Shortly afterwards, Valentina quietly closed the door of her small attic room behind her and leaned against it, exhausted. Her body felt heavy and her bottom was still tingling from the spanking and the balm. She took a deep breath and slowly lowered herself onto her narrow bed.

  "Well, little Weaver," Vyxara purred in her head, "that was quite an.... interesting lesson."

  Valentina snorted softly. "Interesting is hardly the right word for it, Vyxara."

  She got up again and went to the bowl of water in the corner of her room. The cool water on her face helped her to clear her head. When she looked in her tarnished mirror, she saw a girl – no, a young woman – with flushed cheeks and a telling glow in her face.

  "What's on your mind, little Weaver?" asked Vyxara, her voice unusually gentle. "Do you regret it? It doesn't seem like it."

  Valentina sighed and carefully sat back down on the bed. "I... I don't know. Part of me knows it's wrong. But another part..."

  "...enjoyed it," Vyxara finished the sentence. "That's perfectly normal, you know. Lust and power are closely intertwined. When it comes to humans, everything is about sex. Except, sex. Sex is about power."

  "But he's my professor!" whispered Valentina desperately. "He's old! And ugly! And I only really wanted to use him for better grades and access to forbidden knowledge. And then he's getting me off, just like that. What does that say about me?"

  Vyxara laughed softly. "It says that you're smart, that you know how to use your resources and that you're not ashamed to accept a little fun when it comes your way. Maybe you can let yourself go so well especially because it's a transaction, because it just doesn't say anything deeper about you or what you desire, because you know you're just doing it to get something in return. Be honest with yourself – would you rather slave away like the other students like you who come from poor backgrounds and still fail just because you don't have the right connections?"

  Valentina thought of Faustus and his arrogant way of boasting about his wealth and connections. She didn’t want to fail because she just didn’t have what he had. But was… this… really better?

  "I feel so... torn," she confessed quietly. "On the one hand, I know that what I'm doing is morally questionable. On the other hand... it works. It just works so well. I'm learning things I never dared to dream of."

  "And that's the most important thing, isn't it?" Vyxara encouraged her. "Think of your family, of everything they sacrificed so that you could be here. If you're not prepared to make a sacrifice, then that also devalues the sacrifice they readily made for you. And be honest with yourself – given how much you enjoyed it, was the sacrifice really that big in the first place?"

  Valentina nodded slowly. Yes, she had a responsibility. Not only to herself, but also to her family. She couldn't afford to be squeamish. And Vyxara was right about the other point too, she admitted to herself as a blush rose to her cheeks. She had enjoyed it.

  She got up and went to her desk, where her notes for the upcoming practical exams lay. The complex Essence patterns she had learned danced before her inner eye.

  "You know," she said to Vyxara as she leafed through her notes, "it's strange. Before, I would have spent hours poring over formulas like this. Now... Everything just seems so clear now."

  "That's because you're growing, little Weaver," Vyxara replied proudly. "You are learning not only to manipulate the Essence, but to really understand it fundamentally."

  Valentina smiled slightly. It was strange how familiar she had become with Vyxara's presence in her head. Almost like a close friend who was always there to give her advice. When had that happened?

  "Vyxara?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you think... do you think I can pass all the challenges and tests?"

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Oh, my little Weaver," laughed the demon, "I think you'll pass them with flying colors. I never lied when I told you that you had great talent. I'm glad it was you back then who summoned me in those woods and not one of those boring stupid geese that run around this university."

  Valentina felt warmth spreading through her chest. Yes, she was good. She had worked hard and made sacrifices. She deserved to be successful.

  She thought about the upcoming exams, the competition and all the opportunities that would open up to her if she won. Her family would be so proud.

  "I'll show them all," she murmured resolutely. "Faustus and… and… everyone who ever doubted me."

  "That's the spirit, little Weaver," Vyxara purred contentedly. "And don't forget – I'm always here to help you."

  Valentina nodded gratefully. Yes, she had Vyxara. And Professor Horne to squeeze knowledge out of. And her own talent. What could possibly go wrong?

  She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The Eve of Martyrium this year had been so different from what she had expected. The solemn ceremony, the encounter with Professor Horne, her growing confidence – it all came crashing down on her.

  "It's strange," she said quietly to Vyxara. "A year ago, I was still in Palewood, listening to the Martyr's story in a little chapel. And now..."

  "And now you are on your way to becoming one of the most powerful Essence Weavers this university has ever seen," Vyxara finished the sentence. "You should be proud of yourself. Against long odds, you're aiming for victory."

  But she also thought of Innogen and Crispin, of the worried looks they had given her during the ceremony and in recent weeks when they thought she wasn't looking.

  "I miss them," she confessed quietly. "Innogen and Crispin. It feels like I'm moving further and further away from them."

  "That's just an illusion because you're progressing faster than they are because your horizons are expanding" Vyxara said gently. "They will also appreciate the new Valentina and they will accept you. And if they don't accept you for who you are, then they don't deserve to have you as their friend in the first place. That can be the price of success. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for what we really want."

  Valentina nodded slowly. Yes, sacrifices. She had already made so many. What were a few more?

  She got up and went to the window. The winter night sky was clear, the stars twinkled brightly. Somewhere out there, in hell, she thought, the Martyr was fighting for the souls of the dead. Renewing his sacrifice again and again so that others had a chance of redemption.

  "Maybe," she whispered, "maybe what I'm doing is also a sacrifice like that. I'm sacrificing a part of myself so that I can succeed. So that I can help my family."

  "An interesting perspective," Vyxara murmured thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're a martyr in your own way, too."

  Valentina laughed softly, but it was a laugh without humor. A martyr. Yes, perhaps she was. A martyr for success, for power, for a future.

  She turned away from the window and went back to her bed.

  "Get some rest, little Weaver," Vyxara whispered gently. "But I think you'd better lie on your stomach today."

  Valentina giggled tiredly and lay down in bed, drifting off into a restless sleep, dreams of swirling Essence patterns and Professor Horne's skinny hands mingling with images of her proud parents and envious fellow students.

  She saw the inside of the university's Burning Tower, filled with the warm glow of countless candles. But instead of the solemn chants of the Martyrium celebration, she heard herself softly moan, mixed with the sound of Professor Horne’s slaps on her bottom as she counted aloud.

  The scene changed, and suddenly she was standing in the middle of another Burning Tower, the original one. The flames licked at her clothes, but she felt no heat, just a strange, tingling energy flowing through her body.

  And then she saw him – the Martyr himself, enveloped in blazing flames. His eyes, glowing deep red, as unfathomable as eternity, fixed her. He stretched out his hand towards her, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.

  Valentina stretched out her own hand, desperately trying to understand his words. But the crackling of the flames drowned out everything, and the Martyr's words remained silent.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around. There stood Vyxara – but not in her grotesque demon form. Vyxara looked like herself now, only more beautiful, more seductive. Although Vyxara looked like her, Valentina immediately recognized in her dream state that it was Vyxara. The demon had a mocking smile on its lips. "Come, little Weaver," the demon whispered. "There's nothing here for you."

  Valentina hesitated, her gaze wandering back and forth between Vyxara and the Martyr. The flames grew higher, engulfing everything around them.

  Valentina jerked up from her sleep, her heart racing. The moonlight fell through her small window and painted shadows on the wall. She took a deep breath, trying to organize the images of the dream.

  "Just a dream, little Weaver," Vyxara murmured in her head. "Go back to sleep."

  Valentina nodded dazedly and lay down again. But when she closed her eyes, she still saw the Martyr's outstretched hand in front of her, heard the echo of his incomprehensible words.

  What had he wanted to tell her? And why did she have the urgent feeling that it was important?

  With these thoughts, Valentina drifted off to sleep again. The next day, she couldn't even really remember the dream.