The training chamber near the city's edge was cold and half-lit, with dull torches casting swaying shadows across the old stone walls. A faint hum vibrated in the air—residual magic from decades of novice rituals soaked into the stone. It was quiet, empty. Just the way Velira had hoped.
She stood near the center of the room, shoulders stiff, holding a small cloth pouch close to her chest. Silas leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching her with a small, quiet smile.
"You don't have to help, you know," she said without looking at him.
Silas raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather die mid-refinement alone than admit you're nervous?"
Velira rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue.
From the cloth bag, she slowly pulled out a few of the materials they'd pocketed from the abandoned city—shards of translucent blue crystal from the underground vault, faintly pulsing with water-aligned energy. They were crude and uncut, likely meant for spell reinforcement, but infused with raw elemental density. Perfect for pushing an effigy's core further.
"I didn't even know if I'd ever use these," she muttered. "Felt wrong at the time. Still kind of does."
"You've earned them," Silas said. "We risked our lives for that place. It's not wrong to survive better because of it."
Velira looked at him, hesitated, then nodded.
They began laying out the ritual circles. just a lattice of reinforcement sigils and an inner focus ring. Enough to guide the energy flow. Silas helped draw out the sequences with careful chalk lines and inked symbols, while Velira carefully measured the soul pressure between her and the effigy.
The water-aligned effigy stood still at the center—humanoid, genderless, faintly glowing around the chest and fingertips. Small, responsive changes from previous refinements were visible: its arms had grown more fluid in motion, and its posture was straighter than when she'd first summoned it. But there was still that instability in its core. It could fracture if overloaded.
"You're sure about this?" Silas asked, voice low now.
"I have to be," she said. "If I want to move forward—I need more. More control. More capacity."
Silas placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Then let's begin."
---
As the refinement started, the room shifted subtly—the magic thickened, the chalk lines began to glow, and Velira knelt within the outer circle, breathing slow and shallow. Her effigy stood inside the smaller ring, arms slightly spread.
The crystals she'd brought from the ruins hovered above the effigy's chest, spinning slowly, dissolving in a fine mist of light. Her mana flared, steady at first.
Then the pulse warped.
Cracks began forming near the effigy's core—hairline fractures where soul pressure was uneven. Velira's fingers trembled as she tried to stabilize it, sweat already gathering on her brow.
"Don't force it," Silas warned from outside. Think of it like flow—like current. You're fighting it directly."
"I know that—" she said through clenched teeth. "I'm trying—"
"Trying like a blunt knife," he said calmly. "You're water-aligned. Be like it. Shape around the instability."
Velira clenched her fists, then exhaled slowly. The tension in her spine lowered just a bit. Her mana shifted—not pressing directly against the cracks but weaving through them, redirecting force, softening the strain.
The effigy pulsed. The cracks faded.
The refinement resumed.
---
By the end, her effigy stood glowing faintly, its body clearer than before—still humanoid, still water-bound, but more resilient. Its fingertips shimmered faintly with condensation, and it breathed in rhythm with her own pulse.
Velira slumped forward on the ground, panting, exhausted. Silas walked over and sat beside her, handing her a half-stale biscuit from his pocket.
"You didn't mess up," he said.
"Thanks," she said, voice dry.
They sat there together in the dim training chamber, backs to the wall, their effigies watching in calm silence.
"What did I gain?" Velira asked after a while.
"A stronger anchor. Better rune compatibility. More response time," Silas said. "And more faith in yourself."
Velira blinked over at him. "Since when did you get so emotional?"
He shrugged. "Don't get used to it."
She chuckled, weak but genuine.
And together, they rested under the quiet glow of their work—no monsters, no rituals, no fate pulling strings—just a girl and her friend, shaping their paths with tired hands and stubborn hearts.