Chapter 6: Hidden Practice
Brambles tore at the hem of Elysia's dress as she squeezed through the narrow gap between two ancient rose bushes. Thorns caught at the expensive fabric, but she pressed forward, ignoring the damage that would later require explanation. What awaited beyond was worth Agnes's inevitable lecture on a lady's responsibility to maintain her attire.
Three days of careful exploration had led her to this discovery: an overgrown garden alcove hidden behind the eastern manor wall, sheltered by neglected shrubbery and forgotten by the groundskeepers. The small stone courtyard, perhaps once a private meditation space for some long-dead Blackwood, now lay reclaimed by nature—ivy crawling across cracked flagstones, moss carpeting a weathered stone bench, wild roses creating a natural barrier that discouraged casual visitors.
Perfect for her purposes.
Elysia emerged into the clearing, breathing deeply in the secret pocket of solitude. Sunlight dappled through the canopy of an old oak that had grown alongside the alcove's outer wall, creating shifting patterns across the stones. The space measured perhaps fifteen feet across, with the manor wall forming one side and dense vegetation the others.
"Mine now," she whispered, running her small hand along the rough stone bench.
From her pocket, she withdrew the vial of blood she'd collected that morning. After accidentally cutting her finger on a breakfast knife—a genuinely unplanned incident—she'd managed to preserve a few drops in an empty perfume bottle purloined from her washing stand. The dark red liquid caught the sunlight, appearing almost black in the crystal container.
For a week since discovering the Abysmal Flame, Elysia had been scheming toward this moment. Returning the dagger to her father's study had been simple enough—the celebration had continued a second night, providing another opportunity to slip in unnoticed. But losing the blade meant losing her catalyst for summoning the flame.
Until she realized an important fact: the dagger wasn't the source of the power. It had merely provided the means to activate something already within her. The essential component was her blood, not the shadeglass metal.
Sitting on the stone bench, Elysia uncorked the tiny bottle with trembling fingers. The blood inside had begun to congeal but remained liquid enough for her experiment. She tipped a drop onto her palm and concentrated, focusing her will the way she had when manipulating the flames before.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, she tried again, this time closing her eyes and picturing the black flames with their distinctive purple edges. She imagined them forming above her palm, swirling into existence from the drop of blood.
Still nothing.
"Why won't you come?" she muttered, frustration building. "You appeared before. I know you're real."
Perhaps the shadeglass had been more important than she'd assumed. Perhaps without the dagger, she couldn't access the flame at all.
No. She refused to accept that limitation. If the power truly belonged to her as Nyx had claimed in her dream, then Elysia should be able to summon it without external aids.
She tried a different approach. Instead of focusing on the visible manifestation, she concentrated on the feeling she'd experienced when the flames first appeared—that peculiar tingling sensation where they touched her skin. She closed her eyes, placed a finger against the drop of blood on her palm, and reached inward, seeking that sensation.
For several heartbeats, nothing changed. Then, like a spark catching tinder, she felt it—a faint tingling beneath her fingertip. Her eyes flew open.
A single black mote hovered above the blood drop, spinning slowly. As she watched, it multiplied, two becoming four, then eight, then too many to count. They swirled faster, coalescing into a small flame that danced above her palm—smaller than before, no larger than a candle's flame, but unmistakably the same black fire with purple edges.
"Yes," Elysia breathed, triumph surging through her. "I knew it."
The tiny flame responded to her elation, growing slightly larger. She focused her will, mentally commanding it to expand. The fire obeyed, spreading until it covered her entire palm. Unlike her previous experience, maintaining the flame required constant concentration—any lapse in focus caused it to flicker and shrink.
For the next hour, Elysia experimented methodically. She discovered she could move the flame from one hand to the other, though it weakened during the transfer. She could shape it to some degree—forming it into a rough sphere or elongating it into a tendril—but complex shapes collapsed almost immediately. Most importantly, she confirmed that controlling the flame drained her energy in proportion to the complexity of her commands.
When she attempted to split the flame into two separate fires, the effort left her dizzy and nauseated. The black flames guttered out entirely, and she found herself unable to resummon them despite still having blood available.
"Limitations," she murmured, leaning back against the stone bench to recover. "Every power has them."
Once the dizziness passed, Elysia recorded her findings in the small notebook she'd brought. Her childish handwriting frustrated her, but she forced herself to document everything meticulously:
- *Flame requires blood to manifest*
- *Smaller quantities = smaller flames*
- *Controlling flame requires concentration*
- *Complex manipulations cause fatigue*
- *Physical effects: tingling sensation, no heat unless directed*
- *Can extinguish objects when commanded to burn*
- *Cannot maintain division for more than a few seconds*
The discovery of the Abysmal Flame's reality had shaken Elysia's carefully constructed worldview. For two years, she had focused on rational adaptation to her new circumstances, dismissing her previous life's fantasies as childish delusions. Now she faced evidence that those "delusions" contained elements of truth—impossible to reconcile with conventional understanding.
Either her consciousness had somehow known about this world and its magic before transferring here, or the transfer itself had brought the Abysmal Flame into existence. Neither explanation satisfied logic, yet the evidence burned before her very eyes.
A sudden rustling in the bushes snapped Elysia from her thoughts. She quickly closed her notebook and tucked it into her dress pocket, heart racing as she scanned for the source of the disturbance.
A small face peered through the foliage—not a guard or servant, but a brown rabbit watching her with cautious curiosity. Elysia exhaled in relief.
"You startled me, little one," she said softly.
The rabbit's nose twitched, seemingly unafraid despite her presence. It hopped fully into the clearing, moving with unusual boldness for a wild creature.
On impulse, Elysia reopened the vial and let another drop of blood fall onto her palm. Concentrating, she summoned a tiny flame, no larger than a thimble. To her surprise, the rabbit didn't flee. Instead, it approached cautiously, ears perked forward with evident interest.
"You can sense it, can't you?" she whispered. "Something about it draws you."
The rabbit stopped a foot away, whiskers quivering as it studied the black flame. Elysia remained perfectly still, afraid any movement would break this strange moment of connection.
After several seconds, the rabbit apparently lost interest. It turned and hopped toward a patch of clover growing between the flagstones, beginning to nibble contentedly as if a child wielding supernatural fire were an entirely ordinary occurrence.
Elysia extinguished the flame with a thought and wiped her palm clean on a handkerchief. The rabbit's reaction—or lack thereof—added another data point to her observations. Animals weren't frightened by the Abysmal Flame as they would be by normal fire. In fact, this one had seemed almost drawn to it.
A church bell tolled in the distance, signaling midday. Elysia rose from the bench, brushing debris from her dress. Agnes would be looking for her soon, and appearing for lunch with twigs in her hair and dirt on her hem would invite unwelcome questions.
"I'll return tomorrow," she promised the rabbit, who continued eating without acknowledgment.
As she squeezed back through the bramble passage, Elysia's mind raced with plans. She needed to establish a regular practice schedule to develop her control. She needed to expand her experiments to determine the flame's full capabilities. Most importantly, she needed to maintain absolute secrecy.
If the Church controlled most powerful magic in this world, as she had gathered from overheard conversations, then unusual abilities in a five-year-old girl would certainly attract their attention. Until she understood exactly what the Abysmal Flame was and why she possessed it, revealing its existence to anyone would be dangerously foolish.
Back in the manicured gardens, Elysia carefully picked thorns and leaves from her dress, doing her best to make the damage appear accidental rather than the result of squeezing through dense shrubbery.
"Lady Elysia!" Agnes's voice called from the terrace. "Where have you wandered off to? His Grace expects promptness at the midday meal!"
"Coming, Agnes!" Elysia replied, adopting her practiced childish tone. She hurried across the lawn, composing a suitable explanation for her disheveled appearance.
As she reached the terrace steps, a sudden thought nearly stopped her in her tracks. If the Abysmal Flame—her imaginary power from her previous life—was real in this world, could other elements of her chunibyo fantasies also exist here? The enemies she had invented? The cosmic connections she had pretended to have?
The possibilities were both thrilling and terrifying.
"Child, look at your dress!" Agnes exclaimed, hands on hips as Elysia reached the terrace. "What have you been doing? Rolling in the garden like a common farmhand?"
"I was watching a rabbit," Elysia replied, offering her most innocent smile. "It went under the rose bushes, and I tried to follow it."
Agnes sighed, brushing ineffectually at the dirt smudges on Elysia's hem. "Your father will not be pleased. A lady observes nature from appropriate vantage points, not by crawling through shrubbery."
"I'm sorry, Agnes," Elysia said, the perfect picture of childish contrition. "The rabbit was very fast."
As Agnes led her inside, fussing about improper behavior and the difficulty of removing grass stains, Elysia's thoughts remained on the black flames and all they represented. For the first time since arriving in this world, she felt something beyond mere adaptation or survival.
She felt purpose.
The Abysmal Flame was real, and it was hers to command. Whatever that meant—whatever destiny it might signify—Elysia was determined to master this power and discover its true nature.
One methodical experiment at a time.
---
That night, Elysia dreamed of Nyx again. The star-woman appeared as before, her form composed of shadow and distant light, edges constantly shifting. They floated in the vast darkness between worlds, suspended in nothing yet somehow anchored.
"You begin to understand," Nyx said, her voice resonating directly in Elysia's mind. "The flame responds to your will, as it should."
"What is it?" Elysia asked. "What is the Abysmal Flame?"
"Many names for one power. The Void's Gift. The Twilight Fire. The Consuming Dark." Nyx's form rippled. "It is balance made manifest. Where light creates, darkness preserves. Where creation builds, void maintains boundaries."
"That doesn't explain anything," Elysia said, frustration leaking into her voice.
Something like amusement emanated from the star-woman. "You seek scientific precision for cosmic truth. Understandable, yet premature." Nyx's form expanded, momentarily encompassing Elysia in a cloud of star-flecked darkness. "Know this: the flame is rare but not unique. In each cycle, a vessel appears when needed. You are this cycle's flame-bearer."
"Cycle? Vessel? You're speaking in riddles."
"I speak truth your mind cannot yet comprehend," Nyx replied. "Practice your control. Build your strength. Understanding will follow ability."
Before Elysia could ask another question, Nyx's form began to dissolve, the starlit void fading around them. Her final words echoed as the dream collapsed:
"The Abysmal Flame serves many purposes. Which purpose you serve is yet to be determined."
Elysia woke with the taste of stardust on her tongue and questions burning in her mind.