Velira stood at the edge of the training field, her expression unusually focused.
The floor was wet, puddles spread across cracked stone where failed experiments had gone wrong earlier. Now, though, she moved with purpose. Her hands circled together, and her effigy mirrored her silently—humanoid, broad-shouldered, and etched with the faint glow of blue sigils.
Silas sat cross-legged nearby, leaning back on his hands, watching with interest. A dull ache throbbed behind his left eye, where silver had once laced his vision. He ignored it.
"I'm ready," Velira said, exhaling slowly.
"Go on," Silas replied. "Let's see it."
She nodded, then pointed forward with an open palm.
"Tideburst Ray!"
Her effigy obeyed. From its hand, a focused stream of high-pressure water burst outward, hissing through the air and slicing a clean gash across a line of straw dummies.
"Medium-pressure beam. Good range. High control," Silas muttered, nodding with approval. "Bit wide on the aim though."
Velira shot him a look. "I'd like to see you do better."
He grinned. "You did great."
The next spell was more fluid—more elegant.
"Rippleguard Shell."
From beneath the effigy's feet, rings of water swirled upward, solidifying into a translucent dome. The barrier shimmered, rippling like disturbed glass.
Silas stood, stepping closer and knocking gently against the shell. "Not bad. That would block a good hit… probably not a Hellhound's pounce though."
Velira's smile faltered. "Don't say that."
"…Right. Sorry." The memory of Nessa's headless body flashed across his mind, unbidden. He shook it off.
Then came her final spell.
"Glimmerfreeze."
The effigy swept its arms wide, and the water from previous spells lifted into the air in suspended threads. In a heartbeat, those threads stiffened—frost snapping across them like breaking glass. Needle-like ice shards hovered around the effigy in a slow, protective spin.
"Auto-tracking? Or manual?" Silas asked.
"Manual," Velira admitted. "But it only takes a thought."
"Still," he said, impressed. "Better than anything I have as a novice."
They sat in silence for a moment, the tension of the trial giving way to the faint scent of damp earth and melted frost. Velira leaned back on her elbows, squinting up at the ever-dim sky.
Silas looked at her, really looked at her.
She had grown stronger. More focused. There was a quiet confidence in her now, like her roots had settled deep into something solid.
And him?
His eyes drifted to his effigy. It stood in the shadows near the edge of the field, watching silently. Unmoving.
Yet… hungry.
The silver thread still danced faintly behind his eyelids, even when closed. He didn't dare use the Fate vision again—not after what it did to him last time. But the effect lingered.
Compulsion. Like a whisper in the back of his skull.
Feed it. Bleed for it. Break the natural law.
Silas rubbed his temples.
"Something wrong?" Velira asked, half-drowsy from the exertion of casting.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just… thinking about how to make my third spell stronger."
That was a lie.
What he was truly thinking about was a vial in his coat. Sealed with black wax. Labeled in a cathedral scribe's precise hand.
Blood Path extract.
He hadn't told Velira. He wasn't sure he ever would. There was something deeply wrong about even holding the material, let alone feeding it to an effigy.
But the hunger in his construct's stance had changed since the amulet.
It wanted more.
Silas closed his eyes, breathing slow. Not yet. Not today.
He opened them again and smiled at Velira. "You're improving fast."
She smiled back, cheeks pink from the cold. "That's because I'm training with a lunatic who almost died three times this week."
He laughed, the sound quieter than usual.
And above them, the ever-dim sky gave no answer.