“This doesn’t count?” Devol asked.
Vaust shook his head and an amused grin spread across his face as he lowered his second-to-last finger. “The last one is to coax it out. It’s somewhat tricky compared to the other two, but this is one of the more standard ways,” he explained. “Even in the few hours I’ve spent with you, Devol, I can see you are gifted. Either that or you’re the product of good training, but there is a limit to how far that will take you.”
“I assume there is a flight or fight factor here?” he asked and used his Mana to access the strength to stand taller.
“Of course.” The mori chuckled and stared a challenge at him. “But what you are doing—able to use Vis even under these circumstances—tells me you are at the door, Devol. Just open it!”
“And how do I do that?” he demanded.
“Like we’ve discussed, Mana is your ‘second blood’—your ‘spirit’,” Vaust reminded him. “It is the manifestation of your life and will and you have to draw it out.” He clapped sharply. “Focus and bring it all together within you, then let it pour out—but don’t let it consume you. Your mother compared Mana to a river, correct?” Devol nodded. “Then expand it into an ocean and form a tidal wave.”
The boy balled his fists and lowered his arms to his sides. He focused on his heart, a trick his mother had taught him—to think of his heart as the center point of his Mana and its home. Even in dire times, being able to remember that would keep him calm. He could feel it pooling and let it coalesce into one point as he battled against his companion’s Anima. It was something he had never tried before. He’d spent all his time focusing on manipulating and making the Mana flow that he never understood what it felt like to bring it all together. The comparison to an ocean was apt.
Now, he would release it.
With a determined cry, Devol let his Mana explode outward. It instantly filled his entire body before it pushed through to include the outside of his skin and the air around him. He suddenly felt light. His sight also seemed to improve and the night was no longer so dark. The pressure of Vaust’s Anima was pushed back and a white glow surrounded him with the edges tinted silver.
“There you go,” the mori said too quietly for him to hear as he was too preoccupied with the new experience to pay attention to anything else. The man noticed the silver glimmer around the edges of the boy's Anima. All Mana was white with a color strain that was unique to the user. Scholars and philosophers alike had debated the significance of these colors. Were they an indication of the person’s personality? Or were they developed over time and based on experiences? Mana was a gift from the Astrals, so was it connected to them somehow?
Vaust had never paid too much mind to that. He preferred results and absolutes and wading into a debate that had lasted for centuries seemed a waste of time, even for a long-lived mori. But he did note the silver color of Devol’s Mana. That was unique. In fact, he had only seen it in one other person. His thoughts returned to the symbol he had seen on the map, the insignia of the only man with silver Mana.
He observed the boy, whose face lit up as he began to move freely again and stared at the Anima he had produced. The mori saw wonder in him that he had not seen in a long time. It was a shame. A boy like this did not deserve to live a life believing a lie.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Lebatt, I did it!” Devol shouted and raised his arms ecstatically.
“Indeed you did,” Vaust agreed. “But you shouldn’t get comfortable. You’ll pass out if you keep going like that.”
The boy’s face fell into a small frown. “Huh?” Now that he thought about it, despite his newfound lightness and jubilation, he felt a tad off.
“You’ve brought your Anima out, but it’s now pouring out of you,” his companion explained and approached him. “You need to rein it in. Otherwise, you’ll pass out from Mana depletion and perhaps even die if you pour too much out.”
“Well, that would certainly bring the mood down.” He sighed in exasperation, stood tall, and exhaled a long breath before he focused on himself again. Vaust stopped in his tracks. He had intended to explain to him what he needed to do but was now curious as to whether the boy could correct it himself.
Devol closed his eyes and began to pull his Mana in a little. It felt different than usual and Anima made it seem more tangible. He inhaled slowly, focused on his heart again, and reeled the Mana in. When he opened one eye slightly, the colorful light around him faded and shrank slowly. It looked like his attempt was working. He noticed Vaust observing him—surely he would say something if he was doing something wrong? Then again, he seemed to be a very trial-by-fire type of teacher, so maybe he should not depend on that possibility.
The Anima continued to shrink but it did not weaken. It continued to surround him and more importantly, he could again feel his companion’s being held at bay. But when he recognized this, he thought of something else. If
