs and rise. Just then, a figure stepped in front of her. Silvery hair framed a face that could have been the product of a master sculptor. Este Lize, the so-called Living Saint of the Avaria, stood before her.
“Are you all right?” Este Lize’s voice was gentle, but threaded with false concern. “I never had that happen to me.”
Seraphina forced a smile, lacing her words with wry humor. “By the sound of it, you’ve done this more than once.”
Este Lize’s cheeks dimpled. “You could say that,” she replied, fiddling absently with the belt at her waist. “I’ve been given more than a few opportunities to… acquire magic.” She paused, as though thinking of some private recollection. “I’m Este Lize, by the way.” The Living Saint offered her hand with a friendly smile almost as radiant as Seraphina’s own own.
For a moment, the de Sariens girl simply stared. Este Lize’s offhand admission hinted she had many more magical Paths. By rights, her soul should have buckled under that overwhelming strain. Yet here she was, serene and stunning, living proof that not all laws applied to her. Of course, Seraphina thought bitterly. She’s the main character. She’s bound to have “cheat” powers that break the very rules of the game.
It was a reminder of the enormity of the task that Seraphina had before her. The task of destroying this creature before her. Not only her death but everything she stood for. Then, and only then, could she ever consider the game won.
So Seraphina extended her own hand, clasping Este Lize’s with dutiful politeness. The girl’s skin was soft, almost painfully delicate. In a fleeting, seductive moment, Seraphina realized just how easy it would be to crush the bones of that hand if she just used all of her Strength. She imagined the act, the gasps of horror, the feigned excuse that the madness of her newly formed Path made her do it. But no—she would not stoop so low, not here in front of so many watching eyes.
“I know of you, of course,” Seraphina said coolly as she released Este Lize’s hand. “Seraphina de Sariens. And this is my lady-in-waiting, Eloise de Laney.”
Her attendant, the ever-stoic Eloise, gave only the faintest nod in Este Lize’s direction, her porcelain-doll face betraying no emotion. She knew well enough her mistress’ moods.
The silver-haired girl’s eyes glimmered with delight. “Oh, you do know me! I didn’t realize I’d become so popular.” She tilted her head at an exquisite angle, curiosity dancing across her features.
Seraphina pursed her lips, a question itching at the back of her mind. “By the way, how old are you?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. Here in this high-pressure situation, she found herself reverting to the behaviors ingrained in her from her homeland.
Este Lize smiled playfully. “Mmm… about twenty-nine and thirteen months, give or take?” She giggled at the astonishment plain on Seraphina’s face, then shook her head. Seraphina searched her face, looking for signs of deception, and found none.
“Just kidding, silly! Fourteen, maybe fifteen. I’m from an orphanage, so I don’t really know my exact birthday.”
Beneath that airy confession, Seraphina caught a muttered word—some curse that felt incongruous with Este Lize’s saintly demeanor. It was off-script, as though the Living Saint had slipped from her role for a moment and shown a crack in her polished exterior.
Seraphina brushed the dust from her robes and finally rose to her full height. Her legs still trembled from the strain of bonding with Crystal. “Well, that would make you a year younger than I,” she said smoothly. “You are both beautiful and powerful in your Path, too.”
Instead of blushing, Este Lize’s gaze hardened. She gave a brittle laugh. “I’m aware of what I can do,” she said, “though you’re not too shabby yourself, Lady de Sariens.” Her tone sharpened with curious interest. “But why Crystal? I heard it’s considered the most worthless Path—so bad, in fact, that nobody even thought to prepare it for me.”
A flicker of satisfaction danced across Seraphina’s lips. So they didn’t bother offering it to you? Interesting. Aloud, she said, “Yes, Crystal is said to be like that. The conjured shards are fragile, little better than murky glass. However, its effects are more subtle and less demanding. You see, I’d rather have a chance at a long and meaningful life than walk the crazed path to power.”
Eloise gave Seraphina a worried look before she controlled herself. This was not the time for such discussions, she told herself.
“Then why walk the Path at all?” Este Lize seemed about to continue when her brow furrowed. She studied Seraphina’s face, puzzlement etched there. “You know,” she said slowly, “I have this strange feeling we’ve met before.”
“Oh my,” Seraphina teased, feigning a coy smile. “I did not know that I had such an effect on people, even on the fairer sex.”
Este Lize rolled her eyes. “Not like that, silly. I already know all about you and Prince Velens.” She waved a hand dismissively, though her voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur. “No, I just mean… I really do feel like we’ve crossed paths somewhere, but I can’t quite place it.” Then she brightened, her airy cheer returning. “Anyway, I’m glad we could meet today. I hope we can be friends.”
Seraphina’s eyes grew frosty. “That is… most generous of you,” she replied evenly. “And quite presumptuous. I don’t make friends easily, and especially not with those beneath my station.”
She watched her words strike home, seeing Este Lize’s confident facade crack for the first time. A part of Seraphina felt petty satisfaction at that flicker of hurt, but she tamped it down. No, focus on the real threat. Este Lize, for all her kindness, was also the one poised to steal away Prince Velens. And everything he represented if Seraphina let her guard slip.
Silence lanced the space between them. In the distance, the remaining students murmured as they weighed their own choices, half-watching the drama unfolding between the two beautiful girls. It was the clash of gold and silver.
Still locked in Este Lize’s gaze, Seraphina felt the ache of Crystal stirring inside her. How easy would it be to summon a crystal dagger and plant it in her rival’s chest?
But neither she nor Este Lize moved. They stood at an impasse, two masters waiting for an opening. Each was fully aware that there could be no peace between them. Each determined to secure their future—no matter how high the price.
