Violet sat cross-legged in the center of the mana circle, hands resting on her knees.
The geometric patterns carved into stone pulsed with faint light beneath her, responding to her presence like a sleeping creature stirring awake.
The old woman stepped back, her milky white eyes somehow still tracking Violet's position with unsettling precision.
Calla stood near the wall, arms crossed. Her fingers tapped a steady rhythm against her forearm—tap, tap, tap—each beat marking time like a executioner counting down.
A worried expression painted her face. Perfect. Practiced.
The mask of a concerned mother, who want nothing but to see her kid well,
A facade she was master in.
"It's okay, little bird," Calla said softly. "Don't be afraid. It's just a test to make sure you're healthy."
Violet looked up at her and forced a smile. "I know, Mother. I know."
Then she averted her eyes, staring at the glowing runes instead.
Make sure I'm healthy? Don't fucking kid me.
Her thoughts churned like a river breaking its banks.
I can't anymore. Every time I look at her face, I can barely contain my anger. My rage. It wants to pour out like poison from a lanced wound.
Her hands clenched tighter on her knees, nails biting into skin.
But I need to hold it in. I have far more dangerous issues right now than my feelings.But I need to hold it in. I have far more dangerous issues right now than my feelings.
One wrong move and she might target mama, papa and village again.
I need to keep my focus and just for a while.
She scanned the room with careful movements—the walls with no windows, the single doorway behind Calla, the old woman beginning her preparations.
There's no way I'm getting out of this without consequences. Whatever she finds, whatever Calla learns—it's going to change things.
"Alright, we'll begin now." The old woman's voice cut through Violet's spiraling thoughts. "Stay back, please."
Calla nodded and took another step away from the circle.
The old woman's hands moved in precise patterns, fingers tracing symbols in the air that left faint afterimages of light.
Her lips moved, forming words in a language Violet didn't recognize—ancient, guttural, weighted with power.
The circle flared.
Mana rushed into Violet like water flooding a dry riverbed.
It didn't hurt—not exactly. But she felt it. Felt the foreign energy pouring through her circuits, mapping every pathway, every junction, every place where power should flow freely.
She was a valley. The mana was a river running through her in an endless loop, seeking gaps, finding weaknesses, measuring capacity.
Calla watched from the shadows, tension radiating from her frame despite the worried mask she wore.
Her fingers had stopped tapping. Now they just pressed against her arm, white-knuckled and trembling.
Minutes crawled past.
The circle's light intensified, then dimmed, then pulsed in complex patterns as the old woman's chanting continued.
Finally, the light faded completely.
The old woman's hands dropped. She exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging slightly.
Silence pressed down like a physical weight.
"So?" Calla's voice cut through it, sharp despite its softness. "Is she okay?"
Her fingers resumed their tapping—faster now, more agitated.
The old woman turned to face her. Those milky eyes seemed to see straight through flesh to something deeper.
"Your daughter—" She paused, choosing words with the care of someone delivering bad news. "She has a growing Mana Deterioration, it's eating away her mana and it's one of the most severe cases I've ever seen in my life, poor child."
A beat of silence.
Then Calla's face crumpled. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her head bowed as if the weight of the words had physically struck her.
But at the edge of her covered mouth, hidden from the old woman's blind sight—
A smile broke through.
Small, but it had all the anxious that turned into sense of victory.
She composed herself almost immediately, shoulders shaking as if from suppressed sobs.
"What—" Her voice cracked perfectly. "What about her body?"
The old woman sighed deeply. "It's in very bad shape. Right now, her mana is slowly harming her from within. The deterioration rate is slow, but it's accelerating. If left untreated..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
She clearly believed her news had devastated this caring mother.
But beneath Calla's bowed head and covered mouth, her eyes were squinted with barely contained glee.
Oh, how wonderful, Calla thought, euphoria singing through her veins. I was worried she might be getting treated. Worried Maria had figured something out, or that brute Garrett had interfered.
Her smile widened behind her hand.
But I guess my worries were misplaced. As long as the deterioration grows, I don't have to do anything at all. Just wait. Just watch. Just let nature—or rather, my careful work—take its course.
Ah my daughter, don't worry everything is fine, I was worried over nothing....
Victory tasted sweet as honey.
In the center of the circle, Violet's breathing had changed.
Fast.
Shallow.
Desperate.
Her skin flushed red, then pale, then red again. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the room's chill.
Her body temperature spiked—burning hot one moment, ice cold the next—as if her system was fighting something it couldn't identify.
"Little bird?" Calla's voice carried false alarm.
Violet swayed. Her vision blurred. The room tilted sideways like a ship in a storm.
Then her knees buckled.
She collapsed forward, barely catching herself on her hands. Her breath came in ragged gasps that scraped her throat raw.
The old woman moved quickly despite her age, kneeling beside Violet with surprising grace. "Child? Can you hear me?"
Violet's mouth opened. No words came out—just a choked sound that might have been a sob or a scream.
Her consciousness flickered like a candle in wind.
Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. The room spun. Voices echoed from very far away.
No, she thought desperately. Not here. Not now. Not in front of her—
The recoil—
The darkness swallowed the rest and she fainted...