Mana Manipulation

I held the jagged shard of amethyst in my palm, watching the way its mana pulsed—structured, clean, and still somehow… too large. It was too sharp, too bulky. I couldn't wear it like this, not like the one Haley and I used to wear. That one was small, delicate. Gentle in the way a memory should be.

I tried pulling mana from the stone—just a few molecules, maybe enough to shrink it down and smooth the edges. But the moment I separated the compounds, they scattered. The particles drifted away, dissipating into the air like dandelion seeds in the wind. No snap of energy. No resistance. The moment the mana left its structure, it lost purpose—and floated.

"No, no, no—come back," I whispered, panicked, my hand twitching as if I could physically grab what was gone.

I reached out mentally, grasping at the faded trail. I didn't expect it to work, but some buried instinct guided my thoughts. And, like a cord being pulled taut, the stray mana hesitated… then started to drift back. Slowly. Like coaxing a frightened animal.

Sweat rolled down my temple as I strained, mentally roping in every last bit. When I finally pulled it close enough, I remade the amethyst again, letting the crystalline shape reform in my palm. I exhaled, shaking, then stared at the thing.

Still too big. Still wrong.

What if I wasn't supposed to subtract from it?

I focused on the space the mana occupied—the invisible boundaries that gave it shape. Then, gently, I reached for the edges of that form with my will and bent them inward. I imagined the structure smaller. Tighter. The space between atoms compressed, the frame reshaped.

The amethyst shimmered—and shrank. It didn't crack or crumble. It just… folded in on itself, becoming a polished purple bead no larger than a marble.

I blinked. "Okay. That… worked?"

It wasn't just shrinking—it was reshaping. The mana pathways adjusted like beams in a building. If I removed one without reinforcing the others, the whole thing collapsed. But if I redefined the shape itself, the mana complied. That was the key. Mana didn't just flow—it behaved like architecture.

I tucked the crystal into my palm, then knelt down and plucked a blade of mutated grass. It curled oddly, greener near the base and yellow at the tips, thick like rawhide. The mana inside was barely enough to work with.

I frowned. Not enough mana value. Not enough to reshape into something sturdy.

So I inhaled slowly and reached into the air.

The atmosphere shimmered faintly with stray mana, fluorescent particles like fireflies under my vision. I grabbed hold of them—delicate, loose clusters of oxygen (O₂), carbon dioxide (CO₂), water vapor (H₂O), and scattered traces of nitrogen (N₂). Slowly, I fed them into the blade of grass, letting the particles bind into its core until it grew dense with potential.

When it felt heavy enough, I began weaving the mana.

The cellulose (C₆H₁₀O₅) threads formed one by one, as I twisted the blade's identity from plant matter into fabric. It was slow, like threading wet cloth through a needle. But eventually, it worked. I was left with a strip of rough, handmade cloth.

Still riding the momentum, I willed the new cloth to twist—tighten—into a thin cord. A necklace string.

I gripped the amethyst and clumsily tied it to the end, securing the crystal in a knot. It was crude. Uneven. The "cord" looked like someone's first attempt at tanning leather, and the crystal's edge still had a wicked point. It'd probably scrape the hell out of my neck.

Still, it was… mine.

I stared at the thing, unsure whether I wanted to laugh or cry.

I reached up to slip it over my head—and winced.

My arm.

Blood trickled down from the cut I'd nearly forgotten, now stinging as my adrenaline wore off. I peeled back my sleeve. The wound was still open, the skin beneath torn and raw from the chameleon's claws. Crimson streaks clung to my skin, hot and throbbing.

A sharp breath escaped me. It hurt. A lot.

With trembling hands, I looked around for something—anything—that might help. Leaves? Bark? Nothing here looked even remotely sterile. The last thing I needed was an infection.

I slumped against a nearby tree, careful to avoid the curling spines that lined its lower trunk. Its bark was thick and twisted like melted wax.

"This day sucks," I muttered, letting my head fall back against the bark.

Or night. It was hard to tell. The world hadn't shown a single hint of sunlight since I woke up. With my enhanced sight, the forest felt lit. But in truth, without it, this place was cloaked in eternal night.

I clutched the amethyst pendant, still warm in my hand, and thought of Haley.

I'd give anything to hear her laugh again.

Everything hurt. My legs, my lungs, my goddamn arm—even my heart. Fatigue enveloped me as I slowly drifted to sleep.

I let the world fade around me.

Then, quietly, I passed out.

I held the jagged shard of amethyst in my palm, watching the way its mana pulsed—structured, clean, and still somehow… too large. It was too sharp, too bulky. I couldn't wear it like this, not like the one Haley and I used to wear. That one was small, delicate. Gentle in the way a memory should be.

I tried pulling mana from the stone—just a few molecules, maybe enough to shrink it down and smooth the edges. But the moment I separated the compounds, they scattered. The particles drifted away, dissipating into the air like dandelion seeds in the wind. No snap of energy. No resistance. The moment the mana left its structure, it lost purpose—and floated.

"No, no, no—come back," I whispered, panicked, my hand twitching as if I could physically grab what was gone.

I reached out mentally, grasping at the faded trail. I didn't expect it to work, but some buried instinct guided my thoughts. And, like a cord being pulled taut, the stray mana hesitated… then started to drift back. Slowly. Like coaxing a frightened animal.

Sweat rolled down my temple as I strained, mentally roping in every last bit. When I finally pulled it close enough, I remade the amethyst again, letting the crystalline shape reform in my palm. I exhaled, shaking, then stared at the thing.

Still too big. Still wrong.

What if I wasn't supposed to subtract from it?

I focused on the space the mana occupied—the invisible boundaries that gave it shape. Then, gently, I reached for the edges of that form with my will and bent them inward. I imagined the structure smaller. Tighter. The space between atoms compressed, the frame reshaped.

The amethyst shimmered—and shrank. It didn't crack or crumble. It just… folded in on itself, becoming a polished purple bead no larger than a marble.

I blinked. "Okay. That… worked?"

It wasn't just shrinking—it was reshaping. The mana pathways adjusted like beams in a building. If I removed one without reinforcing the others, the whole thing collapsed. But if I redefined the shape itself, the mana complied. That was the key. Mana didn't just flow—it behaved like architecture.

I tucked the crystal into my palm, then knelt down and plucked a blade of mutated grass. It curled oddly, greener near the base and yellow at the tips, thick like rawhide. The mana inside was barely enough to work with.

I frowned. Not enough mana value. Not enough to reshape into something sturdy.

So I inhaled slowly and reached into the air.

The atmosphere shimmered faintly with stray mana, fluorescent particles like fireflies under my vision. I grabbed hold of them—delicate, loose clusters of oxygen (O₂), carbon dioxide (CO₂), water vapor (H₂O), and scattered traces of nitrogen (N₂). Slowly, I fed them into the blade of grass, letting the particles bind into its core until it grew dense with potential.

When it felt heavy enough, I began weaving the mana.

The cellulose (C₆H₁₀O₅) threads formed one by one, as I twisted the blade's identity from plant matter into fabric. It was slow, like threading wet cloth through a needle. But eventually, it worked. I was left with a strip of rough, handmade cloth.

Still riding the momentum, I willed the new cloth to twist—tighten—into a thin cord. A necklace string.

I gripped the amethyst and clumsily tied it to the end, securing the crystal in a knot. It was crude. Uneven. The "cord" looked like someone's first attempt at tanning leather, and the crystal's edge still had a wicked point. It'd probably scrape the hell out of my neck.

Still, it was… mine.

I stared at the thing, unsure whether I wanted to laugh or cry.

I reached up to slip it over my head—and winced.

My arm.

Blood trickled down from the cut I'd nearly forgotten, now stinging as my adrenaline wore off. I peeled back my sleeve. The wound was still open, the skin beneath torn and raw from the chameleon's claws. Crimson streaks clung to my skin, hot and throbbing.

A sharp breath escaped me. It hurt. A lot.

With trembling hands, I looked around for something—anything—that might help. Leaves? Bark? Nothing here looked even remotely sterile. The last thing I needed was an infection.

I slumped against a nearby tree, careful to avoid the curling spines that lined its lower trunk. Its bark was thick and twisted like melted wax.

"This day sucks," I muttered, letting my head fall back against the bark.

Or night. It was hard to tell. The world hadn't shown a single hint of sunlight since I woke up. With my enhanced sight, the forest felt lit. But in truth, without it, this place was cloaked in eternal night.

I clutched the amethyst pendant, still warm in my hand, and thought of Haley.

I'd give anything to hear her laugh again.

Everything hurt. My legs, my lungs, my goddamn arm—even my heart. Fatigue enveloped me as I slowly drifted to sleep.

I let the world fade around me.

Then, quietly, I passed out.