Chapter 74: A Wand for a Mage

The eastern road was quieter than the muddy path they had traveled the previous day.

For most of the morning, the only sound was the creak of the rented wagon’s wooden wheels and the occasional cry of a hawk circling beyond the tree line.

Lyra sat beneath the shade of the canvas canopy, legs crossed, her new wooden wand resting across her knees. She had been staring at the focus for ten minutes.

Kōya glanced back from the driver’s seat. "You have been staring at that thing for a while."

"I am thinking," Lyra replied without looking up.

"About what?"

"About whether it likes me yet."

Kōya looked at the polished wood, then at her face. "It is a piece of wood."

"I know."

"It does not possess feelings."

Lyra frowned, picking the wand up. "You don’t know that for a fact."

"I have never heard of a standard focus possessing emotions."

"You have admitted you haven’t heard of a lot of normal things."

Kōya considered the logic. "That is true."

She smiled.

She turned the wand over in her hands. It was a simple design: smooth dark wood, with a small clear crystal held near the tip by a narrow metal frame. It wasn’t a high-tier weapon or a legendary artifact, but Lyra treated the object with reverence. She had learned how easily things could disappear in the borderlands. She was determined not to take this new possession for granted.

She raised the wand, pointing it toward the open back of the wagon. "Should I try again?"

Kōya kept his eyes on the road. "Go ahead. Focus."

Lyra closed her eyes.

The theoretical instructions from the heavy book stated mana was not something to be forced through the core. It had to flow like water and respond to her intent.

She took a deep breath.

A small amount of ambient mana gathered inside her core. The crystal at the tip glowed, then flickered.

Lyra frowned.

"Don’t push it," Kōya warned without looking back.

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I am not."

"You just tensed your shoulders."

Lyra opened one indignant eye. "You are watching my shoulders while driving?"

"I am tracking the erratic flow of your mana."

"That is worse."

Kōya faced forward. "Just relax and try again."

She took another breath and forced her shoulders to drop.

The glow in the crystal steadied into a warm light. A tiny sphere of white light materialized above the tip of the wand.

Lyra’s eyes widened. "It worked."

"Keep the construct stable."

"I am trying."

The sphere trembled in the air. It looked as though the delicate spell might collapse.

Instead, the compressed sphere shot straight upward.

Lyra yelped.

The stray light struck the canvas roof of the wagon with a sharp crack. A burst of white light exploded against the timber.

The startled horse gave a panicked whinny and bucked against the harness. Kōya grabbed the leather reins, hauling back. The wagon swerved across the muddy road before he forced it back into a straight line.

"I’m sorry!" Lyra shouted, ducking beneath her arms. "Are you trying to kill us?"

"No!"

The horse settled back into a nervous walk.

Kōya looked up at the small, smoking black mark scorched into the canvas roof.

Lyra raised her head from her knees. "The light was theoretically supposed to go forward."

"It went forward," Kōya noted.

"Technically."

"It went upward."

"That is still a forward direction on the Y-axis."

Kōya turned around and stared at her.

Lyra tried not to laugh at his expression. A small laugh escaped her lips. Then another. Soon she was covering her mouth with her hands, her shoulders shaking with amusement.

Kōya shook his head. "You nearly set our only wagon on fire."

"But I made a light!"

"You made an explosive light."

"That is still progress."

"I suppose it is."

She smiled, the amusement lingering in her eyes. Then, she looked back down at the wooden wand in her lap. The smile faded.

"Kōya."

"What?"

"Do you think I can actually become a proper mage?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

Lyra looked at him, her expression serious. "I mean it."

"I know."

She lowered the wand. "I have never formally studied arcane magic before yesterday."

"Neither had you ever studied how to hold a focus."

"I know."

"And yet you created a spell."

"An accidental, explosive spell."

"You still created it from nothing." ⅇ𝒃𝚗ℴ

She looked at him quietly, waiting.

Kōya turned slightly in the driver’s seat. "You possess raw mana. You have demonstrated you can learn to control it. You possess the will to learn. That is more than enough to start."

Lyra looked down at her hands. "But you are so much stronger than I am."

"That is a different situation."

"Because you are..." She hesitated. "Because of what you were before all this."

Kōya knew what she meant.

Raizen. The fragmented memories of the Demon Lord.

"Knowing a theory does not mean my body can execute it."

Lyra looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Kōya rested one scarred hand against the wooden side of the wagon. "I possess the memories of complex techniques. I remember how certain high-tier abilities were supposed to function. But my current body is not the same vessel. My mana pathways are not the same. My fine control is not the same."

He glanced down at his right hand, where the Demonic Aura slumbered. "The ancient memories provide knowledge."

He looked toward his left hand, where Yuna’s Heroic Power rested. "They do not grant automatic mastery."

Lyra considered the distinction. "So, even with all that power... you still have to learn how to use it?"

"Yes."

She smiled, visibly relieved. "That is nice to hear."

Kōya looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because it means you are not allowed to laugh at me when I fail."

"I never promised I wouldn’t laugh."

Lyra reached forward and lightly hit his armored arm with the wooden wand. "Hey."

"You deserved that."

"You hit me."

"I didn’t hit you hard."

"You still struck the driver."

"It was a tap."

"A tap counts when volatile magic is involved."

She laughed again. The sound carried out into the open road.

Kōya looked back at the horizon.

For a brief moment, he remembered another laugh. Yuna, covered in mud at the Academy. Then an older memory surfaced. Mirei.

His dark eyes lingered on Lyra. She was still smiling at her wand.

He looked away.

The ancient memories no longer dictated the present. Lyra didn’t need to remind him of anyone from his past.

She could simply be herself.