"I tried to use two runes at once and my core started burning and my nose started to bleed," Asher explained, still shaken from the experience. He was sitting against the cave wall, one hand pressed against his chest where the burning sensation had gradually subsided to a dull ache.
The crimson orb hovered closer, pulsing with concern. Those sound like the symptoms for core overload, Ruvia's voice echoed in his mind. You're lucky your core is still intact.
"Core overload?" Asher asked, frowning.
Yes, that's what happens when you try to go beyond your current limit, she explained, her tone unusually serious. It's very dangerous—it can break your core, and a damaged core can make a person go insane.
Asher swallowed hard, the severity of what he'd nearly done sinking in. He'd been experimenting with magic for less than a day and had already almost destroyed himself. "That would have been... unfortunate," he said, attempting to keep his voice light despite the lingering fear.
Eager to change the subject, he asked, "So did you find anything to hunt?"
The crimson orb bobbed excitedly, her earlier concern seemingly forgotten. Yes, a couple of rabbits. And I found a lake nearby. That should attract animals, Ruvia replied.
Asher nodded, focusing inward to assess the state of his essence core. The burning sensation had faded, but the once-vibrant energy felt diminished, like embers after a fire. "My core is completely empty after that accident. But it has slowly started to fill up again. I should be ready to move in a bit once it's a little more full."
He sighed, leaning his head back against the cool stone wall. "But I don't have a way to use runes to hunt. It takes me a while to draw the rune, and I need to draw it onto something."
Don't worry about that, Ruvia chimed in, her light pulsing brighter. You have me, the great blood Sprin.
Despite his exhaustion, Asher couldn't help but smile at her prideful tone. "You can use Weaving too?"
No, we Sprin can't use Weaving, she corrected, but we have our own ways.
"Which is?" Asher pressed, his curiosity piqued.
I'll tell you later, Ruvia replied with a girlish giggle that echoed through his mind.
As they waited for Asher's core to recover, they continued to talk. Ruvia shared fragments of knowledge about the world—tales of great Weavers who could manipulate the elements with a mere thought, of sprawling cities where humans and other races lived in harmony with the natural world. Asher listened, mesmerized, occasionally asking questions about this world that seemed so different from the one he'd known.
"So there are other types of Sprin besides blood?" he asked at one point.
Of course, Ruvia replied. There are as many types of Sprin as there are elements in the world. Fire Sprin, water Sprin, earth, wind, lightning—even rarer types like shadow and light.
"And they all... bond with humans?"
Not all, she said. Many Sprin likes to remain in our world and those of us who want to achieve something more try to crossover into the physical world through places strong with their element. A fire Sprin might crossover and be born in a volcano, a water Sprin in a deep lake. Only those of us who wish to explore the physical world more fully seek out compatible humans or other beings for contracting.
"And you chose me? Why?" Asher asked, genuinely curious.
The crimson orb dimmed slightly. I didn't exactly choose you. I was... newly born, as I said. Still forming. You were just at the right place at the right time.
"So it was chance," Asher said, feeling strangely disappointed.
Perhaps, Ruvia's light pulsed softly. Or perhaps it was meant to be. The ways of essence and fate are mysterious, even to Sprin.
After about an hour of conversation, Asher felt his core had recharged enough to move on. It wasn't fully restored—perhaps half its normal capacity—but sufficient for what they needed to do.
"Alright, let's go hunt," he said, standing up with renewed determination. His legs felt stiff after sitting for so long, but his earlier weakness had mostly passed.
They walked outside the cave, the forest now bathed in midday light. It was warmer than before, and birds called from the treetops, a stark contrast to the perpetual noise of the war camp he'd escaped from.
"So can you tell me now?" Asher asked as they made their way through the underbrush.
Ruvia giggled, a sound like tiny bells in his mind. Extend your hand, and feel the connection between us inside your core while imagining a weapon.
Curious, Asher followed her instructions. He raised his right arm and closed his eyes, focusing on his essence core where he could feel the thin thread of energy connecting him to Ruvia. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant—like a warm ribbon tied between his core and the hovering orb.
He imagined the only weapon he knew how to wield with any competence, a shield. He'd been trained to carry shields for the soldiers during their drills—thick, heavy things of wood and metal that had left his arms aching for days.
Suddenly, a weight appeared in his right hand. His eyes flew open in surprise, and he found himself holding a shield—but not the crude wooden shield from his memories. This was a large crimson shield that seemed to shimmer and flow, almost as if it were made of solidified blood.
A shield? Ruvia's voice rang in his head, heavy with disbelief. How are you going to kill something with a shield?
Asher turned the shield in his hand, marveling at its construction. It was lighter than it looked, perfectly balanced, and despite its fluid appearance, it felt solid to the touch. "So you can turn into weapons," he said, unable to keep the awe from his voice.
Yes, but it's quite tiring to hold this form, so don't waste time, Ruvia replied, her mental voice slightly strained.
Understanding, Asher closed his eyes again and imagined the spears the soldiers had used in the camp—long, deadly points atop sturdy shafts. When he opened his eyes, the shield had transformed into a crimson spear, its tip wickedly sharp.
"Ok, lead the way," said Asher, readying his new weapon. The spear felt natural in his hands as if it had been crafted specifically for him—which, he supposed, it had been.
As a blood Sprin, I can feel any living thing in my vicinity, Ruvia explained, her essence separating slightly from the spear to guide him while maintaining the weapon's form. Follow me.
She led him through the forest, away from the cave and toward the sound of running water. As they walked, Asher noticed how the spear seemed to pulse occasionally, in rhythm with his own heartbeat. It was disconcerting at first, but soon became oddly comforting—a reminder that he wasn't alone anymore.
The trees thinned as they approached the lake Ruvia had mentioned. It wasn't large, but its waters were clear and reflected the blue sky overhead. Small fish darted beneath the surface, and at the far edge, Asher spotted movement—a deer, bent to drink from the water's edge.
There, Ruvia whispered in his mind. Can you hit it from here?
Asher gripped the spear tighter, assessing the distance. "I don't think so. I've never actually hunted before."
Then we'll need to get closer, she replied. Move slowly and stay low. The wind is blowing toward us, so it can't smell you yet.
Following her guidance, Asher crouched and began to move around the lake's edge, keeping behind whatever cover he could find. The deer occasionally lifted its head, ears twitching alertly, but it didn't seem to notice him.
When he was about twenty paces away, the deer suddenly tensed, its head coming up sharply. It had sensed something.
Now or never, Ruvia urged.
Asher stood and threw the spear with all his might. It flew true—far truer than he would have expected given his inexperience—and struck the deer in the side. The animal leapt forward, attempting to flee, but stumbled after a few steps and collapsed.
I guided it, Ruvia explained as Asher ran forward. My essence is still connected to yours, and through you, to the weapon.
The deer was still alive when they reached it, eyes wide with fear, breathing rapid and shallow. The crimson spear protruded from its side, and already the wound was seeping more blood than seemed natural.
My essence accelerates blood loss, Ruvia explained dispassionately. It will be over soon.
Asher knelt beside the dying animal, feeling a complex mix of pride at his successful hunt and sorrow for the creature's suffering. "Thank you for your sacrifice," he said softly, unsure if it was the right thing to say but feeling the need to acknowledge the life he was taking.
As the deer's breathing slowed and finally stopped, the crimson spear dissolved, flowing back into a hovering orb of light. You'll need to butcher it, Ruvia said, her tone matter-of-fact. Do you know how?
Asher shook his head. "Not really. But I've seen it done." He looked around, spotting a sharp rock near the water's edge. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
As he began the messy work of preparing the deer meat, his thoughts turned to the future. He was still a fugitive, still in danger if the war camp sent scouts to find him. But for the first time since his capture, he felt a flicker of hope.
He had power now—power he was only beginning to understand. He had a companion, strange as she was. And he had a chance, however slim, at freedom.
"Ruvia," he said as he worked, "once we've eaten and rested, I want to learn more about Weaving. The right way, this time."
The crimson orb bobbed in what he was beginning to recognize as her version of a nod.
Of course.