The chamber was still when Morena returned to it that night, though her mind was anything but. She shut the door quietly and stood there a moment, listening to the faint thud of her heartbeat in her ears.
Two days since she had read through that book, two days since the symbols had seeped into her dreams. Since she had walked halls that stretched forever and felt letters crawl across her skin like moths drawn to flame.
It hadn’t been as sharp or violent since then, but it lingered—small things that would’ve gone unnoticed if she weren’t the sort to measure herself with such precision.
Her sleep was shallow, her dreams felt sticky, weighted. And when she woke, she sometimes tasted iron at the back of her throat, or thought she saw faint markings fade from the corners of her vision.
It was never anything obvious, not as much as that first night—just enough to make her doubt her senses, but never enough to make her certain.
She pressed her palm to the surface of the desk, grounding herself with the grain of the wood. Residual influence is what she had called it, and she had since been keeping track of each and every instance using the AI.
She drew the journal out with care and laid it before her, tracing the edge of its cracked cover. The letters carved within had left her uneasy before, but she could not ignore them.
She did not have the luxury of time.
Her voice was steady, though her chest felt tight. Throughout these two days, nothing had happened, at least nothing of note. She had kept her training up, visited the library often to inflate her database, and never left the estate; she barely left her room.
All her time was spent on the book, trying to speed up the translation.
"Status on translation."
[Progress: 54% complete. Partial results consolidated. Estimated timeframe for full decoding: one week.]
Her lips curved faintly, though there was no humor in it.
"And now? What can you show me?"
Letters shimmered into view across her inner sight; they were no longer mere random markings as she had thought them before, not senseless strokes.
They had sense in them, a pattern even, one that could be called masterful. Her pulse quickened as she went over the information.
She leaned closer, almost laughing despite herself.
It wasn’t the common tongue of the Brightburn Kingdom; in fact, it wasn’t any language she knew of, not from any book or memory. And yet, it carried the same bones of many old languages.
Repeated shapes, patterns that marked sound and meaning. Fragments of order carved into madness.
Some letters were missing—absent where pages had been torn. Not the AI’s fault, just gaps left behind either by time or the original writer’s inability.
Morena studied them with a scholar’s hunger, her mind racing through parallels from her old life. Proto-Canaanite, Linear A; languages that had since been lost to silence.
They reminded her of those old ones, but something about this was different, more alive. It wasn’t merely a language—it was more; hard to put into words.
She closed her eyes, breathing in as she moved onto her next phase of planning.
"AI. Can the markings be applied to energy manipulation?"
[Analysis in progress.]
Her fingers tapped against the desk, restless, as she waited. She could almost feel the AI’s silent machinery grinding through endless possibilities.
The response came, clear and sharp.
[Result: Letters have some unknown function as regulators of energy pathways. Primary function appears to be stabilization and refinement; however, further information is lacking.]
Morena had expected something like that after her first encounter with the word, but this was turning out much more useful than she originally thought it would.
Not power by themselves, not sparks of fire or bolts of ice. But control. Control over energy.
"Then let’s apply it. Overlay them onto my warrior breathing method. What happens?"
[Running simulations...]
The silence that followed stretched long. Morena would have grown impatient had she not been used to such things. Instead, she walked over to her bed and sat down.
But she forced herself to wait, staring at the flickering candle until wax ran in uneven rivers down its side.
Finally, the answer arrived.
[1827 Simulations Concluded. Three valid modifications are viable. Each presents different outcomes.]
Information soon enough swarmed her eyesight and mind, the AI doing its job to neatly organize them in a way she could understand.
[Option One: Balanced Resonance Method]
-Stabilizes aura circulation using letter patterns synchronized with breathing rhythm.
-Effect: Reduces leakage during training, steadies growth.
-Projected Outcome: Consistent, safe progress. Fewer risks of inner instability.
-Risk: Minimal. Slower outward results.
[Option Two: Pulse Compression Method]
-Uses letter alignment at circulation nodes to compress energy into denser flows.
-Effect: Each breath yields stronger energy output, greater strike force.
-Projected Outcome: Noticeable combat improvements in a shorter time.
-Risk: Moderate. Overuse may strain veins and channels.
[Option Three: Catalyst Overdraw Method]
-Integrates letters into the energy core, forcing energy circulation at higher speeds.
-Effect: Rapid growth, breakthroughs in shorter spans of time.
-Projected Outcome: Impressive early results, potential rival to peers.
-Risk: High. Instability possible. The long-term foundation may weaken.
Morena leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. The flicker of candlelight made her dark eyes ripple like they glowed, moving as she carefully considered each option.
One path was safe. One path was risky but visible. One path was reckless and seductive.
The various thoughts ran in her mind—the options, her future plans, as well as her timeframe. Balanced Resonance would keep her steady, safe, and promote progressive growth. But it was too slow; it wasn’t enough to give her father proof, nor would it stop the council from mocking her crawling pace.
She would fall behind her sister, behind everyone else around her.
Pulse Compression would let her stand in the sparring ring with visible progress. Her father would notice her progress; he would see that she was more than just a broken core. Even the council and other nobles would take note.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. That one whispered like temptation itself. It was a sure-fire way to rise quickly, to make progress that couldn’t be ignored, and to gain strength to defend herself.
If she decided to go with that path, if she succeeded, it would silence the council before they dared sneer. But that was a big if; it reeked of ruin. The AI’s warning was clear—instability now meant the risk of collapse later, even if she succeeded.
She narrowed her eyes as she thought.
"This, I can’t choose it, no matter how tempting it is."
She murmured. Her voice trembled faintly with the weight of choice, with the humanity of doubt.
"It has to be the Pulse Compression Method, it’s the only middle ground between progress and risk. Perhaps after I translate the rest I can work on upgrading it further."
The candle flickered as it burned down, her eyes focused on the line of information before her as she made her choice. It was not one made lightly—it was made after thinking over everything. Sure, she may have overlooked things, but to her, it was the best choice.
At least in this moment.
"AI, save all three, but prepare detailed information for the second option. I want an updated training method for tomorrow."
She explained, pausing only for a brief moment before she spoke once more.
"And tell me as soon as you have translated all."