M.S. Davidson
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35. Glorious Lifeblood [Bonus]
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 16:01:32 +0000 UTCHundreds of images surged through my dreams like a movie montage laced with energy drinks. Gandalf, gray-robed and resolute, stood against a flaming demon on a stone bridge. Spider-Man, arms trembling, stopped a speeding train filled with passengers. Atticus Finch, calm and unwavering, argued against prejudice in black-and-white courtrooms.
Valor wasn't foreign—it was baked into every book, movie, and video game I'd ever loved. Bravery alone could get me into trouble. It craved recognition, needed to stand out and be seen. But Valor? Valor was all that ambition focused through a lens of protection, something greater than myself.
It felt like coming home—like I finally knew who I was.
All those childhood dreams of being a superhero, and now I finally understood what it really meant. Not for the glory or the recognition—but for stepping up when it mattered. Putting power to purpose.
"Just started spirit training, and now you think you're Gandalf?" A voice cut through my thoughts like a whip, yanking me back to reality. "Kid, you'll never be that fucking cool."
I blinked and found myself in the usual hot tub, staring out at an endless ocean. Ted leaned back casually in the water, a rocks glass in hand. Something red sloshed around in it, and he grimaced like he was drinking liquid regret.
I had been here several times training with Ted in my sleep, but now it felt…
Real.
"Don't give me that look," Ted said, eying me over the rim of his glass. "You're learning fast, I'll give ya that. But—" He gestured toward me with his drink, ice clinking. "You just don't got that wizard drip, y'know? No swag, kid."
"This feels different. More than a dream," I said, frowning as I leaned on the tub's edge. The vast ocean stretched before us, waves lapping against the jagged mountain base like liquid whispers.
Ted smirked. "Oh, it is. You're wicked unconscious right now—finally using a Seal really fucked you up. And guess what? That means we get some quality one-on-one time."
He paused, grin turning sharp.
"Lucky me, huh?"
I stared down at the water, its surface reflecting an endless sky. Questions spun through my mind, but one thought stood out: if this place was my soul—what would happen if I fell into that ocean? Would I wake up, or would I drown in my subconscious?
Ted followed my gaze, expression unreadable. "You're thinking something stupid, ain't ya? Don't jump, kid. I don't feel like explaining spiritual dynamics today."
"Just curious."
"Good. Curiosity’s killed nobody important." Ted leaned back, raising his glass in a lazy toast. "Now c'mon. Let's see if that big brain actually learned something, or if I’ve gotta keep shoving it down your throat. You heard my voice when you used Valor, yeah?"
Before I could respond, Ted stood up, water cascading off him. He climbed out, revealing swim trunks covered in tiny beer glasses that somehow made perfect sense. He gestured for me to follow, not bothering to dry off.
I hauled myself out, dripping and reluctant, but followed. The courtyard felt different—charged. Dominating the far end was a massive set of double doors embedded in the mountainside.
They hadn't been there before.
The doors loomed, their surface covered in intricate patterns—symbols, glyphs, runes. My gaze lingered on the ones I recognized, though most were alien hieroglyphs that made my brain skip like they didn’t want to be seen. Central to the split was a rune I knew intimately: Valor. It glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Go on, kid," Ted said, nodding toward the doors. "You know you wanna."
I hesitated, then reached out. My fingers brushed the rune—it flickered like a dying ember before vanishing entirely. I blinked, hand hovering where it had been.
"What just—"
"Think, genius." Ted leaned against the courtyard's edge, arms crossed. "Ain't everyone been rambling about Seals for days? Using runes your soul's got an affinity with? That's the trick. Bridges the gap between you—" He pointed at me "—and that big hunk of meat you call your body. But it takes a lot more effort than that."
I turned back to the door, the memory of the rune still vivid. "So what's behind them?"
Ted's smirk could have cut glass. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know? That's the whole point of a Seal, kid. Opening those doors? That's when you stop being just another chump playing with magic and take your first step into real power."
His grin widened, sharp and mischievous.
"Your soul, your runes, your body—all working together. You get a peek inside that window, and you figure out what makes you tick."
"And to open it, I need to use Valor?"
"Bingo."
I frowned, staring at the now-blank doors. "What happens if I can't?"
Ted shrugged, tipping his glass. "Then you keep training till you can. Or you give up and learn to bake bread or something." His eyes glinted. "Me? I don’t think you’re the quitting type."
"Ted, I already know how to bake bread."
Something in his tone struck deeper than teasing. The doors, the rune, this surreal space—they were connected to something bigger, something I couldn't grasp yet.
But standing here, I knew one thing for sure:
I was going to open that fucking door.
***
Two sharp jabs to my kidneys jolted me awake like electroshock therapy.
Before I could process what was happening, I tumbled off a bed and face-planted onto the cold stone floor. The chill shocked me fully conscious, heart hammering as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.
Pulling a lantern orb from my earring, I lit the small room. Simple: writing desk and wash basin against one wall, and the bed I'd just been evicted from by my furry overlord.
My eyes landed on the culprit.
Red. Sprawled across the bed with his back paws hanging over the edge, looking utterly content, like he'd just conquered a small nation.
"What the hell, Red?" I muttered, pushing myself up.
As if to mock me, Red rolled onto his back, paws sticking straight up like a massive, furry turkey. The smug bastard took up the entire bed, perfectly content in his victory.
For a moment, I considered shoving him over to reclaim my territory.
It was strange. Everything that had happened felt alien, surreal—and yet here was Red, being unapologetically dog in a world that was anything but normal. It was grounding in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
But then I remembered the Arbortrux—the hulking, deadly beast—and how Red had taken it down. Stanley flashed through my mind, tiny canary body transforming into a blazing Phoenix.
Was Red like that? Or was he just... a dog?
My body ached in ways I didn't know were possible, but curiosity won out. I needed to figure out where the hell I was.
The door caught my attention—Japanese? A shoji—wooden latticework and translucent paper panels—completely out of place compared to anything I'd seen in La-Roc or Rainhaven.
Sliding it open, I stepped into a dark corridor lined with more shoji doors. Soft amber lantern orbs cast dancing shadows with every step. Turning to close the door, I was greeted by Red, panting happily with his tail wagging like he'd just won the lottery.
"Oh, so now you're interested in exploring?" I crossed my arms. "After kicking me out of bed, you want to tag along? Great. Do you know where my clothes are?"
Red cocked his head, tongue lolling in a way that screamed pure innocence.
"Stanley can talk. I figured maybe you could too." I scratched his ears, and he leaned into it, tail wagging harder. Impossible to stay mad at a dog.
With a sigh, I remembered my clothes were in my earring. Then realization hit like a brick wall—after pulling the lantern orb, I barely had any mana at all.
Shit.
Grumbling, I closed the door and scanned the hallway, hoping for inspiration. My options were slim: find something to wear or start looking for another curtain.
Maybe not a curtain. Cass would never let me live it down.
"Okay, Red, do you know which way you came in?" His tail wagged furiously, and he started trotting down the hall to the right like he actually understood.
The hallway stretched ahead, flanked by more shoji doors that probably led to bedrooms I wasn't about to snoop through. Eventually, the corridor resolved into wooden stairs leading down. Trickling water echoed faintly, and as I descended, the space opened into an antechamber.
It was stunning.
A pond dominated the room, ringed by smooth rocks. Lily pads floated lazily on the surface, and in the center stood a massive bonsai tree, gnarled branches stretching nearly six meters high. Hanging planters suspended from chains swayed gently, their greenery spilling downward like waterfalls. A stone walkway bordered the pond, lined with low tables.
At one of them sat a woman who looked eerily like Cassandra's future.
Her hair was stark white, tattoos faint, glasses perched on her nose. She wore a flowing red satin robe that reminded me of Erik's pajamas, and a teapot sat before her. As I descended, her eyes flicked up from reading a thin book.
She smiled like a predator recognizing prey.
"Uh," I said brilliantly. "You must be Lady Winters?"
She snapped the book shut with a sharp crack that echoed like a gunshot. "Astrid," she corrected, voice cutting like steel. "Only politicians call me 'Lady,' and that's usually because they've pissed me off."
Oh yeah. Definitely Cass's mom.
"Astrid, then. Great to meet you—finally. Although it's only been a few days, where I come from, it would've been over a week by now. The days here are just so—"
She cut me off with a glance that could shear steel. Her eyes traveled over me, taking in my current lack of wardrobe, and one eyebrow arched with surgical precision.
"I see my daughter doesn't exaggerate." Her voice carried amusement sharp enough to cut glass. "Do you... enjoy being naked?"
Heat rushed to my face like I'd been dunked in lava. "Oh, fuck. I forgot I was naked." I stammered like an idiot. "My clothes are in my earring, and I don't have any mana."
I turned to bolt up the stairs, but her voice stopped me cold.
"Oh, piss off with the modesty. Come here and have some tea." She held up two baseball-sized orbs that glowed like captured stars, their surfaces swirling with raw energy. "These belong to you, from the monsters you and your familiar put down yesterday."
She paused, smile turning genuinely warm.
"Consider it thanks."
I hesitated but approached, taking the orbs. They thrummed in my hands, practically vibrating with power. These weren't just mana pearls—they were something far denser, richer. Each had to be worth a hundred pearls, minimum.
Absorbing one was like mainlining pure adrenaline. My pathways stretched, the sudden influx pushing me past comfortable thresholds into almost overwhelming territory. Not as intense as the Class D healing pill, but close.
"Whoa," I gasped, letting out a shaky breath. My clothes materialized instantly, and I even pulled out a parchment package of Katie's tarts. Buttery pastry scent filled the air like heaven's own perfume.
Astrid's eyebrow arched higher as a grin spread across her face—an expression I'd seen on Cass a few times. "Are those... tarts?"
I set the parchment on the table and unwrapped it. She took one, biting experimentally. Her eyes widened, and without hesitation, she stuffed the rest into her mouth.
"Oh... mmph. Gaia's fucking tits, these are good," she said between chews.
I grinned, pouring myself tea.
"You can stay as long as you want," she declared, grabbing another tart. "As long as you have more of these."
I lifted the teacup, inhaling before taking a sip.
Immediately, I choked. Was that dandelion? Nettle? Ginseng? It tasted like someone had boiled weeds and called it a beverage.
Astrid smirked over her cup, eyes twinkling with pure mischief. "Tea not to your liking?"
Setting the cup down carefully, I did my best not to offend my host. "It's... uh... earthy."
Her laugh rang out, rich and genuine. "Oh, I can see why my children like you."
Red wagged his tail beside me, looking up expectantly. I tore off a piece of tart and handed it to him, watching his tail speed up as he devoured it.
"Is this your home? The farm?"
She nodded, wolfing down another tart. "You're on the estate. The Sentarian brought you and Cassandra here after the roads drained. Your familiar insisted on staying by your side the whole time." Her eyes fixed on Red with calculating interest. "Is it true you just met him?"
"Sort of. I've been feeding him behind Doreen's in La-Roc for a few days." I scratched Red behind the ears. He seemed more interested in the tarts than in conversation.
"Fascinating." She eyed Red like he was a puzzle to solve. "I've never seen a creature like that. Has it been on the island this whole time, or do you think it came with a ship? Cassandra said you call it a 'dog'?"
"No idea! Dogs are closely related to wolves and foxes. They're extremely common on Earth… uh, Terra." The mention of home stirred something in my chest—a pang of... what? Homesickness? Felix had said we could work on getting back home once I graduated.
Did I even want to go back? I'd basically become a superhero here.
Tabling the thought, I looked down at Red. "Do you want this mana orb?"
He sniffed it cautiously, then sneezed before turning back to the tarts. Figures.
Astrid chuckled. "If he has any intelligence—and it sure seems like he does—he won't touch the orb. That's how monsters are made. I hope someone explained that?"
The explanation in the lobby clicked into place. "Right! Felix mentioned that. Sorry, Red." I stowed the orb and gave him a pat. He swiped an entire tart, scarfing it down without remorse.
Astrid raised an eyebrow, smirking. "More tea?"
"Fuck n—No, thank you," I corrected quickly, earning another laugh. "What time is it? We were supposed to be hunting in Riverbend."
"Several hours until Cassandra wakes up." She waved dismissively. "I swear, the girl spends half her life asleep. Would you prefer breakfast?"
My stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, rising with a grin that promised trouble.
She led us through winding halls until we entered a lavish dining hall. Instead of a banquet table, several smaller tables were arranged, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and low lounges. Astrid chose one and settled onto a cushion with fluid grace. Red claimed an entire chaise lounge, yawning as he flopped down like he owned the place.
As soon as we sat, a Sentarian glided through a side door, bowing low with hands folded at his navel. I was pretty sure I recognized him as the Sentarian that almost ran me over with a Trailbinder. "Amituofo, Mistress. Breakfast was started upon your arrival but will take time to prepare."
"No rush, Kerrin," Astrid replied. "If we still have any Canephora, this would be an excellent occasion."
"Of course, Mistress." Kerrin bowed and disappeared like smoke.
Canephora? The name tugged at memory, but I couldn't place why. Astrid reached under the table, pulling out a rolled leather mat. She unrolled it, revealing a grid with points forming a square.
A game board.
"Elena tells me you're familiar with Eloquentia," she began casually, "and I've heard your world shares cultural parallels with the Sentarian. It gave me an idea." She handed me a wooden bowl filled with flat white stones. "Recognize this?"
My mouth fell open as recognition struck like lightning.
Go. I'd played it endlessly during college, spent hours getting demolished by my Aapo on weekends back home. She was ruthless—brilliantly calculating in a game less about domination and more about subtle warfare.
"I do," I said, excitement sparking behind careful words. "It's called Go on Earth. Haven't played in a while, but I know it."
Astrid grinned, expression entirely too smug. "Would you like to play while we wait?"
She had already placed a black stone on the board before I could answer.
This was going to hurt.
I followed with a white piece, settling in for what I knew would be a massacre.
It was over before it started. Her moves were devastating—precise and relentless. I recognized the strategy immediately: she wasn't just playing to win. She was dismantling me piece by piece like a masterful general. Every move calculated, every stone placed with surgical precision.
"Well," Astrid sighed theatrically, leaning back with exaggerated disappointment. "I guess Terrans aren’t as impressive as I'd hoped."
Before I could plan a comeback, Kerrin returned carrying a large copper teapot. The rich, bold aroma hit me instantly, and my heart stopped.
Coffee. Real, vibrant, glorious fucking lifeblood.
Kerrin poured the dark liquid into a ceramic cup and handed it to me. Steam wafted upward, scent almost intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, joy overwhelming every other emotion.
"Fuck me," I said, words escaping before I could stop them. "Thank whatever gods are out there... coffee exists in the multiverse."
Astrid raised an amused brow, grin widening like she'd just won another game. "Oh? It's familiar?"
Taking a sip was like a religious experience. The brew was delicate yet bold, floral and invigorating, with perfect bitterness. It was art in liquid form.
"We have it on Earth," I said, savoring every drop. "I drank it every morning—it was a ritual. But it had never tasted like this. This is masterful."
Kerrin bowed deeply, posture radiating humble pride. "This poor butler is grateful for your compliment."
I finished the cup too quickly, and Kerrin refilled without hesitation. Each sip rejuvenated me, easing aches I hadn't realized were still lingering.
"Now that I've had my morning coffee," I said, turning back to Astrid with a wicked grin as Bravery sparked to life in my mind, "why don't we play again?"
Her smile mirrored mine, sharp and knowing as a blade.
"Oh, I like you," she said, picking up a black stone. "But don't expect me to go easy on you, Breaker."
The way she said it—like a challenge, like a promise—sent electricity down my spine.
Game on.
Six straight games. Astrid crushed me like a bug—not even close—until I finally cracked her code after breakfast. She was a chess assassin, always ten moves ahead, but she had one weakness: she'd deal for position.
By the last game, I spotted my opening. At the critical moment, I threw her a curveball. "Draw?"
She smiled as if she'd been waiting for exactly that. "Sometimes the smartest move is knowing when a draw is the same as a win."
Aapo's voice echoed in my head—the lesson she'd hammered into me back when the world made sense.
We'd been playing for over an hour. Our bland breakfast of eggs and bread was ancient history, but Astrid looked ready to play until the heat death of the universe. No way was I ending on a loss.
Turns out that was the whole point.
