Elma woke to a room that felt too loud, even though it was silent. Every ray of light hitting the floor felt like a physical pressure. She was late, her body aching with a "magical hangover" that turned her bones to lead.
She saw the breakfast plate—cold honeyed oats. Christa hadn't woken her. Christa never did that.
Elma gulped down the food, needing the fuel, and staggered out of the nursery.
As she walked the halls, two House guards passed her. In her old life, she would have noted their armor and weapons. Now, she felt their Aegis.
To her heightened, compressed senses, they felt like feathers—light, flimsy, easily blown away. Their presence was so thin she could almost see through it.
---
In the garden, under the shadow of a willow tree, Elma reached for a small stone.
She reached out with her mind.
The moment her Aegis touched the rock, the world screamed.
The sensory data came back instantly—the temperature of the stone, the moisture beneath it, the vibrations of a worm burrowing nearby. Her focus shattered. The stone fell from her mental grip, clattering back into the dirt.
I can't even lift a pebble without the world trying to crush my skull, she thought, her breath hitching.
"Uh... mm?"
The sound came from directly behind her.
Elma spun around, her heart jumping into her throat.
She stood frozen.
Standing a few feet away was a young girl—perhaps six or seven years old. She wore the plain, rough-spun clothes of a kitchen maiden.
She was small, even for her age, gripping the hem of her apron with shaking hands. Her eyes kept darting away and back again, unfocused, her face pinched tight like she was bracing herself to speak or bolt.
Her lips parted, then closed again, as if she had rehearsed this and forgotten her first line.
Elma's eyes narrowed into daggers. She expanded her senses, desperately trying to "weigh" this intruder.
The girl's presence was so small, so insignificant, that she almost didn't exist. Compared to the "feather" guards, this girl was a piece of dust.
Is she even alive? Elma wondered.
The girl's trembling lips finally moved. "I… I saw you train with Lady Christa. A-and… I awakened my domain, my lady. I saw you… you threw water from the fountain, so… I."
The words felt forced out of her, as if each syllable were a physical weight she had to vomit up.
Elma's patience, already frayed by the screaming sensory data of the garden, finally snapped. "What do you want?"
The girl stood silent for a long moment, her small frame shivering in the shadow of the willow.
"I... I..." She swallowed hard, her voice dropping so low it was almost lost to the wind. "Can you teach me?"
"What?" Elma asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Teach me how to use it," the girl said, the words coming out of her as if they were forbidden, a secret that could get her killed.
Elma looked at her for a moment, her mind weighing the risks. She didn't even know if she was allowed to do this. An Altheris daughter teaching a kitchen maiden?
But what confused her more was the girl's presence itself. Her Aegis felt almost non-existent.
What can she even do? The thought intrigued her. Perhaps by watching this girl struggle with a "small" Aegis, Elma could finally understand how to control her own "large" one.
"How did you know it awakened?" Elma asked.
The girl's eyes darted to the grass. "I… I waited a long time for it to awaken. Years… I kept hoping for a spark. Last night… I tried to move a rock in the dark with my mind."
"It moved," the girl whispered. "Last night... it moved."
Elma silently watched her, her green eyes scanning the ghost before her.
"Can you move this rock?" Elma asked, her finger pointing at the same stone that had just caused her senses to explode.
The girl didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, her small chest heaving with effort. She closed her eyes and stood perfectly still, her face reddening as she poured every ounce of her "insignificant" weight into the task.
A full minute passed in silence. Then, the rock began to tremble.
It didn't fly into the air. It simply nudged a fraction of an inch to the left, disturbing the dirt beneath it.
At least it's something, Elma thought. She watched the girl, her mind already running through the tactical advantages of a student.
"What do you want to learn?" Elma asked.
"I want to be stronger," the girl answered. The stutter was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity in her gaze.
Elma saw the determination in the girl's eyes. It was a look she recognized. Good.
Elma herself didn't know everything about the Aegis yet; her own power was currently a sprawling, unmanageable storm. But with this girl as a baseline—a simple, manageable spark—she might be able to reverse-engineer the mechanics of focus. It could speed things up.
Elma stepped closer, her eyes piercing and cold as ice. "If anyone finds out about this, you will be in trouble. Not just with the maids. With the House. Do you understand?"
The girl shook her head vigorously. "I won't tell anyone. I promise. I... I'll die before I say a word."
"Good," Elma said, turning her back on the girl. "We'll start tomorrow. I'm tired now."
"I understand," the girl said breathlessly. She stopped, turned, and said, "My name is Jorm… but uhh, you can call me Jorry." Then she gave Elma a deep, clumsy bow before sprinting away.
This girl will get herself killed one day, Elma thought, watching her skidding away.
---
Elma turned away from the willow tree and began the long trek back to the dining hall, her legs feeling heavy and clumsy.
What is the point? she wondered bitterly. The woman had demanded she compress her Aegis to gain "teeth," but the result was a weapon that broke the wielder.
She wondered if the woman would return tonight to mock her progress—or lack thereof.
If she couldn't figure out Focus on her own, she could force Jorm to compress her tiny Aegis and observe the difference.
The thought brought Elma to a sudden, jarring halt in the middle of the hallway.
A memory, cold and unbidden, surged to the surface. She remembered doing this before.
With her sister—in the White Chamber. Standing over her. Guiding her through different, but no less dangerous, thresholds. Letting her "test the waters."
Elma's chest tightened, a phantom ache blooming beneath her ribs. Those memories felt like a sickness now.
She forced her breathing to steady, shoving the sentiment back into the dark corners of her mind.
She reached the massive oak doors of the dining hall and pushed them open. The scent of roasted meats and expensive spices hit her, but so did the "weight" of the room.