Ember leaned on his wooden sword as Chris rubbed his chin.

  “All right,” Chris said. “This is kind of hard to explain, so I’m going to show you what constitutes, I suppose, what magic would be in your world. Every weapon in this world produces something called ichor, also known as the blood of the gods. We utilize this ichor to make ourselves and our weapons stronger. I’m going to show you what I mean by that. The goal is that you’ll understand by looking, though don’t feel bad if you can’t.”

  Chris headed over to the cart and pulled out his shield, tightening the straps.

  “Okay, now watch me closely.”

  He got into a defensive stance and set his shield in front of his chest. With both hands, he slammed it down into the ground, crouching with it. As soon as it touched the dirt, a massive blue wall of energy appeared in front of Ember—about three times the height of Chris himself. After a few seconds, the wall disappeared, and Chris stood up.

  Ember just stared, eyes wide, mouth open. It had looked like clear blue ice, but the pressure had dropped enough for Ember to notice.

  “That is my shield’s ability,” Chris explained. “It allows me to conjure up a wall and block anything for five seconds, including canceling out most kinetic force. Now, in order to use that ability, I had to use ichor.”

  Ember watched, completely focused, mind struggling to comprehend what he’d just seen. A giant wall. Out of nowhere. It was like a video game ability. But real. And intense.

  “Now,” Chris continued, pausing for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, “magic, right? I’ve heard that other traversers are aware of the term. In your world, what powers magic?”

  “Mana, I guess,” Ember said. It was the only thing he could think of.

  “Okay. Think of ichor as mana. It’s our world’s version of a magic power source. And you’re going to have to learn how to use it if you want to survive here.”

  Chris walked to the cart and pulled out a relatively nice-looking sword. It had a blue hilt and elegant cross guards. Its sheath was emblazoned with a dragon. He tossed it to Ember.

  “I want you to pull that sword out and close your eyes.”

  Ember did as instructed. The hilt was cold under his aching palms. A feeling he was growing used to.

  “Okay,” Chris said. “Here’s what I want you to do. Envision a cup.”

  “A cup?” Ember asked.

  “Yes, a cup.”

  Ember thought this was a strange exercise, but he did as he was instructed and imagined a cup. For some reason, in his mind, it was a golden goblet—but it was still a cup.

  “Okay, now envision a liquid, any liquid, filling that cup.”

  Ember imagined the scenario and for some reason, soda came to mind. It had been several days, almost a week, since he’d had one, and he used to drink it all the time. He wasn’t really surprised that came into his mind first. He was a raging sugar addict. Well, I guess not anymore.

  “Is something supposed to be happening?” Ember asked as he visualized the filled cup.

  Chris hummed. “Okay… maybe that visualization isn’t exactly right. Think of blood, but make it gold. That’s what ichor is supposed to look like.”

  Ember opened his eyes briefly to clear his thoughts. Chris stood there, arms crossed. He closed them again and envisioned the cup filling with golden blood.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Immediately, he felt a cold sensation rush up his right arm. It was very similar to what he felt before he destroyed the cathedral. With a yelp, he dropped the sword, heart pounding, afraid he was going to cause another explosion. He could already hear the screaming.

  “What was that?” Ember demanded. His voice trembled slightly as his eyes darted around in anticipation.

  “Huh,” Chris remarked. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

  He motioned to the sword. “That was ichor, what you just felt. It’s a feeling very similar to shoving your arm into a cold pool. And calm down. You’re not going to blow us up.”

  Ember rubbed his arm as goosebumps rose all the way up. He took a deep breath, calming his hammering heart, though his palms remained damp.

  “So… what does that mean? How does that work?”

  Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just how I was taught. I never really questioned it, and there’s no reason to. Now, pick the sword up again, and I’m going to explain to you exactly how the basic loop works.”

  Ember grabbed the sword, the hilt warm in his hand. He held it away from him, as if it would explode any minute. “Loop? There’s a loop to this?”

  “Yep,” Chris replied, moving so he’s only a few feet from Ember. “Think of the sword as a spring. You know what a spring is, right? For water?”

  Ember nodded.

  “Okay. Think of it as a spring. Your arm is like a hose or a straw. When you envision filling that cup, ichor travels from the sword into your arm, then to the center of your chest. Your chest is where your cup is. Your cup will fill, and then, if you want to use your weapon’s ability, the ichor will travel back from the cup, through your arm, and into the weapon, activating it. It’s a closed loop.”

  “So my arm will always be cold?” Ember asked.

  Chris shrugged. “I mean, that’s a small price to pay for power, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose,” he said quietly.

  “However,” Chris continued, “before we go any further, there’s something I need to warn you about, and that is the overflow state.”

  “Overflow?” Ember muttered. More lingo. Will this lecture ever end?

  “Yes. It’s a simple concept, really. When your cup becomes filled with ichor, it will overflow. Overflowing is what allows people to basically become superhuman. But it has its…” He paused, searching for the words. “It has its drawbacks. If you overflow too much—past your cup’s capacity—then you’ll have to substitute your life force. You’ll basically be shaving years off your life to sustain an overflow state. Think of it as when the ichor drips off the cup, you’ve gone over your capacity. That’s when you start using your life force.”

  Ember swallowed hard. “That’s a big drawback.” He looked at the sword, somewhat hesitantly.

  Chris nodded. “And to make matters worse, the only way to make your cup bigger is to go into a purposeful overflow state. It’s like breaking a bone and then mending it back together—it grows stronger. Your cup right now is very small. Usually, children start this training. But you don’t have that luxury. It’s very easy for you to overflow and accidentally expend your life force, so we’re going to have to be very careful with your ichor training.”

  Ember tried to wrap his mind around all of it, but he was struggling to catch every detail. Chris noticed this and decided maybe he’d said too much.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s just take a step back. I can tell I’m flooding you with information. So, how about we just focus on getting used to the sensation of filling your cup.”

  Ember was reluctant to try again, but Chris assured him that all he had to do was let go of the weapon and the power would dissipate, and so would the ichor.

  “Remember, your weapon is your spring. Without it, there won’t be anywhere to draw water from, so you go dry.”

  For the next several hours, Ember spent time getting used to the cold feeling that washed over his arm as he envisioned filling his cup. Every time, he would drop the sword. It was like pouring water in through a hose. Steady but fast.

  At first, the stream was completely unmanageable. It terrified Ember. He had no control over it, and the feeling was so foreign it felt wrong. Every attempt felt like he was playing with his life.

  However, after an hour, he managed to shut off the stream. It wasn’t perfect, and when he activated it, his entire mind was locked onto the image. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t change focus; every fiber of his being lasered into the stream. Controlling the flow was similar to forcing his mind to be quiet. It was hard, impossible sometimes, but he was making progress.

  By the time they were done, he was tired—but it was a different kind of tired. Not from physical exhaustion, but from something deeper, like his limbs and bones had been stretched thin. His mind was also completely gassed. Not that different from when he took a long exam he studied for at the last second.

  To Ember, the scariest part was that he almost had no control over his own mind when he went to fill his cup. It was like the cold feeling in his arm took over everything.

  He didn’t get any time to practice with the bow that day, not that it even crossed Ember’s mind. He wasn’t even in the mood for food. He just went straight to bed.

  By morning, they were already back on the road, and Ember wasn’t looking forward to doing more of that training in the afternoon.