--- Roric

Breathe.

Roric inhaled deeply, careful to avoid any unnecessary movement.

"Keep your eyes closed, and ignore your surroundings," whispered the old priest, who was sitting in front of him. "Your attention must be focused only on the inside."

They had been practicing that exercise for seven days straight and the boy's patience was close to its breaking point. Being unable to succeed in something Tolwin deemed so simple was really frustrating and time was also short. Half of their trip had already passed and in an entire week Roric hadn't managed to feel his inner power once. Soon they would have gone back to the company, and at the camp there was no room for more of those lessons.

"I can't do it," stated the young mercenary, opening his eyes. "I can't find anything."

"You have to be patient and keep trying," the man reassured him. "Forcing a contact with the spirit is no easy task. Many people don't realize their potential even over their whole lives, while some others just... Unleash it, instinctively, like you did during the battle. Once you get a grasp of the procedure, you'll be able to summon your powers whenever you want."

"In short words, I need to risk my life again and again until it comes to me?"

"No, you are just asked to fail the required number of times."

Tolwin stood up.

"Let's take a break now," he said. "Why don't we go for some combat training, instead?"

Roric grabbed his sword and jumped back on his feet all of a sudden, like he had learned to do over the previous days in his effort to take the old man by surprise. He knew well how it wasn't going to work against such a monstrous opponent, yet he also believed in the importance of being always ready to fight.

His quick blows were intercepted without any problem by his master's holy hammer, and the counterattack was brutal as usual. The boy managed to dodge the blunt weapon twice, feeling the caress of the air as it passed a few fingers from his face, then he clashed with the priest a couple of times more until, a few moments later, Tolwin took advantage of his excessive aggression and used the hammer to hurl him sideways, forcing him to roll on the ground.

"Not bad at all. Definitely better than when we started."

"If you say so," panted Roric, gasping in pain. "Every time you hit me, it feels like I'm bashing against a wall."

The old man laughed out loud, resting the weapon over his right shoulder as usual.

"I can't afford to be delicate, don't you think? How else are you going to learn something, I wonder?" he exclaimed. "Nonetheless, I'm seeing a lot of progress in this field. Honestly, I almost feel like you deserve some sort of reward, so... I suggest a little challenge. Attack me, now."

Roric swung his sword without hesitation, confident that his target was virtually unreachable. But instead, he noticed that Tolwin wasn't moving away.

No... It's too late! I'm going to hurt him if he doesn't-

A golden barrier appeared around the body of his master. When the blade touched it, it exploded with such force that the weapon recoiled and was thrown away from the boy's grasp, landing in the grass a few meters away.

What... Just what in the world was that?

Astonished, the young mercenary rubbed his eyes. wondering if what he had just seen was a hallucination. Tolwin, on the other hand, was laughing so hard he cried.

"Surprise! You should see your face! Not quite what you were expecting, right?" he asked, trying to get back into some sort of composure. "Well, I can't help but feeling a little sorry for using that. It's an ability that saved me countless times before, and it will now serve as the bulk of what our challenge is about."

Roric, still in disbelief, babbled, "Challenge... What challenge? I thought I was going to kill you, and then-"

"What we are going to do," went on explaining the old man. "Is proceeding with your training for seven more days. If you manage to break my defense, I won't pull out any other trick you don't know. Force me to use this barrier before the last day ends, and I'll give you something special."

He took one of his bags and showed a vial full of some transparent liquid.

"What is it?" asked the young mercenary. "It looks like... A potion?"

"Close. It's a concoction of certain herbs that I prepared a while ago, knowing we might have needed it. What it does is amplifying the connection with your own spirit for a short while, and it might just be the best way to make you feel it. But first, you'll have to show me that you've worked hard enough."

After a couple of seconds spent pondering on the alternatives he had, Roric accepted.

"So, all I have to do is hit you?" he asked, recovering his sword. "And we'll skip that boring mental training?"

"No discounts on the training, but the rest is correct," replied Tolwin, with a smile of challenge. "I'm waiting, my boy."

***

--- Rickhart

The knife slipped from the fingers of his right hand, clinking on the floor.

Father lay on his bed, face up, soaked in his own blood. His expression was still twisted in rage, after the struggle of his last moments.

"I did it," murmured the boy, taking a step back and leaning on a wardrobe. "I did it... At last, his voice is no more."

He picked his weapon up, took a deep breath and got closer to the corpse once again. There wasn't a lot of time left, and in order to save his grandmother he had still many things to do. So, he tapped into his spirit and started gathering the bits of his father's soul before they could escape to the other side. Like the woman had taught him, he imprisoned them inside a raw jewel he had acquired for such occasion, wrapping it at once with inscribed bands of linen.

The seal is strong enough. It should hold for at least a couple of hours.

Now, he had to proceed with the next step. Rickhart gulped, wiping some sweat from his forehead, as he began to cut the man's chest, careful not to damage its precious contents. He broke the ribs, using the blade to remove every surplus part, then he prepared to dive in for the heart.

Here we go, Granny. I hope the bastard still feels it.

His fingers sank in his father's flesh, grabbing and ripping apart the arteries. With trembling hands, the boy took out the warm object and put it on the tray that the man used for his breakfast, quickly covering it.

He left the bedroom and headed to the main hall. His grandmother's body had been dug up that same night by some of the others and was now resting on the table, in the darkness. Rickhart looked at her expressionless face, remembering how her gentle voice had called for him in his dreams. Soon, after that rite, the only person who had ever been kind to him would have been alive once more.

Wait for me a little bit more, please. I'm going to bring you back very soon.

The boy washed the blood away from his hands, and began lighting and setting up the candles in the same way the manuscript told. The content of those old pages sometimes made him a little upset, as they were kept hidden inside a secret box in his grandmother's library for a good reason and their very existence was probably forbidden. One of the final steps of that procedure, in particular, gave him the creeps.

There is no purpose in being afraid at this point. I want to stay strong. No, I must.

With a small brush, Rickhart copied the complex seals that were shown in the book and traced them around the corpse using his father's blood as ink. Then he took the mortar and other tools that belonged to the late woman and tore apart the heart, mixing it with the venomous plants the voice had instructed him to find.

I can't make any mistake, or they'll take me instead.

Despite having always been a very methodical guy, he made sure to be extremely careful because he fully knew what the risks were. A minimum oversight could have meant the end for his soul or that of the person he was trying so hard to save, and he wasn't simply going to let it happen. Luckily the mixture came out perfect and the boy covered his grandmother's body with it, tainting the air of the room with an unbearable stench.

Gross. But it's nothing compared to what I'm about to do.

Rickhart finished his preparations and walked up to the first set of stairs, resting the old tome on the railing and clearing his throat.

"Here I go," he said, mustering all his will.

After focusing for a few moments, he tapped into his spirit again and summoned those terrible entities.

The following minutes seemed to last for a century. The boy lost track of time and space almost instantly, chanting the words he had memorized without a single pause. Struggling against the nausea and his blurring sight, he tried his best to remain conscious while the main hall quickly filled with an even more disgusting smell.

Hold on, Granny. We'll be together soon...

Before his watery eyes, unclear shadows began dancing among the candles. It was them. They had no need to talk, and Rickhart could clearly understand what they wanted from the way they turned their horrible faces. He took out the gem that contained the soul of his father, offering it as a tribute, and watched silently as the monsters devoured it. The book had been very clear on that part.

Don't make a single noise while they eat.

For a moment, he believed to hear the man's screams coming from somewhere far away but he just stood where he was and waited.

An unending amount of time passed. Then, right when the boy was about to collapse, the shadows faded, leaving a crimson light around the table. His grandmother opened her eyes.

I did it. I did it for real...

Rickhart stumbled down the stairs and fell on his knees, exhausted, the gloomy glow disappearing without any trace. The woman rolled to the side and stood up, coming towards him.

"My dear," she said. "Once again, I'm with you."

"Granny... Granny!" cried the boy. "I heard your voice... In my sleep."

The old lady bowed down, caressing his head.

"I called for your help, because I knew I couldn't abandon you. My degenerate son would have never carried on your instruction."

The two hugged. Just three days had passed since her death, yet Rickhart felt like she had been absent for an eternity.

"You made good use of what I taught you," the woman praised him. "Your spirit is powerful and your mind full of talent... A shame your father always failed to realize it."

"He is no more. I did like you told me. Even his soul doesn't exist, now."

"You have done well," said his grandmother. "Now, let us think about the future."

They went out, breathing the fresh air of the night. A beautiful full moon shone in the sky, lighting the surrounding fields and the cloaked figures who were gathered in the courtyard.

"Rickhart, my dear."

"Yes, Granny?"

"It's time to take your first steps into the world."