Eiden shook his head, pushing away his awareness from the setting sun.

“So,” said Eiden, “What do we do now? I’ve practiced the breathing technique for long enough. I need to become stronger faster. I’ve been taking things way too slow.”

“Slow and steady is fast.” Said Fin. “We can’t rush your training. Rushing leads to cracks in your foundation. Though the rate of training won’t increase, I will start adding more things to your day.

“You’ll train until your mind, body, and spirit tires. Then, you’ll rest. We’ll repeat this until you’ve removed yourself from feeling tired only at night. Meditation will become your rest until your mind needs no more sleep. Exorcists don’t always get luxuries such as sleep when hunting their prey. I thought about not introducing these harsh methods until your body has fully developed. But, the sooner we start, the easier the transition will be.

“Now, we will change what we train on.”

“Oh, so what are we going to practice?” Asked Eiden.

“We’ll practice aura techniques until you tire.” Said Fin. “First, you must know that different mana types have their own names. Mana found in the aura is called aurai.

"Now, you'll practice mana-forging—the shaping of mana into a solid object. You created a dagger out of aurai before. Forge another blade, but this time, form an auric shroud like you did when connecting to your affinity arcanum.

“Let enough mana pool into your aura before trying to forge the dagger. You’ll be confined for the time being to pooling aurai for magic. This is much slower than tugging on your inner gate but is the only other safe mana source you have for now. I’ll give you a nod when you have gathered enough energy.”

Eiden pulled at the edges of his aura, creating a barrier and trapping the escape of mana. A membrane of glowing white mist appeared around him. He waited until Fin gave him a nod, signaling that he had a decent amount of mana pooled into his aura.

The young mage focused the aurai in his hands into a small orb. The hardened aurai had the appearance of a solid sphere of water the color of a soap bubble. Eiden instinctively felt he could better manipulate the ball of aurai with his black-clawed left-hand. He reached out to the orb, stretching it with his bare hands. The mana responded well to his claws, being easily manipulated like clay. The iron talons left behind a black inky residue, staining the hardened aurai like blood in crystal-clear water.

The orb became a cylinder with Eiden’s touch. He smudged the cylinder with his hands, making a flat “blade” at its end. He condensed aurai onto its handle to form a pommel at the end, poking a hole in the middle of the pommel to make a ring. He grabbed at the edge of the blade, putting a digit on each side. He then slid his mana-flesh digits along the blade, sharpening it.

The end result was a disfigured facsimile of a dagger. The edge was as straight as the slither of a viper. The ring pommel was wobbly and uneven. And the handle was an awkward fit in his hand. The blade looked to be made of white glass stained with tendrils of soot that floated inside it.

“Interesting.” Said Fin. “There seems to be a Forger aspect to your acquired arcanum. Try imbuing the dagger with more of that black substance.”

“Sure.” Said Eiden.

Eiden plunged his clawed hand into the dagger, the aurai parting like it was made of clay. Black sludge spread throughout the blade like an infestation, eating away at the aurai and taking its place. The result was a brittle, iron-like dagger.

Eiden tested the dagger with his hands, breaking away the tip of the blade. Both ends were made of sharp, iron splinters.

“That substance looks like low-grade iron, but splinters away into sharp spikes.” Said Fin. “Reabsorb that dagger into your spirit, but don’t use your Center or those claws of yours.”

Eiden nodded and then directed his attention towards the mana-forged blade. It felt like an extension of his spirit, but overall less responsive than his ethereal body. It was simpler and less ‘alive’. How should I do this? Do I break it down into aurai? Eiden intrinsically felt he could use his claws to reabsorb the dagger. But, he decided to try as his mentor instructed.

Eiden focused on his aura, a barrier of mana that had a white, dull glow. His aura was the skin of his spirit that protected it from the outside. It usually bled excess mana into the environment, but now that mana was trapped, coalescing into his shroud. It didn’t feel like it could break down the dagger—it wasn’t strong enough. Eiden willed his aura to break down the blade. It slowly sucked the aurai dry from the Forged object but didn’t absorb the fake iron as easily. His aura lazily broke down the dagger. How do I break this down faster? I did make it, so there must be a way to ‘unmake’ it. What was it called again?

“Hey, Fin, what’s it called when you change one mana type into another?” Asked Eiden.

“Transmutation.” Answered the Exorcist.

“Thanks.”

The dagger felt almost dead in Eiden’s hands, the aurai sucked dry from it. He focused his claws, willing a bit of the iron substance to form onto their tips. Splinters sprouted along his digits like blooming thorns made of iron. A lot of these splinters are coming from the claws, but some of it is being made from my aura.

“Hey, Fin,” said Eiden, “What exactly do arcanums do again?”

“Arcanums facilitate transmutation, allowing for distant mana types to be transmuted into one another.” Said Fin. “It’s what allows for a soulcerer such as yourself to have such diverse sorceries. Fire arcanums, for example, allow for the transmutation of the body’s mana into fire mana, or ignai.

“Every arcanum is different though, even ones that look alike. All of them have slightly different properties. Some fire arcanums allow for rapid transmutation of fire mana but at an increased cost. Others allow the transmutation of other secondary mana types such as heat mana and wind mana.”

“I see.” Said Eiden. “Thanks.”

Eiden brought the mana-forged dagger into the black of his mind. He willed the marble throne to erupt from the waters around him. It slowly breached the surface like a monolith of power. His power. Two crowns sat on the armrests of the throne—one of iron and another made of marble. Eiden looked at the twisted manifestation of his arcanum—the black crown. He wished he never had to look at the thing again. The sight made him recoil in disgust. But, he stopped himself from walking away. He needed to master it. He would master it.

Eiden had a choice of whether to accept its burden, and he would not go back on it. The step forward was his to take.

Eiden dismissed the dagger, the blade melting into smoke in the darkness of the mind.

He reached out to the black crown in the twilight mindscape. His clawed digits formed splinters of iron to reach the crown faster. To reunite quicker.

Eiden touched the crown; It reached back.

The death screech of a thousand-thousand lives reverberated in the darkness, emanating from everywhere and nowhere at all. Thousands of voices crawled at the confines of his psyche like they were trying to escape his mind. Pain and euphoria intertwined in his mental form, a black crown made of thorns appearing atop his head and digging into his skin made of hoarfrost. The ice turned black, and the frost-mist that emanated from his skin darkened into the stuff of night. His eyes shifted from white beacons into vibrant red pyres full of hatred.

Pure, raw feeling burned into his mind, branding itself across his psyche like a wild-fire. It offered no warnings, no words, and no solace. There was just pain and euphoria.

Eiden gripped his head in his clawed hands, the crown digging into his mental form. It felt like it was drilling into his very skull.

The arcanum connected to his psyche like a hungry leech. Fear made its way into Eiden’s mind like a flash flood. He felt paralyzing fear that left his mental form shaking. The pain, the anger, and the fear threatened to break Eiden’s mental form once more, angry-red cracks forming upon his skin of darkened hoarfrost.

Thump.

Eiden exhaled as slowly as he could, the panic making it the longest and most arduous breath he had ever relinquished.

Thump.

Eiden inhaled as fast as possible, gulping imaginary air like a drowning man.

Thump.

The fear settled, still present, but not at the forefront of his mind. The pain still coursed through his veins like his blood was boiling, and his flesh was embedded with iron splinters, but it felt distant. And the euphoria, the feeling of a rush like Eiden had run a full lap around the tunnels, permeated his mental form.

Gods, I could do anything. Everything. It’s all at my finger-tips. The power is just waiting for me to take it. To take the vibrant red. To have the world at my finger-tips. To have… Fun.

Eiden shook his head, dismissing the manic thoughts. It’s the twisted arcana, not you—those thoughts are not yours. Don’t give in. The step is yours to take.

Eiden breathed in deeply, constricting the mental reigns over his power. In a flash of argent light, Eiden’s mental form brightened from dark ice into silver stone. The hoarfrost that was his skin became grey and slightly metallic. The black crown stood on his head, being confined into a tool. It was still dangerous, but, like any other weapon, its edge was Eiden’s to command. Not the other way around.

The black crown still painfully dug into his head but did not seem to be actively drilling in. It felt right atop his head. It belonged to him, sending a feeling of satisfaction and disgust through Eiden. Gods, this thing is so wrong, but so… Right.

Eiden extended his left arm to the darkness, willing a pure, scarlet flame to appear above his palm. The fire was like the silhouette of a candle—soft at the edges and sharp at its tip. The knowledge feels… part of me. I just know how to will this to life—like breathing.

Eiden recalled his mana-forged dagger into his right hand. Inky smoke emanated from the scarlet flame, twisting and coalescing into a blade atop his right palm. The iron-like substance is made of blood mana.

Words came into Eiden’s mind, emanating from the darkness of his psyche. They felt natural. They felt his. This was his power, borrowed or not. A blade could not harm its owner as long as they mastered it.

Eiden reflected the words into the dead of his mind’s twilight night, uttering them as they came into his consciousness.

From the ruby blaze of life, you came. To the fire of blood, you shall return. Scarlet Flames.

The dagger burst into red flames, the blood-red fire eating away at the blade. Perfect. I know how to do this now.

Eiden opened his eyes to the physical world, looking down at the dagger in his hands. He now knew the blade was made of changed vitality. It was the steel made from his blood. If he wanted to reabsorb it, he had to revert it to its source: blood mana. He focused on what he desired the dagger should become. A dull-red glow suffused the blade, the aura around it turning scarlet and boiling like water. The splinters slowly bubbled into a black mist and then turned to vitality. Eiden’s aura became tinged with red. He focused on the blood mana that floated in his aura, willing it to come back into his spirit. The vitality slowly seeped back into his body.

“I did it!” Said Eiden.

“Aye, you did, lad.” Said Fin. “Nice work. Now, tell me how you did it.”

“Sure.” Said Eiden. “As you said, I’m a bloodborne sorcerer. I have a knack for blood mana, vitality. The black iron was made of blood mana and aurai. More so blood mana than aurai. Aurai seemed to connect me to the dagger.

“I transmuted the dagger into blood mana and aura and then simply reabsorbed it.”

“Good.” Said Fin. “And how did the communion go? You consciously connected to your acquired arcanum. It manifested—a black crown appeared above your head—deformed and splintery.”

“It went… well enough.” Said Eiden. “Both times, when I connected to my arcanums, it was… hectic. I was at a precipice of something I thought greater but extremely dangerous. Is it like this for everyone?”

“Yes and no.” Answered Fin. “For everyone, it is different. Your mind and body haven’t even fully developed, so it makes it harder. Since your awakening was of necessity, your powers are clearly weaponized. Your arcanums reflect this, being powerful but dangerous. A double-edged blade. Not all sorcerers awaken with powers as deadly as yours. Most can only manifest a few sparks or a candle-worth of fire at the start.”

“I see.” Said Eiden. “So, what’s next?”

“Right now, we’ll pause for a quick bite.” Said Fin, with a basket in his lap.

“How, in the Nine Hells, did you get that here?” Asked Eiden. “You didn’t bring it by hand, and I didn’t see you buy anything on the way.”

Fin narrowed his eyes in mock severity, his tone turning serious.

“A mage has their secrets.” Said the Exorcist.

Eiden let out a small chuckle.

After the lunch break, Eiden and Fin returned to training.

Fin created orbs of light out of mana, sending them to float in the air. They provided enough light that their vision wasn’t hampered. They were the same type he had created when Eiden had first awakened.

Fin had Eiden Forge the dagger again and again. Each time there was a new variable introduced or removed. Eiden Forged the blade out of purely aurai, avoiding the use of blood mana. He forged it by will and mind alone, without using his hands to facilitate the process. Aurai responded sluggishly when he didn’t use bodily movement, increasing the time needed to Forge. Blood mana was easier to manipulate than pure aurai but required at least some amount of auric mana to form a connection between himself and the dagger.

Eiden’s vampiric digits made manipulating blood mana and aurai much easier than any other method. The claws were made for shaping his vitality, making Eiden feel like a mythical potter molding the essence of his very lifesblood into a weapon.

When Eiden could Forge a decent-looking dagger in a reasonable time, Fin spoke up.

“Aye, that’s enough for now, lad.” Said Fin, pulling a familiar watch from his black coat’s many pockets. “An average of a half-hour for a mana-forged dagger. Your best time was ten minutes. Good enough for now.”

The Exorcist looked up to the night sky—the twin moons had barely climbed into the starry void.

“You feeling tired yet?” Asked Fin.

“A little. Blood mana and aurai manipulation feel like exercise.” Answered Eiden. Though the young mage didn’t let it appear on his body made of flesh, his aura felt dimmer.

“We’ll meditate and then return to the inn.” Said Fin.

“Okay.” Said Eiden, focusing his breathing.

Eiden and Fin returned to the inn, carrying torches. No one could walk the streets after dark without a light source. Anyone found without flame was assumed to be a thief or knave by the town guard.

Along the way, Eiden spread out his aura, trying to feel the disturbances that minds would put upon his mindsight. He caught a few critters in the edges of his aura, barely adding any burden on his psychic senses. The few guards he and Fin passed put greater pressure on his mind than the small creatures.

The duo arrived at the inn. Thankfully, they could come back at any time of the night—it was always open, no matter which god-sphere hung in the sky.

Eiden laid down on his bed, the comfiest bed he’d ever slept in, but couldn’t find any sleep. He tossed and turned, finding no respite even though his body needed it. Eiden’s mind couldn’t relax, even the breathing techniques eluded him.

Eiden picked up The Mageborne by Alistair Pendleton to lull himself to sleep. The yellow-stained pages whisked him away into the blissful dark.