Crow had gotten better.
At least, thatâs what others said.
She hit harder. Moved quicker. Didnât flinch when monsters lunged, didnât hesitate when Duskbane barked a command mid-spar. She could go toe-to-toe with Kael nowâwell, most of the timeâand walk away with fewer bruises than before.
Even he, perpetually pissed off, had stopped scoffing every time she picked up a sword. Myra had called her a menace with a training blade last week. Garran gave her a high five that nearly dislocated her shoulder.
Progress.
But it hadnât come easily.
The last few months had been brutalâphysically, magically, emotionally. And while the others saw improvement, all Crow could see was everything she still couldnât control.
Duskbaneâs mana regimen had helped. Painstaking drills, slow and grueling. Learning to pull mana into her limbs without letting it spike. Letting it move through herânot just sit inside her like wildfire trapped in a glass jar.
Most of her real progress came after hours, when the others were asleep.
No instructors. No partners. Just her, alone in the workshop the guild had out back.
Night after night, she carefully traced glyphs midair with the device she told them about beforeâthe arcstylus is what she called itâadjusting pressure, flow, and tempo of her mana. It wasnât just spellwork, or alchemy for that matter.
It was precision.
But, heâd warped Duskbaneâs drills into something harsher. Practiced until her hands shook and the mana in her veins ran dry. She tested circles, tweaked flow, and poured mana just slow enough to avoid ruptures.
Sheâd thread mana through complex sigilsâpouring mana through them to test how it changes when pushed beyond its original pattern. It would often backfire, explode, or collapse in a shower of stardust and frustration.
But thatâs how she learned to feel mana flowing outside herself.
Battered hands were a small price to pay.
There was one drill she built herself, based on something buried in the guild archives:
To refine her control, she intentionally overfilled a sigil to the brink of bursting, then held it steady with delicate, exacting controlâit felt like balancing a shaking teacup on a fingertip during an earthquake.
It was stupid. Dangerous. Sheâd burned herself more times than she could count, passed out on more than one occasion.
But it worked.
She didnât care how hard it was on her body, she couldnât risk hurting anyone because she couldnât handle her skills.
Couldnât risk being a burden.
Then there was her stylus. Once just something that could spark mana in alchemy circles, she found out rather quickly it could take on the wielder's mana and use it almost as ink.
And it had become an obsession
Her creation needed fluid mana to respond instantly, and that meant hours of control training. Steady breathing. Balanced output. No flare-ups. No hesitation.
And definitely no curious teachers peering over her shoulder, asking What exactly is that tool?
So, she practiced in secret.
No one asked why she always stayed late in the training rooms after drills. Why was she never at group meals unless they went with her directly after training? Why she sometimes came back with ink-streaked fingers and her sleeves faintly scorched from failed glyphs.
No one knew the extent of what she was doing.
Not Rowan. Not even Duskbane, at least he didn't let on if he knew.
She wasnât hiding it. But she wasnât offering answers either.
Once, she overheard Kael yelling at Myra.
âShe slacks off in training, Iâve found her asleep more times than I can count at this point, and in the dumbest fucking places. One time I found herââ
Crow didnât stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.
Heâd never guess the bruises on her arms werenât from his hits, but from channeling too much mana through an unfinished glyph. That the burn on her collarbone came from a backlash she didnât dodge fast enough.
She healed what she could. Hid what she couldnât.
There was no time to fall behind.
Not when Duskbane was assigning her to real quests now.
âReal world experience,â Duskbane had said, arms crossed and tone flat. âYou need to fight things that arenât students. Goblins donât pull punches.â
Most runs were just her and Kael. Occasionally, Myra or Garran joined in, but even then, Kael didnât fight.
He observed.
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Corrected.
> âDuck left. Noâyour left, dumbass!â
>
> âDonât use your offhand like that. Youâll torque your shoulder.â
>
> âHit the knees, not the chest. Goblin hide bounces like rubber.â
>
> âIf youâre gonna panic, do it after you kill it!â
>
>
She hated how often he was right.
Worseâhow much it helped.
He read her like a sparring manual. Knew her weak points before she did. And when she fell shortâand she always did, eventuallyâhis voice turned sharp, clipped with disappointment.
Like she was wasting his time.
She never said anything. Just trained harder. Stayed later.
She wanted to scream that she was trying. That this wasnât normal, having to solo fights while a bombastic drill sergeant shouted critiques from the sidelines.
But all Duskbane ever said was: âYou need the experience.â
So she swallowed it.
Outside of training, she avoided Kael.
She felt like she would just become more of a burden on him than she already was.
Heâd apologized once, for what heâd said before. But she saw it: the less time she spent near him, the more his mana stabilized.
So she stopped trying to be his friend.
It helped.
His temper smoothed out. His flares dimmed. He didnât snap as much when she didnât speak first.
Then there was the Codex.
After the glitch linked their stats to hers, she'd been able to feel their stats at the back of her mind like secondhand thoughts. But she could see them on her codex.
She remembered what it looked like the first time she checked. The âObservationsâ practically quoted her own thoughts:
> ð CODEX SYNC: TRINITY LINK (ACTIVE)
>
> Anchor Protocol Detected. Viewport Access Granted: Rowan Ashford | Ignis Kael
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
> ðº ROWAN ASHFORD â CLASS: LUNAR SAVANT
>
> Level: 17
> Health: ââââââââââ (90%)
> Mana: ââââââââââ (60%)
> Feral Meter: ââââââââââ (48%)
>
> Stable, but rising. Triggers include emotional spikes, lunar proximity, and sustained combat.
>
> Status Effects:
>
> * Bloodrush â Short burst speed & power. Expires in 00:12:17.
>
>
> * Lunar Resonance â Passive. Boosts regeneration during moonlit hours.
>
>
> * Anchor Tether [Crow] â Subtle suppressive field. Feral fluctuations dampened. (NEW)
>
>
>
> Injuries:
>
> * Right Ankle: Mild Sprain ð¡
>
>
> * Lower Back: Muscle Strain ð¡
>
>
> * Fingernails: Cracked (from claw channeling) ð¡
>
>
>
> Enchants/Curses:
>
> * Runic Veins â Enhances mana flow speed by 22%
>
>
> * Glyph of Tenacity â Absorbs 5% incoming damage until depleted (82% remaining)
>
>
> * Silver Seal Fragment â Dormant. Reaction to full moons possible.
>
>
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
> âï¸ IGNIS KAEL â CLASS: SUNBORNE REQUITER
>
> Level: 18
> Health: ââââââââââ (85%)
> Mana: ââââââââââ (92%)
> Feral Meter: N/A
>
> Status Effects:
>
> * Blazing Vigor â Heat core active. Physical power increased.
>
>
> * Battle Trance â Controlled aggression; adrenaline coursing at manageable levels.
>
>
> * Anchor Trace [Crow] â Latent link. Sync incomplete but present.
>
>
>
> Injuries:
>
> * Left Shoulder: Slight Bruise ð¡
>
>
> * Right Hand: Strained Ligament ð¡
>
>
> * Torso: Residual Burn Warmth (Receding, no blistering) ð¢
>
>
>
> Enchants/Curses:
>
> * Gauntlets of Requital â Channels stored solar energy into blasts
>
>
> * Solar Wreath Glyph â Minor resistance to heat-based spells (Passive)
>
>
> * Null-Tether Chain â Dormant. Tracking enchantment not currently active.
>
>
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
>
> 𧿠CODEX MARGIN: CROW'S OBSERVATIONS
>
> âBarely scratched, but both of them are running hot. Rowanâs Feral Meter climbed during training but dipped the moment I got near. Kaelâs class practically hums with lightâwhat does Sunborne Requiter even mean? That âAnchor Traceâ is still there, no matter how much he scowls at me.â
She never said anything to them.
But she watched.
She nudged Myra to bring Kael a healing salve or ice his ankle. If he looked like his shoulder hurt, she adjusted their sparring drills to avoid overhead strikes.
He probably didnât notice.
She wasnât doing it for thanks.
With Rowan, it was different.
Sheâd check on him with flimsy excuses he never believed.
Sometimes she would even linger around. Work on figuring out enchantment runes while he appraised items, in a comfortable silence, cracking jokes when heâd get stuck on a translation.
He never pushed to see what she was working on, she helped him without being asked.
It was the only time she spent with someone outside of trainingâexcept when Myra dragged her out on off-days. She never had the heart to say no, even when she desperately needed sleep.
She never had the heart to say no, even if she was planning on trying to catch up on sleep.
It became a routine.
Every day, she put on her armor, adjusted her straps, and faced down monsters she barely had the stamina to handle.
Every night, she returned to the quiet of her stylus, drawing sigils in the dark, hoping that one dayâ
âThe lines would stop shaking.
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