5 - 2 [Fool] A Kindred Kind, Metamorphosis of the Spirit The Exorcist - 3rd of Mead’s Tap, Year 1125 A.E.

Fin was amused at Eiden’s attempts of sneaking in food. So much so that he did not tell his newfound apprentice that he could take and order any type of meal and have it delivered to their shared room.

It would cut his fun short.

“Hey, lad, you full yet?” Asked the Exorcist. “I want to get a small little lesson in before sleep.”

Eiden nodded his head, cheeks and mouth otherwise full with bread and cheese.

“In for a mark, in for a rod.” Said Fin with a chuckle.

Eiden finished chewing and swallowing before asking.

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s a saying back in Vitae,” the Exorcist answered. “Though, it’s also common in the cities of Free Kedwen.

“Mark is just another name for coin; they sometimes come with holes in the middle of them where a rod can be put through to make transporting them en masse more easily. Then, the ends are temporarily sealed by either string or some sort of tinkery, like threaded metal or wax.

“The saying itself means that If one has committed to doing something, one will or should do it completely without sparing any effort.

“I’ve decided to be your mentor in the magicking arts, and thus, I must do so to the best of my ability.”

Eiden gave a noncommittal grunt, shrugging his shoulders. A display of casual acceptance it was, yet Fin could read the lad’s spirit like an open tome.

He knew that the lad was grateful yet skeptical. A life lived in the Undercity made one not so easily accept help given the place’s cutthroat tendencies.

“Well, then let’s go.” Said the mageling.

A short time later, they were back to their room, the hearth now once again full with firewood.

Eiden lifted a brow.

“Paid them in advance.” Said Fin. “Didn’t lock the door so they could come in and change out the wood. That way we don’t have to ask for more in the middle of the night.”

Fin walked to the hearth, sitting down on the bare marble in front of it.

“Come, sit.” He said, tapping his hand in front of himself.

Eiden complied, setting his rump on the ground. His bones hurt a bit given he had no fat to coat them and that the floor was hard stone.

Fin gave Eiden a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be long here. Just can’t have you practice this sort of magick near anything flammable. Can’t even have a rug underneath, lest the damn thing just catch fire.”

Fin gestured to the hearth, his fingers spreading in a flourish as his lips parted in a grin.

“Tonight, you shall be eating fire.”

Eiden could not help himself, releasing a tiny chuckle, more like a burst of air brought on by mild confusion than true laughter.

“But first, show me what you can do.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, show me your magick. Manifest your spirit, make it physical.”

Eiden turned his head a little to the side, thinking. Seemingly having found whatever he looked for inside his mind, the mageling closed his eyes.

There was no veil that the Exorcist’s Sight could not pierce. His Eyes of Lykeios were a technique engraved onto flesh and spirit. By having practiced it for centuries, the act was carved into his spirit, forming a unique organ wrought of substance insubstantial.

The Veil that lay in between the Physical and Spiritual, was lifted, letting the Exorcist see the threads of spirit and endomembranes of substance insubstantial that made up the subtle bodies of living beings.

The spirit was an exquisite construct, simpler than flesh, but more primal and still much more complicated than dead and inert matter. Its appearance, or at least his perception of it as space was distorted in the Spiritual, was like that of a great big amoeba or bacteria.

The aura was its membrane, its skin. Three main caverns, or basins of the spirit, were spread evenly throughout, binding to the flesh with lashings that wove through the fabric of reality. Though, more accurately, fabricks of reality as it was more of a mess of stitched together threads and layers crumpled upon each other and then stitched once more.

Such was why even if a mage acquired the Sight, they could not so easily read the spirits of others. It was not a matter of reaching the correct depths of the Spiritual, but of understanding what lay therein. The various interacting dimensional membranes and planes were a mess to parse through.

Not that different than a barber-surgeon going through the abdominal cavity, the shades of pink and red meshing together as interstitial tissue just made it all that much more confusing.

The Exorcist traced the flow of substance insubstantial through his apprentice’s spirit. It started at the upper basin, the Eye of the Mind, reaching down into the Heart of the Bodies, and then cycling to his hands.

Like a leaf atop a river, the essence was carried through the pathways of his spirit. As it reached his hands, the essence bore through the Veil-In-Between, the major interstitial tissue, and paradoxically, separator of the Spiritual and Physical.

Sparks of red, angry fire manifested atop his palms, tendrils of scarlata incarnata flitting between the smoldering embers of bled bright.

Interesting essence amalgam. Aspects of destruction, spread, chaos, assimilation, and… hunger.

Dangerous.

Fin gave Eiden a smile, not keeping the pride out of his face nor his voice.

“Atta lad! A trueborn magicker if I ever saw one.”

The Exorcist pointed to the sparks flitting atop Eiden’s hands.

“That there is mana, the stuff of spirits and soul. It is the essence of existence wrung dry and made pure. All things have mana, have essence, according to their nature.”

Fin gestured to the hearth.

“A fire has fire mana, the essence or spirit of the physical entity. Like the juice of a citrine fruit, it can be wrung dry and used for other things.

“Such as Magicking.”

The flames flickered, dimming as a tiny wisp of wickless and waxless fire appeared atop Fin’s outstretched palm.

“You see, your linked or awoken spirit is like a container of sorts. You can take in mana from the Spiritual and store it inside yourself to call upon it whenever you wish.

“Want your hand as sharp as a blade? Absorb the essence that clings to its edge. Want to call upon bolts and arrows of fire? Devour it and make space inside the Center of your spirit.

“So on and so forth.”

Eiden nodded, enraptured by the lecture.

“How do I take in outside spirit? How do I absorb this mah-na?”

“Tell me, have you taken stock of your spirit yet?” Fin asked in return. “Have you seen its caverns, its cavities and basins?”

Eiden nodded.

“The basin of the spirit responsible for taking in foreign essence is called the Center, and aptly so. It is from this core that the spirit spreads out and builds itself around.

“The Center is bound physically to the navel.” After a moment of consideration, Fin continued. “Put your finger on your belly button. Good, like that. Now, press hard, but not too much. You feel that pressure, that discomfort? That is where your Center lies.

“It is called the Dantian, or sea of chi, in the Far East. In the Isles of the Setting Sun, Yuuhi, it is called the Yueliang; the moon.

“In the lands of Cyros, the Middle-Eastern Realms, it is called the Guhr Al-Ruh; core of the spirit.

“In the sothron realm of Qyrazael, it is called Manipura; the resplendent ruby of flame.

“In Vitae, it is called the Sedes Espiritus; the seat of the spirit.”

Fin pointed to his own navel in turn.

“You pull in essence by spreading your aura over a given physical location and then open the gates to your Center. The process is unique to each individual, more like instinctual moving of muscles than any learned behavior.

“Try for yourself. Spread the skin of yer spirit over the fire and then open yer Center.”

Eiden closed his eyes, needing intense concentration to rouse his spirit to action. It was a common enough occurence to initiates and novices in the magicking Paths.

Yet, there lay a problem, one that Fin had to broach upon sooner or later.

Eiden walked not a single Path, he walked them all.

The boy was a sorcerer, one awoken not just to spirit, but the soul; the essence of essence—elixir—the philosopher's most yearned after substance. The purest and strongest of existences that lay inside the core of every single entity, be they unliving stone or breathing beast.

The only difference was that the threads that bound body to soul were more subtle and harder to observe in the case of inert matter. Yet, they were no less present than in biological life.

Fin had felt the magickal emanations from the boy as he slept, his spirit going through a qualitative transformation after the attack by the vampyre.

Like seeing a caterpillar completely liquifying and then building itself back up into a butterfly, the transfiguration process was equally astonishing and horrifying.

If only the lad knew that his spirit was not what normal mortals possessed. That it had been transfigured by the Eld Beyond the Veil and blackened by the influence of Lilithu Herself.

Eiden simply did not yet know that he beheld power both terrifying and aweful. It was a seedling still, yet one with a potential for the lowest of abyssal lows and highest of heavenly heights.

Fin stopped his thoughts on the past and future to better focus on the present. He had an apprentice to teach and guide. He could warn him later on when his mind was not overwhelmed by grief and sorrow.

When he had his time to process the hurt and the tragedy.

Eiden spread the skin of his spirit over the flames, not getting to close for fear of burning. Fin hadn’t told him that he was in no danger if he touched his aura to the fire.

And then, like there was suddenly a void, the essence of flame was sucked into the mageling’s spirit. Nature abhored a vacuum, and thus was quick to equalize the matter in a given space according to density and pressure, be it somatic or spiritual.

Yet, this was no natural happenstance. No natal use of spirit, but instead something decidedly other; alien even.

In an instant, the tongues of fire that licked upon the wood of the hearth disappeared. There was no fluctuation of air nor rustling of wind. In one moment there was flame and in the other, there was not.

Fin’s eyes just so barely widened, unnoticeable to Eiden.

Maelstrom’s bloody maw.