Fall of Autumn, Week 4, Day 6

  I grabbed large swaths of pitch-black fabric and laid them out. It was a quick endeavor to make sacks for each present and attach the letters, it only required cutting the fabric and gathering it into a rucksack, and tying it with one of the iridescent pieces of yarn.

  What wasn’t so quick, however, was going back to Gristle’s office to deliver the letters. The first time I tried, his door was closed, and I could hear voices inside —they were barely intelligible, so I was able to make out several ‘lady’s maids’, as well as Juniper's name several times. It clearly had to do with my request, so I opted to come back after lunch.

  The second time I came back, Gristle’s door was open but he was surrounded by so much paperwork I snuck away. I didn’t want to interrupt him in the middle of a task and worry about it causing a drought or something equally horrible.

  Are there droughts in winter? I thought to myself, then shook my head. There’s loads of snow because we’re so high up. It’ll be fine. Probably.

  The third time I came by Gristle’s office, he looked up at me, met my eyes, jumped up, and strode to me with a displeased look on his face.

  “Hey, Gristle,” I said casually as if I hadn’t been trying to find an opportune moment to see him all day.

  “My Lady,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at me —and the three bags in my hands. “You should have said something the first time you came by.”

  I blinked, looking around, “How do you know this isn’t the first time?”

  “Please do not insult my Perception, Lady Nora,” Gristle didn’t actually sound offended, but his voice wasn’t as gentle as usual.

  I shuffled uncomfortably.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you. You seemed so busy.”

  What you were doing seemed more important. More pressing. Just… more.

  “It is always within your right to pull me away from whatever it is I’m working on,” he said, his voice nearing harsh but not quite. “Always.”

  I wanted to look away, to fall back into myself, but then I took in his words. What they meant.

  You’re not alone anymore. You are a Child of the Dawn. Your name means much here, and it’s given you grace. Don’t take advantage of it. Don’t spit in their face.

  I released a breath, then held out the packages.

  “I need these to be sent to Ugar? I have a couple of friends I met along the way that I want to keep in contact with… discretely.”

  Gristle took them in his hands, shifting from his rough exterior back to the gentle butler I’d come to know, and nodded, “I’ll get it handled, though it may take a while —winter is nearly here, after all.”

  I smiled, soft and a little bit sad, “That’s perfect.”

  The rest of the day found me splayed out on my floor, attempting to recreate the mage’s pose in the booklet on absorbing mana pearls. In the booklet, the pose was flat on the ground, with one hand firmly placed down, facing the ground, and the other palm up. The pearl was positioned at the center of the image’s chest —so I pulled out one of Twilight’s pearls and placed it on my sternum, trying to will the mana within into my body.

  At first, I used [Mana Sense] to identify that there was mana in the mana pearl. The pearl lit up in a swirl of iridescence. Then, I tried to pull out some of the motes of mana with [Mana Manipulatin]. It… worked. I definitely took mana out of the pearl and brought it to life outside of its containment. It did not, however, get absorbed into my body. Once I’d removed it from the pearl, its iridescence became muted, and it shifted into the pale blue of ambient mana. After several further attempts to verify what I was seeing, I knew I had to figure out a different method.

  After lunch, I tried to shift the mana in the pearl directly into my skin from the pearl. It was pressed against my shirt, so close to my skin—but ultimately too far. I would shift the mana out of the pearl and into my shirt only for it to disperse into ambient mana before it went under my skin.

  Finally, after getting to speak with Gristle about the packages, I went back to my room and switched my position. I stayed lying down but decided, despite the image, that I would move the mana pearl to rest in my palm. I hoped the skin contact would make it so I could shift it underneath my skin and into my mana veins quicker. I was tired of the time it was taking me to get the technique down and was desperate for a success.

  I pulled out a single mote, using my full concentration to direct it out of the pearl and under my skin. As it sunk into me, I felt a sharp spike —as if ice was lodged into my blood. It took everything in me to keep control and not drop the mana pearl. But I did it. Then came the real challenge.

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  I had to circulate the mana through my veins.

  Using [Mana Manipulation], I began shifting more and more motes of mana into my mana veins, one mote, then two, then four. As they entered my body, a sharp stab of ice radiated from the impact point. It never got easier to withstand. Once the mana from the pearl came into my mana veins, I began shuffling it through my body. It started at my palm, and I brought the motes up through my arm, over my shoulder, through my chest, passing through my heart, then going down to my stomach and up and down both legs, ending by passing through my heart one —this time I traced the intricate pattern that surrounded my heart. From my heart, I brought the motes of mana down my other arm and back up to my neck. Its final destination was up through my spine and into my brain. As the motes traced the ridges of my brain, I could feel them settle into my body.

  I could feel the new power within me, though a notification did not appear.

  There was still more mana to absorb from the pearl, after all.

  [Congratulations! You have absorbed a Lesser Mana Pearl! You have gained potential in Skills relating to the trait Martial.]

  I stared at the verdant green notice, confused. The notification read differently than before. Quickly, I went and pulled up the old notices.

  [Congratulations! You have directly absorbed a Lesser Mana Pearl! You have gained potential in Skills relating to the traits Aberration and Morphic.]

  [Congratulation! You have progressed your Class! Progression has gone from 7.5% to 7.6%!]

  [System Notice: Your Class Moderator has rejected your plight to progress your Class further. Please try again at a later time.]

  I had gained potential in the Martial trait, whatever that meant —I’d have to go back to the library. But the other two notices were nowhere to be found.

  I sat up and looked at the two notices closer. Every word with the System seemed to be a clue. For instance, it seemed that meditating and circulating the mana pearl didn’t count as a ‘direct’ absorption. Maybe that modifier was the key to the other two parts of the notification.

  I took a deep breath and brought the mana pearl up to my face. Its color was no longer shifting; now, it was a dull grey. When I activated [Mana Sense], it no longer glowed with power either.

  It was an empty husk of a mana pearl.

  Empty? I thought to myself. Like a jar?

  A new idea filled me, and I sat cross-legged with the empty mana pearl cradled in my palms.

  “I think I might be able to refill you,” I whispered at the grey marble.

  [Mana Manipulation]

  I didn’t need [Mana Sense], not really, not for what I was attempting.

  I felt the chill of mana in my veins, the comfort of the cold welled within me, and then it exploded out of my palms, suffusing the pearl in a cloud of my own mana.

  I watched expectantly, my eyes trained on the pearl, waiting for it to glow once again. To alight with mana.

  I waited for nearly a minute, and then—nothing. Nothing happened at all.

  I sighed, “It’s gonna take more finesse than just flooding you with mana, huh?”

  The next day, I found myself face to face with Gristle and Sir Limrick, both of whom did not look amused by my state of dress. I had not yet gotten dressed and was instead still in my nightgown and slippers, my hair loosely braided and unbrushed.

  We had already been talking in circles for several minutes before Sir Limrick released a heavy sigh.

  “My Lady,” Sir Limrick started, his voice resigned. “This is something you must do.”

  “I don’t want to.” I was quick to rebut.

  “Lady Nora,” Gristle said uncertainly. “I understand the wounds are still fresh, but it’s a part of your duty to Fellan.”

  I flexed my hands next to my sides. My breathing was coming quick and harsh, and my eyes were burning.

  “You’re asking me to go back to the church.”

  I could feel the edges of my vision growing black, and I forced a slow breath out. In. Out. In.

  “You want me to pray to fund the church.”

  I found my voice was stronger than I’d expected, filled with none of the fear and pain that I was feeling. Filled with none of the dread or indignation.

  The image of Sir Rellar, his throat torn, his face drained of color, haunted the back of my head.

  “Nora,” Sir Limrick said gently, kneeling to be eye level with me, “It won’t be like before. You need not exercise your Divinity. Simply pray and offer a donation. Pray to Morloch, who you so generously have given to in the past. No one will fight whatever God you choose. No one will say a negative word about your choice. No one will drag you away for questioning —not even if Morloch himself descends. I promise.”

  I looked into Sir Limrick’s crimson eyes, searching for the truth. Searching for a lie. Searching for reassurance.

  It was a mistake. To use a Skill. But I did it anyway.

  “[Eyes of Gospel]”

  I regretted it immediately as the stench of rotting garbage hit my nose, as a foul taste spread across my tongue. It was a kind lie. But it was a lie nonetheless. I closed my eyes as the Skill subsided and gripped the wall roughly. My nails sank into the wood with the force of my movement, but still, I did not open my eyes. Instead, I took another breath. I let the fear and pain and rage flow through me.

  And then I exhaled. Slow and deliberate.

  Nora, you can be afraid. You can be in pain. You can be angry. But those things cannot control you. Not after what your fear did in Perry. Not after what your pain did on the journey to Fellan. Not after what your rage did to Sir Rellar. You are the God of Nora. Master of your own fate. Scylla has no say here, not anymore. Her Tydes can rot. Pray for the suns and the moon. Pray for the sky. Pray for the world to continue turning. But do not pray for anything more. You’ve done it before —and you can do it again.

  When I opened my eyes, my vision was clear. There was no shadow edging in, my breath no longer shook, my countenance nearly relaxed.

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

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