— Jacke Jaywood, “Humanoids of Ageria: Volume 1, 4th Edition,” page 142
On one particular morning, Mina brought Emily with her to the Cresthill Church of Asdros.
Compared to the other buildings in Cresthill, it was unimpressive. It was less modernized, made from plywood and nails instead of bricks, with chipping paint all along the walls. A one-story relic with a plain wooden symbol jutting from the peak of its gable roof, the Cross of Asdros, the god of man. It was a plain, angular symbol meant to evoke strength and humility. The morning light hit it just right, casting a shadow across the ground that made the cross seem larger.
“Didn’t take you for the religious type,” Emily said.
“Just making a quick stop,” Mina explained, carrying a sturdy box against her hip. She pushed open the doors to the church, and the smell of damp wood and incense hit Emily like a slap to the face. It was a small, rustic space, its pews carved from the same rough-hewn timber as the walls. Stained-glass windows lined the far wall, and at the front, a plain altar stood beneath another Cross of Asdros, this one flanked by two tall candelabras.
A man in black robes moved between the candelabras, his back to them as he lit candles one by one.
“Father Winslow,” Mina said.
The priest froze mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He looked like a man who had just bitten into something sour. His face was thin, and his skin pale. “Miss Grimshaw,” he said. “I see you’ve brought… company?”
“My apprentice, Emily.”
“Apprentice?” The priest raised an eyebrow.
Emily stuck her hand out, putting on a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
He shook her hand. “Likewise. Are you a follower of Asdros, child?”
Emily grimaced slightly, and looked away, not sure if she should give him an honest answer. “My mom is. Was.”
“I see, and you reside with her?”
“On the couch, yeah.”
He looked up at Mina, and she stared back.
“It’s a dangerous world out there, Father,” Mina said. “I’d say she’s safer with me than most places.”
“Hm. I suppose she wouldn’t be the first then.”
“Don’t worry,” Emily said, giving the priest a wry smile. “She hasn’t bitten me yet.”
The priest didn’t so much as smile. “And what have you there?” he then asked, looking at the box in Mina’s hand.
Mina set it down on the nearest pew with a heavy thud. “Donations.”
“Payment, you mean?”
“Made a stop to buy paints for Violet. Picked up a few more for you.”
The priest’s lips thinned. “How charitable of you.” He eyed the box. Then, with a resigned sigh, he gestured toward the altar. “Leave it there with your vials. I’ll see to it after the service.”
Mina nodded, lifting the box again and setting it by the altar, along with several vials of water from her inner coat pocket. “Thank you, Father.” As she turned toward the door, her eyes caught the dozens of unlit candles still lining the altar and aisles. “Emily, before we go, help Father Winslow out.”
Emily blinked. “With the service?”
Mina snapped her fingers, lighting one of the candles. “I want you to light the rest.”
Emily’s stomach tightened. “You want me to burn this place down too?” She cast a wary glance at the priest, who looked equally concerned.
Mina crossed her arms. “You’re going to.”
The priest looked between them, his mouth opening as if to protest, but no words came out.
Emily hesitated, the weight of both their gazes weighing down on her. She glanced at the unlit candles and took a deep breath. She could hardly manage it last time, how was she supposed to light every single candle? “Alright. How… do I do that?”
“But must she practice in here?” Father Winslow said, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced around at all the wood.
“Yes. She will. And she won’t burn it down.”
Emily forced a wobbly smile. “I’ll try not to. But, uh… no promises.”
“You won’t.”
Emily hesitated, staring down at her own hand. She could still see the faint fissures in her skin. The mere sight of them brought back the acrid stench of charred wood and the sound of panicked screams.
“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, her tone softening.
“I just… don’t want to screw it up again…”
“You’re going to screw it up,” Mina said bluntly. “Probably more than once. But that’s part of the deal. The only real failure is not trying. So try.”
Emily swallowed hard, lifting her hand. She tried to picture the air around her palm like it was a cold furnace waiting to be stoked. She imagined it growing warmer. For a moment, she thought she felt something; a flicker of heat, a spark. But then it faded, slipping away like water through her fingers. Her hand remained empty.
“Remember to snap your fingers.”
“Oh… right.” Emily chuckled nervously.
Snap!
Nothing.
Snap!
Still nothing.
Emily exhaled quietly. She lost count of how many times she snapped her fingers, but each time she did, nothing ever came of it. “If I’m supposed to be some magical prodigy, why does this feel impossible?”
“You’re not a prodigy. You’re a Conduit. That means you’re a vessel for magic, Emily, a lightning rod for forces most people can barely comprehend. But raw power doesn’t mean instant skill. It means potential. And potential takes work.”
Emily looked up at her. “You really think I can do this?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t waste my time. Now, stop overthinking and try again. This time, want it.”
She needed to want it. Emily knew she could do this. She didn’t want to disappoint Mina again, she wanted to make her proud, to prove to herself that she could summon a flame. It was only the first step, a simple step. She wasn’t launching an inferno from her hands, she was just lighting a candle.
She was going to do this.
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Emily raised her hand again, and steadied her breathing. This time, she didn’t just picture heat, she demanded it. The air around her hand grew warmer, the sensation prickling against her skin.
Snap!
A flame burst to life on the tip of Emily’s thumb. It was tiny but vibrant like a star plucked from the sky. For a moment, she stared at it, stunned. The longer she watched, the more her awe transformed into a smile. “It doesn’t even hurt,” she murmured. The warmth wasn’t harsh or biting but soft, like standing under the sun. “I… did it?”
“You did,” Father Winslow said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Quite impressive, especially for someone so young.”
“Most sorcerers wouldn’t get that on their first try, or their fiftieth. That spell alone takes a year of training for the average caster.”
Emily’s eyes stayed glued to the flame as she turned her hand, watching how it swayed and bent. She couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate it felt.
“Now, let’s put it to use. Light some candles.” She gestured toward a nearby candelabra.
Emily hesitated for a moment, then moved her hand closer to the unlit candles. The flame at her thumb stretched, reaching out like it had a mind of its own. The wick caught, flaring to life with a small pop.
She had done it!
Snap!
Another candle lit.
Snap!
Another.
Snap!
Three more.
Snap!
A dozen.
Snap!
Snap!
Snap!
Soon, the chapel was alight with the soft, warm glow from the candles. The air smelled surprisingly fresher, too. A few scented candles were mixed in with the others. Emily stood there at the center of it all, a wide smile on her face, and her eyes fixated on the flame dancing from her fingertip.
She had done it! She had really done it!
Not a day later, Mina had dragged Emily back to the training yard and set up several new dummies to practice on. But Emily wasn’t sure she was ready. The last thing she wanted was for her magic to spiral out of control again, and the thought of fire, actual fire, in her hands made her stomach churn. Sure, she summoned a small flame the day before, but actually putting it to use was a horrifying concept. Maybe that’s why they were out in the open. Regardless of how she felt, she knew it was something she had to do.
“You’re still nervous,” Mina said.
Emily swallowed her anxiety and gave a hesitant nod. “You blame me?”
Mina gestured toward the training dummies lined up across the yard. “What we’re practicing today is something every monster hunter learns if they dabble in pyrokinesis.” Her fingers traced an intricate pattern in the air, and a shower of glowing embers burst from her palm. They fanned out like fiery confetti. The heat brushed Emily’s face, just enough to make her flinch.
“What was that?”
“‘Embers.’ It’s an easier spell to manage than a full inferno. Good for starting fires or distracting an enemy. Low energy, low risk.”
Emily chuckled nervously. With her, there was no such thing as ‘low risk.’
“Pay attention.” Mina demonstrated the gesture again, slower this time. “Picture the embers. Feel them build up in your palm, then release them. Simple.”
“Simple…” Emily muttered under her breath.
“Don’t overthink it. Just aim at the dummy and try.”
Emily hesitated, then raised her hand. She mimicked Mina’s gesture as best she could, her fingers trembling slightly. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the embers, a spray of tiny flames leaping from her palm.
Nothing happened.
“Try again.”
Emily repeated the motion. Again, nothing, save for the faint warmth of her own skin. “Damn it,” she groaned.
“Relax your wrist.” She reached out, adjusting Emily’s hand. “Again.”
Emily’s heart thudded in her chest. She raised her palm toward the nearest dummy, biting her lip as she focused. Magic always felt like a wild thing inside her, like trying to hold back a river with her bare hands. She just had to gain control of it. Emily took a breath and visualized the embers shooting forward like Mina had shown her.
A faint flicker of heat sparked in her palm. Then… nothing.
“It’s not working,” Emily said, frustrated.
“Because you’re still afraid you’ll lose control.”
“I can’t help it…”
Mina paused. “Then think of it this way. Imagine your hand is sneezing embers like it has a mouth.”
A wide smile spread across Emily’s face. “Wait, wait, you actually picture that? Like, a mouth on your hand? Sneezing fire?”
Mina glared at her.
Emily giggled, despite herself. “You do think of that, don’t you?”
Mina gestured stiffly towards the open air. “Just try it.”
Emily tried to stifle her laughter but couldn’t quite manage. Even as she turned back to the dummy, the image of her hand with a gaping, ember-sneezing mouth refused to leave her mind. She sighed, exasperated. “You could’ve picked a better metaphor.”
Mina shrugged.
Emily tried again. She imagined her palm opening up with rows of teeth, a mouth that started spitting. She tried to picture it as embers… “No, I can’t,” she laughed again. “It’s too funny.”
“You need to visualize what you want the magic to do. Getting an image in your head of what that may look like, ridiculous as it is, will help.”
This time, Emily decided to embrace the absurdity. She closed her eyes again and imagined her hand opening like a mouth, teeth and all, spitting out tiny sparks. It was ridiculous, but somehow it felt… right. She steadied her breathing, her pulse slowing as she focused. The familiar rush of warmth began to build, starting in her chest and flowing through her veins. It traveled down her arm, pooling in her hand, where the energy buzzed and tingled.
Emily threw her hand forward, but nothing happened. Her arm dropped, and she exhaled sharply. “I can’t do it…”
“Yes, you can.”
Emily hesitated. It was hard not to think of everything that could go wrong, even with a humorous analogy to distract her; fire surging out of control, screams, smoke, destruction.
“You’re not the same person you were then. You’re learning. Trust yourself. It’s alright to make mistakes.”
Emily swallowed hard. Mina’s words settled like a stone in her chest. She closed her eyes one more time, steadying her breath. The warmth returned to her hand. It shot forward, and a spray of glowing embers burst into the air.
Emily gasped, her eyes growing wide. The spell stopped instantly, but she had done it again. She performed another spell!
“There we go. How are you feeling?”
Emily flexed her hand experimentally. “Alright. I think. I don’t feel any weaker.”
“If you feel drained, be sure to tell me.”
Emily nodded.
“When you have a grasp of these two spells, we’ll move on.”
“Right,” Emily said, her voice shaking a little. “Like lighting a sword on fire?”
Mina smirked. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget you waving around a flaming sword?”
“I’ll teach you the spell after you’ve learned to swing a sword.”
“Do you think we could—?”
“Another day. Pushing yourself now will only set you back. You’re still recovering, remember?”
“Fiiiine,” Emily said with a smile.
Mina stared for a moment. “There is one other thing I want you to be aware of.”
“Hm?”
“Power comes with responsibility. I want you to remember that.”
“Pretty sure I can.”
“I mean it, Emily. I don’t want you to let it get to your head. There have been Conduits before Queen Lockhart’s reign that fell victim to their power. Those few, history does remember. They had become the very thing they were trying to destroy. Monsters.”
“Alright,” Emily said after a pause. “I promise I won’t.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Now, back to it.”
Emily practiced until her palms started glowing. That clear sign was enough to snap her out of focus anyway. When the training was done, she followed Mina back toward the house, and when they reached the front yard, Emily’s gaze traveled down the hill where a figure sat beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree. Violet. The girl dressed entirely in purple sat with a book balanced on her knees and three dolls propped against a gnarled root beside her. She had a small tea set balancing on the very same root, and like always, she was wearing a purple mask, but this one was slightly more decorated with swirling, painted patterns. It seemed more normal, but there was still something off about it that Emily couldn’t quite place.
Emily slowed, her gaze lingering on the girl. Violet didn’t move, save for the occasional turn of a page. Her stillness was uncanny, almost unnerving. And strangely, the air had gone quiet around her; the birds had stopped singing. Now that Emily thought of it, she had noticed Violet appearing around the property more recently. She was always beneath a tree, and always with a book. “Mina,” Emily began hesitantly, “Why is Violet so…” her voice faded. She wasn’t quite sure how to describe it.
Mina stopped abruptly in the doorway, her back to Emily. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, without turning, she replied, “Violets complicated.”
“That’s… not really an answer.”
Mina glanced over her shoulder. “She’s just different. She wants to get to know you, but it takes her time to warm up to people. You’ll get to know her better soon enough.”
Slowly, Violet glanced up the hill, locking her gaze with Emily’s. Her eyes shimmered purple, and a chill traveled down Emily’s spine.
“I’ve already spoken with her. She wants to put together a lesson plan for you first, but when she's ready, she's going to help you with telekinesis.”
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