Chapter 140 - 138 A Time for Our Own

Chapter 140: Chapter 138 A Time for Our Own

The Saturday light entered the room without waking Valentina. It slowly spread across the curtains, reached the edge of the bed, and left a pale strip over the pink bunny pajamas the girl was wearing.

Virka opened her eyes before the light reached her.

She did not sit up immediately.

Valentina slept turned toward her body, with one hand closed around the dark fabric of her clothes and one leg outside the blanket. During the night, she had moved closer until she occupied almost all the space that separated them. Her breathing remained slow, warm against Virka’s arm, oblivious to the day that was beginning and the journey that awaited them the following morning.

Virka observed the small hand clinging to her.

She could remove it without waking her, but remained still for a few more seconds. Then she covered the exposed leg with the blanket, moved away from Valentina’s face a lock of hair divided between brown and white, and left her fingers beside her cheek.

—Valentina —she said in a low voice.

The girl wrinkled her nose and buried her face against her.

—Not yet.

—It’s morning already.

Virka ran her thumb once over her cheekbone.

Valentina opened the brown eye first; the blue one appeared afterward, still veiled by sleep. She looked at Virka from very close, as if she needed to recognize her before accepting that she had to leave the bed.

—Good morning, Mom.

—Good morning.

Valentina released the fabric she had held during the night and raised both arms.

Virka understood the gesture without her having to ask. She picked her up, sat her on her abdomen, and waited while the girl leaned forward to wrap her arms around her neck.

The hug lasted until Valentina finished waking up on her own.

Narka moved at the foot of the bed. He had spent the night in his reduced form, curled up on a folded blanket, and when he raised his head, the golden gleam of his eye became visible.

Valentina pulled away from Virka just enough to look at him.

—Uncle Narka is sleepy too.

The beast responded with a deep vibration, too short to know whether he was protesting or agreeing with her.

Virka sat up and held Valentina with one arm so she would not slip.

—Let’s have breakfast.

The girl rested her chin on her shoulder.

—What did Dad make?

—Today I’ll cook.

Valentina pulled back enough to look her in the face.

The sleep vanished from her eyes.

—Do you know how to cook?

—No.

—Then are you going to learn today?

—Yes.

The answer seemed to be enough for her.

Valentina climbed out of bed with more speed than she had shown a moment before and looked for her slippers. Virka followed after arranging the blankets. Narka climbed down on the other side; his paws produced a soft scrape against the floor as he moved behind them both.

The kitchen retained the order of the previous night.

Virka turned on the lights and stopped in front of the cabinets. She had entered many times to accompany the others, reach for something, or watch Valentina while she ate, but she had never needed to decide where a meal began.

The girl took one of the seats beside the central island and rested her elbows on the surface, ready to witness everything. Narka settled on the floor beside her.

Virka opened the refrigerator.

Eggs, fruit, milk, and other foods filled compartments whose organization she knew, though not their preparation. She chose what she could recognize without uncertainty: eggs, bread, some strawberries, and an apple.

She arranged them on the island in a straight line.

—Is that what we’re going to eat? —Valentina asked.

—Yes.

—I can wash the strawberries.

Virka turned her face toward her.

The girl was already sliding the seat backward.

—Carefully.

—Carefully —Valentina repeated seriously.

Virka brought a container to the sink and adjusted the water before allowing her to climb onto the small stool she used to reach the countertop. She remained beside her until she confirmed that her feet were firmly supported.

Only then did she look for a frying pan.

She had learned to measure the force necessary to break bones long before understanding how much was enough to open an egg without destroying it.

The first one gave way completely between her fingers.

Part of the shell fell into the container, and a line of egg white ran down over her knuckles. Virka contemplated the result without changing her expression.

She reduced the pressure with the second.

This time the crack was narrow. She separated the shell with both thumbs and let the contents fall cleanly.

—That one came out better —Valentina said while turning a strawberry under the water.

—Yes.

Virka removed the fragments from the first egg one by one.

She beat the mixture with movements that were too rigid at first and smaller afterward. She turned on the stove, added a prudent amount of oil, and waited.

Perceiving the heat was simple.

Knowing when it had reached the proper point was not.

She brought her hand closer, observed the shine on the surface, and poured in the eggs when she believed it was enough.

The sound was louder than expected.

Valentina turned from the sink.

Virka had already taken the spatula.

She moved the eggs with a concentration that would have seemed disproportionate to anyone who did not know her way of facing the unknown. One part stuck to the bottom; another began to dry before she lowered the heat.

She did not look away.

She corrected the movement, scraped what was necessary, and memorized the response of each change.

Sebastián appeared at the entrance while she placed the bread in the toaster. He wore simple clothes and his hair was still damp.

His attention moved from the lined-up ingredients to the frying pan and ended on Virka.

—I can help you.

—If I need it, I’ll tell you.

Sebastián nodded once.

He did not approach to take anything away from her. He took another container, received the strawberries Valentina had washed, and left them to drain.

Virka watched him out of the corner of her eye when he adjusted the toaster using a side dial she had not noticed.

She said nothing.

She changed the position before pushing down the lever.

The preparation took on a simple order.

Valentina washed the fruit and Sebastián left it within her reach. Virka cut the apple and strawberries into almost identical portions, watched the second batch of eggs with less rigidity, and removed the bread before the edges darkened too much.

Narka followed every movement from the floor until Valentina left a piece of apple beside him.

He sniffed it, turned his head away, and emitted another low vibration.

—He doesn’t want fruit —she concluded.

—I noticed —Virka replied.

She prepared a different portion for him and arranged the plates.

Breakfast did not have the precision of something repeated for years. The first eggs had turned out drier than the last ones, two slices of toast showed uneven coloring, and one of the strawberries still had part of its leaves. Virka removed that portion before taking it to the table.

Valentina sat between her and Sebastián. Narka took his place near the girl, still reduced to a size that allowed him to remain beside the chair.

Virka did not begin eating immediately.

She watched as Valentina cut a portion of the eggs, blew on them out of habit, and brought them to her mouth.

The girl chewed attentively.

Then she took another bite.

—It’s tasty, Mom.

Virka lowered her gaze to her own plate. She tried the eggs and recognized the difference between the two preparations.

—The first portion stayed on the heat too long.

—But it’s still tasty.

Sebastián tried his before speaking.

—It turned out well.

Virka looked at him.

She found no condescension in his face nor the beginning of mockery. She kept that observation without responding and took a slice of toast.

Next time she would lower the heat sooner, crack the eggs with less pressure, and cut the strawberries after removing the leaves.

The thought came with a strange naturalness: there would be a next time.

For a few minutes, only the cutlery, Narka’s occasional scrape against the floor, and Valentina’s questions about how long remained until the trip could be heard.

Virka let the conversation continue until the girl had finished half of her breakfast.

—Today I’m going to see Kael —she said.

Sebastián set the cup on the table.

Valentina raised her head immediately.

—Are we going to visit Grandpa?

—Yes. You’re coming with me.

The girl’s smile appeared before Virka finished speaking.

—I want to ask him about what happened in the Veil —Virka continued, looking at Sebastián—. I’ll also train with him. We leave tomorrow and I want to be prepared.

Sebastián held her gaze for a moment.

—All right. I’ll meet with óscar at the Institute. We’ll speak with the instructor before beginning practice. We can also ask him for guidance about the places in the north and finish reviewing the route.

—That will help.

There was no need to discuss it further.

Sebastián would take care of speaking with them at the Institute. Virka could focus on the questions Kael might be able to answer and on preparing her body before taking Valentina toward a region they still knew mainly through maps.

—Am I going to train too? —Valentina asked.

Virka turned her attention back to her.

—You’re going to watch.

—I can practice without getting close.

—First we’ll see what Kael says.

Valentina pressed her lips together, considering the answer, and finally nodded.

—Okay. But I’m taking my notebook.

—Take it.

They finished breakfast without rushing.

Virka gathered the plates before Sebastián could do it and took them to the sink. Valentina wanted to help again; she was given the task of putting away the napkins and completed it by going to the same drawer twice to make sure they had been left straight.

Sebastián cleaned the central kitchen counter and did not point out the dried egg white Virka had left near the container.

She discovered it herself and removed it.

Afterward, she returned with Valentina to the bedroom.

She helped her bathe, dry her hair, and change out of her pajamas into comfortable clothes for the trip. Her hands moved with a confidence they had not had in front of the frying pan: they adjusted the sleeves, freed the two-colored hair that had been caught beneath the collar, and checked that nothing rubbed against her skin.

Valentina filled her backpack with the notebook, colored pencils, a bottle of water, and two objects she considered indispensable for visiting her grandfather.

Virka checked the contents, removed one that had no use, and put it back when the girl explained that it was a gift for Kael.

Narka entered the backpack of his own accord.

He settled into the main compartment and left his golden eye facing the opening Valentina kept between the zippers. Virka secured the straps over the girl’s shoulders and then changed clothes.

She chose black garments, tight enough not to interfere with her movements and flexible for training. She added no ornaments and carried nothing she did not need.

Sebastián was waiting for them on the lower floor.

Virka stopped in front of the exit, but did not look for the keys to any of the vehicles.

—We won’t go by road —she said.

Sebastián looked at Valentina’s backpack and then at Virka.

—Will you cross through the Veil?

—Yes. We’ll arrive faster.

Valentina approached Sebastián and raised her arms.

He leaned down to receive her, hugged her, and checked over her shoulder that the backpack opening had not closed over Narka.

—Don’t leave Mom’s side.

—I’m not going to leave her —she promised—. You don’t be late either, Dad. We travel tomorrow.

—I know.

Sebastián set her down and turned his face toward Virka.

—Be careful.

—I will.

Virka went outside with Valentina toward the open space in front of the mansion.

The morning remained clear and the garden still retained moisture among the leaves. She crouched in front of the girl, passed one arm beneath her thighs and the other around her back.

Valentina settled against her chest without difficulty, wrapped one arm around her neck, and kept the other beside the backpack to protect Narka.

Aura was born beneath Virka’s sternum in rhythm with her heart.

At first it appeared as a black line clinging to her body. Then it spread across her chest, shoulders, and arms until it wrapped her in a dense, semitransparent layer.

It was not smoke, although it folded like vapor subjected to an invisible current.

It was not fabric, although it adjusted to every movement of her body.

The energy continued advancing and reached Valentina with deliberate slowness.

Virka restrained every aggressive edge before allowing it to touch her. The aura surrounded the girl’s back, covered her legs, and closed around the backpack without blocking Narka’s opening.

A second, thinner layer formed in front of her face.

It did not immobilize her or prevent her from breathing; it isolated her from the wind, the pressure, and the violent variations the displacement would produce.

—Is it too tight? —Virka asked.

Valentina moved her shoulders inside the protection.

—No. It feels warm.

Virka adjusted the density slightly.

Then she took a step.

The world did not disappear.

It folded in on itself.

The mansion, the garden, and the road remained in their places, but they lost the sounds of the morning and part of their colors. The light took on a motionless quality; the surfaces kept the same shape as the normal world, stripped only of their everyday activity.

They had entered the exact reflection of the place from which they had departed.

Inside the Veil there were no vehicles, voices, or human movement.

Only the forms and the silence separating them remained.

Virka bent her legs. She concentrated aura beneath the soles of her feet and reinforced the arm holding Valentina.

—Hold on.

The girl closed both arms around her neck.

Virka jumped.

The aura burst against the ground without destroying it and launched them above the reflection of the trees. The mansion dropped away behind them.

Valentina pressed herself against her chest, but did not receive the blow of the air: the black layer opened the current before it reached her body and distributed the acceleration around both of them.

Narka remained stable inside the backpack; only the gleam of his eye changed position as he followed the terrain beneath them.

Virka chose the landing point before beginning the descent.

She extended one leg, inclined her body as much as necessary to keep Valentina over her center, and drove the aura toward both limbs.

Her feet touched the reflected road with a deep impact.

At that same instant, the black energy opened beneath the soles and flowed outward in a low circle, like a dark tide. The force of the landing left two shallow marks, but it did not travel up her knees or reach the girl.

Before the aura finished dispersing, Virka gathered it again.

The second jump was longer.

They crossed empty streets, covered by that stillness that belonged only to the Veil. Each ascent pushed the ground away; each descent brought it closer at a speed that would have shattered an ordinary body.

Virka received the weight through her legs, directed it into the aura, and spread it through the reflection before propelling herself again.

There were no unnecessary jolts.

Valentina remained curled against her, protected within the rhythm Virka built with each jump.

—Are you all right? —she asked during one of the brief pauses.

Valentina raised her face. The layer of aura gently moved the white tips of her hair.

—Yes. From here everything looks small.

Virka checked the position of her arms, the tension of the straps, and Narka’s eye peeking out between the zippers.

Nothing had shifted.

She propelled herself again.

The city fell behind. The terrain began to rise and the urban forms gave way to narrower roads, slopes, and motionless trees.

Virka knew the direction even without signs. She had traveled that route before, though never while carrying something that mattered to her as much as the girl held against her heart.

She reduced her speed slightly when the mountains filled the horizon. The aura continued responding with each fall, dark and alive around her legs, docile only because it was born from her.

Valentina did not ask her to stop. She watched the silent reflection of the world from her arms while Narka kept watch from the backpack.

After another jump, a structure began to come into view among the heights.

Kael’s dojo appeared in the distance, firm within the Veil, as if it had been waiting for their arrival since before the morning began.

Virka shortened the final jumps when the dojo ceased to be a distant shape among the trees.

She descended onto the reflected path, gathered beneath her feet the aura that had cushioned the fall, and continued walking with Valentina against her chest.

The girl straightened slightly in her arms to look at the gate.

It was open.

Kael was waiting for them at the threshold.

His white robe bore gray patterns and deep blue borders on the sleeves and lower part; the sealing symbols, woven with silver thread, gleamed discreetly beneath his golden aura.

The energy remained gathered close to his body, without extending toward them.

When Virka stopped in front of him, a smile softened his face.

—Hello, daughter. Hello, granddaughter.

Valentina lifted her cheek from Virka’s shoulder and raised one hand.

—Hi, Grandpa!

—Hello, Father —Virka replied, adjusting the arm beneath the girl’s legs.

Kael brought his hand to Valentina’s hair and stroked it once before stepping aside.

—Come in.

He crossed the gate first and deactivated his aura. The gold faded around his robe and his figure disappeared from the reflection as he returned to the normal world.

Virka moved behind him without putting Valentina down yet. Once inside, she withdrew the black layer from her own body, the girl, and the backpack where Narka traveled.

The aura gathered inward until it disappeared and the Veil gave way to ordinary reality.

The corridor retained the same form, but the murmur of the forest reached their ears again. The light recovered its warmth over the stone and Kael was there, waiting for them a few steps away.

Virka bent her legs and lowered Valentina until both soles touched the ground. She did not release her back before making sure she had regained her balance.

The girl took her hand and they followed Kael toward the Hall of the Blood Pact, the dojo’s main chamber.

The figures of the ancient guardians remained around the hall, motionless among the white stone and forest wood. Near the central brazier, a teapot rested on a low stand.

The fire was small; its warmth reached the place where Kael sat with his legs folded.

Virka settled across from him and left Valentina beside her, at a sufficient distance from the embers. She removed the backpack and placed it on the floor, keeping open the zipper through which Narka’s golden eye peeked out.

Kael took the teapot, poured three ceramic cups, and brought the first two toward them.

Valentina received hers with both hands.

—It’s hot —he warned her, waiting until she was holding it properly.

Then he passed the other cup to Virka and rested one hand on his knee.

—How can I help you, daughter?

Virka set the tea aside.

She explained the eruption of the pulse, the involuntary entry into the reflection of the room, and the return so fast that she had not managed to complete the movement with which she had tried to protect Valentina.

She also told him about the trip north, planned for the following morning, and about her desire to refine her control of the aura and her movements before leaving.

Kael listened without interrupting her, his attention fixed on her face.

While Virka spoke, Valentina tried the tea too soon.

A small sting of heat reached her tongue; she pulled the cup away, stuck out just the tip, and let out a short breath.

Virka interrupted her explanation to look at her.

The girl shook her head before she had to ask, set the cup on the floor, and blew across the surface. This time she waited before drinking again.

Virka resumed the explanation and finished shortly afterward; she had barely needed a minute to present both reasons.

Kael remained thoughtful for a few moments. His fingers wrapped around the cup without lifting it and his gaze briefly shifted toward the fire before returning to Virka.

—Of course I can help you with the training. You are my daughter and a disciple of the Temple of the Thousand Sealed Promises. You will always be welcome to train here.

Virka nodded.

The firmness of the answer allowed her shoulders to loosen, though she continued waiting for what he might say about the other matter.

Kael lifted the cup and held it between his hands.

—I also felt the heartbeat. I was here, meditating, when it dragged me into the Veil. I had not decided to enter.

He paused briefly.

Valentina continued blowing on her tea, now attentive to the voices.

—From what I perceived, I believe something is gestating within the Veil —Kael continued—. I don’t know what it is or when it will manifest. I will keep watch.

Virka kept her gaze on him.

There was no complete answer, but neither was there an invented explanation meant to reassure her.

—I think we will see great changes soon —Kael added, placing the cup in front of his legs—. Don’t lower your guard. If you notice something different, pay attention to it. And come back more often; we will continue working on your training.

Virka brushed the rim of her cup with her fingers.

—I’ll come see you.

Kael nodded and rested his hands on his knees.

—If you ever can’t come, call me from the mansion. I’ll find a moment to visit you. But I prefer that we train here; I also have to continue protecting the dojo.

—All right. I’ll come and bring Valentina whenever I can.

Upon hearing her name, the girl stopped looking at the tea and turned her face toward them both. Her smile appeared as she set the cup on the floor, this time without rushing.

—I want to come too, Grandpa! —she said, moving a little closer to Virka—. I like visiting you.

Kael collected the cups when Valentina finished drinking. The girl held hers between both hands before handing it to him, still making sure no tea remained at the bottom.

Virka stood up beside her and adjusted her dark clothing with a brief movement.

The master observed the garments, then her arms, and left the cups beside the teapot.

—Did you bring your disciple attire? —he asked, turning back toward her.

Virka lowered her gaze to her own clothes.

She had thought about arriving, talking, and preparing for the trip; the outfit remained at the mansion.

—I didn’t bring it, Father.

Kael nodded and indicated the corridor with an open hand.

—Wait here. I have a spare for you.

Valentina moved closer to her mother while he left. Virka rested her fingers on the girl’s hair and remained beside her until the master returned with a folded garment in his arms.

When he unfolded it, the black opened beneath the red borders and golden embroidery. The tails retained the length of the attire received during the ritual, and the red circle with the fist appeared in the center of the chest.

Virka ran her thumb over one of the seams before taking it.

She recognized that structure, the weight of the folds, and the way the fabric yielded without losing firmness.

—We can prepare spares through the temple ritual —Kael explained, holding one end so it would not brush the floor—. We have a limited amount. Creating others requires repeating that work.

He waited until Virka had taken full hold of the garment and withdrew his hand.

—Wear it when you go into combat. Also on tomorrow’s trip. The condensed aura that forms it serves as protection and adjusts to the strength of whoever wears it. It can withstand considerable damage, but it has a limit. A strong enough attack can break it.

Virka raised her eyes toward him and tightened her fingers slightly around the fabric.

—I’ll wear it.

Valentina had followed the explanation, looking first at the outfit and then at her grandfather’s white robe.

She raised one hand and pointed at the embroidery on his sleeves.

—Do you have one too, Grandpa?

Kael leaned toward her. A small smile softened the seriousness with which he had spoken.

—Yes. I have my own protective attire for real battles. What I’m wearing now is my usual temple clothing. Today I’ll train in this.

The girl ran one finger along the red edge hanging from Virka’s arms.

Her mother let her trace it before gathering it up and heading to a side room to change.

When she returned, the attire followed her body without constricting her joints. The tails fell to her ankles and separated with each step; the golden embroidery remained still against the black.

She had tied back her hair to keep it away from her face.

She moved her shoulders, flexed her arms, and checked the freedom of her footing before rejoining them.

Kael led them to the Courtyard of Stilled Steel.

There, Valentina left the backpack beside a pillar and opened the zipper so Narka could come out. The creature settled in his reduced form near her, with his golden eye oriented toward the practice area.

Virka checked the distance between that place and the center of the courtyard.

Only then did she advance toward her father.

The mountain air crossed the enclosure and gently moved the edges of their garments.

No aura surrounded their bodies.

The first exercises passed slowly.

Kael observed how Virka distributed her weight, how she began each advance, and in what position her hands ended. She knew the sequences, but by reducing the speed she discovered the moments she usually passed through without stopping.

In the Fang of Total Rupture, she shifted her body forward, directed her open hand toward the master’s chest, and tensed her arm to complete the entry.

Kael received her forearm without force and stopped the movement before contact.

—Your shoulder arrives before your footing is complete —he said, indicating the forward foot with his gaze—. Repeat from the beginning.

Virka withdrew her hand. She observed the position of her foot, returned to the starting point, and performed the advance again.

This time she held the footing before completing the extension.

Kael allowed the hand to pass beside his chest and she stopped her fingers without closing them over the fabric.

Precision required restraining herself at a minimal distance. She could arrive much faster, exert much more force; there she had to recognize exactly how much she needed and when to stop using it.

The repetitions occupied part of the morning.

Kael changed position to observe her from different angles and corrected a footing, the orientation of a wrist, or premature tension. Virka listened without arguing and performed the sequence again.

During the Stride of the Foundation Breaker, she drew both arms backward, raised her right knee, and leaned her body slightly. She lowered the extended leg and brought her weight down onto the heel in a controlled manner.

Without accumulated aura or an explosion upon contact, the movement retained its structure and exposed any loss of balance.

Valentina stood up after watching several repetitions.

She placed her arms behind her back and tried to raise one knee like her mother. She held it only for a moment before beginning to sway.

Virka turned toward her immediately, but Kael had already extended a hand so the girl could steady herself.

—Slowly —he instructed, waiting until she had both feet back on the ground—. First learn to stay still.

Valentina pressed her lips together in concentration and tried again, this time without lifting her leg as high.

Virka approached, crouched in front of her, and pointed to the place where she should set her foot down.

—Here, my girl. Gently.

The little girl obeyed and looked at them both to make sure she had done it correctly.

Kael gave her a nod. Virka adjusted a strand of hair away from her face.

They practiced a few simple stances with her and left the destructive sequences out of that small exercise. When Valentina returned beside Narka, her mother went back to the center of the courtyard.

The next part of the practice allowed Virka to link what she had learned against real resistance.

Kael positioned himself in front of her and received her entries with short movements, deflections, and restrained blocks. Virka aimed for his torso with an open hand, changed the angle when he closed the path, and recovered her position before attempting another advance.

If her fingers reached an arm, she stopped the closing motion. If she began the turn of a tearing technique, she suspended the pull as soon as she recognized the correct point.

The purpose of the training was to complete the sequence with control, not to injure.

Kael advanced as well.

Pressure from his palm against her shoulder was enough to force her to reorganize; a step into the space she had left open showed her where another opponent could enter.

Virka corrected herself as she went, drew back the arm she had extended too far, and resumed holding the front.

At times, the master stopped the exchange and reconstructed the previous instant with her. His instructions were brief. Virka tested them immediately, until the adjustment no longer required a separate decision and began to integrate into the movement.

Meanwhile, Valentina alternated between watching and walking around her small place beside the pillar.

After a while, she opened the backpack, took out the notebook and colored pencils she had prepared at the mansion, and sat with them on her legs.

She began drawing her mother and grandfather, raising her eyes each time one of them changed position. Narka remained nearby, following the movements across the courtyard.

During a pause, Kael approached to look at what she was doing. He leaned over the notebook without touching it and followed with his eyes the lines the girl had just drawn.

—Would you like to try watercolors? —he asked, pointing to one of the figures.

Valentina raised her face and nodded immediately.

She moved the colored pencils aside to make room while he went to get a small box of watercolors, a brush, a container of water, and some thicker sheets of paper.

When he returned, Kael placed the materials within her reach and showed her how to wet the brush before picking up the paint.

The girl tried a red blotch in one corner. She watched how it spread and used less water on the next attempt.

Then she placed a sheet over the notebook and began another drawing.

She outlined a figure with open arms, left its clothing white, and added blue to the sleeves. Beside it, she painted another figure with black hair, with red along the edges of the attire.

The finished sheets were left spread out near the pillar to dry.

When she brought one of them close to Narka to show him the golden circle she had drawn on his body, he tilted his head slightly toward the paper.

The light had advanced across the stones when Kael brought the morning session to an end.

Virka relaxed her hands and returned to her daughter. The girl raised her arms to receive her and she lifted her for a moment before picking up the backpack.

They went inside to eat without prolonging the practice.

Lunch was simple: rice, hot vegetables, and water. Valentina kept the drawings away from the plates, although during the meal she looked back at them several times.

Virka helped her separate a portion and waited for it to lose some of its heat before bringing it closer to her.

Kael ate across from them both, listening to the girl’s explanations about a figure whose arm had ended up longer than the other because her mother moved too much.

After the rest, the courtyard received them with longer shadows.

Virka resumed the sequences at a moderate speed.

In the Claw of Internal Tearing, she extended her arm diagonally, curved her fingers, and arched her back slightly forward. She practiced the closing motion, the turn of the wrist, and the pull at an inverse angle without gripping any body.

Kael stopped beside her to correct the final direction.

She repeated the movement until she could stop it at every stage without altering the next one. Then she linked it with the morning entries and returned to the controlled exchange with her father.

Time passed between those corrections and the pauses necessary to observe them.

Virka learned to shorten a recovery without rushing the next attack, to maintain her footing when the opponent displaced her, and to interrupt a technique without leaving herself exposed.

Valentina imitated some steps from her place, returned to her drawings when repeating them stopped interesting her, and drank from her bottle before continuing with another sheet.

Every time the girl called, Virka turned her attention toward her. Kael allowed that pause to happen and resumed the exercise when they were both ready.

Near sunset, the master raised his hand and Virka stopped the final entry.

She remained still for a few seconds, feeling the accumulated work in her arms and legs. Then she released the tension in her fingers and gathered the hair that had escaped beside one cheek.

Kael approached to review one final stance with her, but Valentina was already coming toward them with several sheets pressed against her chest.

—Look, Mom. This one is for you.

Virka crouched to receive it.

On the paper, a figure with red eyes held one enormous hand forward; black hair fell behind her back and her clothes had red edges and small golden lines. Nearby appeared a girl and a dark shape with one yellow eye.

Virka held the sheet by the corners.

Her thumb stopped beside the small figure before she raised her gaze toward her daughter.

—I’ll keep it —she said, drawing her closer with her free arm.

Valentina leaned against her for a moment and then turned toward Kael to give him his.

The master received a white figure with wide arms, blue on the sleeves, and a smile that occupied almost the entire face.

—This is you, Grandpa —the girl explained, pointing at the clothes with her index finger.

Kael bent down to her height and studied the drawing attentively before looking at her.

—Thank you, Valentina. I’ll keep it too.

The girl smiled and gathered the remaining sheets.

Virka checked that the paint was dry and helped her protect them between the covers of the notebook before putting it away.

Narka returned inside the backpack and Virka placed the notebook in a separate pocket.

The temple attire retained its black, red, and gold folds after the entire day. The following day she would take it with her.

As she closed the zipper, she could still feel her father’s corrections in her body and the recent contact of her daughter against her chest.

The sunset light reached the stones where they had practiced.

For a moment, Virka left her hand on the backpack and remained there, beside the two of them.

________________________________________

END OF Chapter 138 The path continues...

New Chapters are revealed every

Sunday, and also between Wednesday or Thursday,

when the will of the tale so decides.

Each one leaves another scar on Sebastián’s journey.

If this abyss resonated with you,

keep it in your collection

and leave a mark: a comment, a question, an echo.

Your presence keeps alive the flame that shapes this world.

Thank you for walking by my side.

If this story resonated with you, perhaps we have already crossed paths in another corner of the digital world. Over there, they know me as Goru SLG.

I want to thank from the heart all the people who are reading and supporting this work. Your time, your comments, and your support keep this world alive.

If this story resonated with you, I invite you to support me — your presence and backing make it possible for.