Chapter 19: Training Days
The days in Eldranor felt slow. As time moved on within those white walls, Ethan realized that this ancient kingdom seemed to breathe alongside him.
The mornings always began the same way: with the soft bluish glow of the mana lines that ran through the marble towers, illuminating the corridors. Ethan often woke early, even if he didn’t sleep much, just to walk those halls and trace the inscriptions on the walls with his fingers.
Even though he couldn’t read them, he already knew the story they told, from the plague to everything else, thanks to the novel. But to see, touch, and feel the energy embedded in those pillars was something else entirely. He felt more alive with each passing day.
Aeris used those early hours to study every mural, every stone tablet they found. The fervor in her eyes was almost moving. Ethan would watch her from a distance sometimes, her face softly lit by the blue runes, and couldn’t help but notice that away from him, she seemed more like herself, free from needing to constantly prove her devotion.
At first, she wanted to follow him everywhere, helping with everything, but he convinced her it was better if she prepared for the arrival of the other cult members or any messages they might receive.
The high-ranking members wouldn’t be able to come so soon, occupied as they were with their lives tied to the Church, but they also couldn’t just send anyone. That meant the first group would still take a few more days to arrive.
Sylfie, on the other hand, hated standing still. Almost every morning, she’d head out alone into the outer ruins. She’d disappear among half-collapsed walls and buried corridors, coming back covered in soot or leaves, reporting what she’d found with a mix of duty and pride. Ethan knew she liked being near them, even if she insisted on keeping her tone dry when speaking. At night, she trained with him in the central courtyard, her arrows slicing through the air as he practiced with Nexus. Their arguments were constant, pure provocation, almost a dangerous game, but there was something comforting in that restrained rivalry.
Ethan was careful not to defeat her too quickly, knowing it might only worsen things between them. But he also didn’t force himself to lose, thinking it would be too obvious.
He could see that Sylfie’s sense of inferiority was far from healed, so he used his charm to distract her from her own paranoia whenever he noticed it starting to surface.
And then there was Sinnon.
The vampire usually appeared in the late afternoon, when the sun painted the white rooftops gold. He never taught formally, nor called himself a master. But Ethan realized that the sharp provocations hid genuine advice, small corrections, and valuable insights. When Ethan lost control of his mana, Sinnon didn’t hesitate to mock him, but then would show him, with a simple gesture, how it should be done.