Ippolita brought us to a clearing in the garden. She was sitting now on the ground in front of a massive tree with white blossoms. The trickling of water from one of the nearby fountains filled the night air. I stood there, not quite ready to sit and focus, and let the ambient mana’s melody blend with the sounds of water wash over me.
The path her tongue had traced on my arm felt alive with mana. Her mana. The entire walk here was filled with echoes of the feeling of her tongue on my skin and my mind wondering—and craving—how it would feel over the rest of my body. Not for the first time, I had the urge to let myself be consumed by their hunger and pleasure to help me forget about my grief, but just like every time before, I snapped back to my senses.
Doing that would just be running away, Jack. They deserve better than that. Stephanie deserves better than that.
I deserve better than that.
“Carissimo, where did you go?”
“What?” I asked.
“Just now, you were somewhere else.”
Familiar. A small smile formed on my lips. “It’s nothing, your majesty. I was just lost in thought. The gardens are peaceful tonight, but…” I trailed off and turned to look in the direction of the flower and hedge rings she had taken me to the other day. “Is that Dama Fiametta’s mana?” I asked.
“Very good senses, carissimo. I’m impressed you could pick her out amongst all of the noise.”
I shook my head and turned back to her, “It’s not really noise, your majesty. It’s you.”
She looked at me, eyes widening a fraction.
“All of the plants and flowers definitely emit some mana, but this,” I gestured to everything around us, “is just you. It is an orchestra playing your song. It’s easy to get lost in the individual instruments, sure, but it’s all playing in harmony. Anyone else’s mana would be obvious, like drops of errant paints on a finished painting.”
Ippolita’s cheeks darkened the longer I talked. There was a blurring around her, like she herself was vibrating. I furrowed my brows and touched my lips. The ghost of a sensation danced across them. I focused back on Ippolita, her cheeks still flushed. She looked away and scratched her cheek.
“Yes, well, it’s still very impressive, and not something many mages at your level can do. Dama Fiametta is close to breaking through and asked to go into seclusion until the ball. However, that will have to wait until after she takes you into town tomorrow for some shopping.”
“Shopping, your majesty? I,uh, well I have money, but I didn’t think to find out if it can be used here on the surface.”
Ippolita raised an eyebrow at me, “You aren’t paying for anything, carissimo. These are gifts for…” she trailed off and tapped a finger to her lip. “For breaking through. Yes, a reward for breaking through. Also you are my guest, and while my personal tailors can make you clothes, Chiara’s wife is one of the best blacksmiths in the city. I have had a few things commissioned for you.”
I bowed my head. “Thank you, your majesty, you are too kind, but you really don’t have to.”
“Nonsense. Like I said, it was a celebratory reward for breaking through, and I would be remiss if I, both as your host and the ruler of the city, didn’t furnish you to the best of my abilities at least until you can carve out some independence.”
“Then I graciously accept your beneficence.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Now come sit.”
I walked to where she was and sat down cross legged in front of her in my usual meditation pose.
“Dama Orsa has had you using the Mental Acuity enhancement for your training with her. You will continue doing that for physical training, but when you are with me and training your mana, you will not use it. Understood?”
I nodded. I had never thought to use the Mental Acuity enhancement to help with training before today anyways, so this wouldn’t be any different for me up until now.
“Good. Most mages use it for everything once they get the tattoo, but taking that particular shortcut won’t work for freeform mana manipulation. You are too disconnected from the natural melodies of the world.”
That made some sense, I supposed.
“This is the tattoo pattern for the Mental Defense enhancement spell,” she said and held one of her hands palm up. Above it, mana coalesced and then formed into a geometric pattern with many similarities to the previous tattoos I’ve seen. “And this is the ink ribbon that goes into it.” She held out her other hand palm up, conjuring another image in the same way. It looked similar to the Manablade ink ribbon, at least in form, but it was distinctly different in its details. For starters, the symbols were different, but more importantly, the resonance was completely different.
The resonance for the spell had many similarities to both the Toughness enhancement and the Mental Acuity enhancement, and like all of the other enhancement line of spells, it was looped in on itself. I always assumed that loop was what allowed it to be channeled indefinitely, provided you had the concentration and mana.
“Can I assume that this is enough for you to recreate it?” she asked, a slight challenge in her voice.
“I can’t say, your majesty. This is more than what I’ve had to go on in the past.”
There was the slightest falter in her expression. “More?” she asked.
“Yes, your majesty. When I learned the Toughness enhancement and the Strength and Speed enhancement, I didn’t have anything like this.” I gestured to her mana constructs.
“Then what did you use as a guide?”
For some reason, I felt embarrassed. I was reminded of my impoverished upbringing, and having to learn most things from the publicly available texts in the city’s library, which was wholly insufficient to becoming a successful adventurer.
“Uh, well, I just paid attention to other mages when they activated and channeled their own tattoo.”
Ippolita’s expression dropped slightly, her eyes widening, then she erupted in that bell-like laughter, a sound I would normally delight in hearing, but this time it just made me feel more embarrassed. My cheeks burned, but I reminded myself that I had made the best of what was given to me, and that was something to be proud of. At least, that was what Stephanie always told me.
“Oh, carissimo, I’m sorry for laughing, but you just continue to impress me. Copying a spell from feeling another mage’s cast of that spell is…” she giggled lightly, “It is not something I thought possible. Or if possible, maddeningly difficult. Channeling our mana through tattoos inherently adds inflections and accents to the resonances, in some cases it could be mistaken for an entirely different pattern.”
She smiled at me, and that same hunger from when she was tattooing me earlier had returned to her eyes. “Such an impressive man. Perhaps one of my aunts conspired to send you to me after all,” she said quietly.
What the hell does that mean? Aunts? How could anyone on the surface have affected the sky? Those clouds are impenetrable, right?
My mind raced with dozens of questions, I couldn’t stop myself from voicing at least one. Suspicion was gnawing at me. I needed to know. Surely, Ippolita wouldn’t have destroyed my home.
But how much do I really know about her? Or the other principesse?
“Your majesty, what do you mean aunts?” I asked, a slight tremor in my voice.
Her expression shifted again to one of concern. “I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to voice my thoughts, but don’t pay it any mind. My mother and aunts have all left the world.”
That confused me even more, but then I realized it might be no different than someone saying their dead loved ones are watching over them. I didn’t initially think of Ippolita as that kind of person, but one of my previous questions rang all the more true even now: How much did I really know about Ippolita?
“I’m sorry for your losses, your majesty.”
“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time ago, and I still talk to my mother, even if she doesn’t respond anymore.”
That’s even more confusing!
“But, focus now, carissimo. Here, I’ll activate and channel the spell using freeform manipulation so you have a more familiar learning aid,” she said and channelled the spell.
“Thank you, your majesty.” I opened myself more fully to the mana around me, her mana, and focused on how she shaped and then thrummed the looping measures of the spell. Since she was doing it freeform like I would be, those added inflections and accents she mentioned wouldn’t be present in the pattern.
As it snapped into my place, I inhaled sharply. It was beautiful. Not the spell itself, of course, but her performance. I’d seen her do various things with her mana before, like the constructs still floating in front of me and manipulating objects in the air. All things that can’t be done with a spell and relied solely on a mage’s ability to manipulate the mana around them—mind bogglingly impressive to be sure, and just one more thing that made her unknowably powerful, but this was the first time I’d seen her cast a proper spell, and it was breathtaking.
The spell originated from her, like all spells do, but the way it blossomed from her core, raced outwards, then suffused the rest of her mana, which was practically the only mana around us, was like being touched by one of the gods. That cozy and welcoming warmth I always felt around her, especially when she was blanketing me with her mana to soothe my grief, was present even now in the spell.
I came back to my self senses as a tear rolled down my cheek. It was too much. Seeing her, the constructs, the visible fluctuations in the air, and then feeling and hearing everything else well. I closed my eyes to help myself focus on the pattern. I slipped into controlled breathing and let myself drift.
Feel her mana, but let it wash past you. A rock in a river. Just the spell, focus on the spell.
I repeated the mantra in my head a few times until my mind finally settled and the intensity over everything was less overwhelming. I let the loop of the spell repeat itself in my head, then consciously began moving my mana to match hers. Nothing happened at first because of course it wouldn’t. I was merely copying her; I wasn’t casting it, but I continued playing my mana in concert with her, familiarizing myself with the intricacies of frequency pattern: all of its deviations and changes.
Ippolita had been right. Her doing a freeform channel of the spell made copying it orders of magnitude easier than trying to copy a tattoo channel. I had had to watch and memorize multiple people’s activations and channelings of the tattoo in order to reconstruct the actual spell for myself, but this… it was everything I needed. I stopped playing along with her; I focused on my core briefly, then, like plucking the incipit, I began the spell.
It took me five loops for it to snap into place correctly, and I immediately felt something separate me from Ippolita’s mana. It felt like trying to feel the texture of something with leather gloves on. It was disorienting. I had felt her pervasive mana all around me since the moment I first woke up in the guest estate, and now it was muted. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand why I felt this way. I didn’t feel her mana when I left the city over a week ago.
But back then there was the possibility of Stephanie being alive.
The realization was like a bucket of ice water. Was I becoming too reliant on the naturally comforting feeling of Ippolita’s mana? Did it matter? It covered the whole city.
Besides, letting myself be comforted right now isn’t a bad thing.
I shelved the thoughts and opened my eyes, releasing the spell. Immediately, I felt the comforting hug of her mana. The familiar feeling of a warm blanket on a cold night with a hot cup of mulled wine to chase away the chill—the sensation of coming home after a long trip. Ippolita was staring at me, no longer channeling the constructs or the Mental Defense spell, and I thought I saw her form blur and shift repeatedly. She was still seated a couple of feet away, but I could feel her breath upon my skin, soft exhales over my ears and inhales along my neck. I shook my head and wrote it off as just a weird disconnect from feeling her mana again so suddenly.
“Congratulations, cairssimo. You managed to recreate the spell faster than I expected!” she said. Her voice was slightly tinged with that sultry tone again.
“It was only possible because of your majesty’s assistance. In the past, I’d spent weeks studying multiple mages using the same spell trying to understand how to create it for myself.”
She smiled at me, showing her teeth; her fangs, which were normally hidden, were noticeably extended. “Then it sounds like you and I should spend a lot of time together.”
“Oh, to learn more spells, your majesty?”
Her smile dropped, and she rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, carissimo. To learn more spells.”
I fought to keep a smile off my face, taking far too much enjoyment from her reaction to my more innocent response. She muttered something under her breath, but I didn’t catch it.
“Now that you can cast the spell, I want you to practice it often. It should become something that is second nature for you. In a couple of weeks, I’ll have you try to cast it while you’re under the influence of mind magic.”
“Is it okay for me to openly practice freeform casting like that? I thought it was something I should keep hidden.”
“It is both. Here, you are fine. I have already been shrouding your presence from everyone except Damas Fiametta, Orsa, and Chiara and Filippa. However, outside of my palatial estate, then no. Do not use any freeform magic unless it is an emergency.”
“Why exactly is it something I have to hide? Dama Fiametta and Filippa just said it was a valuable trait, but not much else.”
She smiled again, this one vicious, predatory. “Yes. It is quite valuable. Only descendants of the Principesse have shown the talent for it, though there is the occasional outlier where that isn’t true. The people call them godtouched.” Ippolita dropped her smile and rolled her eyes again letting out a heavy sigh.
“It is superstitious garbage. Truthfully, anyone can do it. However, it something that must be learned though it cannot be taught. In very rare cases, someone comes to it naturally. Like yourself. Admittedly, the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of the principesse do seem to come to it naturally more often than anyone else, but in the case of my children, I have always subtly guided them to it.”
“How did you guide them to it if it can’t be taught?” I asked.
“By casting spells in front of them,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“But that… your majesty, how is that any different to how you treat anyone else.”
“Who said it was? The only difference is that I’m doing it while playing with my children, so it becomes something they see in their formative years.”
“Wouldn’t they just do the same for their children, and so on down the generations?”
Ippolita shrugged then, and I watched as a heaviness took up residence on her shoulders. She looked tired, uncharacteristically so.
“A parent can only do so much. You have to let your children grow and make mistakes. Over the years, mine have made plenty, and if not them, then their children. It’s been so many generations now, that I doubt any of the current nobles in the court know an accurate recounting of our history. They engage in petty squabbles over prestige or power. I never let it go beyond a point, but if I don’t let them play their games, they’ll find some other way to compete that will likely be less healthy for the city overall.”
I didn’t really understand, but it sounded like a headache. I can’t say I envied her being in charge.
“So if someone saw me doing freeform mana casting, then they would assume I am one of these godtouched?”
“Correct, carissimo.”
“I guess I’m still not understanding the significance or implication, your majesty.”
She tapped her lip and seemed to come to some sort of decision. “I cannot tell you many details because it would risk limiting your own cultivation, but it is commonly known that you cannot break through to the Immortal Realm without being able to do freeform manipulation. It is, perhaps, the biggest contributor to the lifestyle of the nobles. What is the point in continuing one’s cultivation if you’ll never pass the wall of the Immortal Realm?”
“That seems…” I trailed off, struggling to find the right words.
“Foolish? Lazy? Self sabotaging? Yes, all those and more.” She shook her head then continued, “The ones who see this for what it is often leave after reaching G. They know that staying here safely behind my walls will likely lead them to stagnation, or it already did and they finally became aware of it.”
I nodded. I remembered then that she had said I should randomly activate the Mental Defense enhancer to practice. I tried forming the spell again.
“That makes a little more sense. If it is believed that I am godtouched, then perhaps my children would be, too,” I said. The spell popped into place as I finished talking. Ippolita noticed what I was doing and smiled at me.
“Good boy,” she said, voice husky returning to that sultry register.
Heat creeped into my cheeks. I had never been called that before until coming here. The words did things for me that I didn’t understand how to process, so like everything else I’d been dealing with, I allowed myself to feel it and then just shoved the ‘thinking about it’ parts into a mental bottle, to be opened one day later—probably much later.
“And yes,” she continued, “that is the common belief, and that is also beneficial for you. It is something we can reveal about you later when you are stronger. However, your value is high enough as a human male that you can trade arranged marriages with your future offspring for some political alliances. The same is true for signed contracts guaranteeing that you will reserve a slot for them at the fertility ritual.” She raised her hand as she saw questions forming on my face.
“It is not something we need to talk about tonight. It can wait for another evening, perhaps over dinner tomorrow night. For now, I want you to play your mana with me the way you did with Dama Fiametta and Filippa the other day. It’ll help strengthen your ability for freeform manipulation,” she said.
And so we did. For hours. It was amazing. Since her mana permeated everything around us, the gardens were more receptive to her manipulations than when Fiametta and Filippa played music for our dancing practice. This in turn meant that it was more accepting of mine as well. I was both the audience and performer in a colorful sea of music. She would lead for a while, and I would chase after her with a harmony. Then she’d let me play a solo, and the entire city sang with me in harmony.
In the middle of our performance, the beauty and sensations of everything were beginning to overwhelm me again. I closed my eyes, and played something old, something familiar. I played Stephanie. The frequencies, sounds, colors, emotions, and vibrations of mana of her existence. Without thinking, I did my call and response trick, but instead of casting a spell, I played our love, our life together. Ippolita’s mana was still, a blanketing quiet over everything except for the duet of me and myself. I finished the movement with the expression hope, and opened my eyes, ready to deal with another round of the intense stimulations from our performance.
Ippolita was standing next to me holding my hand. I was standing, but I couldn’t recall standing up. Tears were rolling freely down her face, and I reached up to wipe them off her cheek. Her eyes widened, perhaps in shock at me touching her so casually, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t want our night to end like this, so I unleashed a loud and powerful thrum that went into one of the previous bridges we had played together. A gentle smile spread across her face as she picked it up with me and we continued playing.