WISTERIA
Days passed in a blur. When I woke the next morning, every inch of my body ached, stiff and sore. I could barely lift myself from the bed without groaning. I sank into a hot bath, letting the heat ease the tension in my muscles, though the temptation to remain there all day was strong, clinging to me like a second skin.
Once dried, I dressed slowly, each movement a careful negotiation with my protesting limbs. Pulling on my boots felt like a battle in itself. After running a comb through my tangled hair, I made my way to the dining hall for breakfast.
Zenya was already there when I arrived, waving me over with a bright smile.
"Morning," she chirped.
"Hey," I replied, sinking into the seat beside her.
As we ate, Zenya filled the air with gossip. She told me that Nina had returned to the manor the night before. I nodded along, half-listening while my eyes scanned the timetable spread out before me.
Today, I needed to be in the library for a reading lesson—three long hours of magic theory and history—followed by combat training at the pavilion, and then a visit to Larisa, the old madwoman tucked somewhere in the woods.
The thought of the library lifted my spirits, and I didn’t linger long at breakfast. As I entered the cylindrical room, I caught sight of others already hunched over their books. The addicting scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, comforting and familiar. I consulted my timetable, scanning the shelves for the titles I was assigned to read.
Among them was a tome called Magic Wielding: A Theory, thicker than any encyclopedia I’d seen. The hardbound volume perched stubbornly out of reach, and I struggled to pull it down.
"Need a hand?" a voice asked behind me. It was Kostya, another Summoner.
"Yes, please," I said, stepping aside.
He retrieved the book easily and passed it to me. I muttered a thanks and shuffled away to the nearest empty table. Blowing a cloud of dust from the cover, I cracked the heavy book open.
It turned out to be an absorbing read, detailing the inner workings of magic wielders' powers—though, notably, there was no mention of Order Magic anywhere within its pages.
For three hours, I flipped through the heavy tome, my eyes eventually blurring with fatigue. When I couldn’t absorb another word, I closed the book, returned it to its place, and left for combat training. Each step jarred my aching body, and I wondered how I was expected to survive another lap around the pavilion—or lift anything heavier than a feather.
By the time I reached the training grounds, Mr. Kuznetsov was already barking at me.
"You're late," he snapped. "I don't have all day."
I rolled my eyes behind his back. Today, at least, he spared me the laps and weights, choosing instead to drill me on defensive techniques.
"Have you ever fought anyone before?" he asked, eyeing me critically.
"Of course," I answered confidently, thinking of the scuffles that landed me in hold-up cells over the years. I wasn’t exactly helpless.
YOU ARE READING
Glory and Gore: The Summoner's Trilogy 1
FantasyHEALER. SPECIALIST. SUMMONER. Wisteria Sovetsky-an orphan and a healer from the west regiment-was born different, and she knows it. When her settlement was attacked with monsters called Valkras, she unleashed a powerful magic not even she knew she p...
