Chapter 212: The hidden tide
MARGAUX
Ophelia nodded.
"Yes. You have."
Her expression remained patient, though there was a firmness beneath it that told me she wasn’t going to let me argue my way around this.
"But your spiritual energy is finite."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It is your life force."
The words landed with unsettling simplicity.
"Every time you draw on it directly, you consume a part of yourself. Small amounts can recover with time, but repeated or excessive use wears away at you. Drain yourself far enough..."
She paused.
"...and it could kill you."
The room fell quiet.
I stared at her, trying to decide whether she was exaggerating.
She wasn’t.
"I, on the other hand," Ophelia continued, "have formed a pact with a powerful fae."
She inclined her head toward Arania, who was still standing over Prim’s trembling blob, her attention wholly fixed on whatever invisible thread she was trying to grasp.
"My spiritual energy is no longer limited to what my soul can naturally produce. My pact gives me access to a far deeper well."
She looked back at me.
"That is what you need."
Her voice softened.
"It will not only protect you from whatever demon has decided to set its eyes on you. It will also give you access to an even greater reserve of spiritual energy without forcing you to consume your own life."
I studied her for a moment.
"Your energy seems... fine."
She blinked.
"I mean," I clarified awkwardly, "there isn’t anything particularly spectacular about it."
A faint crease appeared between her brows.
"Are you sure..."
I hesitated.
"...that it’s actually different?"
She smiled.
"Because I’m locking it down."
Before I could ask what that meant, she closed her eyes.
The atmosphere shifted.
It began as the faintest vibration beneath my feet, subtle enough that I wondered if I was imagining it.
Then the air thickened.
Something invisible unfurled from her in slow, silent waves.
My breath caught.
Light, almost transparent, spilled from her body like mist woven from moonlight. It rolled outward in gentle currents, expanding farther and farther until it washed across every wall, every piece of furniture, every corner of the room.
The entire space became submerged in it.
It wasn’t bright.
It didn’t blind.
If anything, it was so clear it almost disappeared, visible only because the air itself seemed to bend around it.
The pressure settled over my skin like warm water.
Every instinct I possessed screamed that I was standing inside something unimaginably vast.
Goosebumps raced across my arms.
I couldn’t feel the edges of it.
It simply kept extending, layer upon layer, until the room seemed impossibly small compared to the presence filling it.
Across the room, even Arania paused.
She glanced over her shoulder with an amused smile.
"There it is."
Ophelia opened her eyes again.
The translucent tide receded immediately, folding back into her body as effortlessly as it had emerged.
The room felt strangely empty without it.
She looked at me as though nothing remarkable had just happened.
"I keep it restrained almost all the time," she said. "If I didn’t, people with even the slightest spiritual sensitivity would feel me long before they ever saw me."
I could only stare.
"...That," I whispered, "was hidden inside you?"
Ophelia smiled faintly. "And my spirit is nowhere near the strongest."
The statement settled over me with almost as much weight as the display itself.
If that wasn’t extraordinary...
I wasn’t sure I wanted to imagine what extraordinary looked like.
Across the room, Arania slowly withdrew her attention from Prim’s trembling blob. Her fingers hovered in the air for another moment before falling to her side.
A small crease formed between her brows.
"I can still sense the other half."
Ophelia turned.
"But I cannot call it back."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"It is answering." Arania tilted her head slightly, listening to something none of us could hear. "Very faintly."
She looked toward a distant point beyond the walls of the house.
"It knows I am reaching for it."
Hope stirred inside me.
"Then why isn’t it coming?"
Her expression grew thoughtful.
"Something is interfering."
The hope faltered.
"I can feel... resistance."
She frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer herself.
"Whatever is preventing it from returning is stronger than a simple loss of connection. There is another force between us."
The room fell quiet.
Arania rested a reassuring hand against the little blob, which quivered beneath her touch.
"I may need time."
She looked back at us.
"If I continue pressing against whatever is blocking the connection now, I risk severing it altogether. I’d rather not gamble with her soul."
Ophelia rose smoothly from her chair.
"Then use the time."
Arania inclined her head.
"I intend to."
Ophelia looked at me.
"In the meantime..."
A small smile touched her lips.
"...you and I are going to the backyard."
I blinked.
"For what?"
"To train."
My stomach sank.
"Already?"
She gave a single decisive nod.
"You need to understand your own spiritual energy before you go looking for another spirit to share it with."
I glanced once toward Prim’s trembling form, then back at Ophelia.
The calm certainty in her face made it painfully obvious there would be no arguing my way out of whatever she had planned.
With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself to my feet.
"Something tells me this isn’t going to be easy."
Ophelia’s smile widened just enough to make me suspicious.
"No."
She turned toward the back door.
"It won’t."
The back door opened onto a wide stretch of grass bordered by old trees whose branches cast shifting patches of shade across the yard. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and somewhere beyond the property, birds called to one another in lazy, unhurried rhythms.
It was peaceful.
Almost unnervingly so after everything we had just discussed.
Ophelia walked ahead with the same measured pace she seemed to do everything else, her hands loosely folded behind her back. I followed a few steps behind until we reached the center of the yard.
Before she could say anything, I stopped.
"It would really be of great help if you could come to Valcourt."
She turned to face me.
"You know far more about all of this than I do." I gestured vaguely toward the house. "You understand spirits, demons, soul pacts... everything. Who knows if I’ll even manage to make a soul pact with a superior spirit?"
For a moment, she simply regarded me.
Then a small smile appeared.
"I have a feeling that you might."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"That’s reassuring, but not exactly convincing."
"It is only a feeling," she admitted. "Though I have learned not to dismiss my instincts without reason."
She studied me for another moment before continuing.
"I will also suggest that you not be so pessimistic."
I folded my arms.
"I’m trying to be realistic."
"There is a difference."
Her voice remained gentle, but there was quiet certainty beneath it.
"You consistently prepare yourself for failure before success has even had the opportunity to present itself."
"I’d rather be disappointed than surprised."
"And yet," she replied, "expecting the worst has never prevented disappointment. It merely ensures you suffer before anything has actually happened."
I opened my mouth to argue.
Nothing came out.
She had a point.
"I do wish I could help," Ophelia said after a brief silence. "Truly."
Her gaze drifted toward the distant tree line.
"But I have sworn off pack life."
There was no bitterness in her voice.
Only finality.
"I left that part of my life behind a long time ago."
She met my eyes again.
"And I really do not want to become entangled with a demon."
The words were spoken plainly, without apology.
"It is selfish, I know."
I shook my head immediately.
"I don’t think it is."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"That is kind of you."
She clasped her hands together.
"Even so, I have chosen peace over obligation. I intend to keep that choice."
For a heartbeat neither of us spoke.
The wind stirred through the grass around our feet.
"Which is why," she continued, "I hope the information I give you and my teaching helps."