My essence reservoir is still empty. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to fill it; the last time was with Oden, and he always walked me through the process. I could ask Delkash for some help, but I’m already skeptical of his intentions. The last thing I want is to show him that I lack confidence in my ability to perform rituals. It is, after all, at the heart of what I want to learn from Hilda.

I’ve taken myself to my room in Makari’s hut. The door is closed. It’s the middle of the day, and most people are about their business. I’m still expected to be resting, so things are quiet in the house.

I carry a small pouch at my belt, and I’ve opened it to withdraw my charms and items of power: A feather from an eagle. The fang from a wolf. A claw from a bear. Dried blossoms from an assortment of flowers that grow around Timberwall. With them all in place, I close my eyes and reach out with my Sight.

It’s a common misconception that the Sight requires one to actually see with one’s eyes. In reality, whether my eyes are open or closed, my Sight is equally clear. Oden says that some people even prefer to close their eyes when using their Sight, to minimize distractions, but that’s never been an issue for me, generally. This time, though, closing my eyes seems appropriate.

I clear my mind, as Oden taught me, and picture my reservoir as a vast pool, all but empty now. I reach out, using my Sight actively in a way that is difficult to describe, grasping at something that has no substance, no location. It is as difficult to do as it is to describe, but I have practiced it many times with Oden. I breathe deeply and slowly, and stretch.

Though I am not using hands, it is as if I’ve grabbed a rope made of flame. It burns, but does not hurt. Slowly, taking care not to rush, I guide this rope down toward this vast pool I’ve pictured, down, down, closer, closer…

I sigh as the rope reaches the reservoir, and feel it fill with essence. In my mind, that vast pool is filling with a silvery light, though there is no physical pool, nor light. The power fills me. I feel invincible.

Oden has warned me and taught me wall—this feeling is illusory, and it can be very dangerous to succumb to its allure. I focus, struggling to keep my mind clear amid the intensity of what I’m feeling. When the pool is full, I grab the fiery rope of power and carefully pull it away, lifting it back up, up, up—

It slips from my metaphysical grip, and I gasp. It burns me as it flails around, buffeting me with unconstrained power. I don’t dare retreat—Oden has been clear that to abandon the process at this point can be disastrous. So I grit my teeth and concentrate, focusing all I have and all I am on regaining a hold on this bucking, writhing ribbon of pain. I succeed, barely holding on, and resume lifting it up, back up to the place from whence I had pulled it. I ache, feeling beaten and burned, but I persist, and after an eternity of moments, I am able to safely release it back into the Nether.

I am sweating profusely, but aside from that there is no physical evidence of my ordeal. On the inside, though, I feel scraped raw. I lean back against the wall of my room, breathing heavily, taking a moment to recover before gathering my things back into the pouch at my side.

The next morning, Delkash and I, with Rigi circling overhead, take our leave of Raven Hill. We have few supplies; the village has little to share with us until the harvest comes in, so we’re determined to do what we can to forage and hunt along the way. As predicted, Nakata is disgusted by our decision, and isn’t even out to see us on our way, though Giliana is there.

She takes my hand and squeezes it, tears in her eyes again. “We keep saying goodbye.”

I’m keenly aware of everyone looking on, but I can’t look away from her. “We keep saying hello, too, though.”

She laughs, a sound that I’ve come to love dearly. “I suppose I can endure the goodbyes, as long as we always follow them with another hello.”

I squeeze her hand then, too, and she lets go. “Be safe,” she says.

“You, too,” I say, and immediately feel stupid. She’s hardly haring off into the northern wilderness like I am. I try to amend my statement, but she laughs and shakes her head.

“Goodbye, Inka.”

“Goodbye, Giliana.”

And then I turn, and I’m walking through the village gate with Delkash. I wonder just what it is that Giliana and I are creating between us. She is bound to Nakata as an apprentice, surely destined to take up as shaman of Raven Hill when Nakata is gone. And I am just as surely bound to Oden in Timberwall, oathsworn to return and take up the mantle of shaman there when my travels and—hopefully!—apprenticeship are done. Is there really any future for us together?

The day is sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of the hills, but thinking about Giliana has soured my mood. I feel helpless, and hopeless, certain that the best way forward is to tell Giliana there can be no future for us. The thought of having that conversation, though, fills me with a pain so intense that for a moment it takes my breath away.

I wish that Delkash were better company, just so I could divert my thoughts with conversation, but I’m resigned to us each pretending the other isn’t there. Rigi sends me what comfort he can.

Adjusting the pack on my shoulder, and steadying myself with my staff, I set off on the north road.