Chapter II
A Soul's Refrain
Luca's sleep was short and fitful, and his dreams were troubled by painful memories. He saw the death of his father, repeating again and again in his mind's eye, continually taunting him with his inability to stop it. He saw the glowing, single red eye of Zinoro, watching him endlessly from some dark place. He saw the barren wasteland that had once been the village, now nought but ashes buried under snow. He saw the clothes and blood of those taken by death. He saw the look of resignation in his father's eyes as Zinoro ended him.
He woke, suddenly and without sound. His instincts kicked in, and he reached for his blade. It was not by his side.
Wherever he was, it was not where he had been before.
He was lying in a warm and comfortable bed, wearing a change of soft bedclothes he had never seen before. He was in a bedroom, illuminated by the silver glow of moonlight streaming in through an open window. The room was sparsely and indifferently furnished in the way that inns always were.
The air was different. It was warmer; a welcome relief from the harsh and biting cold of the Arimos region. He did not know where he was, but it was certainly farther south.
The real question was how he had came to be in such a place.
He thought back as best he could. His final memory was of Zinoro walking away, leaving him to be dealt with by the large Acarian with the axe. After that, he remembered being seized by a great fury, and blacking out.
Zinoro had delegated his work to one of his men, not even bothering to kill a person who was, in his eyes, nothing but a child. Even after everything he had done.
Luca looked down at his hands. The cold images flashed through his mind again. Arlea was dead. His father was dead.
"Zinoro."
He said the name softly, as though his lips were testing it. He vowed never to forget that name. The man who had slain his father...
The door of the bedroom creaked opened. Luca looked up to see a girl stepping inside, carrying a bag under her right arm, and a pitcher of water in her left hand. She looked up as she stepped in, freezing and giving a small start as her gaze met his.
Luca found himself looking her over. The girl was pretty, but not beautiful. She had dark black hair, which ran down to just past her shoulders, contrasting well with her milky white skin. Her eyes were large and round, and as green as emeralds. She was dressed simply, in a plain white dress, which seemed to glow mysteriously in the strong moonlight. She was not wearing any shoes.
The girl watched Luca warily, not speaking or moving. She was waiting to see what he would do; like a wild beast. He found that strangely irritating, so he decided not to do anything at all. He simply sat there, and an indeterminate amount of time went by before the girl at last spoke, breaking the silence.
"So you are awake..." she said slowly.
"Your powers of observation are astounding," he muttered dryly.
The girl blinked, and looked away from him awkwardly. "I don't understand why I... Well, I guess that's because of the..."
Her words trailed off, and she looked down at the floor, confused about something.
"I apologise," she said finally. "I shouldn't just be standing here. Are you alright? How are your injuries?"
Injuries? He looked over himself to find that he was bandaged in several places beneath the bedclothes. It made sense he would be injured, after what had happened; he just hadn't noticed the wounds until she had mentioned them, so they must have been well-treated.
"It seems I'll live."
The girl smiled.
"Excellent. I was just bringing your clothes up. I had just finished cleaning them. I also got you some water if you're thirsty."
He was, actually. He sat up, and moved to the side of the bed as she approached. She placed the pitcher on the nightstand, and placed his clothes atop the dresser while he drank. He easily downed the entirety of the water in the pitcher, likely half a litre. A little surprised with himself, he set the pitcher down and turned to the girl.
"Thank you," he said.
She smiled and bowed. "Of course. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?"
He did not feel particularly well, nor did he really want anything. Something about the girl's presence was bothering him, some sort of strange feeling in the air between the two of them that he had never felt with another person. She was a stranger, and he was not comfortable with feeling such a thing with someone he did not know. This was too much, especially in the aftermath of the attack. He needed time alone to gather his thoughts.
"I'm fine," he told her. "You can go, I don't need anything right now."
He did his best not to sound rude, but some animosity may have slipped through regardless. The girl, if she noticed, did not show it. She bowed again, like a servant, and left the room quietly. She stopped at the doorway, and turned back to him.
"My name is Emila, by the way."
And with that, she left, not waiting to see if he would tell her his own name. Somehow that bothered him. He felt as though she had just made a move in some unspoken game, securing an advantage over him, simply by telling him her name. He felt like he needed to regain some ground. He rose to follow after her, but stopped himself before crossing half the length of the room, realising how foolish the thought was. With a frustrated sigh, he threw himself back onto the bed, ignoring the aches in his bones.
"Emila..." he muttered.
He spotted his bags where the girl had left them. All the belongings he had meant to take with him when he left with Arlea. A pang of guilt struck him at the thought of the girl. He was supposed to have been her saviour; rescuing her from a life of unhappiness in a cold, empty place. Instead, she had following him to her death.
Perhaps the reason this Emila girl was bothering him was because he saw a bit of Arlea in her eyes.
He closed his eyes, deciding what he was going to do. A few minutes passed. After he had made up his mind, and once he was certain Emila was downstairs and not about to disturb him again, he rose from the bed and pulled his makeshift clothes off. He grabbed his fur garments and quickly dressed himself, ignoring the stiffness and pain in his body. He did not dress fully, for he would not need the extra layers in such a warm region, and it would only slow him down either way. He grabbed his bag, and threw it over his shoulder.
His father's sword rested against the dresser. He went over to it, and picked it up slowly, testing the weight of it. In all their years of travels, his father had never let him touch his sword once. Now, with Lodin's death, the blade was his.
Luca looked briefly, but he couldn't find his old short sword, which he remembered Zinoro's Rixeor Fragment blade slicing in half. It mattered not. He only needed one sword, and it was fitting that he use Lodin's blade to avenge him.
After sheathing the sword at his belt, he turned and went to the bedroom's sole window. He unlatched it as quietly as possible, then climbed through and jumped from the second storey. He landed on the dirt road below without a sound. Thankfully, the arrow in his leg was gone now, so the landing was soft.
The town was deathly quiet and empty, even for midnight. Not a single soul was visible on the streets, nor was a single window illuminated. It was as though he and Emila were the only people in the town. If that were true, then he would be leaving her by herself...
He shook his head. It didn't matter.
He took off at a run.
Emila returned to the inn's kitchen and flicked the light-switch, activating the electric lamps on the walls. It was strange that the plumbing in the town was down, but the magitech was still functioning. She decided she would look into it tomorrow. Life would certainly be easier in the abandoned town if she could get the toilets and sinks working.
Well, she actually wasn't sure what would happen on the morrow. Her unexpected guest had thrown her short-term plans into doubt. What if he didn't want to stay in Forga?
"No point in worrying about that yet. I'm sure we'
ll figure this out."
She started the stove and rummaged through her belongings until she found the wrapped tea leaves she had brought with her. After such a long night, she decided she deserved a treat.
As she was measuring out the water, she wondered if her new friend might want some. And with that thought, she also realised that she hadn't even asked his name. She had given him her own, but she had been so nervous and eager to get out of the room she hadn't waited for a reply.
"Stupid..." she berated herself.
Deciding to return to his room and apologise, she turned off the stove and left the kitchen. However, as her bare foot touched the first step of the stairs, she felt a wrenching nausea in her gut, and a feeling of panic hit her.
"What...? Oh no! What is he doing?! Stupid! I should have told him right away!"
She ran to the entrance, threw the door open, and took off after him.
Luca estimated that he had run half a kilometre from the town when he was forced to a sudden stop.
A feeling of unease and worry had been filling him as he ran. He had ignored it, and continued running, trying not to notice that it grew the farther he went. The feeling had gradually turned into pain, but he had written it off as aches from pushing his injured body into action.
He realised now, as he could go no farther, what a mistake he had made.
Luca's stomach heaved, and he doubled over onto the ground. He began to violently cough, and red drops of blood sprayed the dirt below him. The pain in his chest grew in a crescendo, and he felt something within his ribs moving. His head spun, dizzy from the overwhelming pain.
His breathing was suddenly laboured, and came in thin gasps. It felt like his lungs were pulling themselves apart. He would have screamed were he able to breathe.
This suffering continued for several long minutes, but gradually lessened. By the time he saw the raven-haired girl drawing near him, it was all but gone.
"Thank goodness," she gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think you would take off, but I still should have told you..."
Emila offered her hand to him, and he reluctantly took it. She helped him back to his feet, and he moved to a tree and leaned against the bark for several minutes, catching his breath. Emila watched him with a strange expression, but she said nothing.
Once he was recovered, he turned to her and glared.
"What the hell... did you do to me?!"
Surprise crossed her features for a moment, but that quickly vanished. Emila's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened to a thin line.
"I saved your life," she said firmly.
Luca blinked in surprise, then looked to the ground in shame.
"I did what I had to do," Emila continued, her voice softer than before. "If I hadn't... you would never have made it. It was a taboo magick, and for good reason. But it saved you."
"What exactly did you do?" he asked.
Emila hesitated, but she told him.
"I linked us through magick. Essentially, I tethered your spirit to my own. A small blade had found its way into your lung, and even after removing it, you would never have made it."
A small blade... Ah, the top half of his old hunting sword, which Zinoro had cut in half. He remembered now that he had fallen and stabbed himself with it.
"The wound was too severe," Emila continued. "You could never breathe with your own lungs. Regular healing repaired the damage, but your lung won't work without the magick's support for a while. The Soul Tether sends my mana to you, filling any gaps in your life energy. The only way you're breathing right now is because the magick is doing it for you."
Luca took a breath, feeling air fill him. "It still feels the same..."
"If the tether were to be severed, you wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. That's what nearly just happened."
Another question had entered Luca's mind, and he wasn't sure he would like the answer. Still, he had to ask.
"How long must we remain connected like this?"
Emila thought about it. "Well, until your lung heals. Ordinary healing can't fix that; only time. A week or two, at the least."
He swore silently.
"And until then, I have to remain in your company," he muttered. It was not a question.
Emila nodded. "If there is too much distance between us, the link will break and you will die."
She cast her gaze down at the ground where the dirt was stained brown with blood.
"I'm sorry," she told him. "Please understand, it was the only way. You were dying, and I didn't know what else to do."
He turned to her, feeling suspicious. "Why even save me in the first place? I was nothing but a stranger to you. Why put yourself in such a risk to save somebody you don't even know?"
Emila shrugged. "Do we always need a reason to help people?"
Luca sighed. Emila looked up, as though suddenly realising where they were, and went to his side. "We should get back to the town. Monsters will be out."
He nodded, silently cursing his fate. To be chained to this weak girl for so long... Whatever time it took him to heal was time wasted. Every day that passed would be another day that Zinoro walked with his head in the air, unpunished for killing his father.
As they walked back to the town, he looked over at Emila. She still wasn't wearing any shoes, walking over the dirt road in her bare feet.
Still, she did put herself at great risk just to save me. I suppose I should be grateful.
She noticed his staring, and met his gaze.
"I'm Luca," he told her.
"This town is called Forga," Emila told him as they made their way through the city streets, on their way back to the inn. "As you can see, it's empty. Nobody lives here."
"What happened to them?"
Emila shook her head, frowning. "Nobody knows. One day, out of nowhere, everyone in the town just vanished."
Luca looked to her. "So this isn't your home, then?"
"Oh, no. I was just travelling, and I stopped here to rest for a few days." She didn't meet his gaze as she said this. "And then, out of nowhere, you showed up with an Acarian."
Luca stopped.
He remembered the brief fight with the large axe-wielding Acarian; a hazy fever dream that blurred with the other nightmares of before. Though he was having some trouble putting together what had happened, he was sure that much was real, at the very least.
But Luca and that Acarian had been at the Arimos before, standing at the snow-covered ash of the village. And there was no chance that the Acarian had travelled with him all the way to Saeticia.
Which meant that somehow, they had travelled several hundred kilometres in only a few moments.
"What is it?" Emila asked. She stood a few paces ahead, looking back at him in confusion at his sudden stop.
"It's nothing," Luca told her. "Go on ahead. I want to take a look around this place."
"Alright," Emila muttered. She left him a moment later. Things were still a bit tense between them; neither of them really had a definite impression of the other yet.
Once she was gone, Luca looked around the town. The moonlight above illuminated the village well. Though it was - as Emila had said - empty, the town was in fine condition. There were few signs of conflict visible, save for the occasional broken window or kicked-in door. Whatever had happened to these people, it had happened quickly and efficiently; in contrast to the bloody massacre Luca had witnessed earlier.
"What drew me here, of all places?" he wondered aloud.
Some magick had transported Luca and that Acarian from the Arimos to this town. Did it have something to do with the disappearance of the villagers? Did it have something to with this girl who had a spell that could avert a fatal wound?
Luca looked around the abandoned town, searching the empty houses for something, anything, to ease his need for answers. And as he passed through the streets, he couldn't help but feel an odd sense of familiarity, despite knowing he had never been through t
he town of Forga on his travels.
He stopped before a half-standing ruin, unique among the buildings of the town in that it had been burned down. The house stood isolated some distance from the main street, so whatever fire had struck it must have been contained to it. But the fire couldn't have been related to the disappearance of the villagers; that had happened much later than when the house must have burned.
"Ack?"
Luca's head suddenly pained him, like he was thinking too hard on something. Part of him wanted to explore that burned ruin, born of some compulsion he couldn't put his finger on. But he knew he would find nothing there but memories... the memories of similar fires he had seen the day before. And he just wanted to forget about those.
He turned away from the burned house and went to return to the inn.
The following morning came, and Emila awoke to find Luca absent from the inn. For a moment she panicked, fearing he had attempted to flee once again, but she shook her head and decided that he could not be so foolish.
After fixing her own breakfast, she left the inn to find him. A quick search determined that he was out by the river, shirtless save for his bandages, doing push-ups. His sword was unsheathed and stuck in a tree stump nearby.
"Yeah?" Luca groaned between breaths. Sweat dripped down from his brow.
"I was just wondering where you were."
He didn't answer.
Emila averted her gaze, as she knew she would blush if she watched. "What are you doing out here, if I may ask?"
"What does it look like?" he told her curtly. "I'm training."
Emila looked down at the ground, feeling distracted.
"I won't heal any faster by sitting around doing nothing," he continued. "If I keep physically fit, my body will recover fast, and I can get out of this place."
Emila didn't look up. "You don't want to be here?"
Luca scoffed. "Who would?"
Emila frowned, taking her own turn to be silent.
With a groan, Luca climbed back to his feet. He went over to the edge of the river, cupped his hands, and splashed some water on his head.
"Where were you going?" he asked suddenly.
"I'm sorry?" Emila said.
"You said last night you were travelling, and that you were stopping to rest in this place. I'm asking where you were headed."
"Oh. I, uh... Err.."
She shifted awkwardly, and silently berated herself for not coming up with something before.
Luca stared at her, his eyes seeming to know far more than he should. "I understand if you have secrets to keep."
Emila bit her lip and said nothing.
He went over to the log, and drew the sword out from it. He stared at the steel blade for a long moment, then said in a quiet voice, "I'm used to those around me keeping secrets."
Emila spent the rest of the day trying to get the plumbing to work. She eventually found the town's water supply was still full, so she returned to the inn and followed the path of the pipes back to the well. She found that one particular pipe was broken, so she repaired it and returned to the inn. She started the faucet and clear water flowed.
Emila sighed in relief.
An hour later, she was bathed and refreshed. She returned to the lobby, which had grown dark after the sun had set.
Luca had not yet returned to the inn.
Emila sighed again, and she stepped out the front door. She quickly found the white-haired man at the very spot he had been before. He was on his hands, gasping and panting. Sweat dripped off his chest and brow, and his arms trembled.
She could feel faintly, through their connection, that he was on the verge of collapsing. As she drew near him, his arms buckled under his own weight, and he fell onto the dirt. He sighed, and noticed her, surprise in his eyes. And shame.
"You need rest, Luca," she said.
He turned away from her gentle words, ignoring her very existence. He forced himself up to his feet, and stumbled over to the river.
"I don't..."
He was at a loss for words. She moved next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled from her touch.
She blinked, but said nothing of this. Instead, she took a step back and gave him an invitation.
"I've fixed the water," she said. "Come back to the inn, and take a shower. I'll make something to eat."
He cast his eyes down, and considered for a moment.
"Very well," he relented.
Luca emerged from the shower, and pulled a towel around his body. He was sore and tired from the hard day of training, but he felt better about his condition. In only a day, the majority of his injuries had healed. The minor ones, scratches and the like, had been treated by Emila earlier. His left leg occasionally pained him from the arrow it had received, but that was nothing he wasn't used to.
Yet despite this progress, he knew he was far from leaving. Every time he breathed, he knew that he was only able to because Emila was nearby, feeding him with her mana. That strange connection he had felt with her, which he now knew to be the Soul Tether, was a constant reminder of his weak dependence on her.
He hated it, but he could not avenge his father if he died on the side of the road. He would have to wait, and only leave when he was sure he was able to.
Luca stepped before the mirror, and looked back at his reflection. Predictably, he looked tired and worn, but clean. He ran his hand through his white hair, pushing it back, when he noticed something.
A thin scar, running across his left cheek, from his temple to his chin.
The mark Zinoro had given him. Most scars would disappear after being healed with magick, but this one... dark energy had flowed through that wound. The pain had vanished the moment he was separated from Zinoro, but the mark itself would likely never fade.
Luca swore under his breath. He considered himself a rather handsome man, though it was not something he took pride in. Beauty had its uses from time to time, but it was a shallow pride, and a temporary element that faded with time.
No, it was not his face that Zinoro had scarred, but his pride. The scar was not meant to disfigure him, but to serve as a reminder of what had happened; of how easily he had been beaten. It was a scar of humiliation.
Luca thought of Emila, and how she had said nothing of the scar. Perhaps she had not mentioned it out of courtesy, or perhaps she was ashamed she had not been able to heal it with her magick.
Perhaps she pitied him. The thought made him scowl. To hell with her pity.
He quickly dried off and dressed, pulling on his fur garments.
Zinoro wouldn't win. Luca had decided that he was not going to let the man get away with what he had done. He wasn't ready yet to face him yet, though. He would have to train hard, and to acquire skills to counter Zinoro's magick. Most importantly, if Luca wanted to be able to counter Zinoro's Rixeor Fragment blade, he would need one of his own.
First, there was somewhere he needed to go, and someone he needed to see.
Emila greeted Luca with a warm smile he did not return. He descended the stairs and joined her at the table she had set. They dined in relative silence, once it became clear that Luca had no desire to talk to her. She felt a bit hurt, but she was starting to understand the kind of person Luca was.
He was an asshole.
That much was clear. He was reserved, brooding, melancholic, and when he spoke: short, sarcastic, and cynical. The very first thing he had said to her was an insult. He was the exact kind of person she hated, and did her best to avoid.
And yet...
There was pain in his eyes. She could see it, as hard as he tried to hide it. She doubted that she had it in her to convince him to tell her exactly what it was that was troubling him so, but it bothered her. She didn't think she was seeing the true Luca, so she would simply be patient with him, until she understood what caused him pain.
She would need to be patient, because nei
ther of them were going anywhere. She was essentially bound to him, so she figured that she might as well do what she could to help him. She liked to help people whenever she could, and leaving him as he was just didn't seem right after she had saved his life.
"Luca, when you were trying to leave last night... where were you going to go?"
He looked up at her and hesitated, possibly considering if he should tell her.
"Allma Temple," he finally said..
She blinked. That was an interesting answer.
"Allma? The training school in Torachi? What business could you have there? You don't look like you need any combat training."
Luca idly twirled his fork in his hand.
"I need to see a man there named Dori."
There was a finality in those words. He wasn't going to tell her anymore. She returned her attention to her dinner.
Dori... she had heard that name before somewhere. She couldn't seem to recall where, though.
There was a flash of lightning, which illuminated the dark outside, followed by the clap of thunder. Rain began to pour in heavy sheets. Emila noticed this and smiled, before turning back to her guest.
"Is it urgent that you see this man, Luca?" she asked.
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
"I see... in that case, we can leave in the morning."
He sat up suddenly.
"What are you saying? I thought...."
"You have to stay in my company," Emila said. "That doesn't mean you have to stay in Forga. We can go where you need to. It doesn't seem fair to me that you should be stuck here, when you clearly have things to do. And after watching you train all day, simply because you felt it would help you recover faster, I realised just how badly you want to get out of here. But you need to be with me, right? So the solution is simple: we both go."
Luca stared at her for a moment. "What about your own destination? Don't tell me you were on your way to Allma, too."
"Of course not."
"So this trip of yours is unimportant enough that you can just cast it aside and go with me to Allma?"
Emila frowned, and muttered, "Indeed."
There was a long silence. Luca stared at her, deep in thought, like she were a puzzle he was trying to work out the solution to.
"Very well," he said, breaking the silence. "We can leave on the morrow."
Luca sat alone, upstairs in the room he had woken in before. As the inn was empty save for the two of them, he could have chosen to sleep in any room he wanted. But it really made no difference to him; it was more convenient to stay where he was, as his belongings were already there.
Outside, the rain had died down to a light trickle.
He wasn't sure how to feel about this latest news. For one, he was eager to be out of the barren, empty town, and on his way towards Allma. Each hour that passed was one wasted; time he could be spending preparing for his revenge on Zinoro. So on that hand, he was glad that he was leaving tomorrow, instead of in a fortnight.
On the other hand...
The thought of having Emila with him as he went to see Dori was not one he quite enjoyed.
Dori was a master of Allma Temple, and the man who had trained his father. Luca vaguely remembered visiting him with Lodin once, many years ago. His father had often spoke of Dori, and he'd told Luca several times that if anything should happen to him, to go see Dori of Allma Temple. He wasn't sure what step to take next, so going to see Dori seemed better than anything else.
Dori was a skilled trainer, and he could teach Luca things his father had not. Skills he may need to kill Zinoro. But having to explain to the man who trained his father that he was going to go after Zinoro for revenge, while his life was magickally bound to this timid girl... how humiliating.
In any case, Luca had checked one of the maps in the inn, and Allma Temple wasn't far. Forga sat on the western edge of the Saetician border, and Allma was on the southern border of Torachi. It couldn't take more than a week of travel to get there.
He did not know what kind of fighter Emila was, but he wasn't counting on her to be very skilled. It would be no different from the journey he was already prepared to take with Arlea, but he would be under far greater pressure to protect Emila. If she were to be wounded, the Tether could be broken, and his own life would be in danger. Should they come across an enemy that realised this, Emila would be all too easy a target.
Luca felt a sudden chill, and was suddenly back in the cold hell of the Arimos. He pulled his fur coat around his shoulders and shivered. He had always hated the cold, but now it was his very bane. It reminded him of death. The villagers. Arlea. His father. The cold was a nightmare to him.
And he knew he would have nightmares when he slept.
The chill was enough to bother him, so Luca got up and went over to the fireplace in the bedroom. He tossed a couple of logs into the fire and turned the knob to activate the magitech. After a few clicks and sparks, a flame started up, and enveloped the wooden logs.
A very small part of him would regret leaving behind such convenience. After seven months of the Arimos, a magitech fireplace was a luxury.
Luca returned to his bed and sat down, reaching into his bag and taking out the one book he had packed for the doomed trip with Arlea. All the others that he had left behind in the hut were now certainly reduced to ash, like everything else in the village.
Setting aside such regretful thoughts, he opened the book to where he'd left off. There wasn't much left until he was finished.
I have made a grave mistake.
The distant reaches of Arimos are a cold and unforgiving land. In the farthest parts, where I have come to be, there are not even monsters living in these lands. There are only shades of death that forever haunt these barren lands. My supplies are running low. I have been here too long... weeks longer than I originally intended. And yet I have not found the ruins I set out in search of.
I should have given up on this futile quest. I should have left when I still had the chance, and returned home, where my children wait for me. This quest was never worth risking my life.
Now it is too late. If I still had the strength, I could turn around and go back. But I cannot. The cold winds drive me only north when I try to travel. I do not have enough left to eat to survive a trip back south.
I will never make it. This cold land will be my grave.
I can only hope that one day, someone will find this journal and take it back to my children. I do not have heart that someone could come as far north as I have and make it back alive. It breaks my heart that my children will never know what happened to me.
There is little light left now, so I cannot write much more. If this diary ends here, then that means I did not make it.
Forgive me. Forgive this foolish man.
That was all there was.
Luca looked at those last sentences, not sure what to make of it. The traveller... he had not survived, and yet someone had found the journal. Had it been Lodin, or had someone given it to him?
It angered him that that was all there was. That man had believed so deeply in his mission, and yet it had led him to death, without ever finding what he had been seeking. It was all nothing more than a shaggy dog story; a pointless waste of time.
He rose and went over to the fire, about to toss the book into the flames when he realised something.
It was not pointless. It was a cautionary tale.
The traveller had hoped that his journal would tell others his story. It was a warning not to throw your life away for an ideal.
Rather than throwing the book into the fire, Luca set it on the shelf of the room.
Maybe later somebody would find the book and learn something from it. Luca would be leaving tomorrow, so there was no sense in him taking the book with him, but if he left it behind in Forga, perhaps someone would end up there someday and discover it.
The cold breeze had not faded, and he felt a strong flow of mana com
ing from outside the inn. Perhaps because of the Tether, Luca felt the mana was Emila's.
He went to the window, and saw Emila outside in the streets. She had her arms outstretched, and her head up at the sky. Large amounts of mana were being used for some kind of spell he had never seen before.
She seemed to be focusing the mana on the cloud in the sky.
It was then he noticed that it was no longer raining.
Is she altering the weather?
There was no mistaking it. That was exactly what she was doing.
"What a pointless waste of mana..."
He could now see the result. Emila was using her mana, ice-form, as he now realised, to change the raindrops into ice crystals. She was changing the rain to snow.
He frowned. So that explained the cold wind.
Emila was now twirling around as snow fell around her, dancing in the artificial snowfall. She was smiling.
Luca turned away from the window and collapsed on the bed, pulling his cloak around himself to keep away the cold.
So there would be no escaping his nightmares after all.
Outside, Emila continued to dance under the snow.