Both girls sat on the ground in lotus positions with their eyes closed.
For Alice, she was learning how to heal with the affinity of light.
For Beatrice, Richard wanted to restart her whole program. He wanted her to be capable of chantless magic like him and Alice.
So the first task was for her to try and feel the fire elemental mana in the air.
Alice furrowed her brows slightly, her eyes still shut, as she tried to sense the flow of light mana within her body.
'Light...' she thought. 'It should be warm and gentle. Not aggressive. But healing, and soothing...'
Her hands, placed on her thighs, trembled slightly as she tried to direct mana to the bruises along her ribs and arms.
She channeled her energy, following Richard's earlier instructions–'visualize the wound, will the light to mend it, and let your mana become the medium through which it flows.' A soft glow lit up around her hands.
Bzzt!
The light flickered and vanished with a sharp crackle, leaving a brief stinging sensation on her fingertips which made Alice wince slightly at it.
"Try again," Richard said gently from across the room. "You're trying to force it. Light isn't like fire. It doesn't respond to willpower–it responds to intent.
Think of warmth. Think of comfort. Something like how your mother used to stroke your head when you cried as a child."
Alice's eyes fluttered slightly, her face becoming slightly red. She inhaled deeply and tried again.
This time, she imagined the warmth of her mother's embrace. The gentle hum of lullabies and the scent of chamomile. And her hands glowed faintly once more.
Fssshhh–zap!
The glow fizzled and collapsed again. She exhaled in frustration.
"Third time's the charm?" Richard offered, flashing a small smile. "Relax. Don't think of healing like fixing a wound. Think of it like... restoring harmony to the body. Let the light settle into the wound, not burn it away."
Alice clenched her fists. She nodded, steadied her breath, and closed her eyes again.
She envisioned her bruises, and imagined threads of golden light gently weaving through the cracks. Her fingers tingled, then–
Fwooooshhh...
A gentle, warm light spread over her palms. It wasn't intense, nor blinding–it was soft, like morning sun filtering through a curtain.
The glow extended toward her chest and ribs, and she felt it–a soothing tide, cool but comforting, like a warm stream trickling through every sore muscle, and slowly the pain faded away.
Richard walked over and gently placed a hand on her head. "Good girl," he said, ruffling her hair.
"Now that you've got it. Remember that feeling. The nature of the healing aspect of light. As healing isn't about raw power."
Alice gave a small smile, her eyes still closed. "Yeah. It kinda felt... like receiving a hug from my mom," she whispered.
Meanwhile, Beatrice grunted, her hands still on her knees, her brows furrowed deeper than ever.
Richard turned to her. "You feel anything yet?"
"No," she huffed. "It's like trying to grab smoke. Nothing sticks."
"Of course it won't," Richard said, crouching beside her. "You're trying to grab fire like it's a rock. Fire doesn't get held. Rather it dances, flickers, flares. It responds to passion, anger, purpose."
Beatrice exhaled, nodded, and closed her eyes again. She thought of everything–the children at the orphanage, the cultists, how they wrecked her town and her own powerlessness to stop them.
Her chest tightened as the heat of it all rose within her.
Crack!
A faint spark ignited around her fingertips, just for a moment.
"I saw that," Richard encouraged. "Try again. Go with it. Let it burn."
Beatrice grit her teeth and focused harder. This time, she thought of the flames themselves. Not as weapons of destruction but as living things.
Dancing in the wind, pulsing with rhythm. And the spark came again.
Fsssshhh!
A faint ring of heat surrounded her, and a trail of red-orange wisps curled around her palm. Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped.
"I feel it."
Richard grinned. "Good. Now control it. Oh. How you try to create something. A weapon. A staff maybe. Or perhaps a blade. Anything really. Just shape it like you're sculpting out of molting metal."
Beatrice raised her hand, channeling the swirling heat. Her first attempt fizzled out, forming nothing but a flickering flame that died out like a match in the wind.
"Again," Richard said, calmly this time. "Feel the shape of it first. Then breathe life into it."
Beatrice closed her eyes again, held her breath, and this time focused on a single image.
A sparring staff. A sturdy build. One made for her. The heat swirled again, and–
FWOOOSH!
A bright flame erupted from her hand, spiraling up and condensing into the shape of a blazing staff, it's form rippling with energy.
"Yes!" She shouted excitedly, as she stood up. The fire staff danced in her grip before slowly fading away into embers.
"Yes, yes, yes!" She said, twirling around excitedly.
Alice, now fully healed, stood and walked over to her. She gently placed one hand on Beatrice's shoulder, the other over her chest.
"Hold still."
And a warm light burst from her hand, flowing into Beatrice's body. It washed over her like a second wave, mending the leftover scrapes and bruises along her legs and arms.
Beatrice blinked in surprise. "You're already able to heal others?"
Alice smiled softly. "It's not perfect, but I'm trying."
Even Richard was surprised at this, as he didn't think she would be able to do that so soon after just learning how to heal herself.
'She must have a knack for healing magic huh.'
Richard then turned away from them, walking to the center of the living room.
He stretched out his hand and–
Whoooosh–thud-thud-thud!
A gust of wind pushed away the table, chairs, sliding them smoothly toward the walls.
He knelt and then drew a quick circle on the floor with his finger, heat seeping out and burning the lines into the surface.
Then, standing tall, he conjured a blade made entirely of fire. The hilt solidified in his grip, flames licking it's edges.
He turned to the two girls, who stood in awe at the display.
"The time is 7:50," he said, glancing at the clock.
"That gives us about forty minutes or so."
Then he smirked as he took a stance.
"Let's test your level with a little spar."