Hours had passed. Bruno had awakened only a few minutes ago and now stood at the top of the mountain. The wind blew in icy gusts, carrying the hollow sound of emptiness. The thin air weighed heavily on his lungs, and the simple act of breathing seemed to demand discipline. Still, he kept his eyes fixed on Flávia, trying to restrain his obsession.
— You see, Bruno — she began, her voice firm but calm, like someone teaching something that could not be rushed. — Vitae requires exceptional control to keep flowing up here. And do you know why?
Bruno frowned, thought for a few moments, but no convincing answer came to him. He only shook his head slowly, returning his gaze to Flávia.
— It's because of the very nature of vitae, — she continued. — Have you noticed that, in this place, it neither descends the mountain… nor rises? It is as if the flow were cut off.
She raised her hand, pointing her finger forward.
— When the flow is interrupted, vitae does not vanish. It begins to stagnate, hardening… like cement.
A burst of vitae shot from her hand. The energy advanced only a few meters before dissolving in the air, as if swallowed by the mountain itself.
— See? — Flávia's voice came out calm, almost gentle.
Bruno narrowed his eyes, surprised.
— The vitae here… collided with your burst?
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
— In a way, yes and no. It was not the vitae that collided with my attack. It was my attack that collided with it. In these zones of cut flow, vitae becomes like a natural barrier. It not only prevents circulation, but also absorbs any vitae that touches it, as if always hungry.
Flávia remained silent for a few moments, letting the explanation sink into his mind. Then she raised her hand again. A new burst of energy appeared, but this time it was different: it pierced the barrier as though it were part of it, winding through the thin air until it danced around her body.
— My inner vitae — she explained, as the energy swirled like ethereal flames — is shaped by my control, by my experiences. It does not merge with the hardened vitae of the mountain. It keeps flowing because I hold it obedient to my will.
Bruno watched in fascination, his eyes fixed on the spectacle.
— And how… how is that done? — he asked, nearly breathless.
Flávia looked at him directly, and her answer came simple:
— Imagine.
Bruno blinked, confused.
— Imagine…?
— Yes. Imagine.
The answer seemed too obvious, and therefore incomprehensible. He knew what it meant to imagine, but he didn't understand how it applied to controlling vitae. His thoughts tangled: Imagine what? The flow? The shape? To mold it? To expel it?
He sat down on the ground, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The cold wind wrapped around him, but he forced himself to remain still. At first, the practice felt useless, but soon he noticed a logic in it. Training without understanding was like trying to lift a weight without knowing the right technique: strength was wasted in vain. Before acting, one had to know how.
Thousands of thoughts crossed his mind. Many were disposable, but some, though vague, seemed possible. What if, instead of pure vitae attacks, I created spells that carried their own inner laws? That way, perhaps, they wouldn't merge with the stagnant flow.
Another idea arose: What if I gave my vitae a signature? A unique trace, marking that it belongs to me? Perhaps that would keep it from being absorbed.
But as he reflected, he saw flaws in both. The first method sounded like a trick, a fraud that wouldn't solve the real problem. The second seemed promising, but still temporary, fragile.
While he lost himself in these attempts, Flávia observed him in silence. Her serene eyes seemed to know the answer even before Bruno could ask.
— The means is imagination, — she thought aloud. — Vitae is your own power. With enough reserves, almost anything is possible. You only need to imagine how to draw it out and keep it under control.
She raised her hand once more. Vitae spun around her, sometimes as sparks, sometimes as blazing flames.
— Look. A burst of energy and a burst of fire are both vitae. The difference is that, when shaping fire, you guide it to the result you want. Vitae is the same thing, only much harder. It is power in its purest form. And controlling it demands doubled attention.
Bruno remained seated for several minutes, letting her words echo within him. When he finally rose, his eyes were fixed on the horizon, to the west of the mountain, where vitae seemed to pile up like an invisible wall, rigid for millennia.
He raised his hand. A flaming phoenix was born in his palm and tore through the air, advancing toward the barrier. The impact sparked light, and the phoenix twisted until it was compressed, dissolving into pure vitae. But, to Bruno's surprise, the energy was not devoured. It returned to his hand, still under his control.
His thoughts raced. The spell was destroyed, yes. But I managed to keep the vitae. Maybe, if I repeat the process without relying on the spell, I'll get the same result…
He took a deep breath and tried again. He stretched out his hand. Vitae descended onto it in its raw, chaotic state, trying to take shape and failing. But even so, it was not absorbed as before.
— Why…? — he murmured, puzzled. — Shouldn't it have been swallowed too?
Flávia, who was watching, smiled with satisfaction.
— Your training has already refined your control over vitae. What you're doing now is an incomplete form of manipulation, because it still depends on the base of a spell. But it's already a great step. To control raw vitae here, in this hostile environment, is something few can do. With effort, you'll be able to do it fully.
She raised her hand once again. A burst of pure vitae, clear as crystal, shot through the air and collided with Bruno's unstable spell, shattering it into fragments of energy. The clash briefly lit up the gray sky, and the silence of the mountain seemed even deeper.
Bruno looked at her, impressed but also resolute. Flávia smiled.
— And this is how it begins.