Tessa was... old.
Not in the way humans got old—wrinkled and bent and slow. She was old the way ancient trees were old. Six tails fanned behind her, silver-white fur matching the long hair that fell past her waist. Her face was unlined but her eyes held depths that made Melisa feel like a child playing with matches.
[Jesus Christ...]
"Essence manipulation," Tessa said, settling onto a meditation cushion in her study, "is not about power. Any fool can throw essence around. What separates a true master from a talented amateur is precision."
Melisa knelt across from her, trying to match the elder's perfect posture. Tessa's eyes closed.
"Essence doesn't just identify someone. It reflects their emotional state. Their intentions. Their desires. Learn to read these, and you'll never be surprised by anyone again."
[That sounds incredibly useful. Also slightly terrifying.]
"How do I start?"
