Chapter Twenty-Five: Visiting Tansy

Two weeks ago:

 The servant wing of the Verdant Crest Academy stirred with the quiet hum of dawn—a faint breeze rustling through the ivy-clad stone walls, carrying the earthy tang of dew-kissed grass and the distant smokiness of morning hearths. Lira rose from her narrow pallet, the straw crunching beneath her as she stretched, her tan skin glowing with a vitality she hadn't noticed before, her chestnut hair tumbling in loose waves past her shoulders, catching the soft light filtering through the cracked shutters. She yawned—her breath a faint plume in the cool air—and moved to the chipped clay pitcher on her rickety table, pouring water into a cup, its surface trembling faintly as her fingers brushed it. Something felt different—her steps lighter, her body warmer, a subtle energy humming beneath her skin like a spark flickering to life where only a dim ember had once been.

She paused, hazel eyes narrowing as she flexed her hand—stronger, steadier—her breath deepening with a force she hadn't known. Her qi—once a faint whisper, weaker than the nobles and adepts she served—now pulsed like a steady flame, threading through her veins with a quiet vigor that made her heart skip. Early Initiate—she didn't know the term, but she felt it, a power she'd never touched in her years scrubbing floors for House Lorne. "Luck," she murmured, a shy smile tugging her lips as she shook her head, chestnut hair swaying. "Must be luck—maybe the gods finally noticed me." She didn't understand—didn't connect it to Roderic, to that night a week ago when his touch had ignited more than just her body—but the change was real, a gift she embraced with a flutter of hope, her tan cheeks flushing as she dressed, her silver-gray tunic hugging her pert frame with a newfound confidence.

Present Time:

Across the academy, in the Temple of Ascendance's Spirit Chamber, Roderic Vane opened his hazel eyes as the first rays of dawn pierced the jade walls, their golden veins glinting like molten rivers under the light. He'd sat cross-legged on the glowing platform for two weeks—motionless, sweat-soaked—his red novice robe crumpled beside him, his patched tunic clinging to his sun-browned skin like a second hide, its coarse weave damp and heavy against his chest. The air thrummed with qi—thick and pure, a golden mist swirling around him, sinking into his pores like a warm tide crashing against a thirsty shore. His core roared—a furnace of fire and spirit pulsing with a might that drowned out the temple's hum, its heat a blazing ember that radiated through his bones, his qi surging in waves that could've cracked stone.

He exhaled—a plume of golden mist shimmering from his lips, curling into the air like a dragon's breath—and stood, muscles rippling beneath his skin with a strength honed sharper than steel, his body trembling faintly from the strain of two weeks refining the relic's wild gift. Three weeks ago, he'd found that shard in the quarry—Middle Initiate now, four times stronger than his peers, thanks to Lira's touch and the temple's power. Fire flared red—a torrent of molten energy searing his meridians, its heat a wildfire that pulsed with every heartbeat; spirit wove gold—silvery threads threading through the blaze, tempering its fury with a clarity that sharpened his senses until he could hear the faint drip of dew outside, taste the qi's metallic tang on his tongue, feel its weight pressing into his core like a second pulse. His skin glowed—red and gold flickering beneath like embers trapped in amber—and his appearance had changed—his once-lean frame now chiseled, broad shoulders squared with a princely grace, dark hair thicker, glinting with a lustrous sheen, hazel eyes brighter, piercing with an aura that radiated power and charm.

He grinned, stretching—bones popping like firewood in a blaze—and grabbed his robe, its crimson silk cool against his fingers as he slipped it on, the fabric draping over his enhanced physique with a regal fit he hadn't noticed before. The relic's secret—sex as cultivation—had surged his qi that night with Lira, and the temple had refined it. He left the chamber, boots thudding on the obsidian floor, and stepped into the academy grounds—the sun climbing higher, its golden rays slicing through the mist, the air crisp with the scent of dew and pine.

Roderic headed to the east wing dorm, eager to find Barnaby Quill and Theobald Finch—his friends since that first chaotic week. The gray stone building loomed ahead, and he pushed into Room 12—straw pallets, warped table, faint smoke lingering. Barnaby sprawled on his pallet, sandy blond hair wild, red robe rumpled, tossing a stone with a lazy grin, pale blue eyes glinting. Theo leaned against the wall, jet-black hair swept back, gray eyes sharp, red robe singed at the edges.

"Back from your cave?" Barnaby said, sitting up, stone thudding to the floor, his grin widening. "Gods—you look… different. Taller?"

"Stronger," Theo said, smirk curling, eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. "What's with the glow, Roderic?"

"Temple," Roderic said, grinning, leaning against the doorframe, his voice steady but richer now, carrying a princely weight. "Two weeks meditating—worked the Flame Soul Art. Feels good—caught up with you two now."

Barnaby laughed, clapping his hands. "Caught up? You're ahead—look like some noble prince now. Girls'll be tripping."

"Hope so," Roderic said, hazel eyes glinting, his aura radiating—a charm honed by the relic, his looks sharper, drawing their stares. "Got news—need to find Tansy. She visited three times while I was locked away—someone told me."

"Tansy?" Theo said, smirk fading. "Your sister? She's stubborn—three times in two weeks?"

"Yeah," Roderic said, pushing off the frame, grin softening. "Missed her—gotta see her. Catch you later."

"Tell her hi," Barnaby called, waving as Roderic left, boots thudding down the hall, his red robe flowing like a banner behind his broadened shoulders.

He crossed the academy grounds—past training fields, herb gardens—his steps quick, the sun now high, its heat warming his back. Tansy—his sister, his anchor—had come three times, a disciple had said, her chestnut curls and green eyes haunting him through two weeks of meditation. A week with the relic, a few days with Maris, and now this—Middle Initiate, four times stronger, a princely aura glowing around him. He needed her—to share it, to ground him—and left the academy gates, the cobblestone road stretching toward Hearth Hollow, his grin wide as he set off to find her.

The road curved toward the village market—a bustling sprawl of wooden stalls and canvas awnings, their faded colors fluttering in the breeze, the air thick with the clamor of vendors' shouts and the rich, savory tang of roasting meat. Roderic slowed, his hazel eyes glinting with purpose as he patted the pouch at his belt—jingling with coins, his academy allowance heavier than most, a perk of his rare talent. The academy gave them funds—mostly for cultivation gear, herbs, or scrolls—but Roderic didn't need those; the relic's power surged his qi beyond what trinkets could offer, a secret he'd kept since that quarry night. Today, he'd spend it on Tansy—food for a special meat sauce he'd loved as a kid, and gifts to make her smile.

He wove through the crowd—villagers in patched tunics brushing past, their stares lingering on his broadened shoulders, his sharper jaw, hair thicker and glinting like polished oak—the relic's gift turning him princely, his aura drawing eyes he barely noticed. At a butcher's stall, he stopped—slabs of pork hung glistening under the awning, their fatty edges dripping with promise, the scent of fresh blood and salt stinging his nose. "Two pounds," he said, voice steady, tossing coins that clinked on the wooden counter, heavier than he'd ever held a week ago. The butcher—a burly man with a scarred grin—wrapped the meat in butcher paper, its weight solid in Roderic's hands as he moved on, grabbing onions—their papery skins rustling—garlic bulbs firm and pungent, and a sack of red peppers, their vibrant skins warm against his fingers. Next, a spice vendor—jars of ground cumin and paprika glowing like powdered fire—sold him pinches wrapped in twists of cloth, their sharp, smoky aroma curling into his lungs as he paid, his pouch still heavy.

He paused at a cloth stall—bolts of fabric stacked high, their colors catching the sun—and grinned, picturing Tansy's green eyes lighting up. "Those three," he said, pointing—a blue dress shimmering like a clear sky, its weave soft as a breeze; a green one deep as forest moss, edged with simple lace; a red one bold and warm, like embers glowing through silk. The vendor—a wiry woman with quick hands—folded them, adding a pair of leather shoes, their soles sturdy, laces dyed a soft brown, perfect for Tansy's endless running. Coins clinked—more than he'd ever spent—but his talent's allowance covered it, a luxury he'd never known before the academy.

The shack loomed ahead—mud walls patched with straw, roof sagging under time's weight—and Roderic pushed the door open, its hinges groaning. Tansy spun from the hearth—chestnut curls bouncing, green eyes wide—her freckled face breaking into a grin as she dropped a wooden spoon, rushing to him. "Roderic!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck, her smock rough against his robe, her warmth a balm after weeks apart. "You're back—three times I came, and they said you were locked away!"

"Missed you too," he said, hugging her tight, voice richer now, his princely aura softening her grip as he pulled back, grinning. "Got stuff—meat sauce tonight, and these." He dumped the sack—pork, onions, peppers—and handed her the dresses and shoes, their colors glinting in the dim light.

Her jaw dropped, green eyes sparkling as she ran her fingers over the silk—blue, green, red—then the shoes, their leather smooth under her touch. "These—for me?" she said, voice trembling, tears welling as she clutched them. "They're beautiful—I've never… Roderic, how?"

"Academy pays," he said, grin widening, hazel eyes glinting. "More for me—talent's worth it. Wanted you to have something nice."

She laughed—a bright, merry sound—hugging him again, gratitude beaming from her freckled face. "You're the best," she said, wiping her eyes, then grabbed the pork. "Meat sauce—let's cook."

They worked—her chopping onions with quick, practiced slices, their sharp sting watering her eyes, him crushing garlic into a paste, its pungent bite filling the air. She fried the pork—fat sizzling in the pan, spitting hot flecks that danced on the hearth—adding peppers, their red skins blistering, and spices, their smoky heat curling up in fragrant plumes. The sauce thickened—rich, meaty, a deep brown that bubbled with promise—and Tansy ladled it over millet, steam rising as they sat at the warped table, bowls steaming between them.

They ate—spoons clinking, sauce bursting with flavor, tangy and warm on his tongue, a taste of childhood made better by her smile. "Gods, this is good," he said, grinning, hazel eyes bright as he scooped more. "Better than academy slop."

"Missed cooking for you," Tansy said, green eyes merry, freckles dancing as she laughed. "Tell me—two weeks meditating? You're… different—taller, stronger?"

"Cultivation," he said, voice steady, dodging the relic's secret—hers and his alone. "Temple's qi—pushed me hard. Middle Initiate now—still learning."

She nodded, spoon pausing. "Proud of you—those visits, I worried. But these—" she touched the dresses, stacked beside her—"you're doing big things."

"Big enough for us," he said, grin softening, warmth spreading as they talked—of her scrubbing pots, his quarry days, the academy's chaos—merrily, laughter filling the shack until bowls emptied.

He stood, brushing crumbs from his robe, the sun dipping low outside. "Gotta check back," he said, but Tansy's grin held him—happy, grateful—her gifts a spark he'd lit. He left the shack, boots hitting the road to find her again—his anchor, his reason—heading toward her last known spot, his princely aura glowing as he went.