I'm on my way back in when Emma stops me.

  "Hey. There's a visitor here for you at the side gate."

  "A visitor? At this hour?"

  "Weird, I know, but he insisted on seeing you personally. You want me to get Stephan?"

  "...No... I'll figure something out."

  As Emma walks away, I turn, and walk around the estate until I reach the side gate.

  Waiting, just outside the bars, is a tall, thin man with braided hair.

  He's holding a letter in his hand, and I feel a wave of dread. His smile is sickeningly warm as I approach.

  ---

  I startled awake, gasping for breath and clutching at the blankets. My heart was pounding, and the pain was almost unbearable.

  But only almost.

  "Great. Now I'm having nightmares about him."

  I covered my eyes with my hand, and held the other to my heart to wait for the piercing feeling in my chest to recede.

  "It's getting worse."

  Glancing through my fingers, I saw that the room was still dark, and much too quiet. The chair in the corner was empty. I covered my eyes again so I wouldn't have to look at it.

  I considered going to Sybil again, but I worried that she might cancel our lessons if she thought me too weak to even sleep alone.

  "Nothing to do for it but get up, I suppose."

  I stood up, and picked my dress off the floor.

  Erika's dress. I hadn't had the money to buy a new one. I'd worn it so many times, it felt like I was starting to wear it even in my dreams.

  "Ugh."

  I tossed it back onto the floor, and tugged on my Nightingale practice uniform.

  "I hope the stars are pretty, at least."

  ---

  "One. Two. Three. Four."

  The training post in front of me stood tall, the sun was rising over the city, and I was exhausted, but my arms did not ache.

  "Too high on that last one."

  I sized up the feeling of the blade in my hand, giving it a few swings.

  While I didn't tire, it felt like my technique wasn't improving much anymore. The sword never felt easier to move, no matter how long we had worked at this.

  Counting the weeks, it had to be at least a month, maybe two, since Sybil had first agreed to start training me with the dagger.

  I sighed, and began again. "One. Two. Three. Four."

  "Soph? What the hell are you doing out here so early?"

  I turn to see Sybil approaching me from across the yard.

  "Practicing."

  "I can see that much! You know what I meant."

  "...Couldn't sleep."

  Sybil let out a groan, taking the sword from my hands. "And how long have you been out here?"

  I looked down at the dirt beneath me, long since flattened with my myriad steps.

  "A few hours, I guess. I wasn't really thinking."

  Sybil put her arm around my shoulders. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to practice after work, today. For now, let's get you fed."

  I put my hand over my stomach. It had been several weeks since the last time I felt hungry.

  "Alright, Syb."

  ---

  The busier streets of Guldenfel were home to a multitude of shops, stands, bars, and even cafés.

  It was one of these cafés that Sybil had taken me to. The place was well lit by the large windows, but it still reminded me a bit too much of the lounge I had seen briefly while in the Faraldi headquarters.

  "Don't worry if you find it a bit too bitter. Most northfolk girls your age fill their cups to the brim with sugar and milk. No shame in following suit, after you've had a sip of the real stuff first."

  Sybil took a cheerful sip from her small cup, which was full of a thick, black draught.

  I looked down at my own cup, which more closely resembled a teacup. There was plenty of room to add milk, as Sybil had said, and a carafe on the table.

  I sighed, taking a sip, and sputtered in shock.

  Sybil laughed as I wiped my face, gawking at her in astonishment.

  "And I thought beer was bad!"

  "Trust me, Soph. You'll like it before long. Reminds me of home..."

  She looked around the cafe, but her smile slowly faded.

  "That said, they've really made it out to be something fancy. A shame, really."

  "Well, it's an expensive import, Syb. Of course it's a luxury."

  She scoffed, but sipped from her cup rather than say anything.

  After a few teaspoons of sugar and filling the rest of my cup with milk, I found it much more palatable.

  "You not going to eat your breakfast?"

  I shoveled a bit of egg into my mouth. It tasted like nothing.

  "So why here, Syb? Isn't this place expensive?"

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Drinking coffee is something I used to do with my mother before training."

  I looked down at my cup, feeling warm.

  "Oh..."

  She looked out the window, at the people walking by.

  "...What are you going to do, Soph?"

  "Hm?"

  "With your life. After you get your vengeance. Or after you find whatever it is you're looking for. What are you going to do?"

  I stared at her, studying her profile.

  She kept her gaze firmly out the window. "I just want to make sure that after you've done what you have to do, you aren't going to... do something drastic."

  My heart hurt before I could even think about her words seriously.

  How could I even consider what a life without Erika looked like?

  I needed to find Diana.

  My heart hurt even more.

  And what? After I told her how I felt, then what?

  We had known each other only a week.

  It was insanity to think that could go anywhere.

  And so what, even if it could?

  There was a spear of ice driving itself through my core, and I couldn't help but breathe faster.

  Moving on? Moving past this?

  With Father alive? With Erika gone?

  I didn't deserve to even consider it.

  Something touched me from behind and I nearly screamed.

  "Soph?"

  Sybil was hugging me, and I hadn't even noticed her stand up.

  "It's alright, Soph. Sorry."

  I listened to her breath near my ear, felt the strength in her arms.

  I tasted the bittersweet still in my mouth, and rubbed my hand across the smoothness of the cup in my hand.

  The pressure on my chest abated.

  "Sorry, Syb. I'm alright."

  "... Alright."

  ---

  I returned to the training yard in the evening, after a day of work that was, thankfully, quite normal.

  Cataloguing all of the items in the Nightingales' armory had even been fun.

  Sybil was waiting for me, standing in a circle on the ground, but she wasn't holding any practice equipment.

  "...Was I supposed to bring it?"

  As I stepped into the circle, she turned on me slowly, her hands outstretched in a low stance.

  In just a few quick steps, the butt of her palm was against the front of my throat, but she had the skill not to actually strike me.

  I stepped back, shocked, as I felt my breath grow hot with magic.

  Immediately, I felt ashamed at the impulse. How could I have seen Sybil as a threat?

  "Don't feel upset at yourself, Soph. It's a natural response."

  She closed her eyes, scratching her head as she sighed.

  "When I came at you, what was your first instinct?"

  "...I..."

  "You began using your magic, right?"

  "I... yes."

  "Not your martial training? None of the things that Alana or I have taught you?"

  "...I'm sorry."

  She smirked, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

  "It's the same way for all mages, Soph. Your magic is a part of you, and it's something you've come to rely on since you were a child."

  She stepped back to the center of the circle, and gestured to it.

  "This is the distance I can cross in one breath, Soph."

  I looked down at the edge of the circle I was standing on. It was quite large.

  Sybil's smug expression told me she'd noticed my downward glance. "Well, it's a bit exaggerated to say one breath like it means anything precise, but it's still an important distance to know."

  She cracked her neck, stretching out her arms.

  "Tell me everything you know about using magic, Soph. From your perspective."

  "I, uh, everything?"

  "Sure, whatever comes to mind."

  "...Magic is everywhere. Mages breathe in pure magic, and then they... in their lungs their body does something to turn it into their own magic. If they exhale it out, other mages can smell it."

  I breathed in, focusing on my lungs, feeling the heat rising in my chest, before exhaling out nothing.

  "...The amount of magic that a mage can convert is their potential. The amount they can store with each breath comes with practice. Our bodies use that stored magic to fulfill our deepest wishes, however that manifests."

  I put my hand to my chest, concerned. Had my magic always felt hot? How long had it been that way?

  "I think that's the important stuff. I've noticed some other things, sometimes, but I'm not sure I could really say what they mean. My magic seems to cling to me. I knew someone, once, who could wrap me in hers."

  I felt an ache in my chest as I thought of Diana.

  Sybil held out her hands, wide, and shrugged.

  "Very technical. That's not exactly how we teach it in Corone, but it serves."

  She gestured outward with one hand as the other returned to her waist.

  "The important thing to know is the breath part."

  She pointed at the circle again.

  "Even the strongest mage can't do anything if you get to them before they can breathe with intent. Knowing what distance that is for you is critical. Making that distance as far as possible, with training, is even more critical."

  I grimaced. "But what would you do in a situation where you couldn't do that?"

  She shrugged again. "That, Soph, is what you're about to learn. Go get your weapons and we'll get started."

  ---

  When I returned, Sybil had drawn even more circles at various points along the ground. Circles on the edges of circles, concentric lines, and other various distances measured out carefully in lines cast out.

  It looked rather complex.

  "Stand there, Soph," Sybil called out, gesturing towards a point she'd marked on the edge of her original diagram.

  "Alright Soph, breathe out your magic as far as you can towards me."

  I inhaled, confused but compliant, and breathed out a hazy line as far as I could.

  "Hm. Never tried doing that before."

  While I was distracted admiring how clean the line looked as it hung in the air, Sybil had stepped to the side, and then back in to put the edge of her blade to my neck.

  "Ah!"

  Sybil smirked.

  "These circles are something I learned from my mother. She had a witch draw them out for her, once, and she made me memorize them."

  She tapped me playfully on the back as she gestured downwards, and I noticed that this point was actually the center of what Sybil had drawn.

  "Now try making it go as far as you can in every direction. Or in a wide, thin triangle. Or however else you like."

  She pointed at the position where she had previously been standing. "Just make sure you keep facing that way. Tell me what you notice."

  I did as she asked, paying careful attention.

  The lines weren't perfect, but they closely matched the various shapes that Sybil had asked me to envision.

  I blinked a bit, confused. "Wait, Sybil, how can I shape my breath? That makes no sense at all."

  Sybil laughed. "I mean, you tell me, you're the mage! Are you saying you can't?"

  I scrunched my nose a bit at her. "No, I can. I just don't know how I'm doing it."

  Sybil came up behind me, gesturing out around the two of us.

  "Magic is breath, Soph. It's life to you, and it yearns to fulfill itself."

  Her tone sounded like she was imitating someone else.

  "But that yearning is still limited to a single breath at a time. Store as much as you want, magic can only reach out as far as one breath can take it."

  She poked me, softly, on the chest.

  "And as it turns out, most people have roughly the same reach, give or take a few feet in either direction. Funny, right?"

  I rubbed at the spot she'd poked.

  "...Seems kinda unromantic to say it like that."

  "Life's not very romantic, Soph."

  She snapped her fingers twice.

  "That's how long it took you to do each breath, and now I've got it figured. We start with your favorite, Soph. Footwork!"

  She laughed, and I smiled back weakly.

  "Great. More footwork."