High above the Carpa Mountain range, above the heavenly sea of grey clouds swept in the high winds was a lone girl on her broom. From there, she could see the lightning rolling below her feet as the tempest raged on.
It was a dangerous place to be, yet the girl showed no fear or doubt about her circumstances as she waited for the signal.
{ Everything is set, we are in a position to record you. I am obligated to remind you that this is dangerous, but you won’t care, will you?} A calm, if not a bit frustrated voice echoes in her head, causing her to smirk. Straightening her back she replied with the same drawing of yellow ink that was used to contact her.
{ You know me so well, flight leader. This is something I want to do.} The smirk deepened as she started feeding more ink into the broom’s inscriptions, last minute testing all the spells drawn upon it.
{ Just a bunch of adrenaline junkies, I swear. You’ll be the death of me, you hear!} The flight leader, an otherwise kind and passionate middle-aged man swore. Beating himself over the fact that he had shown her and the newer members that.
{ Listen, you don’t have to go through this ancient ritual. To be a “Riders of the Storms” doesn’t mean anything anymore in this day and age. So don’t go offing—} He tried to dissuade her one last time, being the last of the once-renowned group of racers and flight masters.
{ And I don’t care, I am no coward. The speed and the air are calling to me, I am only answering.} Her message was sharp and curt as she cut off the connection. Looking down once again at the raging storm below, her grin tensed, but only so.
< Alright, you can do this Iulia. This is the day you graduate from being a simple flight member to a Rider of the storm. Plus… If I am late again, Teach will put me on healing duty again…> She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The broom she was on started to flicker before all of its lights turned off, dry of any ink. Making it and its rider plummet.
< LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!>
< Oooh! So you are saying that witches and druids have a common origin?> Iulia asks the two men sitting in front of her, the first: Relor, was a massive bear of a man (quite literally, with him being a wildkin of the bear tribe). Wearing pants made of woven grass and leaves while the rest of his furry body was bare for everyone to see.
The other, Friedrich, a diminutive man in black robes sported a neatly trimmed mustache that he kept twirling at.
< That we do, young apprentice. But so are the elementalists. We are sort of… cousins? Drawing our power from the same source, only the strength of our connection makes us different.> The mustache-twirling man explained before the door to the small cottage was kicked open as a loud brunette woman entered.
< Sorry I am late! Forgot today was the day we got to teach Mina’s pupil. So, which of us do you want to learn from? Rude bear’s druidcraft over here? Gloomy’s witchcraft? Or do you want to learn how to throw lightning bolts with me?> The hyper woman was visibly trembling with excitement, electricity snapping off of her skin as she danced from one foot to the other.
< But… Doesn’t that mean I cannot use the same source for everything if I want to learn all three practices?> The young woman’s question snapped the three adults out of their self-made competition, looking at each other with an amused grin.
Iulia could see the three of them having some sort of silent conversation as the three crouched together in one of the corner of the cozy cottage. Throwing a glance at her from time to time.
< That… Would be true, but! Nobody said you could be attuned to only one source. And from what we can feel, you are already bound to two of them. The celestial cloud sea that’s right above the mountain range, and the Verdant forests where you and madame Mirza live together. So that’s two sources you are already attuned to: one of Life and one of electricity.> The “gloomy” witch man says, getting up before being pushed aside by the frantic woman.
< But we can feel that you are somehow a bit in tune with another, but more of a surface-level connection than anything else. Did you happen to live near a cemetery or somewhere where a lot of people either died or suffered? Because the three of us can feel that you’ve been touched by a source related to death…> Her voice kept that cheerful attitude while the other two jolted at the words that came out of her mouth, before trying to reign back the insensitive woman.
< I do not want to talk about it. Can I pick another source?> The girl’s response was cold, so cold that it even slowed the hyperactive brown-haired enough to make her think of what she had just said.
< Erm… Sure. It is not like Dupadure lacks places rich in Ink. Don’t get your hopes up for any heat-related sources. Since the tunnels through the Carpa mountains got sealed off by the churches, nobody has managed to get access to the underside of Brilom and the few Pamer’s Quarries that live down there.>
< NEXT!> The disgruntled voice of Iulia echoes through the medical tent as an elderly woman walks out without having to make use of her cane anymore.
As much as she liked helping others, the way people treated her was grating her gear.
Distrust, wariness, or even anger. Those she could deal with easily.
But the adulation? The asskisser? Those who tried to play mind games and get political with her? That made her skin crawl and made her want to give them the boot out of her medical tent. But she couldn’t.
This “Healing Duty”, is mandatory for every painter of the order. Big and small, every painter had to spend at least three days per season in any city, to “give back to the community”.
It was a praise-worthy operation she liked to be part of. Seeing the smiles of children who had lost teeth, sick mothers returning to health, or veterans who had lost the use of one of their limbs, being able to fully move it again, made it all the more bearable to her.
But these three days were emotionally draining, obviously so. Which was why Minadora was using this as punishment.
{ You have been slacking in your Painter’s training, for quite a while too. So until you feel ready to go further in your practice, I will assign you to take my part of Healing Duties.}
The words of the teacher still echo in her mind as she gets her desk files in order, keeping an inventory of her medicines, of the number of specific illnesses she had to treat.
< Good Morning. > < Greetings, Madame Healer.> Two voices interrupted Iulia’s train of thought, the first was warm and cheerful but also familiar. The second was a bit standoffish with an undertone of superiority only nobles had.
< A moment please, I just need to fill this parchment and I will see to you.> Putting the quill back in the mundane inkwell, she turned back only to gawk at one of the two women there. Even after years, her friend had barely changed since the day they last met, well. Barely is a big word.
< Maria?> She spoke after a few long seconds of silence, the other woman she guessed to be Sophia put a possessive arm around her pregnant wife’s waist as she narrowed her eyes at her.
The woman in question tilted her head as she watched the white-bloused woman standing before them. < I am sorry but wh— No… Wait, Iulian? Is that you?>
< It’s Iulia now, It’s been a long time big sis. Congratulations by the way.> Iulia smiled at the old friend she had once considered her big brother. But that was quite a while ago, time had changed both of them now.
Sophia squeezed gently onto Maria’s waist as she threw an inquisitive look, relaxing a bit.
< That’s my childhood friend, h— she is like me. I have been told that you had “fallen ill” 7 years ago before mysteriously dying one night. They had even burned a funeral pyre for your “body” in the middle of the night... That was how we learned what had “happened” to you… Lying wretches.> Iulia looked at her old friend in the eyes, seeing emotions that mirrored her own. Anger bordering on rage and disgust nearing loathing.
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A twinkle of a tear sparked in her eyes as she sat down on her chair, inviting them to do the same.
< So what can I do for the two of you?> Iulia said, trying to wrangle the conversation back to some easier grounds to tread.
The group was silent; the atmosphere was heavy and tense as Maria silently simmered in her rage, holding onto her wife’s hand with one hand as the other went to comfort her friend.
< Hey… It’s alright. You don’t have to put a strong front for me Iulia… I… I am sorry. I, I didn’t know.> Seeing her friend after so long had made her happy, but having now listened to what had taken place back then. Her hormones were already a mess, so she couldn’t help herself but reach out, putting her hand on Iulia’s knee in a soft and gentle manner.
< As if you could have known! Always so preoccupied with that fiancee of yours to notice your friend’s condition. Not like I didn’t have to do my best to not let others know how badly bruised and beaten I was… I… Sorry...> The words hung from her lips, realizing who she had just snapped at, her eyes welled up with tears again, this time going over what the woman could hold back.
Maria gave a soft look at her wife before being let go, moving her chair over to her friend as she took her in her arms.
< There. It’s alright now, you are safe. I am sorry I didn’t notice anything back then… I… You’re right that I didn’t give you the time that you deserved… I was a bad friend. But, perhaps we can… try to catch back? I would love to get to know you, as you are now.> She patted her younger friend’s head as she did her best to comfort her.
< I am so sorry… I… I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… And I am happy to see the two of you are happy together… I … I would like that… I’ve missed you, Maria. I should have trusted you back then… If not for that miserable and vile bitch raising me with lies to be her puppet. I…>
They stayed like that for a few minutes more, before Iulia managed to dry her tears. Thanking her friend once more. She turned back to them with a more professional face this time, albeit a smiling one.
< I am sorry. And thank you… What can I do for the two of you? I am afraid I must make haste, as healers, we don’t have that much time per patient during our general Healing Duties.> She smiled, this time lighter than before. Making Maria mirror her own genuine and warm smile as Sophia allowed herself a small grin.
< Yes, right. Duty first. We are we for you to check on Maria’s pregnancy. To see how it is going and developing, if it is safe, and all that. We decided to take turns in who gets to carry our children, so I wanted to be sure Maria’s first goes well.> The daughter of the re-elected Bourgmeister spoke, a bit of excitement escaping her well-ironed poker face.
Iulia looked at the woman warmly, glad her friend had found such a good partner.
< Of course, I will require permission to draw a seeing spell onto your body, Maria. Then I will need to do the same with other parts, so I can observe for anything that’s out of the ordinary.> Receiving a nod of agreement from the two of them at the same time, she giggle before drawing upon her memories where interest was the main emotion encapsulated within. Using it to color her internal reserve of ink, she drew her spell onto Maria’s body.
The tent was silent for a while as Iulia was busy taking notes of what she was seeing. Making the pair of expectant parents a bit nervous, only for Sophia to speak up.
< So… Iulia, when did you discover that you had potential for sorcery? I have always been curious how such a thing would happen.> She blabbered, the tension of waiting for how their unborn child is was making her high-society etiquette and training crack.
< Right then, when I met the woman who took me in.> The answer was short as she was busy writing it down.
< Yes, but how does it happen?> < Please dear, calm down a bit. I know you are excited for our children to be born healthy, but there’s no need to urge it like that. I am sure we will have many more occasions to meet and learn about each other’s life.> Maria chuckled as she reprimanded her wife with a gentle pinch at the woman’s side.
< No, it’s fine. I am done already. As to your question, it happens more than many would think. About two in four children awaken under the age of five, and another quarter before they hit 10 years old. And the rest later in their life.> The healer says, not taking her eyes off the notes she had taken, not seeing the confused expression on both women’s faces.
While Sophia tried to wrangle her head around that fact and the numbers it involved, Maria followed through with a question of her own.
< How is that even possible? Doesn’t magic and sorcery require talent to use?>
< Let me rephrase something for you. When it rains and there are puddles everywhere, what tends to happen?>
< You… You get wet?>
< Precisely. This whole world is inundated with an energy we painters call ink. It would be bafflingly strange otherwise, don’t you think? ...Well… There are some that are outright immune to it and any spells made with it, but Pariahs are still able to interact with it, somehow…> She shrugs with a deep sigh, still wondering how these rare people are able of that.
< Anyways, the reason that there aren’t more people able to use sorcery around is because their Inkwell: their opening to the Everflow, had atrophied and turned rigid from unuse. If I remember well, an untrained Inkwell can atrophy in under a month of being opened.>
< But… If I ever could do magic, or sorcery as you call it, I would have remembered.> Maria scoffs playfully, putting her hands on her hips as she arched a brow.
< Awakening happens in moments with strong emotions, and as you already know I am sure: children have very strong emotions. But thankfully, for some reason, the Everflow is kind to them, making so that all awakenings never hurt the child. And even protect them in some cases, like it happened to me. And with children being children, a lot of them come to forget that it even happened in the first place, or they are told to stop daydreaming. How many stories came from ecstatic children saying they were busy playing fairies in the woods, or frightened children saying they’ve seen things move in the dark?>
Then, it dawned on them. Sophia, who has been silent up until now as she tried to parse things out, got pulled out of her thoughts as if she was struck by lightning.
< Then… That… That means I didn’t imagine it. Making friends with Piatrisoara… It was a... a small stone puppet I played with when I was young…> The noblewoman broke composure as she looked nostalgic, a bit of mirth on her face as she recalled that fond memory from her childhood.
< No, you quite possibly did summon some kind of minor stone spirit when you awakened. If you still remember that memory well enough, you could summon it again with some practice.> Iulia said as she wrote something on another piece of parchment. Catching the attention of Sophia again.
< But… Didn’t you say that people lose their ability to use magic if their Inkwell is rigid? Because I am quite sure I didn’t throw a single spell in my entire life, that I remember.>
< That’s because magic and sorcery are two different things. While you might never be able to use sorcery, you can in exchange easily learn how to do magic, just like every person you met on your way here today. But because it is expensive to learn and use, and the knowledge of it kept under wrap by the few nobles that can afford it, albeit a bit of a loose one, it isn’t common knowledge in this part of the world.>
She then hands the parchment to the couple < Here’s everything I could see, along with some advice on things to do and don’t. Congratulations once more, you’ll soon be parents to a pair of healthy twins. Do you want me to tell you of their sexes, or do you prefer to discover on the day they are born?>
{ So? Healing duties, again?} Iulia rides her now repaired broom as she listens to Capash who floats at her side. The spirit of light and nature had taken a much smaller form of a regular capybara, one made of tree golden sunlight-tinted bark and leaves mind you. But still around half a meter tall and long, swimming through the air with the same grace as if it were water.
Iulia threw him a snide look before rolling her eyes.
< Come off of it, you big rat. >
< Oooh~ little Iulia is angry~ What am I gonna do~~> The spirit flew away in mock panic before looping back and around Iulia’s broom to taunt her.
< Shut up! It’s not funny.>
< But it is. You first tried to be a Rider of the Storms so you could learn to ride your broom faster than anyone, so you could dodge Healing Duties by never being late anymore. Only for Minadora to swap it to punish you for procrastinating.> Capash says, reducing his size even more before floating up to her head and flopping down on it like a kitten.
Iulia stayed silent, biting her lips in annoyance and frustration. But she couldn’t deny his words.
< You’ve been stalling for years now. And while it did make you a journeyman magician, a beginner-level source user of all three disciplines, and an excellent healer who’s well-versed in how the human body works. But you cannot call yourself an apprentice painter anymore when you are much more proficient at using magic than sorcery. How much shame do you think Minadora feels seeing you ignoring her craft? > The old being spoke out the words that Iulia had dreaded hearing for a long time.
< I am not shaming my master in any way! I love my teacher with all of my heart, how could you even think I am shaming her?!>
< And yet, whether you want or not. People talk, and spirits listen: “ How could such a talented young woman not progress as a painter when she is such an excellent magician, medic, and even a member of the Riders themselves” is what has been going around the Order. How do you think your teacher would feel upon hearing that?> The sharp words poked at Iulia’s guilt. She hated how people could talk like that, not knowing the truth of the matter.
She slowed her broom, going at a much calmer pace as she felt disgusted with herself, ashamed even, by how her action had reflected onto the person she cared for the most. “Sorrow” lacked the strength to describe how she felt, having hurt Minadora like this.
The two spent a long time like this, flying in silence as they were making their way back home.
< You’re right… thank you… for being here for me, Capash… I… All the time and energy I used to run away from how higher-intensity drawing made me feel… I could maybe already be a master if... If only I had the guts to then and there confront my… Fear… And my anger and disgust as well. I… I will try again… trying to raise my tolerance ceiling. I will make Teach’s favorite as an apology when I can show her my progress. Do you… Do think she will forgive me?>