TRAINING EXERCISE THREE: MEDITATION
"Meditation is essential for mana recovery," Myra explained, finally releasing him. "Your capacity is small, so you need to be able to refill it quickly."
She moved to sit facing him, legs crossed.
"Mirror my position."
Lucian did.
Their knees touched.
"Now, hands."
"What about them?"
"Give them to me."
Reluctantly, he placed his hands in hers.
She laced their fingers together.
Why. Why is everything she does like this.
"Close your eyes."
He did.
"Meditation is about emptying your mind. Letting go of stress. Anxiety. Embarrassment."
Impossible when you're holding my hands like we're about to do a séance.
"Breathe with me. In..."
He breathed in.
"Out..."
He breathed out.
"Again. Match my rhythm."
They breathed together.
And despite everything—despite the absurdity of the situation—Lucian felt his mind beginning to quiet.
The chaos of the day faded.
His awareness narrowed to just... breathing. The warmth of her hands. The steady rhythm.
"Good," Myra's voice was softer now. Almost gentle. "Now, feel your mana pool. Don't touch it. Just observe."
He did.
It was there. Small. Dim.
But steadier than before. More stable.
"This is your baseline. Memorize this feeling. When you're empty, you need to return to this state to recover."
They sat like that for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes.
Just breathing.
Just existing.
When Myra finally spoke again, her voice was different. Serious.
"Lucian. Open your eyes."
He did.
She was looking at him with an expression he hadn't seen before.
Not playful. Not teasing.
Concerned.
"Your curse," she said quietly. "It's not just sealing your talent. It's... feeding on you. Slowly. Constantly draining your life force."
His blood went cold. "What?"
"Whoever cast this wanted you weak. Helpless. But they also wanted you to suffer." Her grip on his hands tightened. "If we don't break it soon, it'll start affecting more than just your magic."
"How long do I have?"
"Hard to say. Years, maybe. But your body will start breaking down eventually." She paused. "That's why we're training. Not just to make you stronger. But to keep you alive."
Silence fell between them.
"Why are you helping me?" Lucian asked. "Really. You don't even know me."
Myra smiled. Sad. Knowing.
"Let's just say... I know what it's like to be cursed. To have something taken from you by people who should have protected you." She released his hands. "And I don't like seeing history repeat itself."
For a moment, the mask dropped.
Lucian saw past the shameless flirting. The inappropriate behavior.
And glimpsed something deeper.
Pain. Old wounds. Secrets she'd never share.
Then she blinked, and the mask was back.
"Besides," she said, standing and stretching, "you're far too entertaining to let die. Where else would I find a student who blushes every time I touch him?"
"I don't blush."
"You absolutely do." She offered him a hand. "Come on. Training's done for tonight. Same time next week?"
Lucian took her hand, letting her pull him up.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!" She grinned. "You're stuck with me now, sweetheart. For better or worse."
Mostly worse, he thought, but didn't say out loud.
Lucian left Myra's quarters feeling... strange.
Stronger, yes. The mana flowing through him was more stable than it had been in years.
But also exhausted. Drained. Like he'd run a marathon while solving complex math problems.
And traumatized.
So, so traumatized.
I will never unsee her sitting on me. Never.
He was halfway back to his dorm when someone stepped out of the shadows.
Seraphina.
She wore casual clothes. Hair loose. Arms crossed.
And she was staring at him.
"Where were you?" Her voice was sharp.
"Training."
"With who?"
With my shameless S-rank mentor who has zero concept of personal boundaries.
"A professor. Private lessons."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "You're different."
"What?"
"Your aura. It's... stronger." She stepped closer, studying him. "What kind of training did you do?"
The kind I'm never describing to anyone.
"Mana circulation. Meditation. Basic stuff."
She didn't look convinced.
"You're lying."
"I'm not—"
"You're definitely lying." She grabbed his arm. "You show up smelling like—" She paused, sniffing. "Perfume. You smell like perfume. Expensive perfume."
Oh fuck. Myra's perfume. From all the... contact.
"It's not what you think."
"So what is it?" Seraphina's grip tightened. "Because right now I'm thinking you've been with someone. Someone female. Someone who wears very nice perfume."
Her face was flushed. Angry.
Jealous.
She's adorable when she's jealous.
"I told you. Training. Nothing else."
"You expect me to believe—"
"Believe whatever you want, Seraphina." He pulled his arm free, meeting her eyes. "I'm not accountable to you."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Her expression cracked. Hurt flashed through before she covered it with anger.
"Fine. Do whatever you want. I don't care." She turned away. "Just don't expect me to wait around while you—"
"While I what?"
She didn't answer. Just walked away.
Lucian watched her go, feeling like he'd just made a mistake.
But he couldn't tell her about Myra.
Couldn't explain the training.
Not yet.
[AFFECTION DECREASED]
Seraphina Ashenblade: 30 → 25
Status: Hurt/Jealous
Warning: Continued secrets may damage relationship.
Fuck.