“Fine!” Ray shouted and fired a radiant lance toward the blossom, hissing through the air.

  It condensed more of her Lucidity than she had intended, and for a moment she feared she had gone too far. Still, she remained in control. The lance would hit, end this little, stupid competition, and finally get Demoa to walk the right path...

  Why should I even destroy her flower? This is so pointless. It is actually quite beautiful…

  Ray shook her head, her breath tight in her chest, and the lance gained altitude before dissolving into the vastness of the sky, its radiance thinning until nothing remained.

  “Nice spear, though you still have to hit something,” Demoa commented, laughing mockingly.

  Ray looked over at her, anger flaring hot and sudden, her fingers curling as if the Light itself reacted to the insult. The wave of fury crashed into her emotions so abruptly that she flinched. Did Demoa not see that she was trying to de-escalate, trying not to give in to her games?

  “I am tired of this. I will not fight you!”

  “Because you can’t?”

  “Yes, I could!”

  Within Ray, the Light surged and twisted. Around her, the grass burned away in widening patches, and the stench of ash crept through the air, sharp enough to sting her nose. It crackled as radiance emerged from her hands once more. This time it was neither spear nor bubble, but torrents of brilliance, bursting out and flaring as they shot toward the flower, about to erase it so that no trace would be left of this feeble—

  I cannot do this. I need to stay calm. She is baiting me. There is no need for this outburst. Elga would not have wanted it either. What am I even doing…?

  The Light dispersed, leaving only a warm breeze behind from the Lucidity she had let into the Dream, as if the world itself exhaled with her. A lingering scent of sweet relaxation filled her nose.

  A sweet scent… wait…

  “What…” Ray began, confused now and struck by a terrible inkling. Demoa merely shook her head, anger flashing across her face, and the sunflower dissolved into sparkling mist.

  “See? I win! All your training did nothing for you. My dancing, however, made me stronger. That is why I won. Because I do not chase after the Light so narrow-mindedly! Because I do not spread it, but share it. Because I do not disrupt, but mend!” Demoa hissed.

  “Was that you?” Ray gasped, staring at the spot where the blossom had been. “Did you…?”

  “Yes! Of course! And you know what, Ray the talented? It was ridiculously easy! Your own defense is terrible! Did you really think you would only ever be attacked by projectiles? Come on! You are powerless against ideas, and I have plenty of peaceful ones. I can throw them at you. I can use them to stop you, the same way I would stop anyone else who attacks me. Now leave me alone and go play war somewhere else. I have my own problems to attend to…”

  Shame burned across Ray’s face as she realized that Demoa had beaten her without effort, without even meeting her head-on. Demoa’s eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed ready to say more. Ray spun around instead and hurried up the slope as fast as she could.

  When she wiped her cheeks, she felt wetness beneath her fingers as well.

  Why? Why is everything so complicated, so difficult? Why can I not simply lie beneath a tree and enjoy the Dream? With Dio, somewhere far away?

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She could still feel Demoa’s warmth in her heart, unchanged, and she swallowed.

  I need to apologize. I need to set all of this right. Not now, though. Right now, I want to be angry, she thought, biting her lip.

  She trudged along the path that followed the river and turned toward one of the platforms. With a bit of concentration, she created an elegant bench from light-brown, glowing wood and let herself drop onto it, the weight of her thoughts settling with her.

  Her thoughts drifted. To Dio, to Demoa, to Stirleo, the distant Abbot. To the newcomers, and to those who had been gone for a long time now, traveling on their Pilgrimages. What might Ormir be doing? Where had Lance ended up by now? And where would she herself be swept off to?

  She stamped her feet and snorted in frustration.

  I could leave. Damn it! I could create something and go. It is so easy. Simply imprint the Monastery with an idea of Light, like with this stupid bench, or my dress, or my room. So easy…

  I could go fight the Nightmares and—

  What if she was still not strong enough? She could attack, yet what about defense? What if it was not enough? It had not been enough for Demoa. And she was not that powerful, was she? No. Ray needed to train more. Much more.

  The sun was already setting when she flinched and looked up. She had wasted nearly half the day on this bench, lost in her doubts. Ray’s gaze fell on the nearby tower, its peak illuminated by irregular flashes of colorful light, familiar and distant all at once.

  Nobea is training too.

  She had not spoken to her in a long time. Since Ormir’s ceremony, Nobea had withdrawn and did not even come down to eat, as far as Ray knew. She was probably providing for herself. Her Light had grown stronger over time, and the flashes lashed so brightly that they sometimes lit up the entire valley. They were beautiful, Ray had to admit. Mostly white with bluish hues, though sometimes, rarely, dark red and yellow appeared, even green and purple. Still, there had never been anything beyond lightning, no shape or permanence that might carry her forward. Nobea apparently could not create anything stable. She could not start her Pilgrimage.

  Just like me…

  Down in the valley, Ray faintly sensed Demoa dancing again, though it felt distant now, tinged with sadness. That frustration seeped into Ray’s Lucidity and distracted her.

  I would love to come down and talk this through with you, Demoa, yet I think we would only argue again. I hope things between you and Rad improve soon. Would you be satisfied then? Would this become the most beautiful place you could imagine? I do not agree with your stance, though I do not have to. Am I jealous? Oh, Demoa… I want so badly to visit you. Still, our conversations always end in a fight. What am I supposed to do? Would Dio know?

  Once more, a blinding bolt streaked through the valley, this time blue as the sky. It was marvelous, even if fleeting. Something stirred within Ray, and she felt the urge to go to Nobea. Perhaps she would have some advice. After all, she owed Ray one.

  Before Ray fully realized it, she was climbing the stairs up to the tower where the colorful lights had flared every evening for the past few Hundreds, step after familiar step.

  When she finally conquered the last steps, she saw Nobea sitting upright on the hard marble floor, surrounded by a pale, whitish aura that constantly shimmered in countless colors. The Apprentice looked divine, wise, and ancient, despite the strain that still clung to her posture.

  It took Ray a few moments before she dared to draw Nobea’s attention by loudly clearing her throat. She prepared herself for cursing, yet Nobea’s voice was surprisingly grounded, with only a trace of snark remaining.

  “Ray? I was wondering when you would come. You surely took your damned time! I am making progress, slowly but surely, you see? Still, it feels so far away…” Nobea sighed absentmindedly, her voice far gentler than Ray had expected.

  Her blue hair fell like silk from her shoulders, covering almost her entire back. Apparently, Nobea had decided to let it grow.

  “Why do you stay up here so late every day, Nobea? I have not seen you for Hundreds. I thought you were cultivating up here to explore yourself, yet instead you simply sit here and keep trying to use your Lucidity to… what?” Ray began.

  Nobea snorted.

  “I am cultivating,” she said without turning around.

  “No, you are not. You do not lie down. You do not even close your eyes. How is that effective cultivation? I know it works that way. I have done it myself. Still, all you do is sit here and ignite one lightning bolt after another…”

  This time, Nobea did turn to look at her, her expression tense and melancholic. To Ray’s surprise, however, an amused glimmer curved her lips.

  “Come on, Ray. Do not be so narrow-minded. Just because they tell you how it is supposed to be done does not mean you have to obey like a little slave. Try it your own way. Or are you like them? Falling in line because they tell you to? Where is your feistiness, where is your spark? That is at least what helped me progress, even if only a little…”