Chapter 63: Face Me
Meanwhile, Kyva had already changed her attire, exchanging the damp fabric for something dry and more presentable, before slipping quietly out of the estate. It was permissible to wear normal dresses as long as one was within their respective estates, or when attending formal ceremonies.
But beyond that, such liberties were not afforded, and the rules made that clear. Once outside, all disciples were required to don their official attire.
The Sacred Order was filled with so many rules that Kyva hoped she would be able to learn them all before doing something out of line.
She found Selene and Liora waiting for her at their usual waiting spot along the path. She lifted her hand in greetings before hurrying to join them.
"You made it," Selene said, a hint of relief in her tone.
"My master decided to be generous today," Kyva replied, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as they fell into step together.
They moved along the narrow path, shaded by low-hanging branches, the late afternoon sun calm and unhurried.
It seemed to Kyva that she was not alone in her suffering.
A single glance at her companion was enough to confirm it. Selene’s posture lacked its usual poise, her shoulders subtly slumped, while Liora, despite her lively curiosity, dragged her steps ever so slightly behind.
They were tired. Just as she was.
Practicing the water arts may look simple to the untrained eye, but the truth was far less forgiving.
Kyva had come to understand that lifting even a small portion of water required precision.
To sustain it required discipline.
To shape it demanded an unbroken stream of thought. And the larger the mass, the heavier the burden upon the mind. It was not merely a matter of strength, but endurance, of maintaining clarity while one’s thought strained under pressure, of holding form when nature itself insisted on collapse.
A single lapse, and it all came undone. It was no wonder why they were all exhausted.
"One of the senior adepts informed me that there will be a test organized for new disciples," Selene said, glancing between the two of them. "I wonder what it will be about."
"It cannot be harder than facing monsters," Liora murmured, rubbing the back of her neck with a weary sigh. "Can someone get a massage around here? Ugh, I miss home already. I do hope we’re allowed to visit at some point."
"Me too," Selene agreed.
Kyva quietly shared the sentiment, for she had not forgotten.
That was still something she needed to do.
She still needed to return to Grayfall village, to see it for herself. To find out more about what happened during the entirety of her absence. And what was lost beyond recovery. Once she was capable enough, then no one would dare try to stop her, or use her anymore. If the opportunity presented itself, then she’d find this Master of Trade herself.
"By the way!" Liora suddenly leaned in, far too close for Kyva’s comfort, her eyes alight with anticipation. "Did your master like the gift I sent him? And, did you put in a good word for me?"
"Oh..."
Kyva pressed her lips into a thin line.
How, precisely, was one meant to respond to that?
The truth, as she knew, and had witnessed, was far less encouraging. Her master had shown no particular interests in any of the gifts presented to him. If anything, he had regarded them all as mild inconveniences, since they were taking up space in the estate without purpose.
He had even, at one point, considered having them burned. The gifts were undoubtedly rare and costly, and unwilling to witness such extravagance reduced to ash, Kyva had been forced to intervene. It had taken a measure of careful reasoning before she managed to dissuade him, proposing instead that all the items he did not fancy would be distributed to those who genuinely need them.
That, at the very least, he had willingly considered.
Kyva exhaled softly.
"...He received it," she said at last, choosing her words with deliberate care. "That, in itself, is no small thing."
Liora’s eyes brightened further, her shoulders lifting proudly, whilst Selene only rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of fondness in her gaze for her friend.
As the three of them rounded a bend in the path, they came upon an unusual gathering of new disciples near a flowing river. A low murmur hung in the air, tinged unmistakably with awe.
They exchanged a brief glance before pressing forward, slipping quietly through the gathered crowd to discern the cause of such wonder.
What they saw was Vera.
She stood at the river’s edge, perfectly composed, one hand extended before her with deliberate grace.
To everyone’s surprise, she assumed a stance, and the water rose.
It lifted into a vast, controlled arc, as though summoned from the river’s very depths. The current waned visibly, its steady course drawn thin, bending to her will with startling precision.
For a breathless moment, it felt as though she might empty it entirely.
A ripple of astonishment passed through the onlookers, hushed yet profound.
"Is she not a new disciple?" One of the beast disciples asked.
"She is."
"How is she able to do that?"
"I heard she and her brother are born prodigies in the human realm. She is the first human from the Aquiline Quarter to learn the toughest move within a week."
"Her master must be exceedingly proud."
Kyva and her companions could only stare in disbelief.
"This is impossible," Liora shook her head, physically denying what she had just witnessed. "How does one learn that in a single week? If anyone were to master that technique first, it should have been us."
Frustration was written plainly across her face, as she watched Vera show off.
Kyva said nothing. Her eyes lingered a moment longer on the towering arc of water before she exhaled quietly.
"Let us go," she said wearily, "it matters little who learned it first. If she notices us, she will find reasons to make a spectacle of it. We’ll leave her be."
Just as Kyva and the others turned to leave, Vera spotted them merely after turning around to gaze upon her audience. Their retreating figures sparked a hint of recognition in her gaze.
"Oh," she called, her lips curling, "if it is not the slave herself."
Hearing that word, again, made Kyva flinch. The words struck, but she refused to give Vera the satisfaction of seeing her waver. Instead, she forced her steps forward, refusing to cower.
"Stop them," Vera commanded, pointing a finger at the leaving figures.
At once, the gathering closed around them. What had once been a crowd became a barrier.
Kyva and Selene halted.
But Liora did not.
"Move," she snapped, stepping forward with a glare sharp enough to cut. "Or shall I assist you in parting ways with your teeth?"
A few hesitated, their confidence wavering under her tone, but none stepped aside.
Behind them, the faint sound of water settling echoed, followed by the measured approach of footsteps.
The three of them turned to see Vera smirking, one hand resting upon her hips as she appraised them at leisure. There was a certain poise to her stance that made her all the more striking, and, perhaps, a touch formidable.
"You are a fortunate one, are you not?" she said, her gaze settling squarely on Kyva. "To rise from chains to robes in such a very short amount of time... it’s almost admirable."
Her smile sharpened, the faintest edge of scorn beneath its polish.
"Or dare I say you contrived your way into the Sacred Order."
Another stir passed through the onlookers.
"Oh... that is the one we saw at the convocation hall—"
"The slave. Yes. It is her."
Vera took a slow step forward, her eyes never leaving Kyva. "How does it feel? To walk among those far above you?"
Selene and Liora moved at once, placing themselves before Kyva with evident displeasure, their faces fixed sharply upon her. But Vera did not so much as falter beneath their scrutiny. If anything, she seemed faintly amused, for she had already begun to outstrip the rest within the Aquiline Quarter, and in her mind there was little cause to yield.
"It’s fine," Kyva said at last, her voice calm, as though wary of the spectacle. She stepped forward from their protection and came to stand before Vera without hesitation.
She was also done with this charade.
"What is it you want?"
"There is to be a test soon," Vera replied, as though recalling it idly. "A most convenient measure of worth. If you truly possess even a fraction of the right to stand here, then you shall prove it there."
Her smile returned, composed and certain.
"Face me in the trial. And should you fail..." she paused, ever so slightly, leaning in, "you will serve me for a month no less."
