The happy memories momentarily dispersed Eiden's sunken mood. His curiosity and love for learning brought a small smile to his lips that reached his eyes. Fin, seeing one of the rare, sincere smiles from Eiden, spoke up.

"I knew you'd like it," said Fin. "It was my first book on magic as well. But, it's now yours. Treat it well, and you can pass it down to your apprentice yourself."

"Really? Can I keep it?" asked Eiden skeptically.

"Yes." Answered Fin. "It's a tradition to pass on something to an apprentice. Mages are rare. Though anyone can become a mage, rarely does that happen. The tradition of mentor and apprentice is heavily ingrained into magical society. If not for each other, we are alone.

"Though human mages are still human, we are… Decidedly different from most of our species. We usually live longer than our unawakened counterparts. We can read one's emotions in a manner that unnerves even the most accepting. We are walking weapons of war. Rarely do we get an entirely warm welcome. Though it is much harder to oppress our kind, we aren't entirely accepted. The looks out of the corner of their eyes when they think we can't "see" them. The back-handed comments of lineage. The accusation of "dark" magicks. As if magic has inherent morality…

"Anyways, that tome is on most mage academy required readings, so we all had to either buy one or get a used copy from someone else. This one was passed down from generations in my family. My great, great, great, and then some, grandmother was a mage."

"What type of mage was she?" Asked Eiden.

"She was an artificer. She created artifacts, magic objects. Sadly they were all sold out of the family during desperate times. I've since bought most of them back."

"Do you have any of them with you?"

"Only one," Said Fin. "The rest are back at the Order."

Fin took out a small watch from his pockets and handed it to Eiden. It had a brass exterior with hints of a darker metal used for the hands of the clock. The watch exuded a small mist that Eiden had since learned to associate with living beings.

"Fin, why is all of your stuff alive?"

"It's not alive," Said Fin. "Well, it actually is, but not in the way you think. There's a minor spirit inside, infused with a part of my grandmother's spirit. Most artificers imbue their works with their very spirit. At least, the work that they keep. Those that take commissions use the spirits of their clients or of magical beasts." Towards the end of Fin's explanation, his face had grown grim. His shroud of fog that bled from his skin had turned erratic and sharp. Hatred poured from his mentor's spirit like a wave. The Exorcist's aura was like a blade ready to be unsheathed at any moment.

Seeing the look of worry and anxiety from Eiden, Fin's expression calmed, mellowing into a slight hint of shame. The fog emitted from his skin became placid and seemingly comforting. It was warm like a blanket, and chicken-broth stew that had been freshly made.

"Sorry, lad. I didn't mean to scare you. I… Ioathe the practice of trapping another's spirit against their will. If it was for advancement in one's innate magic, then perhaps it isn't as bad. The spirit is usually killed rather quickly in that case. But… When whole spirits are trapped in objects, they suffer excruciating pain. The death of their corporeal forms is traumatic. And the methods used to condition them to perform magic are cruel."

"Oh…" Said Eiden. The blessing and curse that plagued the young mage allowed him to sense that Fin was sincere. Eiden couldn't truly see the mist that bled through people's skin. It was more akin to a pressure of sorts. Something that should be there, slowly adding weight onto his mind, but not appearing to his sight.

Sensing the awkward silence that was about to descend upon them, Fin continued, "Read up on the book. Read through until you get to Spiritual Anatomy. Just read the aura section. I'll explain more tomorrow."

Fin started to turn away, but stopped.

"Hey, lad." Said Fin. "Here, you'll want this."

An orb of soft, warm light swirled into existence inside Fin's palm. It was sent hovering over to Eiden's bed.

"It'll dim in an hour or two, so you can stop then."

The book was thick, and its pages yellow. As Eiden read, he got more enthralled by the tome. Its secrets and knowledge were like water to his desert of information regarding magic. Eiden's natural curiosity had reemerged. And at a time he would've never imagined having even a semblance of happiness. He escaped through the pages. The flowing script provided relief from reality, burying the night in the depths of his mind and banishing the nightmares.

A smile was plastered to Fin's face. He had been watching his apprentice through his sorcerer's sight, being careful to not fluctuate his aura too much. The boy could still read him if he tried to, but one could only observe if they were paying attention. And Eiden's attention was stolen away by the old tome.

Fin knew the pain of losing family and friends. A hard life on the Path of a soulcerer was like that. Loneliness was the status quo unless it was walked along with those that can survive the struggle. Be it in the form of beasts or the ravages of time. Fin himself had seen most of his family die to old age, outliving them all with the magical ichor that ran through his veins. Growing old wasn't poetic like ballads would suggest. Even with a companion or friends at one's side, it was a slow march into an inexorable demise. Fin would not suffer death at all if he was lucky enough—at least not necessarily. The soul held one's memories from both body and mind. Every cell and shard of hereditary information had been meticulously stored away in the depths of his being. His soul and spirit worked in tandem to keep his body as young as possible. The problem lied in his psyche. One's own perceptions and thoughts could easily disable a mage's enhanced life-span. Time could not end a mage, but grief and depression could, weakening them away for Chronus to reap.

As Fin watched his apprentice, his thoughts drifted. His initiation into magehood wasn't any less chaotic and blood-drenched than Eiden's. If anything, it was more. So much more.

Fin shook his head, shooing away the dusty, long-forgotten thoughts from his mind. The Exorcist had finnally gotten an apprentice. The now was more important than the before.

Eiden's eyelids became heavier and heavier until he could barely keep them up. His aura turned serene, almost blending into his surroundings—practically perfect harmony. Fin himself could barely sense the boy's spiritual presence. Could he have picked this up from the vampire as well? Aura's do generally become less active when sleeping, but not to this degree.

Being able to blend in this easily? The Maelstrom's gaping maw, this lad will make a bloody good tracker.

Fin retreated into the depths of his soul, studying his only true refuge. A place no man, woman, person, beast, or foreign entity could take away from him. Nothing could, in truth, permeate his Palace Beneath the Waters unless he gave them permission. The soul could never be breached unless its bearer had allowed it to be. An intruder could not forcefully open the doors to one's soul. A person could only do that to themselves…

I hope that boy won't retain too much from that night.

A mage's greatest weakness is their own mind. And that boy has been through more than enough.

Eiden woke up slowly, confused that he was in an unfamiliar room. The memories dawned on him, easing him back into the darkness of his reality. His friends had been slaughtered, and he was now a mage. This has too be a nightmare.

He had also realized something else. He barely thought about Bert since that night. What kind of friend— no, what kind of brother am I to forget him so easily? Gods, I've been obsessed about Lisa, forgetting about my own brother. I've known him since I could remember. It was both of us against the world.

Eiden's eyes turned red, salty water slowly building up and pouring down. His breath came in shudders. The fog of his spirit bled out like a storm approaching the harbor. He could feel it festering, letting out angry tendrils like lightning. Though they did no damage to his surroundings, he knew he could simply will them to do so. It was like a hidden dagger that could instantly appear in his hands. A power that could be wielded in an instant. Eiden focused on the space above his finger-tips, willing a facet of his power to manifest. A black cloud slowly materialized above the ends of his hands. Black dust poured from it like twisted raindrops, and red sparks of lightning coursed through it intermittently. Hatred and aggression seeped from the created cloud. It had a consciousness of its own, seeking out something, anything to destroy. Eiden felt the same hunger from that night. The feeling unnerved him, making his created storm clouds slowly disappear.

Eiden let out a slow breath and focused on his surroundings. He looked around the room. Fin was nowhere to be found. Sensing a strange beacon of emotions towards the door, Eiden got up from his bed. A piece of paper was stuck to the door by the very same essence that Eiden's shroud of fog was made of. It radiated comfort and warmth. Eiden read the note.

Morning, young exorcist. I went out to run a few errands, and I didn't want to wake you. If you haven't finished the book sections yet, do that. I'll be back in a few. Oh yeah, skip through to the Magical Awakenings section and read the Aura Senses part. I can answer your questions when I come back.

P.S. There are some new clothes and baubles inside the chest at the foot of your bed.

The essence that clung the note to the door slowly presented a sort of connection to Eiden. A tendril of awareness wormed itself towards the young man. Eiden grasped the connection with the fog that bled through his skin, tugging on it. The essence became less aware, blending into the background to Eiden's spiritual senses. Huh, neat.

Eiden took the note before it could fall to the floor.

The young exorcist opened the trunk at the foot of his bed. Nicely made clothes sat inside along with a belt with many pouches and a cloak. The cloak was a mixture between coat and hood. The fabric was similar to Fin's with the addition of a black hood.

Eiden took a bath with the wooden tub in the corner and put on his new clothes. They fit nicely, leaving room for growth. Gods, I missed soap. I remember Lisa getting us to steal some for Bert to try. He hated it so much. Eiden could still remember Bert complaining that it took away his "manly musk."

The memory was bittersweet, a psychological wound that was still raw to the touch. Eiden shook his head to clear away the encroaching fugue, making his way to his bed. He sat on his bed with the soulcerer's tome on his lap, reading until he finished the aura section of Spiritual Anatomy.

Looking back at his hand, Eiden projected his attention towards the fog that bled from his skin—no. It's called the aura. I can't "see" it, though. This book references some sort of magical "sight." Maybe that's how it works.

Eiden's Aura was present throughout his body, a hand width away from his skin, forming a candle-like flame when reaching his head. He could sense the Aura at his back since his magical senses were like pressure rather than real sight. When at rest, it flowed serenely throughout his body like a calm spring river. Eiden could peer in deeper into his spirit, but it was more challenging. The details were muddy and hard to distinguish. Testing his aura, he could make it pool in his hands, forming a more significant amount of essence there. Mana, that's what it's called. Huh, just like the Crone goddess. Are they related?

Eiden couldn't mold his aura into shapes when it was at rest, the ethereal fog resisted his attempts. He focused on his hand, pulling the mana closer together. A white mist and steam rose from his finger-tips. He could finally see his spirit, having not the ability to do so before. His magical senses perceived his spirit and aura as pressure and flow. Eiden was able to form shapes with the densified mana made from his aura. It had structure and physicality, whereas his typical aura had almost no substantiality.

Eiden messed around with his aura, forming blobby shapes that were supposed to be animals and people. Wait—Can I make a sword out of this stuff? Eiden focused on his aura, forming dense white mist and then willing it to cling together. The end result was a blobby dagger about the size of Eiden's forearm. It looked slightly liquid, like melting, transparent candle-wax. His aura flowed around the materialized "dagger," nurturing it. The dagger felt a part of Eiden, an extension of his spirit.

"This. Is. So. Cool." Said Eiden, his voice giddy and excited.

Eiden felt tired from forging the dagger made of mana. It was like he had just run a whole lap in the tunnels. His forehead glistened with sweat, his breath was almost out, his muscles felt weak, and his aura was muted. The ethereal fog became weak, radiating out only a finger-width from his skin instead of a hand-width.

Hunger rose from the center of Eiden's spirit, radiating out from his navel. It was an insidious thing that felt like writhing worms waiting to feast on a carcass. Though the feeling felt "wrong," Eiden knew it was a part of him. Instead of running from it, he projected his awareness to it. Though the hunger was similar to that night, it wasn't entirely the same. Eiden apprehensively willed it to manifest. Eiden's spirit became a vortex, eating away at his materialized dagger and pulling at the ambient essence in his surroundings.

Suddenly, every person at the inn felt a tug at their awareness. It felt like staring down the gaping maw of a beast. It was voraciousness made manifest. Patrons shivered, the weak-willed falling to their knees, praying to the Seven for forgiveness. Fear seeped into their very bones like a dark chill in the air. Eiden tried plugging the vortex of his spirit with aura, but it did nothing to stop the whirlpool.

Eiden focused his awareness onto the center of his spirit once more. It was like his stomach had just jumped out of his body, devouring at anything it could get its maws on. Eiden willed the maw to close, the hungry tendrils easing their frenzy.

Eiden let out a breath. Gods, what in the bloody Nine Hells was that? I think I'll just stick to reading until Fin gets back.