Old Promises, New Mysteries: Book 2 of The Kinstone series

When Rachel and I resumed our magic lessons with one another, we fell back into our normal routine. My lessons took place in the conservatory on the third floor, facing the entire breath of the Estate. Its vaulted ceiling was capped with a windowed rotunda. This granted an immense amount of natural daylight.

Facing opposite of the door, was a large window double door, which exited out onto the balcony. Off to the side of where Rachel held our lessons with a small gazebo like structure with a swing dangling from the ceiling.

The conservatory, aside from my room, the parlor and the library, was my favorite room in the Manor. I would often hole myself up in it when I wanted to be alone and read. When I was on the swing, my thoughts would wander as I sailed through the air.

For our lessons, Rachel had placed a small desk and a large writing board, in the center of the room, with a large tables my back for my alchemy experiments. I loved wearing the uniform she had given me during our first lesson.

Every lesson, as always, began with infusing crystals with magic, in order to help me focus on the flow of magic. Since the start of summer, my mother decided that instead of using small, individual crystals for exercise, I would utilize larger, more robust crystals. This came about after a minor incident back in the spring when I managed to cause a dozen crystals to overload and explode.

We came to the conclusion that my magic had surpassed the capacity of the smaller crystals that I had been using since I first began my training under her. I blushed when she rolled out the crystals, three in total, with each being at least four feet in height and a foot in diameter.

Each crystal was immaculately smooth, but raw, not-to-mention perfectly clear. I rubbed my hands over one, smiling as I felt its watery smooth surface. Rachel smiled as she directed to the center of the crystals, and had me begin to pour magic into each of them.

The practice had long since become second nature to me as my magic flowed through me and into the crystal. I watched as it slowly began to glow bright blue the more I poured into it.

Magic, as described by Rachel, is similar to water, and it could easily flow as such. In fact this was very principle behind most my early lessons. I smiled as the crystal in front of me fully lit up.

I moved to the second crystal, feeling it rest behind me, pouring my magic into it. The exercise wasn’t simply about pouring my magic into a crystal, but also teaching me how to split my attention between multiple targets, while maintaining an even and steady flow.

When I used the smaller crystals, I managed to be able to go as high as fifteen. This however was the actual cause of the accident. I had lost concentration, which led to the crystals overloading.

I then felt my mother placing smaller crystals around me, further dividing my concentration as I divvied up more of my magic, while increasing its flow in order to compensate.

I found myself struggling to completely light up the second crystal, only managing to bring it to at most half capacity. I staggered, breaking to the connection, and fell to my knees, panting. Rachel smiled, noting my progress.

The next stage of our lessons was on magical theory and history. History has always been one my favorite subjects and I readily absorbed everything from her. We had often delved deeply into the histories of long fallen kingdoms and even current political factions strewn across the world.

The one faction we often steered clear of was that of the Court, having experienced it firsthand. We studied more of Nerazon, the capital city of the merfolk, and a place that I had visited with the gossip shortly before my birthday the previous year.

As Rachel prattled on about the fifteenth dynasty of the city, my thoughts wandered over to wanting to transform into a mermaid and going for a swim with them. The idea of gliding effortlessly through the water, feeling it rushing over my tail, made me smile.

My mother caught me daydreaming and without looking at me, tossed a piece of chalk at me. It struck me squarely in the forehead, causing me to groan as I rubbed it. I looked up at her, who then shot me a “pay-attention” stare. I nodded and resumed my listening to her. Fenris lay across the room, smiling as he watched.

This had become a natural state of being for the both of us, with her teaching me. It was a return to the time before she and I were a real family. Scratch that, we’d always been family.

If I had to be more accurate, this was merely us being student and teacher, as well as being mother and daughter. All in all, it was time we shared with each other.

During the summer, Rachel inter-spliced lessons of various other races from all over the world. I learned how colonies of gryphons within the Alps and Caucasus mountains, and how their presence helped keep dragons from growing out of control. I giggled as it made Silvi slightly flustered.

I learned more of the history and connection of the mermaids of Nerazon with the sea yokai of Japan. I often thought of asking Yukari and Asha about this shared history from time to time.

The one subject we didn’t go over much of was the history of Dewloura, given my recent encounter with their descendants. It was a mystery to me as to why she wouldn’t talk about it, that or she had completely forgotten to incorporate it into our lessons.

Magical theory revolved around the learning of spells, mana manipulation, and even delving into elemental magic. Most magic is what most people would have to idea of what it was. Levitation, firing little bolts of magic at targets, casting illusions, and even making things disappear and reappear. Basically think of Harry Potter, with only one or two big distinctions.

First, real magic wasn’t limited to simply tiny spectacles, little blips or small bubbles cast from a wand.

Sure, certain spells were exactly like those people were shown in the film adaptations, but I learned how to replicated those spells rather easily. My mother even laughed when I showed her the films, saying how easily even I could defeat nearly everyone there. The other possible difference between Harry Potter and the magic that I could wield was the power.

When I re-watched the film series and even did a speed read of the novel series, I couldn’t help but laugh at how weak the magic was within the stories. Don’t get me wrong, I still loved the series, but I just couldn’t get over how lame the portrayal of magic was. The only series that I couldn’t equate the magic I was using would be somewhere between A Certain Magical Index and possibly Fairy Tail, albeit nowhere near as crazy.

Rachel would always have buckets of water, pots of dirt, and lit candles at the ready for me. I loved working with water and wind magic, having combined the two into my ever growing study of ice magic. With water, I would cause it to fly through the air, and encircle around me in multiple rings. Water would be pulled from the buckets and float through the air.

My fingers fluttered and sifted in tiny patterns, manipulating the water into forming shapes. I giggled as I made it dance around forming into long strands. I often wanted to go down to the lake and practice how much water I could fling into the air. I then considered letting the gossip help on the front. As I could also transform into a ryujin, I wondered how much that would affect my control over water.

So many ideas flew through my head as I planned out when Rachel and I didn’t have our lessons. My mother and teacher smiled as she watched my progress, often presenting me with targets. Sometimes rings would appear and I was tasked to weave the water around each of the rings. Merely shooting a target with jets of water was boring, fine control of water was far more challenging and I loved it.

Fire was also keen on my list of elements to master, given how I could transform into a kitsune and a dragon. While water could be considered orderly and passive, fire was far more chaotic.

I had to be extra careful as I drew rings of flames, using a candle as a source. I could conjure kitsune-bi, or foxfire, whenever I wanted to and not even having to transform into a kitsune to do so.

Rachel would teach me how to manipulate the flames, forming them into shapes or even learning how to touch an object without burning it. It was taxing for me to grasp an object without it bursting into flames. More times than not, I often would fail in my attempts. When it would occur, I would sigh and move onto the next training stick.

Dragon’s fire, a gift from Silvi, was something it could also conjure in either human form or as a dragon. However, unlike my kitsune-bi, I had a lot of difficulty controlling. I once accidentally set the chalkboard on fire. I blushed as I quickly doused it with water. So Rachel and I came to an agreement that I would study dragon’s fire under my sister.

Earth magic was similar to the others, forming dirt into shapes, objects, and even vestiges of people. With my ability to become an alraune, I gained a connection to the earth beneath me. I could feel the pulsing of the ground under my feet.

With my very first transformation, I became connected to the land on which I now lived. This connection extended to all plants around me. This was possibly one of the many reasons why I felt complete while I was home on the Estate.

When we moved onto studying earth magic, I would slip off my shoes. Rachel would then sprinkle dirt onto the floor for me. Like a happy and giddy child, I gleefully would walk onto the dirt, curling my toes and letting it clump and cover my feet.

As I stated before, I could for the dirt into shapes and even into forms of people. I giggled as I would then start to make them move at my commands. Tiny little golems would scurry about the conservatory; some even would walk over to Fenris and pester him. I grinned as they would climb over him, tug on his fur and tails, before being smashed underneath said tails.

The wolf would then glare at me and huff a soft grumbling growl, his version of telling me to knock-it-off. I giggled even more and resume my attention with Rachel.

I couldn’t make anything grow during this portion of our lessons. My mother had elected to leave that particular training to my aunt Velhemina. Horticulture was more of her specialty anyways.

One particular course of magic that I had also had some measure of difficulty with was in the realm of illusion magic. Even with my proclivity for causing mischief, something I never really grew out of, I still couldn’t form illusions as well as Rachel. While she could alter her outer appearance to suit whatever the situation called for, I on the other hand royally sucked at even forming a basic ghost image of anything.

Rachel once told me that it was in my nature was more upfront and easily bared for the world. Meaning I’m not for skulking around and hiding away, which in of itself is a paradox, because I do love sneaking around. I often laugh at how I’m a walking contradiction. Upfront with my feelings and yet I hide away and love pulling pranks on people.

I had slowly begun to make progress after I started living on the Estate, but to cast a fully illusion of myself, or anything for that matter, was still a far flung goal. Something I was able to do was alter my hair color on the odd occasion, not the same degree as Marron had when she and I went to Ikkicon.

Around noon a bell would ring, signaling that it was lunch time. One of the tasks that I did have to complete before I could eat would be to clean up any dirt or mop up any water left of the floor. A messy floor was a sign of an undisciplined mind.

I had to also accomplish this without the use of magic as well. I often made the effort to make sure that after each portion of practicing elemental magic, that there would be no leftovers of either, with mixed results.

When that task was over, Rachel and I would sit under the gazebo and watch as lunch was wheeled in and sat out onto a folding table in front of us. Rachel and I often discuss future plans and lessons, leading into other topics such as what I wanted to do for my birthday.

While last year’s was amazing, with receiving the ability to transform into a kitsune and ryujin, among other equally incredible gifts, I again wanted a simple celebration. With having Marron as an important part of my life, I definitely wanted her to be there for it.

After lunch, we moved into the second half of our lessons.

For the first hour, we studied alchemy and potion making. Unlike the first few months into my training, I wasn’t quite as accident prone as I used to be. I haven’t had a single vial or beaker explode on me in months, which was a far cry from the spring.

In early April, I managed to cause a potion meant to change eye color explode when I added too much of one of the smaller ingredients to the mix. The vial shook violently as the mixture began to bubble and fizz.

In a panic, I ran towards the balcony and chucked it outside. The vial sailed through the air and then exploded into a brilliant flash of purplish green light. While I awed at the display, Rachel was hardly impressed and had me redo the experiment.

I blushed and smiled as I completed the potion, turning my sapphire eyes violet, matching Rachel’s. She grinned as she hugged me; granted the change was only temporary, merely lasting for a couple hours.

Alchemy was simply chemistry only utilizing elements and materials in different ways as opposed to simply combing one chemical to another. I was also using materials not present within normal human society, mostly plants and animal components found in extremely secluded and cordoned off regions of the world.

Potion-making and alchemy definitely made me feel as though I was in a Hogwarts class. Everything about my lessons made me feel as though I were actually living in those books, which the only exception that it was all real. This fact only made me even happier.

The final portion of our lessons was the practical application section. Let’s just be real, this was just a fancy title for magical sparring.

During this portion of our lessons, Rachel and I would move the desk and chalkboard off to the side and stand within the center of the conservatory and begin to hurl spells at each other. We would first envelop our bodies within a bubble of magic, which acted as a defensive barrier and shielded each other from really getting hurt.

At first, the conservatory was large enough to contain our matches. Over time however…this proved to be vastly inadequate for us, as the more I grew and became more acclimated with magic, the room slowly began to show signs of damage and wear as the lessons progressed.

That and the two of us would really let loose, having become extremely competitive with one another. So we decided to move our matches to the back of the Manor.

It felt natural being amongst nature as we threw ourselves into our matches. We gleefully hurled spells at each other as we darted across the grass, dodging and weaving through waves upon waves of magic.

The end of the lesson again was sounded by a loud bell, which rung throughout the Estate. It had become a point to everyone as they could tell what time of the day it was.

My mother and I often collapsed onto the ground exhausted and panting incessantly as we had slowly escalated our matches. We would then adjourn back into the Manor, to where she would give me my homework for the night.

We kept this schedule for four days out of the week, with eight hours of the day being devoted to each lesson. I often giggled as I came to realize that I was in fact back in school as child.

In the past, I would’ve balked at the idea of going to school for nearly the entire day again, but somehow this wasn’t as tedious and I loved each lesson. The fact that I had a weekly three day weekend was amazing for me.

During the summer, we actually went to two classes a week, with me studying the other days. This routine formed a fierce structure that I had built for myself throughout my life and was a source of stability.

When not with Rachel learning magic, I was elsewhere on the Estate. I pretty much had free range of the Estate, going nearly anywhere I wanted. It had been my home since the first day I arrived there, a fact I took great pride and affection in daily.

I loved helping out wherever I could, still not wanting to act or be perceived as some spoiled little sheltered princess, a notion I hated with fervor. So I would travel around and visit everyone I could.

There were several key places I would often head to, with the people held within as well, having long since becoming like family to me. I would take on personal duties around the Estate. I loved heading to the kitchen and learning how to cook from the staff, with helping them when the need arose or if I wanted to simply cook for myself.

On the Estate itself, I would head over to the fields and help tend to the flocks and herds that roamed the grounds. The kobolds in particular were my favorite group I would visit. The twin children of their leader considered me their older sister, a fact I took great pride in.

Luna and Micha, the tiniest of furballs, would come running full speed towards me whenever I neared the grazing fields. I giggled as they loved to launch themselves into my chest. I held them close to me, stroking their furry bodies, watching as their tails wagged incessantly. I often acted as a babysitter for them as their family tended to the flocks of sheep.

The three of us would play games with each other, chasing, and running around. When resting after playing, the twins would curl up into my tails if I had transformed into a kitsune. I blushed as they did.

When I would visit the greenhouse, there would be my aunt Velhemina, eagerly waiting for me. I giggled, wandering into the enclosed glass structure, feeling the steaming humid air that radiated off of the stone paths and from the overgrown plants held within.

To the alraune, I was her “Little Blossom”, a pet name she had given me upon our first meeting. Within the center of the greenhouse sat two massive flowers, the first belonged to Velhemina, who often walked through the building, tending to the various fruits and vegetables she tended to.

The second was mine, for I could transform into an alraune myself. My flower was grown specifically for me, and really was the only way that I could become an alraune. The flower often remained closed until I had climb into it and then transform, becoming connected to it.

Whenever I would visit, it often reached out with its vines and gently wrap around me, welcoming me back. My auntie tended to hoist me onto an open petal and the two of us would speak to one another. I found myself curling up into her as I would with Rachel, letting the aromas of the greenhouse fill my nose, easing me more into a state of peace.

As she held me, I would listen to the voices of the plants as they “sang”. The language of plants was difficult at first to decipher, mostly sounding as indiscernible whispers. It’s more feeling than actual spoken words, complimented with scents and gentle swaying of leaves.

It soon became natural to me to listen and even speak the language, mostly interpreting it as little whispers in my mind. Even on the most humid and hottest of summer days, I could spend an entire day in the greenhouse and not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

While transformed into an alraune, I helped my aunt tend to gardens which fed the Manor. Rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables lined the interior of the greenhouse, which was far more voluminous than the outside would lead one to believe.

Over the course of the summer, I had grown stronger and more mature as an alraune. Even though I still was unable to leave my flower, I still could move about the greenhouse as the stem would grow and stretch, carrying the flower to whenever I wanted to go.

My green hands would plow into the cool moist soil, seeding each row with fresh seeds. I giggled whenever a bee or some other insect would fly into one of the flowers that grew out of me, feeling them tickle as they gently moved their head into them, suckling the nectar. Velhemina was always present, watching over me as I tended to the plants. I would glimpse over to see her smiling at me. I smiled in return at her.

When it was time to leave, my flower would enclose around me. I felt myself becoming severed from it as I reverted to a human. It was saddening and reassuring at the same time. As the flower opened once more, I gently slid out of it, although covered completely in warm sticky nectar.

Velhemina was always prepared with a towel as she doused me in water, washing away the golden liquid. I’d dry off and get dressed. My aunt then hugged me as I prepared to leave. I giggled as she held me close to her. She’d then let me go, sending me on my way. I smiled as I left the greenhouse.

The next place I visit would be Silvi’s cave. It laid hidden deep within the forest at the base of the hills that bordered the eastern boundary of the Estate. The entrance of the cave, and the surroundings, was heavily shadowed as the hillside in which the cave rested rose skywards.

The forest was also exceedingly thick within the immediate vicinity of the cave. I always found being around here to be behind comforting and safe, with only my glen feeling the same.

I loved traveling on foot through the forest to reach it, finding it far more appealing than simply flying to it. That and I actually sucked at landing through the small hole which for what little light to pass through and shine onto the cave itself.

When I would arrive, I sometimes loved to play pranks on my dragonic sister. The first time I did was when Rachel and I left on our trip after I became her daughter. I yelled out into the cave, which startled Silvi, causing her the drop her food and come running out of the cave.

I had hidden on the rock face above the cave entrance, giggling as she came steaming out of her home. It wasn’t often I would prank her, not wanting to piss her off completely and constantly be mad at me. Silvi was not only my sister, but my primary physical arts trainer.

From the start of spring the previous year and onto the present, she and I would train in hand-to-hand combat. We loved sparring with one another, slowing pushing ourselves to our limits. Ok…my limits. I had yet to even come close to match my sister in combat, but I had been gaining ground since the end of my spring semester and my long self-imposed exile from my old world.

Silvi and I tended to train for hours on end, often utterly losing track of time as we sparred. We had fun together, even while punching and kicking at each other. The previous November, Silvi trained me to fight while in the air, a sensation that I instantly fell in love with.

Flying and fighting as a dragon is incredible, feeling the raw power as my wings propelled me higher and higher into the air. Whenever our fists and kicks would collide, our armored legs and arms would clang loudly through the air. We would soar effortlessly through the air, flapping around powerful wings, going faster and faster.

We loved to race each other, testing how fast we could go. Silvi had also taught me how to maneuver like a fighter jet. Loops, hairpin turns, flips, spiral dives, and so many other ways to soar through the air.

Silvi and I also love going hunting together. From the sky, we‘d scan the forest below, watching for the subtlest of movements, and waited. When the first signs of a deer came into view, Silvi and I then would dive, racing towards our target. We had long turned into a game, with the loser having to clean and cook the prey.

Each player had won their fair share of duels, with Silvi winning more times than not. I loved being a dragon, the power, the feeling of soaring through the air, and the pride that my sister had instilled into me.

Given my love of forging and the art of the craft, there was a person that I would visit from time to time. Her name is Emeline, a salamander. Salamanders are a distant relation to dragons. They share the gauntleted appearance over their arms and legs, with red scales over parts of their body. But they lack the wings.

What they instead possess is a raging fire that they exude form their tails. This makes them natural smiths as they use their fire to power their forges. She and her husband, a fellow salamander, worked a forge on the Estate, supplying it with tools and repairs to pretty much anything we needed.

I would spend hours in their shop, watching and listening to the constant clang of their hammers onto the anvils. Sparks would fly with every strike, lighting up the shop of tiny specks of hot molten fire. The ringing of the anvils became like music to my ears. One merely has to listen to the rhythm of the hammers in order to find the notes.

They love to put on little shows while I was there, balancing hammers on the tips of their tails, and then launching them onto the anvils. The couple would even sing as they work, timing their strikes with the notes.

They also had a small son, barely a year old that I often babysat for while his parents worked. The little thing had the nasty habit of coughing up fireballs while I held him.

I should be grateful that I would transform into a dragon whenever I visited and looked after him, otherwise his puffs could burn me if I wasn’t. That and the heat generated from a salamander, even a baby, could set a tree on fire, hence why their shop was lined in heavy heat reflective stone.

One of the other things I loved doing would be to talk with Marron. She had been living in Seattle near her mistress since moving back a couple years ago. That move was a devastating blow to me when all of this began. I felt alone and lost. If it hadn’t been for Rachel, there’s no telling what might have happened to me.

But while living halfway on the other side of the country, we were no less as close as ever. We called each other roughly once or twice a week, just to keep in touch. She and I were as close as sisters could be without being related by blood.

Marron also loved sending me outfits on a near weekly basis, with permission of my mother of course. With her being a seamstress by trade, she worked at a fashion company in the Pacific Northwest, and would travel around the nation to attend shows.

Whenever she traveled, I hoped that one of her shows would be in Austin. That way I could travel to it and go see her. Sadly, her shows were often held in major coastal cities. But regardless, I would still wait for when she and I could get together.

I am also pen pals with two daiyokai from Japan, Yukari Tsukino and Asharyume-no-Inue, or Asha for short. Both I had met while on my first trip to Japan and had since become somewhat like aunts to me in the time since.

I would send them letters whenever I needed some advice that no one at home could answer, mostly pertaining to being either a kitsune or ryujin, from whom I received that mana in order to transform into said races.

Both would sometimes surprise me when they’d actually call me on the phone. I giggled as we even video chatted with each other. During my first birthday while in the Estate, both women announced a plan to have me return to Japan and live there for a time as a yokai. This was something I was keenly looking forward to in the coming spring.

I also transformed into both forms for them, showing them the progress I had made in learning how to master each form. I was even more nervous when I told them of my strong affinity towards my kitsune form, feeling as though I might insult Asha. She didn’t care, saying that she was glad at how well I had taken to being a yokai. I would blush and smile, thanking her.

I missed both of them deeply. At times, our letters and even our occasional phone calls never seemed to be enough to me. Over the course of the past year, the two daiyokai have become somewhat of like aunts to me. I knew they spoke to Rachel nearly as much as they spoke to me, as I often eavesdropped on their phone calls. I giggled softly, listening to them as they talked about me.

The one final person I need to mention would have to be Titania, queen of the fae. I met her a year ago when I began my magic training and somehow had garnered her attention. She scared the living crap out of me, completely overwhelming my paltry defenses. But after she left, I never really saw her again. So I still had no idea of why she was there in the beginning.

She also mentioned something about a “tragic yet beautiful fate”. I figured it meant she predicted the deaths of my family and then my adoption by Rachel. But then…I don’t know. Whatever a fae tells you will always have multiple meanings and interpretations. So take it as you will.

For whatever reason, I would find little gifts in my room on occasion. They could be anything from little trinkets to entire tomes of fae lore.

She had even sent me a dress that I absolutely fell in love with. A simple thing greenish white silken dress that I swear was meant for a fairy princess. I often had dreams of sprouting little wings and buzzing about the forest.

Sometimes hidden in the gifts would be little messages from the queen, nothing overtly dangerous such as containing a portal to her world. Mostly they were just little notes saying that she’s there and happy for me. One note stated that she’d like to see me again and possibly with my mother’s permission. I’d…have to think about that.

Over time, I grew to find the fairy queen to be someone rather nice. You still have to keep your wits about someone as powerful and legendarily mischievous as Queen Titania. I sometimes kind of wished to see her; granted Rachel would have to be present.

She loved to refer to me as her “little fox”, a pet name that she claimed. She seemed to genuinely care for me, and her notes were proof of that. I would respond to her, but not using the message stone. For some reason it couldn’t connect to the realm of the fae.

So instead I’d leave out a letter for her messengers with a small vial of honey, payment for delivering the letters. This was a rare occurrence, mostly to thank her for the gifts.

When not studying or training, I still had other ways to occupy my free time. Reading novels was just only one of many hobbies. My ever increasing number of book cases is proof of that. Other than that I am still very much an anime fan.

Since the last con I went to with Marron, I kind of lost interest in attending. When you are going to be living in the nation that you idolize, going to a convention seems pointless.

I would often order titles directly from Japan. Full series, manga, light novels, a few figures if they caught my interest. I was constantly reordering my cases, and even sometimes selling off items I didn’t want anymore.

One passion that I held was for model building. I had entire desk devoted to the hobby, complete with tools, paints, binders containing sketches of planned custom builds, and several small cabinets filled with spare parts, pla-plate, and other items.

One other thing I tended to on a near weekly basis was the maintenance and cleaning of my swords. Along with the kodachi from Asha, the ryujin also gave me a cleaning kit to make sure the blade never grew tarnished.

I would take the swords off of their rack and lay them onto my desks. I’d unsheathe one sword at a time, and set about wiping down each blade with a simple cleaning solution, removing any buildup from being sheathed.

After drying each blade, I’d gently apply a thin layer of powder that would serve as a barrier; helping to prevent the oils from the wooden sheathes seeping into the blades.

Only on rare occasions would I disassemble each sword and sharped the blades with a whetstone that I kept under my desks. This portion of the maintenance process was done while kneeling on the floor.

I’d first wet the stone, insuring a smooth glide over the stone. I place the blade onto the stone and gently rake it across. I would do this for a couple minutes on each side. It was a sort of mediation for me.

My mind was focused on maintaining a steady motion, using the sound of the blade scraping against the stone as focal point. When I had finished, I’d reassemble each weapon and dry them off. The blades seemed to sing with joy as I held them up to the light.

A smile always seemed to stretch across my face every time the light would be “cut” by the edge of each sword. The final step would be to sheathe and place them back onto the rack.

“Maintaining one’s weapon improves one’s discipline,” as Lyra often told me. A lesson I took to heart.

. . .

During an early weekend morning, I was out in the front the courtyard within the driveway. While heading over to the garage to check in on Marie, the automaton combat maid, I felt my foot catching on what I thought was a loose brick.

As I hopped to a stop, I turned to see one of the bricks had indeed become loose. I walked over and knelt down to it, with the intent of pushing the circular brick back into the ground. To my surprise, I discovered that something lied beneath the brick. I lifted the piece off, revealing a large circular, dark stone.

Curiously tilting my head, I reached out and touched it, causing the stone to shoot ten feet out of the ground. I stumbled backwards as I viewed a large obsidian/amethyst-like pillar.

It was about a foot in diameter and still flat at its top. While crystal for nearly its entire length, its base was some sort of white stone with a marble coupling.

I staggered to my feet, examining it. My fingers traced over the cold crystalline pillar. I then felt something sparking as I tapped the base. It didn’t hurt per say, feeling more like receiving a static shock. I walked around the pillar, still gazing at it.

“Oh dear.”

I turned to see my mother walking over to me, “You…you know what this is?” I asked as she stepped beside me.

“This is one of the many defenses that litter the Estate. These particular pylons slightly inhibit hostile magic, as well as prohibit flight to a certain degree,” she explained.

I looked to her, “‘Pylons’, as in there are more of these? How come I’ve never seen or even heard of these things before?”

Rachel smiled as she reached out her hand, lowering it, which caused the pylon to recede back into the ground, “Because there has never been a need for me to inform you of them.”

I huffed, crossing my arms, “Secrets within secrets right?”

My mother chuckled, “Of course my love.”

I sighed, gazing back out onto the driveway, seeing other similar circular bricks, spaced evenly, roughly six feet apart, “So how many pylons are there?”

She smiled, “Hundreds,” she then saw the formation of a small grin upon my face, “I know what you are thinking my love.”

I giggled, looking up at her, “I think it could be fun to try.”

She shook her head, “You are constantly finding ways to cause me worry.” I grinned up at her.

Rachel sighed, “Very well. But I shall leave this particular training to you. I am fairly sure the forest will be a suitable training ground.”

I nodded, “Oh yeah,” grinning even more.

She smiled, “Just be careful.”

I bore devious grin, “I promise.”

My mother rolled her eyes, flicking my head, “Cheeky little fox.” I giggled softly, rubbing it.