Chapter 19: Spirit Summoning

Chapter 19: Spirit SummoningElaine took a slow, steady breath as she stood in the center of the glowing summoning circle. The scroll in her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment. She looked at Fenric. He gave her the smallest nod. Elaine swallowed once, then raised the scroll toward the sky, her voice quiet but firm. "I, Elaine, call upon any spirit willing to form a bond with me." The moment the final word left her lips, the crystal in her hand lit up—flaring with a sharp, multicolored brilliance. The circle beneath her feet pulsed once... then twice... and then exploded in a burst of lightless energy. A whirlwind of raw elemental force spun around her—fire crackled, water surged, wind howled, earth rumbled, light shimmered, and darkness coiled like smoke. And from the eye of that storm... something answered. A figure began to rise from the center of the circle—tall, regal, and cloaked in an ethereal mist. His body was carved of semi-translucent crystal, limbs adorned with silver plating that flickered with every element in harmony. A circlet of pale flame rested on his brow. When the light settled, the spirit hovered just above the circle, his presence pressing against the room like a tidal wave held back by glass. Roman took an unconscious step backward. Myria’s eyes narrowed. "...That’s not a common spirit." Fenric’s gaze sharpened. "No... it’s not." The spirit opened his eyes—two glowing orbs of prismatic light. He looked down at Elaine and slowly, elegantly, knelt on one knee. "I am Caelestor, Heir of the Elemental Court. By ancient accord, I have heard your call... and I accept your bond." A symbol blazed over Elaine’s heart, searing into existence like starlight carved into flesh. The summoning circle vanished in a swirl of light, drawn into her soul as Caelestor’s form became mist and entered her chest with a soft, echoing hum. Silence fell. Elaine gasped, but not in pain. Her eyes widened as if seeing color for the first time. Fenric stepped forward, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "...A Prince-class spirit." Roman’s brows furrowed. "That’s... one step below King-class." "And higher than what any disciple her age should ever form a contract with," Myria added quietly. Elaine looked down at her hands. Energy surged in her veins—not chaotic, but balanced. Her affinity... it had always been there, buried beneath dust and obligation. But now it was blooming. Fenric smiled faintly. ’As expected. She truly is a rare talent... she’ll be of great use to me in the future,’ he thought. He turned to Elaine and spoke calmly. "You’ve always had a gift for Spirit Magic. That’s the real reason Lady Mavis accepted you as her disciple." Elaine looked at him with surprise, then gave a quiet nod. Fenric motioned toward the center of the circle. "Go ahead and try to connect with your spirit. I want to see what abilities it has granted you." Elaine nodded and raised her hand. In response, a soft golden glow formed around her fingers. Then, as if answering her will, her newly bonded spirit—Caelestor—released its energy into two forms. Fenric observed closely. "One is Spirit Magic... and the other..." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Spirit Armament. A weapon, shaped by the spirit’s own will. This part is unique to each summoner—it shows whether you’re more attuned to magical control or direct combat." Elaine’s hand began to shine with golden light. It was warm, radiant—and surprisingly intense. Small arcs of sunlight pulsed from her palm. "It’s given me... Sun Spirit Magic," she whispered, awe in her voice. Fenric nodded with approval. "A rare affinity. You’re lucky. And over time, if your bond deepens and your cultivation grows strong enough... you may even be able to summon Caelestor to fight beside you." Elaine looked at him in shock, but said nothing—just nodded in understanding. Fenric stepped back and gave a final instruction. "Now go. Train quietly. I want no word of this leaking beyond these walls." Both Roman and Myria gave short bows. "As you command, Your Highness." Fenric gave a small wave of dismissal. "You’re excused. I need some peace. Elaine—learn and grow stronger. In Five years, before your master returns, make sure your name is one they can’t ignore." Elaine bowed low. "Yes, Your Highness. I will." As she turned to leave with the other two, Myria paused and looked back. "Don’t worry, Your highness. I’ll personally supervise her training. She won’t be left behind." He nodded quietly as the doors closed behind them, their footsteps fading into the distance. Now alone in the Royal Library, Fenric let out a slow breath and turned toward the side chamber—a smaller, hidden study nestled within the deeper wing of the library. Known to few, it was Mavis’s private sanctum, a space layered with quiet wards and timeless stillness. A small, enclosed world of magic and solitude. He stepped through the arched doorway and closed it behind him with a soft click. The moment Fenric stepped into the sealed chamber, the world shifted. The marble walls of the Royal Library vanished behind him, replaced by open skies, golden plains, and the gentle rustle of wind across tall grass. It was Mavis’s private space—a self-contained pocket realm crafted through high-order spatial magic. A single wooden house sat at the edge of a calm, silver-blue lake, its surface mirroring the heavens above. Fenric walked slowly down the worn stone path leading to the lake’s edge, his boots crunching softly against the grass. The air here was different—still and timeless. Magic energy pulsed faintly beneath the soil, as though the entire plane breathed in rhythm with of it. He found his usual spot beside the lake, where a flat stone overlooked the water like a natural seat. Dropping down with a quiet exhale, he reached into his robes and pulled out the Dragon Tongue Magic Tome—a thick, rune-etched volume wrapped in scaled leather that shimmered faintly under the ethereal light. The book felt warm to the touch, responding to the draconic blood now flowing through his veins. He rested it on his lap, brushing a thumb across the ancient seal at its center. With a silent pulse of intent, the seal unraveled with a hiss, like an old beast exhaling. A whisper of power drifted out—smelling of ash, smoke, and long-forgotten skies. Fenric’s lips curled slightly.