The old visitor's words lingered in Lulu's mind long after he left.
A genius witch… lazy… defeated monsters from other realms…
If the spell's creator was truly someone like that, then Lulu was not failing because she was weak—she was struggling because the spell itself was monstrously advanced.
But still… she refused to give up.
When dawn arrived, Lulu was already awake, practicing breathing exercises as the book instructed. Her body felt heavy from last night's emotional breakdown, yet her spirit felt strangely sharpened, like a blade tempered by fire.
She opened the book to page four.
Thin lines of ink ran across the paper like living threads, curling into symbols she couldn't understand at first glance. Her head throbbed as she stared too long.
"This is harder than sword drills…" she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples.
She forced her mind to settle and tried again.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
And just when she thought she understood one symbol, it would shift or connect to something she missed.
By noon, she was lying face-down on the table, groaning dramatically.
"I'm going to melt…"
A soft click sounded as the door opened.
Lulu shot up, expecting another surprise visitor—but no.
It was the Priestess.
And as usual… she looked like she had just woken up from a twelve-hour nap.
Her long pale-silver hair was slightly messy, her expression blank, and she carried a half-eaten doughnut in one hand.
"Morning," Lulu said quickly, straightening herself. "Or… maybe afternoon."
"Mm," the Priestess replied, chewing lazily. "Saw you weren't at lunch. Thought you died."
Lulu tried not to collapse in despair.
"That's… very reassuring."
Instead of responding, the Priestess wandered closer, eyes half-lidded, looking like someone who wanted to lie down more than speak. When she reached Lulu's table, she peered over the edge at the open spellbook.
Her eyelids lifted half a centimeter.
"Ooh. That spell."
"You know it?" Lulu asked eagerly.
"Mm. I skimmed it once."
She took another bite of her doughnut. "Hard."
"That's an understatement…"
For a moment, the Priestess said nothing. She leaned forward, her silver hair sliding past her shoulders, and stared at Lulu's disastrous notes—arrows crossed out, circles scribbled over, repeated attempts that all ended in frustration.
"You're doing it wrong, you know," the Priestess said casually.
Lulu froze.
"I—I am?"
"Mm." She tapped the page lazily. "You're forcing your magic outward, trying too hard to reach faraway worlds."
"Well… that's what the spell is about, right? Reaching other universes?"
"Nope," the Priestess said with a yawn.
"No?"
The Priestess pointed at her own chest.
"You don't reach the worlds. The worlds reach you."
Lulu blinked.
"What does that even mean?"
"Let the flow come naturally," the Priestess murmured, already sounding sleepy again. "Don't chase the threads… Just notice them."
That was it.
That was all she said.
Before Lulu could ask anything else, the Priestess shuffled away, muttering something about a nap and a warm blanket. A moment later, she was gone, the only trace of her presence the faint smell of sugar from her doughnut.
Lulu sat still for several seconds.
"…That was vague," she whispered.
But the words echoed in her head stronger than she expected.
Don't force your mind outward.
Let the worlds reach you.
She closed her eyes.
Breathed.
Let her spirit settle instead of stretch.
And slowly—very slowly—she felt it.
Not a distant echo.
Not a whisper from a far realm.
But a gentle brush of something vast and soft, like the edge of an unseen breeze slipping past her cheek.
Her eyes opened wide.
"There it is…"
She wasn't pushing toward the threads anymore.
The threads were coming to her.
She spent the next hour in this state, letting tiny sparks of connection drift in and out of her awareness—small flickers only, like distant fireflies drifting along hidden paths.
Her magical perception sharpened more in that single hour than in all her frantic attempts the past two days.
When she opened her eyes again, the sunlight was dimming.
Was it evening already?
She looked at the book again.
Pages four, five, and six… suddenly made sense.
She grabbed a quill, excitement rushing through her veins. With renewed focus, she traced each symbol, repeating the lines softly under her breath, letting the meanings rise naturally instead of forcing them.
When the candle beside her burned low, Lulu leaned back in her chair. Exhaustion weighed on her limbs—but for the first time, she was smiling.
She had mastered pages four through six.
She whispered to herself, "Thank you… Priestess."
Outside, the wind brushed against the church walls.
Inside, the threads of unseen worlds drifted nearby, faint but clearer than ever.
Lulu extinguished the candle and closed the book gently.
Tomorrow, she would continue.
For tonight—she had earned her rest.