The cobbled walkway leading to Valandias' library was lined with ancient oak trees as Eris and Aemi walked side by side.
Aemi fidgeted with the hem of her robe. After several moments of hesitant silence, she finally spoke.
"Eris… back there, when that boy attacked you…" She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't cast anything. How did you block his strike?"
Eris glanced at her. "Mana flow," she said simply.
Aemi blinked. "Mana… flow?"
"Most mages focus solely on spellcasting," Eris explained. "They treat their mana like a well, something to draw from when needed. But mana isn't just a resource. It's a living force, and it can be trained."
She raised her hand, palm up, and Aemi gasped as a faint, shimmering aura flickered around her fingers like heat haze.
"By continuously releasing your inner mana into the world and drawing it back in, you refine it. Polish it. Strengthen it. Over time, your natural aura becomes so dense that it can repel attacks without conscious effort." She closed her fist, the glow vanishing. "It takes tremendous discipline and effort, both physical and mental, but anyone can do it if they are determined enough."
Aemi's eyes were wide behind her glasses. "That's… that's amazing! I've never heard of anyone training their mana like that!"
Eris laughed. "Most mages these days are too busy chasing flashy spells to bother with fundamentals."
Aemi opened her mouth to ask another question, but at that moment, they rounded a bend in the path, and the library came into view.
The library was a towering monolith of black stone and stained glass. Enchanted lanterns hovered near the arched entrance, illuminating the intricate carvings of legendary mages and mythical beasts that adorned the doors.
Eris exhaled slowly. This will do.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of parchment and old ink. Shelves stretched endlessly into the shadows, packed with thousands, no, tens of thousands, of tomes. Some were bound in plain leather, others in materials Eris couldn't immediately identify: dragonhide, perhaps, or the bark of ancient spirit trees.
Aemi gestured to the towering shelves. "The foundational texts are in the east wing. Follow me."
Eris trailed after her, running her fingers along the spines of the books as they passed. "Foundations of Magic," she murmured, plucking a heavy volume.
She flipped it open, skimming the contents.
"A spell formula is the blueprint of a spell," she read aloud, "the structured framework upon which a mage's visualization imposes form and function. The formula provides the canvas; the mind, the brush."
"Not bad," Eris mused. "Accurate, if a bit simplistic."
She turned the page.
And froze.
"Legends speak of a supreme witch whose mastery of the arcane was unparalleled. It is said she knew all spells, even those lost to time, and that her understanding of magic surpassed the limits of mortal comprehension. Her name, however, has been erased by the ages. Some scholars posit that many modern spells, including the renowned defensive incantation
Eris chuckled, low and humorless.
I saved the world, she thought, and this is what remains of me? A footnote in a dusty book?
Aemi peered at her. "Something funny?"
"Just an old story," Eris said, closing the tome with a soft thud. "People forget so easily."
She traced the book's spine absently.
Nothing stays hidden forever.
One day, I'll have to reveal myself and they'll know me again.
But definitely not today...