"And what kind of pattern is that?" Adeline asked, pointing to the invisible lines Valentina was drawing in the air.

  "That's a simple Leb pattern," Valentina explained patiently. "See how the lines intersect here? That creates a focal point for the Essence."

  Adeline frowned intently and tried to imitate her sister's movements. Her hands moved uncertainly through the air. "I can't see anything."

  "That's normal," Valentina reassured her. "Very few people can even perceive Essence. But the theory behind it is still interesting."

  "How funny," mocked Vyxara. "Are you playing professor to your little sister now?"

  They sat in the shade of the old pear tree in the garden while Thomas played in the grass next to it. The little boy had discovered a beetle and was following it with the boundless fascination of a two-year-old.

  Little Mabel sat with them sewing, nimbly moving the needle. "I don't understand why you're even trying, Adeline," she murmured. "You can't see Essence anyway."

  "But it's exciting!" protested Adeline. "Val, show me again how you purified the water!"

  Valentina smiled and reached for the jug of water. With a fluid movement, she wove a simplified form of the pattern she had developed for the Greystone Competition. The cloudy water became crystal clear.

  "Fantastic!" Adeline breathed. Thomas looked up briefly, more interested in the beetle than in his big sister's skills.

  Colm came storming around the corner, wielding a stick like a sword. "Bandits! Bandits everywhere!" he shouted dramatically. "Quick, we have to defend ourselves!"

  "Take care of Thomas!" little Mabel admonished sternly, without looking up from her sewing.

  Valentina watched with amusement as her little brother fought a fierce battle against imaginary opponents. His movements were surprisingly skillful for his age.

  "He has talent," Vyxara remarked. "He could be a good swordsman in a few years. If your family could afford to have him trained."

  The thought hit Valentina unexpectedly hard. How many of her siblings' talents would remain undiscovered because they didn't have the money to develop them?

  "I've brought something for you," she said suddenly, reminded of something by Colm's stick-sword attacks, and stood up. "Wait here."

  She went into the house and fetched the bundle of presents that she had carefully stowed away in her travel bag. When she returned, her siblings had gathered expectantly around the old pear tree.

  "For you, Adeline." She handed her sister a small parcel. Adeline opened it carefully and gasped when she saw the fine silver bracelet.

  "That... That's far too valuable!" she protested.

  "Nonsense," said Valentina firmly. "It looks good on you."

  Her sister put it around her arm with trembling fingers and sighed with delight when she saw the delicate silver bracelet on her wrist.

  "Oh, Val," she whispered, "that's beautiful!"

  She had bought a set of exquisite needles for little Mabel, wrapped in the finest leather. Her sister's eyes lit up as she looked at the perfectly crafted tools in the fine leather case.

  "You've become really good at sewing," Valentina remarked approvingly when she saw Mabel's neat stitches in the shirt she was mending.

  Mabel blushed with pride. "Thank you. I practise every day."

  She turned to Thomas, who was now sitting at her feet and looking up at her expectantly. "And I've got something for you too, little one."

  She pulled out a soft rag doll that looked like a little knight. Thomas squealed with delight and hugged the doll.

  "Knight!" he shouted enthusiastically and Valentina laughed. "Yes, that's right. A brave knight who protects everyone."

  She looked up and noticed that Colm was watching her, his gaze a mixture of curiosity and slight suspicion, as if he wasn't sure if he was getting anything. He was often threatened that he wouldn't get any presents because he was such a rascal. She waved him over.

  "I've got something for you too, Colm," she said, handing him a parcel wrapped in plain cloth.

  He quickly opened it and cried out in delight when he saw the intricately carved wooden dagger. "Wow," he exclaimed. "That's fantastic!"

  "It's carved from the wood of the ash tree," Valentina explained. "In Bridgewater, they believe that ash wood keeps demons and goblins away."

  "Is that so? Well, I don't notice anything, little Weaver," Vyxara scoffed.

  Colm swung the dagger through the air on trial and used it against imaginary enemies. "Thanks, Val! It's really great!"

  "I've brought dried blood blossom for Mother," she explained. "It's very rare and you can make a decoction with it that's good for muscle tension and for... um, well, it helps women sometimes. And for father, a good handkerchief made from Bridgewater linen."

  "That must have cost a fortune," said little Mabel quietly.

  "Your own hard-earned money," Vyxara giggled. "You worked hard for it in the library, in the competition, and in Professor Horne's office."

  "I had some of the winnings left over," Valentina said simply. "And I wanted to bring you something nice. Don't worry about it."

  She watched with satisfaction as her siblings admired their presents.

  "Who would like to hear a story?" she asked with a smile. "I know an exciting story about a brave knight and a cunning demon..."

  As she talked, she watched her siblings' reactions. Thomas cuddled up to her with his new doll, completely captivated by her voice. Adeline listened attentively, her fingers unconsciously playing with the new bracelet. Mabel continued to poke at the shirt, but her eyes were fixed on Valentina. And Colm, although he pretended to be too old for stories, was leaning against the pear tree within earshot, playing with his new dagger.

  As the sun slowly sank lower and the first evening shadows crept across the yard, she heard her mother calling for them. "Children! Edwin, Roric and Cecily with Viola will be here soon! Come in, dinner will be ready soon!"

  Valentina stood up, Thomas still snuggled up to her. "Come on," she said with a smile. "Let's go inside. I really want to see the others and I can't wait to see what Mother has cooked."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  ~

  The large door to the courtyard was open, and the warm summer air carried in the aroma of mother's best bread and a delicious-smelling stew. Valentina helped set the table while her mother took the big pot off the stove.

  "They should be here any minute," Mabel said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Edwin was going to pick up Cecily and Viola on the way, and Roric is coming straight from the monastery."

  As if she had conjured it up, they heard the creaking of wagon wheels in the yard. Thomas, who had been playing on the floor with his new knight doll, jumped up. "Ceci!" he shouted enthusiastically and rushed to the door.

  Valentina followed him a little more slowly and saw her older brother Edwin jump from the cart. He helped Cecily down, who was holding a bundle wrapped in a soft blanket – Viola – in her arms.

  "Val!" Cecily called out as soon as she saw her. Careful not to wake the baby, the sisters hugged each other.

  "Let me see," Valentina whispered, looking at her sleeping niece. The tiny face was so peaceful, her little fists clutched around the edge of the blanket.

  "Cute," Vyxara commented dryly. "And so fragile. Human babies are amazingly helpless."

  "She's beautiful," Valentina said sincerely. "But it must be so exhausting, how do you manage it, Cecily?"

  Her big sister laughed softly. "To be honest, sometimes I don't know either. But she's a sunshine – most of the time anyway."

  Edwin gave Valentina a big hug. "Little Val! You're looking well – city life seems to really agree with you."

  "You too," she replied, noticing that he had grown even wider from working in the fields.

  And at that moment, Roric approached them as well. Her brother wore the simple burnt orange robes of an ember, but his smile was as warm as ever.

  "Valentina," he said gently and hugged her, "may the Martyr bless you."

  She could feel Vyxara laughing in her head, but ignored the demon.

  They went into the house together, where their mother had already put the stew on the table. It was cramped around the large table, but somehow everyone found room, as always. The conversation flowed as naturally as the cider Edwin had brought.

  "So," said Cecily as she breastfed Viola, demurely covered by a cloth. "Tell us about the competition. Was it very difficult?"

  "Sometimes," Valentina admitted. "But it was also... it was challenging, but it was also fun. The tasks were complex and-"

  "And you've mastered them all," Edwin interrupted proudly. "The whole village is talking about it. 'Valentina of Palewood', the great Essence Weaver!"

  She could feel the blush rising in her face. "It wasn't like that-"

  "Yes, it was," her father said firmly. "You made us all proud."

  "And what about the Duke?" Cecily asked curiously. "Is it true that he invited you to his palace?"

  Valentina nodded. "Yes, he wants me to work in his hospital in the summer. It's a great honor."

  "Oh yes," Vyxara purred. "I'm sure he's after your honor."

  "Take care of yourself," Roric said sternly. "The court can be a dangerous place for the soul. I know some brothers and sisters in the Martyr from Dusktown, and they say the court circles around the Duke are the purest cesspool of sin."

  "Of course I'll be careful, Roric," Valentina said softly, just a hint of blush rising in her cheeks. "I am a pious girl who honors the Martyr, and I will be well guarded against the dangers to my soul. But I must take this chance."

  "I don't know if you've ever lied so boldly since we've been together," laughed Vyxara enthusiastically.

  "Speaking of dangers," Edwin interjected, his face hardening. "What exactly happened with Brentwood? They tell the wildest stories in the village."

  A brief silence fell over the table and her younger siblings looked at Valentina while their father nodded to her. Valentina took a sip of cider before answering.

  "I made it clear to him that he should leave our family alone," she said calmly. "With a few... convincing arguments."

  "They say you used Essence Weaving against him," Edwin said cautiously. "Is that true?"

  "Just a few harmless effects," she replied lightly. "Nothing that would have seriously harmed him. But sometimes people need a firm demonstration to understand the lesson."

  She noticed her siblings exchanging glances. Only Thomas, who was playing with his food next to her, seemed unimpressed.

  "The Church teaches that Essence Weaving is to be an instrument of good, not an instrument of power," Roric said softly.

  "Sometimes it's both," Valentina replied. "And sometimes you have to use power to protect the ones you love. Like a knight who uses his sword to save the weak and defenseless, or an Emberwarden who uses his sword to cleanse the world of evil."

  Another silence followed, this time more thoughtful. Roric briefly looked as if he wanted to contradict her.

  "Whatever," Cecily finally said, breaking the tension. "Tell us about your friends at university! You wrote about an Innogen in your letters? It sounded like you were really good friends, but her father is a Marcher Lord?"

  Grateful for the change of subject, Valentina began to talk about Innogen and Crispin, their friendship and their studies together. She noticed how her family listened attentively, especially when she described the magnificent banquet after the Greystone Competition.

  The conversations became lighter after that. Edwin told of his hopes to eventually expand the farm so he could live there with his family as well, and Cecily shared funny stories about Viola's first attempts at crawling. Even the serious Roric relaxed and laughed at Colm's dramatic retelling of his battles against imaginary bandits.

  But Valentina noticed the little signs – how her mother watched her when she thought no one would see. How Roric became very quiet on certain subjects. How Edwin sometimes paused, as if he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind.

  They were her family, they loved her – but she had changed, and they could feel it. The power she now possessed, the authority with which she spoke, the elegant gestures that after a year of drill in Essence Weaving had become second nature to her – all this made her someone other than the girl who had left the farm a year ago, and her family could sense that and didn't quite know how to handle it yet.

  "You'll have to get used to it," Vyxara said in her head. "And they have to get used to it as well. You can't be their little girl forever, you already aren't."

  As the evening drew to a close, Edwin, Cecily and Roric said their goodbyes. Valentina hugged each of them, held Viola one last time and promised to write again as soon as she could.

  She stood in the doorway for a long time, watching them drive away as the night air brushed coolly around her shoulders. The feeling of belonging and alienation at the same time mingled in her chest to form a bittersweet ache.

  "Come on," said Vyxara gently. "It's been a long day. Let's go to sleep."

  ~

  When Valentina later lay in her old bed and listened to the quiet breathing of her sleeping sisters, she couldn't fall asleep. The moonlight fell through the small window and cast strange shadows on the wall. How often had she watched these shadows as a child and made up stories about them?

  "Nostalgic, little Weaver?" asked Vyxara softly in her head.

  "A little," Valentina thought back. "Well… quite a bit, to be honest. It's strange. Everything is exactly the same as before, and yet... different."

  "You're different," Vyxara noted. "That's the natural course of things. People grow and change."

  Valentina carefully turned onto her side, careful not to wake her sisters. Her hand slid to the Duke's silver brooch, which she had carefully placed under her pillow. The cool metal felt strange in this familiar room.

  "I love them all so much," she thought, "but sometimes... I almost feel like I'm playing a role. Like I'm not really the Valentina they know anymore."

  "You're not playing a role," Vyxara contradicted. "You've grown. You've discovered new sides to yourself. That doesn't make you any less real."

  "But the things I've done..." Valentina thought of Professor Horne, of the stolen books, the stolen Distilled Essence, of all the small and large compromises.

  "That's part of growing up," said Vyxara, unusually understanding. "Do you think you're the first to feel caught between two worlds? The only one who feels the pain when the innocence of childhood fades?"

  "Everything will be different in Dusktown. Even more so than in Bridgewater," whispered Valentina in her thoughts.

  "Of course it will," purred Vyxara. "The Duke will introduce you to his circles. You'll learn a lot more about Essence Weaving in his hospital. And," the demon added with a mental wink, "I'm sure you'll have other… interesting experiences. Growing up has its perks. Just think of what Hobkin did with his tongue."

  Valentina blushed slightly in the darkness, but had to smile anyway. "You're impossible."

  "I'm realistic," Vyxara replied. "Life goes on, little Weaver. There will be new joys, new challenges. And yes, sometimes you will miss this place, this version of yourself. But that's okay."

  Adeline mumbled something in her sleep and turned over. The smell of dried lavender rose from her pillow – her mother always put the herbs between the sheets to keep bad dreams away.

  "I just wish I could have both," thought Valentina. "The power, the freedom, the opportunities – and still be able to come back here as if I'd never been away."

  "That's the price of growth," Vyxara said gently. "But remember – you gain something too. The power to protect your family. The ability to improve their lives. Isn't that worth something too?"

  Valentina thought of the bracelet on Adeline's wrist, of Thomas' beaming eyes at the sight of his knight doll, of the relief on her parents' faces when Brentwood had escaped.

  "Yes," she thought, "it's worth it."

  The familiar night sounds of the farm slowly began to lull her – the distant chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the occasional mooing of a cow pawing restlessly in the barn, the breathing of her sisters. Sounds of her childhood that she had sometimes sorely missed in Bridgewater.

  "Go to sleep now," muttered Vyxara. "Tomorrow is another day. And the day after tomorrow. And all the days after that."