Chronicles of the Untalented

Silas returned home to the low hum of silence—only to pause at the sight of a priest stepping out of his doorway.

Their eyes met. The priest gave a slight nod.

Silas returned it with quiet understanding.

The priest was gone a moment later, swallowed by the city's dim alleyways. But Silas already knew what the visit meant.

He stepped inside and found the answer on his small kitchen table: a bundle of cloth-wrapped materials, marked with the faint shimmer of spiritual energy.

Effigy components.

But they were... strange. Mismatched. Not attuned to any single path—like scraps leftover from other people's destinies. A brittle shard of obsidian. A fragment of bloodwood. A sliver of dull glass. Things without alignment.

It was barely enough to craft a functioning effigy, let alone a strong one.

Still, he couldn't afford to hesitate. These might be the only materials he ever got. With practiced care, he gathered them into a satchel.

Effigy refinement was dangerous—even fatal if done alone.

And he only had two people in this world he trusted.

Cassian was unreachable now, deeply immersed in his refinement under priestly supervision.

That left one other.

---

The sky was dark, the clouds unmoving as always. The streets offered no comfort. But his legs moved fast, instinct carrying him forward until he stood once more before the crooked library door.

He didn't knock.

He barged in.

Again.

A startled noise rang out, followed by a groan.

Velira emerged from behind a stack of books, half-covered in dust, glaring at him with unamused eyes.

"Oh, come on," she sighed. "Why is it always you? What now?"

Silas gave a theatrical shrug. "Aren't you being a little ungrateful that a concerned friend came to visit?"

She rolled her eyes. "Cut the drama. What favor do you need this time?"

He put a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "Do you think I only come to you for favors?"

"Yes," she said flatly.

He grinned. "Well, this time, it's not just a favor. It's mutual help. You're refining your effigy tomorrow, right? I figured I'd help—keep watch while you refine. And in return, you'll help me with mine."

Velira paused, then nodded. "That's fair. But you came all the way here just to say that?"

"Of course not. I had nothing better to do," he said, smirking. "Anyway, I'm leaving my materials here. Your place is safer than mine."

She raised a brow. "Do you think of this as some kind of sanctuary?"

"Yes."

Without waiting for permission, he placed the satchel beside her desk and turned to leave.

"See you tomorrow," he said, already halfway out the door.

She didn't stop him.

Didn't scold him.

She just gave a small, amused laugh as he disappeared into the street.

---

Silas didn't go home.

He glanced at the dark windows above the street and caught his reflection in a pane of glass—bandages wrapped unevenly across his arms and temple. A pale, gaunt face stared back at him. He looked more corpse than boy.

A sigh escaped him.

Instead, he turned toward the nearest medical post. Calling it a hospital was generous—it was a refurbished temple annex, where the injured were healed with effort more than resources. Inside, incense covered the scent of blood and antiseptic herbs.

A familiar face met him.

An older woman in a grey robe, with streaks of white in her black hair. She smiled softly.

"Let me guess," she said. "You've come to stop looking like a walking corpse?"

Silas smiled weakly. "Incredible. You saw the bandages and deduced the obvious. I admire your sharpness, teacher."

She chuckled. "Still sarcastic, I see. Good. It means you're alive."

Without further talk, she gestured to a tattered mat near the altar. "Lie down. You need rest. I'll take care of the rest."

Silas didn't argue. He lowered himself onto the thin bedding, letting the stiffness seep from his body. The pain was still there, dull but ever present.

His teacher knelt beside him, placing a hand near his shoulder. A pale glow flared from her palm—a gentle, honey-like warmth.

Her effigy, shaped like a prism of carved crystal, floated nearby, humming with quiet power. The light from it danced across Silas's closed eyes.

And for the first time in days, he felt something close to peace.

Sleep found him easily.