5 - 3 [Fool] A Kindred Kind, Metamorphosis of the Spirit The Tunnel Rat Mageling - 3rd of Mead’s Tap 1125 A.E.

Eiden tentatively wrapped his aura around the fire, scared of burning his own spirit. After the flames were coated in a layering of substance insubstantial—or mana as Fin called it—Eiden delved into himself.

His awareness was directed to his inner self wrought of essence. Channels flowed between three basins, cavernous cavities filled with mana. A single loop bound all basins, carrying the flow to and fro in a circuit.

The Center, Eiden reminded himself, pressing his finger into his belly button. The spirit was bound to the body, and so they shared sensations. Through the pressure, Eiden found his Center, the correct basin of spirit.

It was hazy as was the rest of his incorporeal self, hard to perceive and parse through.

Open the gates, he told himself.

With a flick of his will, the constricted walls of the channels in between his Center and aura were relaxed. From a clenched fist that could not hold even a soapstone, his Center was turned into an open palm, waiting in fervorous greed for spiritual coin.

The essence of flame was sucked into his spirit, going through his channels and then deposited inside his Center. As quickly as he felt a warmth in his belly, such a feeling disappeared like smoke from a smothered candle.

Where’d it go?

Eiden opened his eyes, a frown on his face.

“Fin, I took in the mana, but it disappeared inside my Center.”

The Exorcist narrowed his eyes and knit his brow in the pose of contemplation.

“You’re a newborn mage.” He said. “Like a babe that can’t yet hold onto anything proper, or even a pup that can’t wait for its food and thus eats it in a single bound, you cannot store mana for long.

“But do not fret. Your endurance and storage capacity will grow in time.”

The statement made enough sense to Eiden, yet something about the Exorcist’s words felt… wrong.

No, not the words, but the spirit bound to them.

Just the barest hint of something that did not belong. The skin of his spirit did not tremble or writhe, hitching ever so slightly in speed between waves.

A lie.

Eiden did not scrunch up his brow or swallow the lump in his throat, instead asking another question to fill in the silence and perhaps cover up his unease.

He knows I know.

“What else can you tell me about the spirit?”

Fin taught Eiden some simple auric tempering and strengthening techniques before laying down on his bed and sleeping. Slumber took the Exorcist the breath after he closed his eyes.

Godsdamn. That’s… strangely impressive.

Eiden shook his head, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The sheer absurdity of it all was astounding. From tunnel rat to an exorcist’s apprentice, all in a single day.

Yet, for all the light, there was bound to be shadow. For every flame would have ash and cinder. A tiny little voice at the back of the tunnel rat’s head told him that there was bound to be a catch.

It screamed for him to run.

Eiden would stay for now, yet would heed to his instincts if he caught wind of anything too dastardly. Then again, could he escape? Fin was an exorcist, a mage hailing from Vitae that went all over the world, hunting down beasts and monsters of myth.

Eiden let out a breath, letting go of the worry. For now.

The mageling was still sitting on the marble floor, cross-legged with his hands on his knees and palms facing up.

He focused on his aura, pulling it tight, then relaxing. It was like commanding a muscle, willing it to tense and then return to rest. By doing so, the skin of his spirit and the threads of mana that bound it to his body of flesh would strengthen.

Slowly but surely, he would gain power and might of spirit. As Fin had said: as above, so below. By augmenting and training his subtle body, Eiden’s body of flesh would also gain benefits. The reverse was true as well, physical exercise enhanced the spirit in twain.

After doing the first set of auric exercises, Eiden continued onto the next. Such was the blessing of the spirit: it could go on for much longer than the body of flesh and recover much faster. Some injuries to the spirit could not so easily be fixed, but compared to tendon and bone, the subtle body was much more adaptable—or as Fin lectured, plastique.

The mageling picked up the piled up rug in the form of a misshapen ball using his aura. His body tensed in sympathy as he hefted up the object by force of will alone. When he could no longer keep it above the floor, Eiden relaxed and let go of the binding technique.

The grin that played on his lips no longer was hidden, on full display as he breathed out in ragged breath.

Actual magicking. The ability to bend the world and its laws by power of will alone. And it was his.

Hope flared in his heart as the grief fought to drown the growing spark of joy.

They are dead, and you, alive, his own mind spat, the self-loathing enough to strangle a grown man.

Eiden shook his head, clearing away the festering thoughts.

He looked to the window, the night in full sway, the Blackmoon Erebus on the dark horizon, a void amidst the black. Alba lay below the firmament, abandoning Terra to the Black.

His fingers involuntarily twitched, a tingle of eerie excitement going through his spine. He could feel lightning crackling inside his teeth. His sight turned sharp as the details of the room became clear and crisp.

His eyes felt queer, straining for whatever reason, the feeling like that of looking at an object far too close to his nose and face.

The mageling got up and closed the window, the wooden shutters sealing shut against the fourfold glass panes. And then, he went to the mirror, looking into his own eyes.

Twin orbs of abyssian black stared back, his pupils having expanded to cover almost the entirety of his iris, leaving a tiny little band of crimson.

A shiver of fear went through Eiden then and there. He remembered eyes similar to those. He would never forget.

Eiden went to his bed and laid down, staring at the flickering light dancing on the marble ceiling.

He lifted his right hand up, letting the firelight caress his fingers and splay their rays through the cracks betwixt the digits.

What is happening to me?

With that dark rumination, Eiden closed his eyes and let sleep take him away. The day had been far too long and the grief far too tiring.