Burning Desires of the Amethyst Witch

After breakfast, Jenny and Dravisha finally got to practicing magic spells. So far, the only spells in Jenny's repertoire were her weak glamour magic, a wind blast spell, and her protection barrier spell. With the things she was about to face, those few spells weren't enough. She needed some real oompf if she was going to survive.

Dravisha taught her how to draw on the darkness around her and concentrate it in her hands. Unlike wind, shadows weren't tangible—they were illusions, absences rather than presences. Grasping nothingness seemed impossible. Frustration gnawed at her with each failed attempt. Once or twice, she managed to form the vague outline of a shadowy tendril, but it dissolved almost instantly.

 "You need to concentrate, witch," Dravisha said sharply. "It's all in your imagination. Visualize the abyss—hold it, command it. Delve into the darkness, let it in."

Jenny tried again and again, her hands trembling with effort. Still, the shadows refused to obey. Suddenly, Dravisha seized her throat, lifting her slightly off the ground. Jenny's eyes widened in shock and terror.

"Maybe pain will teach you how to summon the darkness," Dravisha growled, her crimson eyes gleaming with malice.

Fear exploded in Jenny's chest. She clawed at Dravisha's hands, her lungs burning as they screamed for air. In that moment of sheer desperation, something inside her shifted. She could feel the pain and the terror of air deprivation, the crushing weight of nothingness pressing down on her. Darkness closed in, suffocating and absolute. Yet within it, she sensed something else—a cold, pulsing void that mirrored her own anguish.

She reached out—not just with her hands but with everything she had left. The void wasn't just absence—it was hunger, a ravenous emptiness that devoured light and life alike. Yet within its cold embrace, Jenny found an odd kinship, as though the darkness recognized her despair and offered itself as solace. She sucked it in as if it were the air she needed, understanding its nature instinctively. And then she felt it—a faint pulse beneath the suffocating silence, like a heartbeat in reverse. The shadows weren't rejecting her; they were waiting.

A shadowy tendril stretched out to her, brushing against her hand like a living thing. For the first time, she truly understood what Dravisha meant about delving into the darkness.

Dravisha unclasped her hands, smiling satisfied. "Well done, little witch."

Jenny dropped to the floor, choking and coughing, saliva bursting out of her mouth. "You… weren't supposed to hurt me…" she rasped.

"Pain is part of the path to magic," Dravisha replied coolly. "Without it, you'll never master the darkness. Get up—we aren't done yet."

Jenny sputtered and gasped, her vision still blurry. She got up on unsteady legs, slowly adjusting, taking deep breaths, in and out.

"Now summon the tendril again," Dravisha demanded.

Jenny reached out, beckoning for the darkness to come again. She welcomed it in, and it answered her. Very slowly, a shadowy tendril slid into her hand and coalesced into a dark orb. It was small, but it vibrated with intensity. It was beautiful.

Jenny held it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. She was exhilarated. She never felt more alive than at that moment, while holding that shadowy little orb.

"You've got talent," Dravisha said approvingly. "Now release it and summon it again."

Jenny did so. She summoned and released the tendril again and again and again. Hours passed by as Jenny and Dravisha practiced that one exercise, until it became nearly muscle memory. By the end, Jenny's arms ached, her throat was raw from breathing heavily, and sweat dripped down her back.

"This is the foundation of your shadow magic training. Any spare moment you have, you will use it to summon that tendril until it becomes second nature to you. You shouldn't have to think about it. It should just happen, unconsciously, instantly. Understood?" Dravisha said.

Jenny nodded. It still took Jenny three seconds to grasp the tendril and another second to make it into an orb. According to Dravisha, that was four seconds too long.

The door abruptly opened, and Richter stepped in. He raised an eyebrow, taking in Jenny's dishevelled appearance and Dravisha's smug grin. "I see you two have been busy," he remarked dryly. "I've had my butler prepare your outfits for the evening."

Jenny collapsed to her knees, exhausted. "Thank the almighty," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't. Say. His. Name." Dravisha said sternly.

"Sorry," Jenny mumbled, wincing as she pushed herself to her feet.