ZINA
Zina’s world beca infinitely black as if trapped in a jelly of voidness. She could see nothing, and it occurred to her that it wasn’t because she was shutting her eyes, or because of so otherworldly power that had been brought to her fore. No, the darkness was startlingly familiar. Like the kind of blindness she was used to before she regained her sight.
Fear engulfed her at that realization, and she found herself struggling as if to escape whatever that was tugging at her. She thought she had defeated this abnormality; whether it be by her death and resurrection, or by undergoing the painful process of removing her vows, she thought she had defeated this blindness.
But no, no matter how much she struggled, the power only seed to tug harder on her.
"Fear not," Moon’s words carried on to her in the world she was in. It was then that she rembered that the woman was gripping her fingers, and that was the tug she had been fighting against.
"That which you’re most familiar with, that which you’ve drawn most of your powers from, that which you think is the origin of your sight will now present itself before you. But know it, that this is all an illusion."
An illusion? Was her blindness an illusion? She wanted to ask how it helped with the Kadir ritual, but found that she was unable to talk. Instead, she tried to focus on the way the woman kept gripping her hands in the physical world and her calming, almost hypnotic words.
"Kadir is a dance really." Moon continued, "a dance of all your thoughts and the harmony amongst them. Think about everything and nothing, but most of all I want you to focus on one thing."
Zina wanted to ask the woman what she wanted her to focus on, but of course she could not talk so she remained mute. She wondered how the woman was able to do this though— create an illusion so powerful Zina could feel it in every fiber of her being.
Answering her unasked question, the woman said. "I want you to focus on your first vision. The first thing you’ve ever ssseen."
Zina didn’t need to think much before the image of Daemon zapped through her head. The vision was the very peculiar one she had started seeing when she was fourteen, which was in fact the first ti she had ever seen a vision.
The image was that of Daemon in commoners clothes while the wind whipped against his hair as it snowed slightly about him. A truly peculiar and breathtaking scene, but that vision had been responsible for her many wild imaginations. Imaginations of marrying the man and giving birth to his kids.
Even though Zina didn’t know who he was at the ti, that had hardly stopped her imaginations from going wild. Of course a lowly girl like her could hardly be bothered over why such a man kept appearing persistently in her visions— no, back then she was as free as a bird even though she was locked in a gilded cage by the people she considered her pack and family.
"Focus on just it till you’re well obsessssed with it," the woman hissed, the words sohow managing to sound really close to Zina as if they had been whispered in her ears.
Zina was well obsessed with the image that was currently in her head, not like the woman needed to know about that very fact. But she did as she was asked, concentrating so hard at the mory she had conjured and breathed life into.
The sound of Moon gasping out loud had her twitching. "Oh my!" The woman exclaid, her voice tinged with sothing between awe and excitent.
Then she abruptly released Zina, causing her eyes to fly open from the shock of it. A cold sensation almost like a snake crawling on her skin zapped through her as she stared at Moon’s wide open eyes.
A smug smile tugged on the woman’s lips. "You’re a great Seer indeed." She said.
Zina noted that all the candles were now off, plunging the area they were in into a semi darkness. Unconsciously, her eyes went up to the do transparent roof as if searching for the full moon. But alas, the moon was there glaring back at her. No one has stolen it yet.
"How do you know it?" Zina asked following the woman’s audacious claim.
Sybril approached them and spoke for the first ti since Moon appeared. "Am I right to say that this test lies in the candle and its formation?" She said, her eyes sweeping between Zina and the red candles that ford a crescent moon. The lted candle wax had sohow managed to pool on the insides of the formation, managing to make the formation look sothing like a blood crescent moon.
Moon nodded mysteriously, "Indeed. The Elderwoman has a great insight."
Zina hugged herself as a cold draft seed to take over her. Six years spent at the Arctic North ant that to so extent, she was used to the biting cold that wasn’t usual in the GreenLands. But then and there, she felt like she had been plunged into an iced lake.
"What is it about the candle and its formation?" Zina asked through chattering teeth.
Moon frowned, and then placed her cold palm against Zina’s forehead. "You’re reacting badly to our little experint."
Zina, still shivering, managed to glare at the woman. "Perhaps you should answer my question first before showing concern over my well-being?"
"Very well," the woman said shrewdly, "the formation of the candle is vital to us." The woman explained, using hand gestures to gesture at the formation.
"In this case, the crescent moon signals incompleteness. So we’re using sothing incomplete to find sothing complete, which in this case is your power."
Zina nodded for the woman to continue even though she was yet to understand half of the things she was rambling about.
"There are twelve candles here in total that make up the crescent moon, six on the outward curve, and six on the inward curve," the woman explained further, pointing at the candles themselves, "if none of the candles went off, that signifies that the person on the other side of the candle is one who possesses a low spiritual altitude. Your case is a rare one—where all the candles go off, it signifies that the person on the other side reaches the top din of power."
"Din? That’s the language of the Mountain Wolf." Zina mused out loud. She thought she heard the word from sowhere, but she couldn’t rember where.
Moon smiled, "Yes. Put simply it ans the untouchable one, in theoretical context though, it ans a person who stands at the highest tower of mage power."
Zina supposed she must have read about it in a book. Even though she tried to learn languages when she was blind, it was still hard. While she could speak it, reading it was an entirely different thing. She wasn’t as fast in reading, in fact, she could read a simple book for weeks. Although that was a weakness that only Seraph knew about, and she planned to keep it that way.
"With my level, does it an that I can beco a sorcerer if I wish to?" Zina asked in an overly eager voice that she did not an for.
At the sa ti, Sybril shot her a look although it wasn’t necessarily one of animosity.
Moon smiled broadly, exposing her missing tooth, "yes you can. But specialization is a preferred art. I an, you want to be a Seer, right?"
Zina nodded vigorously. It was her pettiness that led her to ask that question. Whenever she rembered the Night Mages, especially the daughter of the leader, Norima Talga, Zina would get angry. The albinotic woman had beco bolder in her attempt to flirt with Daemon, and Zina couldn’t exactly do anything about it because Daemon and the Arctic North supposedly needed the Night Mages.
If there was a way to cut them off if it ant Zina could replace them, she would gladly do it even if it ant that she had to tow the paths of hell.
As if hearing her violent thoughts, Moon’s amused eyes took her in with interest. "If it pleases you, then let’s call it a night for now."
"We can continue," Zina protested, unaware of her teeth that chattered to the sound of hamr hitting nails.
"Theta," Sybril’s voice carried to her, filled with worry, "your body has just been put through what I suppose is very powerful magic, you’re already spiking a fever so you should rest." She said, glaring particularly at Moon.
Zina wanted to protest, but the world around her blurred and she knew that she was really being sick.
She staggered up to Moon saying, "The path of the Sight is often the most difficult one, Theta. Your courage to see more is certainly one that I admire."
Zina could not make sense of the mysterious words, but she was leaving the room anyway. When she got to the door, she grasped Sybril’s hands and muttered, "I shall avenge the sar that the Night Mages have painted you in."
She didn’t get to hear her response for her world turned black and she lost consciousness.
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