1.1

"Vyrie, could you come here, for just a moment."

Quickly turning his head around, at his call, Vyrie's light grey hair swayed and twisted.

His hair was extensively long, with the rest of it spilling out onto his back, its length reaching just to where the thighs ended.

Its abundance was simply just for Vyrie's own laziness, or unwillingness, to cut it.

"Moving, teach!"

Asmael could hear Vyrie run down the hall, to reach his study.

He left the door cracked open, so the sound of Vyries feet hitting the ground and the ruffle of his clothes slowly grew louder as he approached.

Hearing the door creak wide open, Asmael lifted his head, and with his one remaining organic eye, to look at Vyrie.

"Ah, thank you for rushing over to help, Vyrie."

With a brief pause, Vyrie looked around the room, then focused on his desk.

"But of course, teacher… but what are you doing..?"

Asmael laughed at his question, replying with:

"Haha… oh, what indeed… what indeed…"

Asmael was hunched over his desk, fingers interlocked in front of his face, with a spirit rumbling and shaking the glass jar it was trapped in, placed in front of him.

"I wanted to run some tests on its magical power… but… you can see my hesitation to do that, right?"

Sighing and touching at the replacement left eye he made through alchemy, Asmael asked:

"You've always been good with befriending the spirits, Vyrie, could you ask it to comply with my requests..?"

Happy to receive a request from his adopted father, Vyrie walked up to the desk, picking up the large jar.

Pressing his face up against the glass, Vyrie said:

"Um… spirit… could you please… let my teacher get what he needs, he wont hurt you, at least I think so…"

The shapeless entity, which was previously volatile, cooled down almost instantly, with the jar slowly settling down.

Asmael waited for a moment, before asking:

"Vyrie, could you ask it to be calm if I let it out of the jar..?"

With his cheeks still pressed on it, Vyrie continued.

"Oh yeah, he's about to let you out now, please stay patient with him while he gets his data."

No response.

Pulling his head back and looking up, he gave a thumbs up.

"Good to go now, teacher."

Hesitatingly, Asmael reached his hands out to grip the jar, and open it.

After a moment, he twisted it open.

Like a light blue and sparkling mist, the magical entity emerged.

Its corporeal form was nearly transparent.

You could only see it because of its blueish hue, and the fact it looked like it warped the space it inhabited.

While it was not moving, Vyrie walked around it, inspecting it.

"Teacher, I don't really know how you'll get measure the magical power from it, but it's not particularly enraged anymore."

Down underneath his desk and rummaging through his storage containers at his feet, Asmael returned a thumbs up, over the counter.

Before he walked out, Vyria looked around the room.

On the intricately engraved stone shelves that were built into the wall behind behind his desk, were an assortment of oddities.

There were many different staffs meant for casting magic; or elements in their raw form, meant as another catalyst for magic, through alchemy.

Even old and useless relics of kingdoms that are now lost to history, due to the miasma that swallowed the world ages ago.

Armor pieces… decorative clothes… replacement parts for human limbs too…

Asmael had collected many things, on top of his pursuits into the answers alchemy beheld.

The reasoning he had, was that he was convinced he could find "new paths of alchemy and creation" in their designs and materials.

Books filled the stone shelves on the left and right sides of the room.

Many had an alphabet he didn't know, engraved on the spines.

It was an array of subdued and dark colors lining each shelf.

Vyrie didn't come into the room often.

Not from restrictions, but out of self restraint, because he didn't want to take away from his teacher's work.

Lightly scratching his neck, the golden bangles on his arm clanked together, with every movement of his forearm.

"I'll be going now, teacher."

Circling around the spirit, Asmael grumbled to himself.

"Hmm… spirits… language…"

After scratching at the thick patch of hair on his chin, Asmael backed away, to grab a book from his collection.

It was a book originating from the shamans, a village that regularly protected the entities which hold back the world-ending threat, the miasma.

Flipping through the fragile and faded pages, he finally found the phrase he needed.

"Oh… alright… I think I can pronounce that…"

As Asmael turned back around to the spirit, the door to his room silently shut.

The heel of his feet made little pitter patter sounds as he trudged across the floor

Realizing he was shivering to a small extent, Vyrie thought about putting on fur slippers, for lounging around their home, that remained immediately outside the kingdom's royal capital.

Looking up at the ceiling and with his arms crossed, to warm himself up, he gazed absentmindedly at the lights.

Powered by the users input of magical power, the little spheres were built into the ceiling, with a small hole cut into the cage to allow magic.

At the center of it was a small wire, which brightened with the power it received.

"Amazing."

Vyrie was fascinated with the power of magic, even at the age of eighteen.

While fixated on their design, he heard the house's stewardess suddenly call out to him.

"Ah, Vyrie, good morning…"

Pulling his gaze away from the lights, he looked to the old woman leaning against one of the aperture windows.

"It's a nice day , isn't it?"

Still shivering and audibly chattering his teeth, Vyrie lightly shook his head left and right.

"Ehhh… I don't really like when the weather is windy or chilly."

Without much reaction to his negative answer, she rested her hands on her hips, saying:

"Oh, is that so?"

Her long, dark brown skirt and white button up creased and swayed with the draft of wind from the apertures.

"Such a negative answer, Vyrie."