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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 42: MISLED

                Malia woke with a start. Her panicked demeanor was at odds with her tranquil surroundings. The last thing she remembered was the bliss of Gorken’s fingers through her hair; the warm touch of dawn on her face meant she had severely overslept. She got dressed in a rush and left her room behind with a single plea looping inside her head, don’t let it be too late, don’t let it be too late, don’t let it be too late.
                She exhaled a sigh of relief when she spotted Licorice talking to Aldous in the dining room; if the ancient demon was still there, the rest hadn’t departed either. She overheard something about a parasite when she passed them on her way to the door, and she saw Licorice handing Aldous a lock of green hair. She didn’t get it, but she had no intention of intruding either, so she focused on her actual goal: seeing Gorken and Lyra off.
                Malia ran into Bayard and Hedera halfway through a wooden hallway, and she had the impression she had interrupted some sort of bickering, given the demon’s darkened cheeks. When she finally reached her destination, she found Lyra and Gorken in the middle of a discussion just outside Kadem’s giant tree.
                “That would be completely inappropriate.” Lyra was stating decisively.
                “Look, we don’t have a horse, and I’m the best next thing.” Gorken gave his luggage a final inspection.
                “Please do not compare yourself to a beast.” Lyra admonished him, “I can’t regard you as a means of transportation. I said I wouldn’t hamper your travel, and having you carry me would definitely slow you down.”
                “Lyra, I won’t leave you behind. I’m being serious when I tell you carrying you on my back won’t be a burden. I’m stronger than you think, clearly.” Gorken then noticed Malia, “You should learn from your princess. She has no qualms about falling asleep wherever and having people carry her around.”
                Gorken was correct; Malia really didn’t have any qualms about having him carry her around, but she felt it was her duty to respond to the taunt in kind, “Indulge him, Lyra. He’s so eager to lift me in his arms every chance he gets, I would say he enjoys it. Don’t be rude and allow him to feel manly.”
                To Malia’s utter shock, her silly mockery was actually effective. Gorken started fidgeting with the buckle of his bag, pretending to be unaffected despite being distinctly flustered. She couldn’t suppress the urge to outwardly cherish him. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be this adorable.” Malia confessed as she hugged him from behind, “It isn’t fair.”
                “I got what I deserved, I suppose.” Gorken replied in a low mumble.
                “Have a safe trip.” She said. It was a command as much as it was a prayer.
                “I’m afraid my opportunity to appeal has vanished.” Lyra smiled resignedly, “If even the Princess insists on it, I’m left with no choice but to comply.”
                Malia embraced Lyra then, clinging to her handmaiden’s narrow shoulders, “Promise me you’ll keep each other safe. You must give Rose a kiss on the cheek for me, I’m sure she’ll adore you.”
                “As you wish, Princess.” Lyra returned the hug. Somehow, the blonde woman always managed to smell like flowers.
                The following moments seemed to stretch in Malia’s eyes, as if her wish to keep all she held dear close to her had dilated time. Inevitably, once Kadem had given all her warnings and everyone had said their goodbyes, Gorken, Lyra and the twins were swallowed by the lush limbs of the Gray Forest. Aldous, Bayard and Malia were left standing outside Kadem’s home, staring at the woods as if that would keep their friends out of harm.
                “Boys,” Kadem smashed the static instant, as was her custom, “Blondie’s no longer here, so you’ll clean up the mess you left in the hall you sleep in. Plum, you come with me. Don’t worry, you’ll get to clean your own messes too, in due time.”
                The young obeyed. Kadem walked patiently in front of Malia, at a pace the princess could keep up with, until they reached a pleasant spot to sit near the silver witch’s colossal tree. “As a child, here’s where my brothers sat me down when they had to explain tedious concepts to me. Let’s hope the breeze will be as affable to you as it was to me back then.”
                Malia nodded, grateful for the atypical benevolence.
                “Most of this training will occur in your brain.” Kadem began, “Or your heart, if we want to be sentimental. Its simplicity will be the biggest hurdle to overcome. The first and most crucial part of the process will be to understand. For what we need is to find the core of your magic.”
                “What is that? Is it something concrete?”
                “You’re likely tired of hearing it, but we define magic as the physical manifestation of will power. But what is human will power? Intent, desire, a wish. Your core is the primordial longing that defines your magic. The original craving that allowed you to be a magician in the first place. Each and every magic user has one, and they’re all equally powerful, once you find them. Being aware of your core, and devoting yourself to it, will make it so that your magic won’t lose to any external will. It will make your magic whole.”
                “That sounds simple enough…” Malia said, “So why haven’t I heard of it before?”
                “Because of the breadth of magic itself.” Kadem crossed her legs, “Human minds are limited. We need to categorize, to specialize, to break down knowledge into its smaller parts. In order to bend the laws of physics we must first study them thoroughly, mustn’t we? A regular lifetime is barely enough to master a couple brands of magic. Within that search, that separation to assist our perception of every component of any truth… it’s easy to lose sight of our original motivation, of the core that drove us in the first place.”
                The silver woman looked up at the tree tops, “…Let me tell you a story, to ground my abstract babbling… Imagine a man. Our little man discovers, one day, that his strongest desire is to sleep by the shadow of a rare tree from a childhood memory. He starts his quest by learning about the tree: its name, where to find it, why it’s rare. He realizes he ought to plant the tree himself, given how hard to find it is. He embarks on an adventure to find the seeds, and during it he studies all there is to know about caring for plants. He meets people on his journey, makes allies and enemies, and seeks lands to call his own where to plant his tree. An intricate web of deals and partnerships entangles him, and before his tree has grown, he dies in a battle to defend his associates.” Kadem returned her glance to Malia, “If our little man’s ‘core’ was the aspiration to sleep under his tree, everything else that happened in the tale would be the ‘spell’ to turn his will into magic. That’s how we humans lose sight of our core.”
                Malia’s mind could follow the logic easily enough, but she was doubtful on how to practically apply Kadem’s rationalization to her magic. “Do you know how to identify someone’s core?”
                “Ask why.” the silver woman pressed her finger on Malia’s chest, “Question every action you’ve ever taken, always asking why you did it, and eventually you should reach your core if you have been faithful to it. Question why you feel the way you feel, why you act the way you act, and discern it at the end of that path. Only you can find your own core, Plum.”
                Kadem pulled a white rock from underneath her layered skirt, “It’s true only you can find it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t nudge you in the right direction.” She handed Malia the little stone, “This mineral is extremely fragile, but I’ve put a protective spell around it, similar in nature to the one guarding the wall around the northern palace. Once you succeed in dispelling my magic with your own, you’ll know you’ve found your core. Crush this rock. That’ll be your training for now.”
                The pale stone was light in Malia’s palm, and it looked likely to shatter were she to drop it.
                “I’ll come back by sundown.” Kadem stood up, “Your friends too call for my attention. You stay here and focus on what I’ve told you. We’ll know how to proceed depending on your progress. Good luck.”
                Malia commenced her attempts by gripping the rock as hard as she could, confirming that its apparent frailty was misleading and that Kadem’s enchantment was as powerful as expected. Instinctively, she held the stone close to her heart; it was true that she was so used to conjuring magic for practical purposes, she wasn’t familiar with thinking about her motivation. She thought of her hope to reform the kingdom, of her fear of impotence before injustice, of her aim to make the world right. She kept those desires present as she summoned her magic and poured both it and her physical strength into clutching the white stone. It didn’t budge. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
                Malia was prepared to spend the forthcoming day thinking, questioning, trying repeatedly until any observable change gave her a clue as to which course to pursue. She did just that, time after time, again and again and again, as the minutes relentlessly slithered around her transmuting into hours one after the other.

                Kadem on her part dedicated her daytime to introducing Aldous and Bayard to her training methods. Bayard’s tasks were simple enough, obstacles and challenges that would subside if faced with constant effort, determination and a modicum of intellect. The silver witch was more worried about Aldous. As much as she enjoyed teasing the rowdy redhead, what awaited him was a daunting trial, even more so if she took into account the doubts he kept caged beneath his skull. The silver woman had never guided anyone before, so she had to make certain not to disfigure the steel she sought to temper with her excessive heat.

                Kadem returned to Malia later than planned, well past sundown, and encountered the princess sitting on the ground where she had left her. Only that, instead of irradiating eager resolve, Malia was completely defeated. She was sweating profusely despite the cold night air, her plum hair sticking to the sides of her face. She squeezed the small white rock one last time before glancing up at the silver witch. “I don’t get it.” She murmured, unwilling to properly voice what she was feeling, “I… I don’t think I can do it…”

Description
I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 42: MISLED

                Malia woke with a start. Her panicked demeanor was at odds with her tranquil surroundings. The last thing she remembered was the bliss of Gorken’s fingers through her hair; the warm touch of dawn on her face meant she had severely overslept. She got dressed in a rush and left her room behind with a single plea looping inside her head, don’t let it be too late, don’t let it be too late, don’t let it be too late.
                She exhaled a sigh of relief when she spotted Licorice talking to Aldous in the dining room; if the ancient demon was still there, the rest hadn’t departed either. She overheard something about a parasite when she passed them on her way to the door, and she saw Licorice handing Aldous a lock of green hair. She didn’t get it, but she had no intention of intruding either, so she focused on her actual goal: seeing Gorken and Lyra off.
                Malia ran into Bayard and Hedera halfway through a wooden hallway, and she had the impression she had interrupted some sort of bickering, given the demon’s darkened cheeks. When she finally reached her destination, she found Lyra and Gorken in the middle of a discussion just outside Kadem’s giant tree.
                “That would be completely inappropriate.” Lyra was stating decisively.
                “Look, we don’t have a horse, and I’m the best next thing.” Gorken gave his luggage a final inspection.
                “Please do not compare yourself to a beast.” Lyra admonished him, “I can’t regard you as a means of transportation. I said I wouldn’t hamper your travel, and having you carry me would definitely slow you down.”
                “Lyra, I won’t leave you behind. I’m being serious when I tell you carrying you on my back won’t be a burden. I’m stronger than you think, clearly.” Gorken then noticed Malia, “You should learn from your princess. She has no qualms about falling asleep wherever and having people carry her around.”
                Gorken was correct; Malia really didn’t have any qualms about having him carry her around, but she felt it was her duty to respond to the taunt in kind, “Indulge him, Lyra. He’s so eager to lift me in his arms every chance he gets, I would say he enjoys it. Don’t be rude and allow him to feel manly.”
                To Malia’s utter shock, her silly mockery was actually effective. Gorken started fidgeting with the buckle of his bag, pretending to be unaffected despite being distinctly flustered. She couldn’t suppress the urge to outwardly cherish him. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be this adorable.” Malia confessed as she hugged him from behind, “It isn’t fair.”
                “I got what I deserved, I suppose.” Gorken replied in a low mumble.
                “Have a safe trip.” She said. It was a command as much as it was a prayer.
                “I’m afraid my opportunity to appeal has vanished.” Lyra smiled resignedly, “If even the Princess insists on it, I’m left with no choice but to comply.”
                Malia embraced Lyra then, clinging to her handmaiden’s narrow shoulders, “Promise me you’ll keep each other safe. You must give Rose a kiss on the cheek for me, I’m sure she’ll adore you.”
                “As you wish, Princess.” Lyra returned the hug. Somehow, the blonde woman always managed to smell like flowers.
                The following moments seemed to stretch in Malia’s eyes, as if her wish to keep all she held dear close to her had dilated time. Inevitably, once Kadem had given all her warnings and everyone had said their goodbyes, Gorken, Lyra and the twins were swallowed by the lush limbs of the Gray Forest. Aldous, Bayard and Malia were left standing outside Kadem’s home, staring at the woods as if that would keep their friends out of harm.
                “Boys,” Kadem smashed the static instant, as was her custom, “Blondie’s no longer here, so you’ll clean up the mess you left in the hall you sleep in. Plum, you come with me. Don’t worry, you’ll get to clean your own messes too, in due time.”
                The young obeyed. Kadem walked patiently in front of Malia, at a pace the princess could keep up with, until they reached a pleasant spot to sit near the silver witch’s colossal tree. “As a child, here’s where my brothers sat me down when they had to explain tedious concepts to me. Let’s hope the breeze will be as affable to you as it was to me back then.”
                Malia nodded, grateful for the atypical benevolence.
                “Most of this training will occur in your brain.” Kadem began, “Or your heart, if we want to be sentimental. Its simplicity will be the biggest hurdle to overcome. The first and most crucial part of the process will be to understand. For what we need is to find the core of your magic.”
                “What is that? Is it something concrete?”
                “You’re likely tired of hearing it, but we define magic as the physical manifestation of will power. But what is human will power? Intent, desire, a wish. Your core is the primordial longing that defines your magic. The original craving that allowed you to be a magician in the first place. Each and every magic user has one, and they’re all equally powerful, once you find them. Being aware of your core, and devoting yourself to it, will make it so that your magic won’t lose to any external will. It will make your magic whole.”
                “That sounds simple enough…” Malia said, “So why haven’t I heard of it before?”
                “Because of the breadth of magic itself.” Kadem crossed her legs, “Human minds are limited. We need to categorize, to specialize, to break down knowledge into its smaller parts. In order to bend the laws of physics we must first study them thoroughly, mustn’t we? A regular lifetime is barely enough to master a couple brands of magic. Within that search, that separation to assist our perception of every component of any truth… it’s easy to lose sight of our original motivation, of the core that drove us in the first place.”
                The silver woman looked up at the tree tops, “…Let me tell you a story, to ground my abstract babbling… Imagine a man. Our little man discovers, one day, that his strongest desire is to sleep by the shadow of a rare tree from a childhood memory. He starts his quest by learning about the tree: its name, where to find it, why it’s rare. He realizes he ought to plant the tree himself, given how hard to find it is. He embarks on an adventure to find the seeds, and during it he studies all there is to know about caring for plants. He meets people on his journey, makes allies and enemies, and seeks lands to call his own where to plant his tree. An intricate web of deals and partnerships entangles him, and before his tree has grown, he dies in a battle to defend his associates.” Kadem returned her glance to Malia, “If our little man’s ‘core’ was the aspiration to sleep under his tree, everything else that happened in the tale would be the ‘spell’ to turn his will into magic. That’s how we humans lose sight of our core.”
                Malia’s mind could follow the logic easily enough, but she was doubtful on how to practically apply Kadem’s rationalization to her magic. “Do you know how to identify someone’s core?”
                “Ask why.” the silver woman pressed her finger on Malia’s chest, “Question every action you’ve ever taken, always asking why you did it, and eventually you should reach your core if you have been faithful to it. Question why you feel the way you feel, why you act the way you act, and discern it at the end of that path. Only you can find your own core, Plum.”
                Kadem pulled a white rock from underneath her layered skirt, “It’s true only you can find it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t nudge you in the right direction.” She handed Malia the little stone, “This mineral is extremely fragile, but I’ve put a protective spell around it, similar in nature to the one guarding the wall around the northern palace. Once you succeed in dispelling my magic with your own, you’ll know you’ve found your core. Crush this rock. That’ll be your training for now.”
                The pale stone was light in Malia’s palm, and it looked likely to shatter were she to drop it.
                “I’ll come back by sundown.” Kadem stood up, “Your friends too call for my attention. You stay here and focus on what I’ve told you. We’ll know how to proceed depending on your progress. Good luck.”
                Malia commenced her attempts by gripping the rock as hard as she could, confirming that its apparent frailty was misleading and that Kadem’s enchantment was as powerful as expected. Instinctively, she held the stone close to her heart; it was true that she was so used to conjuring magic for practical purposes, she wasn’t familiar with thinking about her motivation. She thought of her hope to reform the kingdom, of her fear of impotence before injustice, of her aim to make the world right. She kept those desires present as she summoned her magic and poured both it and her physical strength into clutching the white stone. It didn’t budge. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
                Malia was prepared to spend the forthcoming day thinking, questioning, trying repeatedly until any observable change gave her a clue as to which course to pursue. She did just that, time after time, again and again and again, as the minutes relentlessly slithered around her transmuting into hours one after the other.

                Kadem on her part dedicated her daytime to introducing Aldous and Bayard to her training methods. Bayard’s tasks were simple enough, obstacles and challenges that would subside if faced with constant effort, determination and a modicum of intellect. The silver witch was more worried about Aldous. As much as she enjoyed teasing the rowdy redhead, what awaited him was a daunting trial, even more so if she took into account the doubts he kept caged beneath his skull. The silver woman had never guided anyone before, so she had to make certain not to disfigure the steel she sought to temper with her excessive heat.

                Kadem returned to Malia later than planned, well past sundown, and encountered the princess sitting on the ground where she had left her. Only that, instead of irradiating eager resolve, Malia was completely defeated. She was sweating profusely despite the cold night air, her plum hair sticking to the sides of her face. She squeezed the small white rock one last time before glancing up at the silver witch. “I don’t get it.” She murmured, unwilling to properly voice what she was feeling, “I… I don’t think I can do it…”