Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 8th of Brightforge, year 315 UC
Bryan glanced across the room and saw Alessia seated against the far wall, a book open in her lap. She didn't look up. Just read in silence.
He ducked under a holographic blade, then countered with two crescent arcs of blood that tore clean through the nearest construct. The last hologram flickered and vanished.
A chime signaled the next wave was about to begin—programmed to increase in number and aggression by ten percent.
He hadn't planned on company. The entire day was meant to be his—alone.
Yet here she was.
Alessia wasn't a bother. She didn't try to talk to him, didn't hover or interrupt. Still, why here? Of all the places she could've gone on a free weekend, why this training room?
They weren't friends. Not really. He didn't think she considered him one either. But she had still chosen to be here—within proximity. Not close enough to intrude, but not far enough to ignore.
As the next set of holograms appeared, Bryan moved. Blood sliced the air in curved patterns, carving down constructs before they could press in.
From her corner, Alessia glanced up. Her eyes followed his movements, calm and quiet, before returning to the page.
He noticed.
And ignored it.
The next hologram rushed in.
"Your left side drops when you pivot."
Her voice came casually, eyes still on her book.
Bryan's jaw twitched. He hadn't asked for advice—especially not from someone who still needed a glove to keep her magic in check. But as another construct swept in from his left, he realized she was right.
There was a weakness in his stance.
"Your book must be riveting."
He said, correcting his posture and dispatching three enemies with smooth, exacting strikes.
"What is it? Complexities of the mind? Or are you just hiding from your team?"
Alessia flipped a page.
"Both, actually. Team Four is touring the noble quarter. Julius insisted."
Silence settled again. The artificial sounds of battle buzzed in the background. Between them, something unspoken passed—an understanding they shared without ever naming it.
"You could've gone on your own."
Bryan said, ducking beneath a swing, blood lashing out to meet it.
"So could you."
She replied.
She closed the book gently, her gloved fingers brushing over the embossed title.
"But we both know... It's easier to be alone somewhere familiar than surrounded by strangers."
Bryan didn't answer.
Ten more holograms surrounded him.
He shifted. The blood around him thickened, forming a compact sphere—then exploded outward, annihilating everything in its radius.
"Program complete."
The system announced.
"Difficulty increased by twenty percent for next session."
He exhaled slowly, sweat lining his brow. Across the room, Alessia had returned to her book, legs tucked neatly beneath her.
"Your control's improving."
She said without looking up.
Bryan wiped his face with a towel.
"So is yours. You're only wearing one glove today."
At that, she paused—just briefly—and then nodded, gaze drifting to the title on her book cover.
"Yes. So it would seem. I took your advice from yesterday. Wanted to see if it made any difference."
She flexed her bare fingers slightly.
"Doesn't feel any different, really."
Bryan canceled the next training cycle.
Yesterday, he'd told her the truth: her issue wasn't power. It was focus. When she concentrated, she had full control. The danger came when she didn't. When her mind slipped, her magic followed.
It wasn't about holding on. It was about not letting go.
Her erosion magic was unpredictable—destroying anything she touched at random. She didn't know the exact triggers, but the decay always worsened when she was upset.
So Bryan offered a simple solution:
Stop fearing your power. Let it be.
Simple to say. Hard to do. Her abilities were tied to memories, trauma, and guilt. If Julius was right, it all traced back to when she was younger—when her magic spiraled out of control and killed people. A lot of them.
That's what she feared. Doing it again.
She was always thinking about it. Subconsciously gripping her own power like a leash she didn't trust herself to hold. The irony was cruel—her effort to suppress it often made it worse.
He'd been wrong to say she lacked control. Alessia was too controlled. Constantly braced for failure.
She needed to let go.
The first attempt was a disaster, just like he expected. Fortunately, Alexander and Christopher were still busy with the training drill he'd assigned, so only he had been close when it happened.
The second time didn't go any better. Nor the third. Or the fourth.
So he handed her a drink.
"Let it sit for ten minutes."
He said.
"Then try again."
She did. And this time… it worked.
He even had her touch his hand—bare skin to bare skin. She hesitated.
He didn't flinch.
If anything happened, he could just heal it. But for her, it was a monumental step. A line she hadn't crossed in years.
He made her do it.
Nothing happened.
She was more relieved than he was. It might've been the first time she'd touched someone without gloves in… who knows how long.
Alessia finally closed her book and set it aside.
"What did you put in that drink?"
She asked.
"I've had specialists from two different kingdoms try to help me with this… curse."
Bryan crossed the training room and took a seat a few feet away—close, but still giving her space.
"Nothing special."
He said.
"Calimine tea."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Your problem isn't magical, it's psychological. You're so afraid of losing control that the fear itself triggers what you're trying to avoid."
She stared down at her bare hand, flexing her fingers slowly.
"So… you drugged me?"
"I helped you get out of your own way."
Bryan replied without a trace of guilt.
"There's nothing wrong with a drug every now and then. It's illegal in name only. Even the military encourages its use."
"I don't care who uses it!"
Alessia snapped.
"I don't want any of that garbage in my body. You do know how toxic it is, right?"
He shrugged.
"Bit late now."
She glared at him. He didn't blink.
"Yes, I know it's harmful."
He said.
"But did it help—yes or no?"
She narrowed her eyes further.
"That's a cornering question, and you know it. If I say yes, you'll feel justified in how you went about it. And I'll look like a hypocrite. But if I say no, you'll just point out that I'm sitting here, glove off, touching nothing, harming nothing… which would make me a liar."
Bryan smirked.
"What's so funny?"
She asked, still fuming.
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
Bryan said, smirking faintly. "
You were just… thorough with your analysis. You're more talkative when your mind's at ease. The tea cut off your anxiety loop—made it easier for you to stop overthinking and just exist in the moment."
Alessia's eyes narrowed.
"No apology? Not even a mention of one?"
"For what?"
Bryan replied, unapologetic.
"Apologizing would mean I was wrong. I wasn't. You found the root of your problem. Now all that's left is figuring out a permanent solution."
He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought:
"I'll admit, my method for getting you to take it was a little underhanded."
That was as far as he was willing to go.
It wasn't like he forced her. She'd wanted help. He helped.
Did the method really matter?
One drink wouldn't hurt her. He was certain of that. Calimine was strong, sure—and misuse could become a problem—but Alessia wasn't the type. She had discipline. She lived with her power like someone walking a tightrope every day.
If anyone could use something to take the edge off now and then, it was her.
That's what he told himself, anyway.
They sat in silence for a long time.
Then Alessia spoke again.
"Julius told you my story, didn't he?"
She didn't ask it like a question. More like an observation finally voiced.
"My mother died because of this power."
She said.
"I reached for her during a nightmare. By morning, half the room was… gone."
Bryan didn't react. He'd already suspected as much. The confession wasn't surprising.
Alessia let out a hollow laugh. It had no warmth.
"I was supposed to be a prodigy. Better than Rashaka Reinhart. You've heard the stories, I'm sure—golden child of the Reinharts. Greatest mage in decades. She awakened at ten. Rare. But a blessing to her family."
"I awakened at eleven. And in return, I lost everything in a single night."
She shook her head, brown hair slipping loose across her cheek.
"No one blamed me. Not really. No one expected it. I wasn't special. It just… happened. And somehow, I was supposed to be happy about it."
"Pure destruction, at a scale unheard of for someone my age. Suddenly, I was destined to be the greatest mage in history. My family's status soared. The world changed overnight. But no one ever asked me how I felt about any of it."
Her voice dropped lower.
"Do you know what it's like to lose your mother? To be the reason she's gone?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
"There was nothing but praise. Everyone moved on. Like it was just another Tuesday. They pushed me to be better. To do more. As if I wasn't just a little girl who wanted her mom to tuck her in at night."
She raised her ungloved hand, watching it move slowly in front of her face—like it belonged to someone else.
"I never asked for this."
Bryan listened. But he didn't comfort her.
He wasn't the type. And she didn't need it.
What could he say that hadn't already been said? What comfort would matter now?
This wasn't Alessia—not completely. It was the tea, loosening her grip on all the things she kept buried. Making her say the quiet things out loud.
With her mind finally at ease, it was as if a weight had slipped off her shoulders—and all the things she'd been holding back came pouring out.
It didn't have to be him sitting there. It could've been anyone. The tea did the heavy lifting, loosening her grip just enough to let the dam break.
Still, her words stuck with him.
"When we're young."
Bryan began.
"We all dream of becoming mages. Think about all the cool things we can do. No one talks about the awakening. Not really. Not what it costs."
He kept his gaze ahead, voice low.
"For some, it's nothing. A small spark, a flicker. For others, it's lethal. One minute you're hugging a friend, a sibling… and the next, they're ash. Or gone."
He paused.
"There are too many stories like that. Every awakening is different. And some people don't even survive theirs. The spell's too strong for their body to contain."
He turned toward her.
"But for you? Every time you've used your power since, you think about that moment. Every time you touch something, you're waiting for it to crumble."
Alessia's voice came soft, almost a whisper.
"Wouldn't you?"
"No."
Bryan's answer was immediate.
"I'd learn to accept it as part of myself."
Alessia gave a dry, humorless laugh.
"Easy for you to say. Your magic listens to you."
Bryan raised his hand. A sphere of blood formed above his palm, suspended in the air—stable, pulsing gently.
"Because I don't fight its nature."
He let the sphere dissolve, the blood retreating into his skin.
"I don't try to make it something it's not."
He stood, brushing invisible dust from his pants.
"The tea will wear off soon. When it does… don't reach for the glove right away. Just sit with the feeling. Remember what it's like to not be afraid."
He gathered his things, walking toward the exit. Alessia remained seated, her hand still exposed.
Before reaching the door, Bryan paused.
He let out a quiet sigh, then looked over his shoulder.
"…Sorry."
Alessia blinked, caught off guard.
"For what?"
"For drugging you."
There was a beat of silence—then a small smile tugged at her lips.
"If you say I said that, I'll deny it ever happened."
He added.