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Shoshana Ch. 04

Shana sat up suddenly, breath still unsteady, and looked at her two companions--lovers really. One she had only just met tonight, and one she'd met just yesterday. Her smile was soft, reluctant, but certain as she began untangling herself from the warmth of their bodies, and slipped out of bed.

"I truly hate to do this," she said, bending to gather her clothes--including the shirt she'd left her the night befor--"but I have to get back. I've got a lesson to get to, and I cannot be late."

Nin sat up and smiled knowingly. "We still need to have a conversation about your training," she said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements unhurried, graceful in the way only someone fully at ease with herself could be. "But it can wait for another day. I don't want you to be late." She stood and crossed the room to Shana, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she finished getting dressed, the gesture tender in a way that contrasted with the smirk still gracing her face. "This was a lovely surprise. You are welcome back anytime. No need to knock." She turned toward Simm then, who was still sprawled across the bed, watching them with that same wide-eyed grin, somewhere between dazed and blissful. Nin raised an eyebrow, then gave a low, amused hum. "He was fun," she said, "but he doesn't know what we know." With a theatrical flourish, she pointed toward the door and raised her voice just enough to snap him out of his reverie. "Alright, loverboy--you got what you came for. Time to hit the road."

Shana gave the blacksmith a final kiss goodbye before stepping out the door, her smile widening at the sight of Simmaen grumbling as he reluctantly began to get dressed. "He was fun..." she mused, the thought warmed her, as she slipped into the darkening streets, the smell of the forge still clinging to her skin. A glance at the sky told her she had just enough time to get back without running--though if she was being honest, she was in no state to run anyway. Her legs still felt a little unsteady, her body pleasantly sore in all of the best ways. But even as she moved, the buzz of arousal softened into something more uncertain, a quiet tension building in her chest. "Only problem is... I have no idea what I am going back to." She bit her lip as she walked a little faster, the streets cooling under her feet. "What kind of lessons am I going to get?"Shoshana Ch. 04 фото

She was still unsure what to expect when she arrived back at the tower, the afterglow of earlier still humming beneath her skin like a fading ember. The door creaked open easily, and the room was empty. "I might have actually made it back with a few minutes to spare." With a flicker of relief, she decided to take advantage of the time and quickly go upstairs to deposit her shirt, folding it and tucking it in with the rest of her things--small moments like this helped to center her, even if they didn't quite settle the restless energy thrumming beneath her skin.

When she came back down the stairs, everything had changed. The familiar stone walls were now covered in wooden shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, lined with row upon row of books. The air no longer smells of old dust and damp stone, or even any of the food that was often set out on the table after a training session. Instead the air smelt of Parchment, wax, and something older--arcane. It reminded her of something. It was as if she had stepped into a memory, or a dream, or both at once. At the center of it all, sat Dak, her master, calmly waiting at a long wooden table, with several books already laid out before him.

Knowing better than to wait for him to speak, Shoshana took a seat on the opposite side of the table. The rows of books that lined the newly conjured shelves, seemed to imply that her evening lessons would be focused on reading and study. "That's not bad," she thought, recalling long hours spent with tutors in her childhood. "Reading books is tedious work. But it's not going to kill me like the physical training does."

"You may not think so," Dak said out loud, his tone calm. She hated how easily her could slip into her mind and read her thoughts. He had warned her more than once that if she didn't want her mind open to him, she would need to learn to block him, So far, her efforts had been wholly unsuccessful. "You may believe these lessons will be easier than the rest of your training. And at first, they will be. But I assure you--they will push your limits just as much, if not more."

Dak looked down at the open book in front of him, and turned it around to face her, pushing it toward her as he did. "Read this," he said.

Shoshana looked down and saw that the book was open to the very first page, which had only one line of text.

MAGIC ALWAYS COMES WITH A PRICE

The words were in bold, large letters.

She read them several times. Then she flipped the page and found the next several pages were completely blank. Frowning slightly, she looked back up to her master--and found him already watching her.

"Why do you think those words are written like that? Bold, alone, at the front of the book?"

She looked back down at the page again. That was when she realized why this room felt so familiar to her. It reminded her of one of the libraries she used to visit at the temple back home. And that led her to another memory. There had been a book she had studied, when she had been only ten or eleven. It too had something like this. A page at the beginning, with only one line, it had been gilded with gold leaf, and followed by several blank pages. It was a rare book.

"Because it's important," she said, her gaze lifting up. "Important enough that whoever reads this needs to sit with this message. Not just read it--feel it. That's why there are blank pages after as well. Because you are meant to take the time you might have spent reading those pages, thinking about this one line."

She was rewarded with a smile--a rarity from Dak.

He closed the book, and Shana saw, for the first time, the cover. Theories of Magic. A warning like that certainly made sense in a book with that title.

"You already know a little about the costs of magic, yes?" He gestured toward the top of the tower. "You tapped into your own power, unexpectedly, without proper training--and it drained you significantly."

Shoshana thought back to her first day atop the tower. The pain from the mental attacks searing through her mind had been brutal--but even that was nothing compared to the hunger and utter exhaustion she had felt after managing to fight him back. It was getting better. Fighting back grew easier with each attempt now that she knew a little more about it and what she was doing. The drain on her body was slightly lessened as well. But the difference was marginal at best.

Yes... she knew something of the price of magic. Though she suspected there was far more to it than mere hunger and fatigue. She looked back up to her master, who still watched her--as if wondering what her thoughts were.

"As if you can't read them as easily as this book."

"Oh, I can. You still haven't learned to close your mind off to me," he said with a smirk. "I wasn't wondering what you were thinking. I was amusing myself, watching you work through the meaning of the words, and how they pertain to you."

She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, her face flushing red. But there was no use being annoyed or angry. He was right.

Consequently, that is your lesson for tonight." He closed the book and stood, gathering the rest of the books from the table. "Think about those words. Think on them well. And tomorrow evening, I want you to tell me what you believe they mean. What is the price of magic? What will your price be?"

She watched as he disappeared up the stairs, then turned back to the table. "Magic always comes with a price," she murmured, her voice breaking the sudden silence of the room. She thought about what he had pointed out--how she had been drained after her lessons on the roof. But clearly, there was more to it than that. Hunger couldn't be the only price, or the book would have simply said: Eat before and after magic. No, there had to be more to it than that. Whoever wrote the book had placed those words there deliberately, made them bold, put them there alone--because they were important. And it wasn't because of hunger.

Shoshana continued to think about it as she stood and slowly made her way up the stairs to her room. "Cost... a cost to magic. What is the cost?" She didn't even notice the doorway vanishing anymore--it was simply part of her everyday life. She wondered whether the cost was metaphorical in nature, like the unintended consequences people often spoke of, or if it was something more real, more tangible.

As she began to disrobe, she considered that perhaps the cost was both. After all, the fatigue and hunger were undeniably real. And while she knew that with practice and training those costs would become easier to bear, there were likely other, similar tolls yet to be discovered. She had only scratched the surface of what magic could do. Unintended consequences were a risk with any action--not just magic--but when magic was involved, the risks were likely multiplied.

Satisfied that she had a solid foundation to build on for now, she climbed into bed, ready to rest. As her bare skin touched the softness of the mattress, her mind wandered back to the evening's earlier events--her body tangled with Nin's and Simmaen's. She smiled. It had been a good day. But the smile slowly faded as another memory surfaced: the rooftop, and her struggle to resist her master's mental assault. The sickening ease with which he had moved through her thoughts like pages in a book. He had watched--watched her and Nin make love--and she had been utterly powerless to stop him.

Just then, a thought occurred to her. He seemed to know of Nin. It was unclear if he knew her well, but he definitely recognized her. And there was no way anyone could have watched what the two of them had done together and not enjoyed it--not even stone cold Dak.

Perhaps she could use this to her advantage. He had already seen her naked several times, and shown no interest at all. But she was hoping that was just because he was hiding his thoughts and feelings deep behind his stoic defenses. It was sometimes maddening how composed he could remain around her. She had definitely tried, on more than one occasion, to tempt him with her body--but to no avail.

But now... now she had more to offer him. Not only had he seen her body in all its glory, but he had also seen Nin. He hadn't just seen them though, no, he saw them both in the throes of passion. That had to have piqued his interest--at least a little. Put a dent in his armor, perhaps.

Her fingers curled lightly in the sheets as her mind spun with possibilities. He had seen one memory--just one. But what if she let him see more? And not by accident. Not dragged to the surface by the brute force of his mental assault. No--what if she guided him next time? Offered something deliberately? The memory of earlier tonight with Nin and Simmaen still burned warm beneath her skin. It hadn't just been indulgent; it had been electric. Sacred even. Aaos would have smiled upon it.

Why should she hide that?

She wondered what it would feel like to let him watch. Not as a voyeur, but as a test. A trap, maybe. To open her mind not in submission, but with precision--inviting him in to witness her in her most unguarded ecstasy, and using that glimpse like a blade. He'd see her body--yes--but more than that, he'd see her control. Her confidence. Her power in pleasure.

And if she controlled what he saw... perhaps she could begin to control him.

Still, the thought carried a razor's edge. Letting someone into your mind, even deliberately, was dangerous. She hadn't chosen to show him anything before--the spell had reached in and yanked the memory free like tearing open a wound. But offering one now? That would be her move.

Her lips curled slowly into a smirk. She wondered if he would imagine himself in Simmaen's place, between her and Nin. She hoped he would, that would put him right where she wanted him.

Even still, she didn't know yet if she would do it. But knowing that she could--that alone gave her the advantage.

She let that thought settle, like a pebble dropped in still water--ripples spreading, fading, and then gone. No decisions yet. No need. Not tonight. Her body was still warm, her mind still thrumming, but the weight of the day was finally catching up to her. Wrapped in the forge-scented memory of earlier and the whisper of strategy beginning to form, Shana turned into the quiet, and her eyes slipped closed. With a final, drowsy smile on her lips, she let herself drift into sleep--unaware of how soon that plan would be put to the test.

The morning began like all the others. Shana woke up with a smile, her dreams still fresh and filled with pleasure. Usually, it was Aaos who visited her in the night--though for the last two, it had been Nin ho lingered in her mind. She dressed and met Dak on the rooftop for her first lesson of the day.

As usual, the roof training was grueling. The mental attacks took everything she had to resist. This wasn't the time to be playful--not yet. Her plan would have to wait.

But when they returned to the forest clearing later in the afternoon, a smirk crept onto her lips. She hadn't abandoned her plan--she was simply adjusting it. And she was about to discover a new piece to the puzzle.

She began replaying the memory--last night, with nin and Simmaen--vividly and deliberately in her mind. Every kiss, every sound, every flicker of firelight. She didn't try to push it toward her master. Not yet. For now, she simply focused on the memory for herself. It was thrilling, distracting... and strangely calming.

At first, her aim wavered. Arrows flew wide, and one of her daggers barely grazed its target. But as she let the memory settle--let it hum in the back of her mind like a soft beat--something shifted. Her hands steadied. Her breathing slowed. She found her rhythm again.

Her accuracy didn't just come back, it improved.

It surprised her how much the memory helped--not hindered--her focus. By the end of the hour, she was hitting her marks with smooth, confident precision.

As she retrieved her last dagger from the center of a small target, she smiled to herself. Reliving the memory of last night had turned out better than she had thought. She had expected to enjoy it, and to use it to tease and seduce Dak--she had not expected it to help her. "I wonder if he's been slipping into my mind again? Did he see any of that?"

It didn't really matter, she had her plan, and she was going to stick to it. She had to avoid thinking too loudly around him--at least, not until it was time.

Back in the tower, Dak informed her that again, she had about three hours before her evening lesson. He also reminded her of the assignment he had given her. She considered returning to Nin's--perhaps getting more fuel for her plan--but decided to stay in for today. She wanted to rest--to be sharp, steady, and ready for whatever came next.

Back up in her room she was thinking more about the cost of magic. Dak performed magic all of the time, and she never saw any costs involved. Then again, she didn't know how he did the things he did. She couldn't imagine the amount of power that went into moving an entire tower from one place to another the way he did. What kind of cost did he pay for that, she wondered?

By the time she descended the stairs for her evening lesson, no better answers had come to her. The only hope she had was that she was on the right track with what she had come up with, and that he would explain things further for her.

"Magic always comes with a price," he repeated the words from the book as Shoshana sat at the table across from him. "Your task for the evening, was to think about those words, and report back to me on what you believed them to mean," he explained as he looked at her. "What have you come up with?"

This was it. Whether she was right or wrong, her answer was the only one she had. "I think it's a warning. A warning that magic is not to be taken, or used, lightly. There is a price to be paid when you use magic. And I don't think it is as simple as just being tired or hungry afterward." She paused, searching for any hint that she was right, or that he agreed. She wasn't sure why she still did that. He was as emotionless as ever. "Sure, those are prices that we pay, but they are minor prices in the long run. As you told me before, with training, it will get easier, and those effects will lessen. So essentially, the price will go down the stronger I get. No, I think there are other prices, possibly worse ones. I'm not sure what all of them are, but I suspect that unintended consequences might be one of them."

That got his attention. A rare reaction: as his eyes widened slightly--genuine surprise, if only for a moment. "Very good. I am impressed. There are fully trained wizards out there that have been practicing magic for decades and longer, that still haven't fully grasped that truth."

Shoshana beamed with pride. "I had hoped I was at least on the right track," she said, trying to stay humble.

"You did well. And you are right," he continued. "There are other prices to pay."

His voice seemed to shift--growing distant, heavier somehow, as if something ancient spoke through him. It was still his voice, but not entirely his own.

"Magic always comes with a price. That phrase is no idle warning. The world of magic is balanced in ways few understand. The power you draw--from the ether, from the land's lifeblood--will demand something in return. This is an immutable law, no different than the sun rising or the tide pulling the sea. The price is not always immediate, nor is it always visible, but it will always find a way to collect."

"Sometimes, the toll is taken from the body. You've already felt this. To cast magic in this manor is to burn your own life force. For simple spells, the result is fatigue, hunger, a strain that rest and food may soothe. Larger, more powerful spells demand a steeper price. The body may wither. The skin pales. The heart weakens. In time, magic may take your youth, your vitality, even your soul."

"Sometimes the cost is of the spirit. Magic is a bridge between the physical and the ethereal--a doorway through which mind and, for the powerful, even flesh, may travel into realms unknown. There, one may encounter beings beyond comprehension--old gods, cunning spirits, or worse. And while these beings may offer power, they never give without a cost. Their designs are not your own. Many who seek their aid return broken--if they return at all."

"Then there is the cost to others. This is the most dangerous, and the least understood. Sadly it is also the most often overlooked. Magic must always be in balance. When you pull on the threads of fate, another may fray. You may summon magic to heal a friend, only to find you have wounded a stranger. Magic does not care about your intentions, only balance. When the scales are tipped to far, they will correct themselves--one way or another."

"Magic always comes with a price. It is a truth many deny--until it comes for them. No spell is weightless. No power is free. Like time, magic waits for no one. And the cost always comes due. Always."

As the final echo of Dak's voice faded into the quiet, the room felt heavier--thicker somehow, as if the words themselves had weight and had settled in the air between them. He did not speak again. The strange, distant timbre of his voice, the almost otherworldly cadence, had vanished with the last word, and was now replaced by the maddening calm of his. His eyes were still fixed on her, but they were distant now--watchful, yes, but also, waiting.

 

Shoshana swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She wasn't sure what she had expected from this lesson, but it hadn't been that. Not truths that ancient and terrifying, wrapped in the language of inevitability. Not costs measured in youth, soul, or the unraveling of fate. She had thought she was chasing knowledge, power, purpose. And maybe she still was. But now, now that power no longer shimmered in her imagination like something distant and golden. It loomed.

She leaned back slightly in her chair, blinking slowly, as if trying to decide whether if the air in her lungs still belonged to her. "That's..." She trailed off, brows knitting together. "It; s more than I expected."

Dak gave no answer, nor did he need to. She rubbed her palms along her thighs, grounding herself.

"I mean--I knew there were dangers," she said finally, her voice low and thoughtful. "You've shown me that already. And I felt the pull--the drain. But I didn't know it reached that far. Into other people. Into... other places."

There was a beat of silence between them. Dak said nothing. The lesson was still happening, she could feel it.

Shoshana looked down at her hands, at the faint calluses forming where bowstring met skin. "So, it's not just about paying the price yourself," she said slowly, carefully, working through it like a puzzle. "Sometimes you don't even know what the price is. O who pays it. But the magic will take a price either way."

Still no reply. She could feel his approval. Not warmth--Daak didn't do warmth--but attention. Engagement. He was waiting for her to work this out on her own.

She let her thoughts drift just a little further, like toes testing the edge of a dark, deep pool. "How many people had to pay for a spell they never cast? How many wounds have been healed at the cost of something unseen, unfelt... until it was too late?"

A chill crawled up and down her spine. Not fear exactly, but awe. This was the kind of knowledge that changed people. That marked them.

She exhaled slowly. "You weren't exaggerating," she said, her voice quiet. "It really does always come with a cost."

He nodded, then leaned forward and pushed the book toward her. "So," he said, his voice fully his own again, calm and composed. "Now that you have a better understanding of that, take a moment and consider these words again: 'Magic always comes with a price' Think not just about the meaning, but about how the words were presented. What is your conclusion?"

Shoshana felt the weight of the question settle across her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She looked down at the page--at the single old like etched into its center. And then, suddenly, something clicked. Her eyes widened as she looked up at her master.

"It's not just a warning about the costs of magic," she said slowly, the realization dawning as she spoke. "It's a warning to pause. To think before you use magic. You said it yourself--magic is ancient, par of the earth, tied to everything. That's why this is at the very beginning of the book, all by itself. It's not just telling me that there will be a price--t's telling me to ask myself whether or not that price is worth it at all."

Shoshana shook her head, almost smiling at her own blindness. "I didn't see it before, but it's so obvious now. Maybe I don't have to use magic. Maybe the goal can be achieved some other way. And if so, why risk the cost?"

Dak smiled again--rare, restrained, but unmistakably genuine. And in that moment, she knew: not only had she gotten it right, but he hadn't expected her to.

"Very good," he said, and the praise warmed her in a way she refused to let show.

E folded his hands together, his tone still even, but edged now with something like approval. "As you learn to hone your abilities and perform specific spells, you'll come to understand the cost of each one. Once you know them, you'll be able to judge--conciously--whether or not they are worth paying. Simpler spells, like the mental defences we've been working on, draw primarily on our personal energy reserves. A balanced diet and proper rest will be enough to recover. And the more you practice, the less energy it will take. Soon, I expect, you'll manage to construct actual defences, not just brute-force resistance. That will make things much easier."

He leaned back in his chair, folding one leg over the other. "When we move beyond this and begin the study of more advanced spells, I'll start by teaching you the cost of each, and how you'll pay it. I'll also show you how to draw from sources beyond your own reserves--though, as you may guess, though often come with prices of their own."

Shoshana tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "Other sources?" Her voice was curious, but wary. "If the price is already so high when magic comes from me, what does it cost when I pull from something else?"

Dak regarded her in silence for a moment, as if weighing how much to say. Then he nodded once, slowly. "A wise question," he said. "And one that many never bother to ask--until it's too late."

He stood, pacing behind the chair now, his fingers laced behind his back. "Your own energy is limited, yes. But it is also yours. The costs are predictable, recoverable--painful, perhaps, but clean. Drawing from outside yourself, that is another matter entirely."

He stopped beside the table, resting one hand on it's worn edge. "There are many sources of magic in the world. The land itself, with its ancient leylines. Elemental nexuses buried beneath mountain roots. Sacred places where the boundary between realms thins. You can draw from other living things--trees, blades of grass, even people. And yes," he glanced at her. "There are beings--spirits, forgotten gods, primordial echoes--that can lend power as well."

Shoshana's breath caught in her throat, though she managed to ep her expression still. "Forgotten gods..."

Dak continued, unaware--or perhaps pretending not to notice. "Tapping into those sources can yield incredible results. Spells of enormous strength. Impossible feats made real. But the prices..." His voice dropped slightly, the edges turning flint-sharp. "The prices are almost never what you expect. Some cost blood. Some cost memory. Some cost parts of yourself you won't realize are missing until much later."

He looked at her now--truly looked, his gaze uncomfortably direct. "And the worst of them--the ones that offer help freely, without even asking for anything in return? Those are the ones that take the most. Just not right away."

Silence settled between them again, thick and still.

Shoshana swallowed, her mouth dry once more. "So, the more powerful the magic, the steeper the cost. And the more tempting the source... the more dangerous it is?"

Dak gave a small satisfied nod. "Now you're thinking like a mage." He looked upward, as though recalling something long-practiced yet rarely spoken aloud. "When you are trained enough, you can store your own power in objects, letting it build over time." He touched a ring on his left hand, and for a moment the gemstone on it began to glow a soft purple. "I've just added some of my power, my life force into my ring here. Just enough that I can replenish with a good night's sleep. But, I do this every night, and over time, the power stored in my ring has grown to be massive. On days when I expend little energy, I can add more to the ring."

He turned toward the stairs, the lesson clearly nearing its end. "For now, your focus should remain on mastering the magic within yourself. There is power there--more than you know. But never forget that temptation lies in the shortcuts. And in magic, shortcuts often lead straight into ruin."

He paused at the base of the stairs. "That will be all for tonight. Get some rest, you've earned it."

Shoshana just sat there in silence for several minutes, trying to wrap her head around the information she had just been given. When she looked up again, Dak was gone, and the room had returned to normal--the books and shelves gone, replaced by bare stone walls.

"I wonder what the cost of that magic was," she thought to herself. "What price does he pay every time he changes the room... or moves the tower? And is it worth it?

She wasn't sure. And worse, she realized there was a good chance he wouldn't be doing those things at all if he wasn't training her. "Am I the cause of whatever price he has to pay?"

Her flash went cold as a memory surfaced--the night she had first met him:

"If you want to learn, I can teach you. But it will cost you."

Those had been his words. They had never discussed what that cost might be. Even now, more than half a year later, he had not mentioned it again.

What if this was the cost? What if she would somehow have to pay the price for all of his magic? Was that even possible?

Her breath caught as the doorway leading to her room shimmered and then sealed itself into smooth, unbroken stone once more, the way it always did. The magic felt sharper this time, colder.

"Gods, What have you gotten yourself into this time Shana..."

Shana leaned against the cool stone wall, arms crossed, watching the doorway that no longer existed. The weight of Dak's lesson still hung over her--no power without consequences, no spell without its weight. The price always comes due.

"Yeah," she thought, "but it doesn't always come due right away..."

She pushed herself off the wall and crossed the room, the heels of her feet whispering against the floor. Her thoughts were still heavy--but her smile was not. There was a curl to it now. A little sly, a little reckless. She pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it aside, letting the cool night air tickle her skin. Once he had fully disrobed, she dropped herself onto the bed with a groan that was part exhaustion, part satisfaction.

"I'm not going to waste what I've learned," she murmured aloud, letting the flickering torchlight cast golden shapes across her skin. "But I'm not going to become a paranoid monk about it either."

She stretched, arms overhead. Her body still hummed with the emory of the forge, the pressure of hands, mouths, and heat. And tomorrow, she had every intention of making sure that Dak remembered it too. He had already seen her and Nin. But now--now--she had something even more provocative to offer. Something fresh. Something charged. Something he could put himself into if he so chose. That memory was still ripe, still flickering behind her eyes, every detail intact.

The trick would be subtlety. That was always the trick with Dak. He wasn't a man easily baited. She knew that well enough. He responded to strength, not softness. Composure, not desperation. But now? Now she had something different. Not just seduction--but strategy. Her body, her pleasure, her control over her own memories. A gift and a weapon.

She rolled onto her side and ran a finger down the curve of her hip, thoughtfully. If he wanted to invade her mind again, she'd be ready. She wouldn't fight him this time. She'd invite him in. Let him feel the weight of her desire--not for Nin, not for Simm, but for him.

She smirked. The price of magic might be high. But the rewards...? Sometimes worth every drop of it.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would stop replaying the memory as a comfort--and begin wielding it like the spell it truly was.

She began replaying the scene in her head as she lay back on the bed, her hands sliding down her body with unhurried purpose. The sheets beneath her were soft against her bare skin, but in her mind, the forge still burned--its heat, its scent, the way the firelight had turned sweat into gold on her skin.

She closed her eyes and let the memory bloom. The press of Nin's mouth. The weight of Simmaen's body against hers. The way laughter had melted into sighs and the air had turned thick with wanting. Every sound, every look, every gasp was still vivid, preserved like pressed flowers between the pages of her mind.

Her hand found her hip, then the dip of her stomach. She didn't rush. This wasn't about chasing pleasure--it was about inhabiting it. Claiming it. She arched her back slightly, lips parting as she let the sensations return, layered and slow.

There had been power in that moment, she realized--not just in what they had done, but in the way she had owned it. No shame, no hesitation. Just want, given and received in equal measure. It had been more than indulgence. It had been a reminder. This is who I am.

Her breath hitched softly as her palm slid lower, circling, teasing. Not to finish--just to feel. To remember. To feed the fire.

Because tomorrow, she would need it burning hot. Tomorrow, she would offer Dak something he hadn't seen yet from her--not rebellion, not submission, but control. Ownership. Seduction without apology.

Her body moved beneath her hand like water, slow and sure, and for a time, she let herself sink into the memore--into her own warmth, into the promise of what was to come.

Later, when her breath had been steadied and her skin cooled, she curled into the softness of the sheets, her thoughts lingering not on the past, but on the morning ahead. She wasn't just training her mind, she was preparing her weapon.

She drifted off to sleep, the scene continuing to replay over and over in her mind. Her dreams began filled with sex--Nin, Simm, even Aaos and Dak visited her. But after Dak appeared, sometime in the middle of the night--the dreams took a darker turn. She found herself tempted to perform magic--spells she had never heard of before. And the prices for those spells were unimaginable. She had to kill people. She had to give up her soul. One spell demanded the destruction of an entire village.

By the time she woke, she was tossing and turning in turmoil. Her bed was drenched, likely from both the heat of the first half of her dreams, and the horror of the second. She sat up, breathing hard, and looked around, trying to shake the lingering discomfort.

After a few moments of stretching, she felt a little better. Her smile returned as she remembered her plan. The memory of Nin and Simm began to play anew in her mind as she stood and slowly got dressed. When the stone gave way to a doorway, she followed Dak out and up to the roof.

On the roof, she stood across from her master, prepared for what was to come. Her mind was clear of everything except for her weaponized memory. The sounds of pleasure echoing in her head were so loud in that moment, she almost didn't hear him ask if she was ready. She simply nodded in response, a smile on her face. She planted her feat firmly on the stone beneath her and waited.

For a moment, she thought she felt something--but the pain never came. She stood still, waiting, but nothing happened. Confused, she looked up and saw Dak falter slightly, a bead of sweat gathering on his brow. He stepped forward, and she watched as he seemed to push even harder--but still, she felt nothing.

Finally, he seemed to relax, as if he had been straining with all of his might. He stepped back. "Enough," he breathed, clearly drained. "We are done with that."

Shoshana straightened, stunned. What had just happened? The usual pain had never come; she hadn't felt him in her mind. There had been a flicker at the beginning, but that was it. Had he seen the memory? Had he seen anything?

Dk studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke--his voice calm, but edged with something harder to define. "What did you do differently?"

Shoshana hesitated. The question wasn't unexpected, but it still felt like a test. She weighed her options--considered softening the truth or sidestepping it altogether--but in the end, she knew there was little point. If he hadn't seen the memory--and something about the way he looked at her now, suggested he hadn't--then he would figure it out soon enough. He always did. So she lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. "I focused on something specific," she said, keeping her voice even. "A memory."

That earned a flicker--a small, telling shift in his expression. Not surprise exactly, more like interest sharpening at the edges. "Which memory?"

She didn't flinch. There was no need to. She had no shame in her activities. And besides, she had fully intended to let him see the memory anyways. "A few nights ago. Nin and I, along with a man from town. We had quite a wild evening together."

If he was caught off guard, he didn't show it. But there was a new stillness in him now--a subtle tension, like a string pulled taut beneath calm waters. She wondered if he had expected her to dance around the truth, to offer some vague excuse or deflection. But no--she wanted him to know. Not just because it was the truth, but because it was calculated. She wanted him to desire to be a part of it--to desire her.

"I kept it in my mind," she continued, slowly now, watching for any reaction on his face. Her voice dropped into the familiar tone she often used when trying to seduce a potential partner to bed. "On purpose. I didn't try to direct it toward you. I just held it there--bright, loud, vivid. I figured if your spell draws on whatever is near the surface, maybe I could... offer it something. So I offered it this memory, a gift for your spell, and you," she purred.

He said nothing, but his silence wasn't empty. It was the kind of silence that pressed against her skin like heat. She could feel him analyzing, recalculating, trying to determine what had shifted. She crossed her arms, letting the moment hang. "But you didn't see it, did you?"

Dak's eyes narrowed just enough to betray the truth before he said it. "No," he said at last. "I didn't."

And there it was. Her plan had taken another unexpected turn neither of them had predicted. Instead of arousal rising in her chest, she felt something else--curiousity, satisfaction, and beneath that, the first tingling sense of power. Something had happened. Something had changed.

Dak's eyes moved for just a moment, but it was enough to betray that he knew what had happened. It was brief though, as his stoic look returned as he began to study her again. "I see. And why did you choose that particular memory?"

Shoshana swallowed hard, wondering what to do. Should she tell him? Could she? Her plan had been to seduce him, but telling him now would certainly ruin that. Worse though, would he know if she was lying? She weighed the options for a moment before realizing that if he couldn't see anything when he was trying, perhaps the same method could keep him from her mind while she told a little lie now.

She let the memory rise again, vivid and familiar--the firelight, the heat of the forge. She wrapped herself in it like armor, letting it hum at the edge of her mind. It didn't matter whether he could sense it or not; what mattered was that she could feel it. If it calmed her, grounded her, maybe that alone would be enough to keep him out.

"It was a very fun night, and I enjoyed it. It brought comfort to me. And, it was the freshest memory in my mind, and I knew I could recall every detail perfectly."

It wasn; t the whole truth. It wasn't even the real reason. But it was close enough to sound plausable--and wrapped in the veil of the memory, it felt safe. Contained. And as she held his gaze, waiting to see if he would challenge the answer, she reminded herself: this wasn't deception. Not really. It was just part of the game. A move in a much longer play.

Dak's eyes shifted--barely, just aflicker--but it was enough. For the briefest of moments, his stoic mask cracked and Shoshana saw the glint of understanding behind his gaze. He knew. Whatever had just occurred between them--whatever had blocked him--it hadn't gone unnoticed. But just as quickly, the emotion vanished, smoothed away beneath that unreadable exterior as he resumed his careful study of her.

 

He didn't press her further. He held her gaze for another beat, as if searching for something, then gave a small nod and stepped back. There was no accusation in his voice when he finally spoke again.

"You built a wall," he said simply. "Not with intent, perhaps--but it held all the same. The memory you chose... you focused on it so completely, so vividly, that it left no room for anything else. I tried to enter, as we've done each morning--but this time, there was no opening. You flooded your own mind with one thought, one experience, until it filled every corner."

He began to pace very slowly, not out of agitation, but thoughtfulness, his voice shifting into that measured cadence he used when teaching. "Mental magic--defencive or invasive--is not just about strength. It's about space. A mind is like a room, full of windows and doors. Usually, I can slip through one without much resistance. But today, there were no doors. No cracks. Just... that memory. "

He stopped and turned back to face her, arms folded. "When I realized what you were doing, I increased the pressure. I pushed harder, more directly. Still nothing. I could feel the barrier, feel the presence of something strong and steady--but I could not pass it. And that Shoshana, is remarkable."

Her eyes widened slightly, and he smiled--just faintly. "What you did today is the first true step toward shielding your mind. And the method you used... was instinctive. You used something powerful, something emotional, something alive. That is the key. It doesn't have to be a memory, though memories are often the easiest. It can be a sound, a scent, a song. A mantra even. Anything you can focus on with that level of intensity. Anything that fills you so completely, that nothing else can get in."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her anew--not just as a student, but as a mage in the making. "Eventually, you'll learn to do it without needing that level of emotional charge. You'll be able to summon the wall at will, weave it from your willpower alone. But this..." He gestured loosely toward her. "This was a real defense. The kind that most initiates can't manage for months, perhaps longer."

He let those words settle. Then, with deliberate calm, added, "you should be proud. You didn't just resist me. You blocked me out completely."

Shosana felt those words wash over her like the warmth of a fire--not sudden or overwhelming, but steady, and real. Her chest rose with a slow inhale, and she realized only then that she had been holding her breath. Her fingers flexed at her sides, trying to ground herself in the moment. Praise from Dak was rare--had been rare. In the early months she could go weeks without a single kind word. But lately, it was happening more. A nod here, a quiet 'very good' there. And now this. Clear, unmistakable approval.

Her lips curved, not in triumph, but in quiet satisfaction. "I must be improving," she thought, the idea surprising her with its truth. Not just surviving anymore. Progressing. Becoming. The thought settled somewhere deep in her core, both comforting and dangerous. "He's noticing."

"From this point forward, I expect you to keep yourself shielded at all times." He stopped pacing and came to a halt directly in front of her. "I will begin randomly attacking you throughout the day, without warning."

Shoshana nodded, unsure if her voice would hold steady. The thought of him reaching into her mind at any moment was unnerving--terrifying even. How was she supposed to keep her defenses up constantly? That sounded exhausting. Maybe she should find something simpler to anchor her focus--he had said it didn't have to be a memory. Perhaps a scent, a sound, a phrase whispered on repeat. Something smaller, something more sustainable.

"For now, we are done. We will skip the forest training today as well. You have the rest of the day to yourself, until your evening lesson." He gave a small wave of his hand, and the familiar shimmer of magic summoned the door a few feet away.

"Keep your defenses up," he warned, just before stepping through the door.

Shoshana stood in place for several moments after the door closed behind him, the lingering echo of Dak's footsteps fading into the sounds of waves crashing against the tower below. "No forest training, she repeated to herself, a slow smile spreading across her face. That meant she had the entire afternoon to herself--precious, unstructured hours that she hadn't had since this new schedule had begun. Her mind immediately jumped to Nin. It was tempting, perhaps too tempting. Another visit wouldn't just be indulgent, it would be fuel. She could argue that, at least to herself. And Aaos knew she could use a little more fuel to get through the coming days.

But then there were Dak's parting words. Keep your defenses up. Her smile faded, just slightly. Pleasure was one thing--defense was another. As thrilling as it had been to shield herself with that memory of Nin and Simm, she knew that was not a strategy she could maintain all day, every day. She had to find something simpler, something she could grasp in an instant. A touchstone that didn't carry the risk of getting lost in the pleasure of it. As fun as those memories were, they were... consuming. Distracting, dangerous. She still intended to try to use them as a weapon when she could, though she wasn't sure how. But she needed something else for a defense.

She sighed, turning away from the edge of the rooftop and stepping through the conjured door, which shimmered for a moment before vanishing behind her. Her thoughts turned inward. What could she use? A sound? A scent? The rhythmic twang of a bowstring, the feel of the bow's grip in her hand--those were good possibilities. Familiar, physical. Or perhaps, her breath. A slow inhale, a steady exhale. That was how she had learned to focus and aim with her bow. A mantra might work too, not just words, but something personal, anchoring.

You are still you. That thought surfaced unbidden. It was something she had whispered to herself once, when she feared she might break during those early days of mental assault on the rooftop. It had helped then, maybe it could help again.

But even as she weighed her options, the tug to go see Nin lingered. Maybe she could still go--just for a bit. A quick visit, a kiss, a stolen hour of pleasure and warmth. Just enough to unwind, not enough to distract. She was getting better at balance, wasn't she?

Still, she knew she shouldn't go until she had chosen her new shield. That much was clear. Not because Dak demanded it, but because this morning had been a victory. And she liked winning.

You are still you. As she entered her room, those words came back to her again. "I am still me." she thought, letting the mantra roll off her mind's tongue a few times. "And me... is a follower of Aaos. A seeker of pleasure. So maybe... maybe I can find something simpler--something that's still part of those memories--to focus on."

Her thoughts wandered back to the forge, to the way the heat had wrapped around her like a second skin. Not just the heat of bodies, but the fire itself--the deep, constant warmth of the coals, the scent of burning metal and ash that clung in the air, and to Nin's hair, her sheets, even Shana's clothes when she left. It wasn't just sensory,--it was grounding. Elemental.

"That's it," she realized, a grin forming on her face. "I'll focus on the forge. The heat, the warmth, the smell."

She focused on that thought--felt the warmth of the forge envelope her, the heat curling around her limps like a lover's touch. The scent of ash filled her nostrils, thick and familiar. She breathed it in deeply, letting it settle around her like a suit of armor, solid and sure. With a satisfied sigh, she opened her eyes and smiled. Yes. This would work. It was close enough to the original memory--to Nin--to feel intimate, pleasurable, but simple enough not to overwhelm her or pull her focus away. It grounded her, rather than consumed her.

She felt safe with Nin's forge guarding her mind. Armed with that warmth of that shield, she practically skipped down the stairs and out the door, heading toward the village--toward the real forge, towards Nin.

The forge was quiet when Shana arrived--eerily so. No clang of a hammer, no hiss of steam, not even the sounds of moaning or giggles from fun activities in the back room. She went around the back, and stepped inside. She found the fire banked, the tools neatly set aside, and a light layer of ash settling undisturbed on the anvil.

A folded scrap of parchment sat atop the workbench, pinned beneath a half-polished buckle. Shana recognized Nin's fluid, looping script immediately:

"Gone to retrieve more Dark Iron. Keep your hands off anything glowing."

There was no mention of who the metal was for, which made sense. Dark Iron wasn't a common metal, and it was likely whoever had commissioned the work Nin needed it for, was both wealthy as well as powerful. Not the kind of person she could mention casually in a note.

Shana smiled faintly, letting the scent of the real forge surround her. She thought about staying, waiting for Nin to return, but there was no telling when that might be. Instead, she decided to head over to the Wandering Dagger, the inn and tavern she had gone to when she had first arrived in town so long ago--where she had first met Dak. It seemed like so long ago now.

She walked over to the tavern and stepped in, confidence on her face, her armor in place around her mind. Inside, she ordered a drink and made her way to the corner table--the same one where she had first met Dak. She settled into the shadows, just as he had that night--and watched the other patrons while she sipped her ale. A few familiar faces caught her eye. One of the men at the bar had been among those who had stared at her as she ran topless through the streets that first night with Nin, he did not see her.

Another she recognized was a woman now dancing lewdly in front of a group of men--someone Shana had seen here on her first night in town. She was attractive, in an earthy sort of way, with loose waves of chestnut-brown hair cascading down her back and a full mouth that formed into a beautiful smile. Her top was basically just colored scarves, tied in knots just beneath her breasts, the fabric clinging damply to her skin in the heat of the tavern. Her hips moved with a practiced and deliberate rhythm that made it impossible not to watch. The woman laughed as the men surrounding her grew more eager. She swatted away their groping hands with a sharp snap of her wrist and a playful glare.

"Men," Shana thought to herself with a scoff. "Most of those idiots wouldn't know what to do with a beauty like that if they got a hold of her anyway."

Shana continued to watch as the day went on. More than once, she was mesmerized by the woman dancing and considered joining her, but thought better of it. She didn't have the time to introduce herself to someone like that properly--it would take several hours for a proper introduction, and she just didn't have that luxury right now.

Instead, she finished her drink and left the tavern, walking back toward Nin's place to see if she had returned. As she approached, she saw that the forge still appeared dark. She was disappointed that she wouldn't get the chance to see Nin tonight, but she knew the blacksmith had a business to run.

As she was turning to head back toward the tower, she stumbled as pain sliced through her mind like a knife. She knew what it was immediately. Her master had warned her--he had said he would attack her randomly throughout the day, and she was supposed to keep her defenses up. But he had caught her in a moment of weakness. She had let her guard slip.

As she struggled to stay on her feet, she looked up at the forge, using the image of it to summon the memory into her mind. She felt the warmth wash over her. The scent of ash and burning metal filled her mind. Her skin grew sticky with sweat, both from the exertion of the attack as well as from the memory of heat. But she could feel the wall forming--rising up around her, pushing back against the pain--until all that remained was the comforting heat of the forge.

"Better," came the voice in her mind. "But next time, don't let your guard down."

"Yes Master," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

No reply came.

She stood there for several minutes, steadying herself. Breathing deep, and letting her limbs stop trembling before she dared to move. When she did, she started back toward the tower, quietly chastising herself. She had done so well all day, keeping the memory alive in her thoughts. She didn't know whether that was his first attack or not, but it was the only one that had broken through.

By the time she reached the tower, she was feeling better about everything. This was only her first day using a true mental defense--and slipping just once seemed, in hindsight, like a solid first attempt. Dak's voice hadn't sounded angry when he spoke to her after the attack. If he had truly been disappointed, she suspected his tone would have been much different.

She glanced at the sky as she arrived and saw that she had about an hour before her lesson. Just enough time to change her clothes and grab something to eat.

Shana climbed the last few steps into her room. The weight of the day hadn't quite hit her until just now, but as she leaned against the stone wall, she could feel it in her shoulders, in the ache at the base of her spine, and in the corners of her thoughts. Even so, there was a kind of satisfaction woven through her fatigue. The day hadn't been easy, but it had gone well.

She moved slowly, stripping off the clothes she had worn out into town and dropping them in a small pile by the edge of the bed. Her tunic smelled faintly like the forge--fitting, given the armor she had been summoning all day. She didn't mind the smell. In truth, it grounded her. It reminded her that she had learned something, that she had changed, even if only a little. Her training was no longer theoretical. She had done something. Proved something. Even if she had slipped once.

Standing naked for a moment, she stretched her arms up above her head, rolling her shoulders back, releasing the last of her tension. Then she grabbed a clean shift--simple, soft, and loose--and put it on. She braided her hair, more out of habit than anything else. No one would see her tonight other than Dak, but the routine was familiar and comforting.

As she was braiding, her thoughts returned--as they always seemed to--to Dak's words: Magic has its own will. Magic demands a price. Even now, hours later, the gravity of that conversation echoed in her mind. She had known there were risks. That much had always been obvious. But there was a difference between knowing and understanding. The way he spoke... it hadn't just been teaching. It had been a warning. One wrapped in lore, ancient truth, and the weight of experience. One she would be a fool to ignore.

And yet, even with that warning lingering in her thoughts, she couldn't help but feel the smallest thrill in her chest. She had done it. She had successfully shielded herself. She had managed to keep him out--even forced him to stop. That had never happened before. Not even close.

She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, her braid finished. She let that realization wash over her, letting it warm her the way the forge's fire had earlier, in her mind. "He said he'd be attacking me randomly from now on," she reminded herself. "Which means he could hit again at any moment."But now, she didn't feel helpless about it. She had a defense. She had a strategy. She had a chance.

Still, pride aside, her stomach growled indignantly, reminding her that her last real meal had been... what? A bite of bread and a mug of ale at the tavern? Hardly a feast. And she'd been running on that and nerves for hours now.

Making her way down the stairs, she entered the main room, where the dining table sat most of the day. It wasn't anything elaborate--just a solid oak table, a few mismatched chairs, a long counter with a built-in shelf that doubled as a pantry. The food was always simple but good. Somehow, it never seemed to spoil, and the shelves were never quite empty. Another one of Dak's enchantments, no doubt, though she had never asked how it worked. Some magic, she suspected, was better left unexplained. Let a few things stay mysterious.

She pulled together a plate of roasted root vegetables, half a round of dark crusty bread, and a wedge of pale cheese. There was even a bit of honey tucked away on the shelf, which she drizzled lightly over the bread before settling down at the table. An iron cup of cool water followed, and she let herself relax as she ate.

The silence of the tower was different now. Less oppressive, more reflective. Her mind wandered as she ate, chewing softly, savoring the taste. The vegetables were earthy and sweet. The bread cracked beneath her teeth, its rough texture softened by the honey. It was comforting, grounding. She'd earned it.

"What will tonight's lesson be?" she wondered. After a day like today, would he push her deeper into magical theory? Would she learn her first actual spell? Or was he going to keep hammering her defenses until they were second nature? She wasn't sure which part excited her more. Or terrified her more.

She tore another bite from the bread and leaned back in her chair, staring at the plain stone wall across from her. She knew better than to expect anything mundane to last long in this tower. Dak always seemed to favor dramatic transitions.

Her gaze drifted to the bookshelf across the room--the one that hadn't been there the night before, but had appeared as part of the lesson and had never quite disappeared since. She wondered whether he left things in place on purpose, as reminders. Or if the tower itself simply obeyed its master's will without needing his constant attention. Either way, it had begun to feel less like a building and more like a living thing.

She took another bite of bread and was still chewing when she heard the familiar creak of boots on the stairs. She didn't have to look up to know it was Dak. His footsteps were always so precise. Measured. The way he moved made her think of a wolf--silent when he wanted to be, but never casual. Always a hunter.

He didn't speak as he reached the bottom step. Instead, he simply looked around the room--and just like that, everything changed.

It was seamless. Instantaneous. One blink and the wooden beams of the ceiling stretched upward and became vaulted arches. The stone floor was covered in warm rugs, and the walls disappeared behind endless bookshelves. Her chair and table, though still present, now sat at the center of an enormous, candle-lit library.

She was mid-chew, halfway through another bite of bread, when she finally looked up and took in the transformation.

She froze.

Dak raised an eyebrow at her from across the room, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Shana blinked once, slowly, then swallowed with deliberate effort. "You know," she said, her voice dry, "you could at least wait until I've finished eating before you turn the room into a cathedral of intellect."

Dak gave no reply, but the tiniest of smirks flashed across his face as he approached the table. Several old tomes already floating behind him from the shelves.

And with that, the lesson began.

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