Talia’s foot cut through the air like a knife, propelled by her investment in agility. However, just before it connected, her opponent, Master Silas, raised his arm to block. When Talia’s foot finally made contact, it was like she’d kicked a brick wall. She heard, more than felt, her bones break, but she didn’t let it slow her down. Instead, she activated her skill [Circle of Mending] as she hopped back on one foot. In seconds, her bones began to knit back together, but she felt a precipitous drop in her shallow pool of mana.

“Speed is strength,” Silas said, and Talia grimaced. The short sentence had become something of a mantra from the old man, and she had long since grown tired of hearing it. However, that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “And your endurance is still too low.”

Skipping backward, Talia resumed her fighting stance, her face contorting into a scowl as she glared at the head combat instructor of the Temple of the Sun’s martial division, a group that was known as The Radiant Guard. They were small in number, but the division counted many of Beacon’s most powerful fighters among its ranks. And Silas was responsible for training all of them.

The man himself didn’t appear to be anything special. He was average height, with a middling build, the only notable thing about his appearance being his long, wispy, white beard. But he was a true elite who’d achieved the pinnacle decades before, and that meant far more than anyone’s physique. Reaching level twenty-five was difficult enough that most people would never do so. Not only did it require an amount of experience that would make the sun goddess herself blanch, but it was also impossible for anyone who hadn’t evolved their race. The means to do so were rare and extremely expensive, so few had the opportunity to clear that bottleneck at level fifteen.

“I can’t put many points into endurance,” she spat. “You know that.”

“Excuses are irrelevant,” Silas said. “Only results matter.”

Talia didn’t waste any more time with useless talk. Instead, she launched herself at the unassuming man in a flurry of acrobatics kicks and punches. None came close to hitting him, save for the few times he chose to block rather than simply avoid her attacks. And by the time her assault petered out, she had a few more broken bones – not from anything Silas did, but rather due to the force of her own blows. Finally, when both of her feet were broken, she sank to the woven training mat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Even her [Circle of Mending] had limits of how much damage it could heal, and even if it didn’t, she had already run dry of mana. It would be hours before she could use the skill again.

“Do you know why you continue to fail?” Silas asked, looming over her. Despite his impeccable control of his aura, Talia could feel his power enveloping her.

Already, Talia could feel the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Not from the pain – she could handle that much and had done so throughout her training. Rather, the tears were born of frustration. She could not abide failure, even if she knew it wasn’t really her fault.

“I’m too weak,” she said, the words coming out as a disgusted hiss.

“That is true,” the man agreed. “But weakness is only part of the story. The reason you fail is because you are trying to walk two paths. You can not be everything at once. You must choose, lest you become mediocre at both.”

With that, Master Silas extended his hand. Frustrated, Talia took it, and he helped her to her feet. The bones were still weakened, but she could at least stand with only minimal pain.

“Can you talk to her?” Talia asked. It wasn’t the first time she’d made the request, and she knew what the answer was going to be.

“I have,” Silas said. “She was not swayed.”

Talia ground her teeth together as she looked around the training courtyard. It was at least a hundred yards across, as well as twice as wide, and everywhere she looked, she saw people being trained in various forms of combat. The crack of practice weapons coupled with pained grunts and the slap of flesh against flesh to fill the air. There were even periodic screams of agony, usually when someone’s training went awry and they were injured. Healers dotted the edges of the courtyard, ready to respond when necessary.

Talia grimaced, remembering all the times she had been forced into such duty. [Circle of Mending] was a powerful skill, after all.

Healing was a great calling. She knew it was. But her heart had never been in it. Instead, she had always dreamed of being the type of powerful frontline warrior who could stand toe-to-toe with any monster foolish enough to cross her. And she would’ve done just that if it weren’t for her mother’s insistence that she learn the healing arts.

“May I be dismissed?” she asked. “My mother is waiting.”

With a nod of assent, Silas said, “You may.”

Talia didn’t fail to note the sadness in the man’s voice. It was understandable, considering that he had been training her for combat since she had turned eight years old. He knew how talented she could be if only her mother would allow her to walk her preferred path. But even Silas, for all his strength and the prestige of his station, didn’t have the power to speak against Lady Constance, the sun goddess’ chosen, and the Shining Light of Beacon.

Talia crossed the courtyard, nodding to her acquaintances along the way. Having grown up in Beacon, she knew almost everyone. However, her status as Lady Constance’s daughter meant that her upbringing had been a lonely one. The few times she’d tried to make friends, it had become clear that everyone was apprehensive in her company, walking on eggshells lest they offend the most powerful woman in their world.

Even Silas was wary of pushing her too far.

Eventually, she found her way to courtyard’s entrance – a set of massive, carved doors that weighed hundreds of pounds. She hardly looked at the intricate carvings that depicted her haloed mother vanquishing an army of foes. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of just how inviolable Lady Constance was.

The Temple of the Sun was the founding institution upon which Beacon’s society had been built, and as such, it wore its wealth like a badge of honor. As Talia strode through the expansive hallways with their marble floors and luxurious furnishings, she couldn’t stop her grimace from deepening. A true warrior didn’t need wealth like that. She only needed an enemy to fight. Anything else was overkill.

Certainly, her mother had always tried to impress upon her the importance of displays of power, but Talia had let those lessons flow past her. The Temple of the Sun, and by extension, Beacon, wasn’t powerful because of gold or marble or fine carpets. It was because of Constance. It was because of the Radiant Guard. No one dared rise up against them because they were simply too strong. It would be a death sentence to go against them.

Eventually, Talia wound her way through the maze of corridors to her suite of rooms. She would’ve been happy with a simple bedroom, but impressions were important. She pushed inside, hardly even noticing the Radiant Guard following her. She couldn’t remember his name, but as she recalled, he was quite a swordsman. Handsome, too. Not that he’d ever look at her like that. Nobody did. Another curse of being Lady Constance’s daughter was that her romantic possibilities were extremely limited.

With a huff of frustration, Talia slammed the door hard enough that she knew it came close to cracking. That made her feel a little better, at least. A few more points in strength, and she’d get there. Of course, her mother wouldn’t like that, which was the whole problem. Sighing, she opened her status screen:

Name

Talia Nightingale

Class

n/a

Level

12

Race

Human (G)

Alignment

Isphodel

Achievements

Progenitor, Bane of Goblins I, The Brink of Death

Strength

41

Agility

69

Dexterity

44

Endurance

23

Vitality

23

Intelligence

64

Wisdom

64

Unassigned Attribute Points

To put it bluntly, her stats were a complete mess. According to Master Silas, the only path to true strength was specialization, and while she’d tried to focus where she could, she had been forced to allocate her points into things she knew wouldn’t really help her achieve her goals. The problem was that her mother had all but forced her to take support skills.

[Circle of Mending] was an extremely powerful area healing ability with a great mana-to-healing ratio. She didn’t know precisely what it was, but all the Temple of the Sun Goddess’s scholars agreed that it was one of the most potent healing abilities one could easily obtain. By itself, that wouldn’t be so bad – she could’ve been a paladin like Abdul Rumas, who specialized in martial combat while providing powerful utility skills. But then came her level five and ten skills, which further cemented her path as a specialized healer.

[Meditation] was useful. Talia couldn’t deny that it greatly decreased her recovery time. Even with her relatively low wisdom, so long as she had a little downtime, she could regenerate her mana at an impressive rate. But taking it had kept her from obtaining a combat-focused skill like Master Silas’s [Eagle Strike]. In one of her training missions, she had seen the seemingly innocuous attack completely obliterate a level twenty goblin’s torso, which had left her in awe of the man. That was the kind of power she wanted, but instead, she was left with the useful but ultimately disappointing [Meditation].

But even then, Talia had held out hope that her mother would allow her to obtain some way to defend herself at level ten. She was sorely disappointed, because she’d been forced to take [Purify]. Again, according to all the scholars, it was a necessary part of any healer’s skill list, and even Talia had to admit that spending her time curing disease among the populace had been rewarding. It had given her a true appreciation for how the normal citizens of Beacon lived.

It wasn’t real power, though, which was what she craved more than anything else. Not like Silas wielded. And certainly not the sort that her mother enjoyed.

But her issues didn’t end with her skills, though. Even with the wrong skills, she could’ve allocated her stats in such a way that she could at least hold her own. However, in order to be minimally effective at her given role, Talia had been forced to spend the bulk of her points in intelligence and wisdom. Even then, her mana pool was shallow, and without [Meditation], it took her forever to regenerate even that relatively small amount.

It brought to mind Silas’s words. She knew she couldn’t walk two paths, regardless of how hard she worked. She was too weak to be a real combatant, and her lacking staying power meant that she couldn’t really be a focused healer, either. One or the other would have to win out.

Typically, healers focused on intelligence and wisdom first, every other level splitting off five points into endurance. By comparison, Talia was half as effective as other healers, and she could only make even that paltry claim because of [Meditation]. She was even worse as a fighter. Something would soon have to give if she was ever going to gain any degree of real power, as opposed to hanging onto her mother’s coattails.

These issues swirled through Talia’s mind as she cleaned herself up and got dressed for her daily meeting with her mother. Lady Constance was a rigid woman who didn’t accept half-measures, especially from her daughter, so Talia took quite a bit of time to make herself presentable. Once she was finished, she looked into the expensive mirror on the wall of her dressing room.

The girl that looked back at her looked every bit as young as Talia’s seventeen years of age would suggest. Clad in tight-fitting leather pants and a billowy blouse, with well-polished, high boots, she certainly cut a unique figure. Like her mother, she had no use for the traditional trappings of femininity; she outright refused to wear any dresses or skirts. The only concessions she’d made to societal expectations was her long, black hair, which she kept in a single, tight braid that fell down her back. Even so, she was satisfied with her appearance, and she knew she was reasonably attractive.

“A lot of good that does me,” she muttered at the thought. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d enjoyed the company of a boy her own age. Instead, most of her time was spent with the healing masters or Master Silas.

Satisfied with her efforts, Talia checked the clock in the corner of the room. It was time to go see her mother.

Without any further stalling, Talia quickly fled the room, ignoring the Radiant Guard who was her shadow for the day. Had his gaze lingered a little? Maybe. But that didn’t mean he liked her or anything, right? As if it mattered.

Talia’s traversal through the palace-like temple was long but uneventful, and eventually, she found her way to the administration wing that housed her mother’s offices. The Temple of the Sun Goddess was a huge organization, with clergy that numbered in the tens of thousands. Organizing that many people, even when they all had the same goals, was a nightmare, and it required an equally nightmarish bureaucracy. Talia shuddered at the thought of interacting with those sorts of people each day; how her mother managed to stay sane, she’d never know.

Despite being one of the most recognizable figures in the temple, Talia was stopped at multiple checkpoints, each of which were manned by Radiant Guards. At each one, a specialized mage would cast a series of spells intended to pierce through illusions or detect any sort of subterfuge. Talia bore their ministrations with as much dignity as she could, but by the fourth, she was well and truly frustrated. She hid her impatience, though, enduring it with outward placidity.

Half an hour after she’d entered the administration wing, Talia found her way to her mother’s offices. Or The Sun Throne, as it was known amongst the clergy. A Radiant guard let her inside.

Idly, Talia wondered what outsiders who met with Lady Constance thought upon entering such a gaudily named place. Because, while the moniker may have suggested something impressive, the reality was an austere office, populated only by Constance’s desk, a plain, straight-backed chair, and a painting of their patron, the Sun Goddess, hanging on the back wall.

The painting itself was an immaculate piece of art depicting a beautiful, white-robed woman who seemed to be extending her glowing hand to whomever regarded the painting. For Talia’s part, despite the painting’s artistic merits, she’d always found the thing extraordinarily creepy. Not only did its eyes seem to follow her wherever she went, but the hand was constantly shifting its perspective so that it always looked like it was coming right at her. She suppressed a shudder as she focused on her mother.

Constance had always claimed that decorating her office in finery was pointless in the face of a depiction of her chosen goddess. To a degree, that was true. The painting was overwhelming. But the real reason Constance didn’t bother with such things was because she dominated every room in which she stood. Her aura billowed off of her in waves, visible even to the naked eye, and presenting itself as rays of unsullied light. Against that, what was gold? What was finery? Nothing else could compare.

“Hello, mother,” Talia said, bowing at the waist.

“Daughter,” Lady Constance said, nodding slightly. Then, to her attendants that Talia had trouble even noticing amidst the light, she said, “You may leave. I wish to speak with my daughter alone.”

The three women and one man, all dressed in identical white robes trimmed in gold, scurried from the room. Even after the doors shut behind them, silence stretched between Talia and her mother.

Finally, Constance’s aura dimmed to nothing, and she practically fell into the chair. Immediately, Talia saw the strain behind her mother’s eyes as the older woman massaged her temples.

“I have a mission for you,” she said. “Have you ever heard of the Micayne Estate?”

Talia had. “They say it’s haunted,” she said. “The original owners dabbled in forbidden magic, and –”

“Abraham Micayne was a fool to claim it,” Constance said, shaking her head. Micayne had been one of Constance’s original party, a group of legends that included Lady Constance and Talia’s father, Jeremiah, as well as Micayne and his wife. Rounding out the group had been Abdul Rumas. The woman leaned back with a sigh. “I haven’t seen him in more than a decade. Sometimes…”

“Are you okay?” Talia asked.

“The same old problems. Regrets of a long life,” Lady Constance admitted. “Nothing for you to worry over.”

“But –”

“It’s nothing,” the older woman said, cutting Talia off. “The mission is simple. You and a team will head to the Micayne Estate, ascertain Abraham’s fate, and, if possible, bring him home. However, if you deem the attempt too dangerous, you are to retreat and relay your findings to the Radiant Guard.”

Talia nodded, but in her mind, she knew she would never retreat. She might not be as strong as some of the others, but she would not be a coward. Already, Talia was imagining her heroic return, even as Constance gave her the details of her team. To her disappointment, it would be comprised of almost two-dozen people, including a full complement of warriors, two other healers, and the legendary paladin, Abdul Rumas. It was like her mother didn’t trust her to fill an actual role, and she had overcompensated by saddling her with a veritable army of babysitters.

Finally, once Constance finished, she said, “How is your training going?”

“Master Silas –”

“Not that training,” she said dismissively. “Your real training.”

Talia ground her teeth together in frustration. It didn’t matter how hard she worked with Master Silas, her mother only considered it a distraction akin to a hobby. But the time she spent with the master healers? That was what was important – at least to Constance. To Talia, it was one more brick in the ever-growing wall that was her dissatisfaction.

But this mission – it was the first time she’d be going on a mostly unchaperoned adventure. She’d fought before, but always, there’d been someone like Master Silas there to make sure she didn’t end up dead like so many other adventurers. Abdul Rumas was powerful – a veritable legend – but he wouldn’t fill that kind of role in the party. Hopefully, he’d treat her just like any of the other group’s members. If so, she’d only have her contemporaries as back-up. And while that meant she’d lose her safety net, it also meant that she would have a chance to prove herself.

And that was all Talia really wanted – to prove her strength.