Unspeakable Secrets The Alchemist Series (A Dark Medieval Progression Fantasy)

Chapter 49 Breathing Meditation

Connor's encounter with Vadik played in his mind over and over again and his rage thickened into a burning, black hatred. It bubbled like darkest tar and begged to make Vadik suffer a thousandfold for everything he'd done.

Vadik would pay for this. Connor yearned to wash his hands in the traitor's blood to—

Never let anger rule you!

The thought came unbidden and hit him like an ice-cold slap to the face.

Connor blinked.

He knew those words... Victor's words...

Victor was fond of that phrase and had used it many times. But, there was one time in particular that had been burned into Connor's memory.

One of his early missions with Victor. What was I then... fourteen? Connor thought. They'd tracked a group of slavers to a small cove they used to send slaves for sale abroad.

Victor had told Connor to watch and wait behind a rock on the beach, hidden in the darkness, and then slipped away to scout their surroundings for any more of the slavers.

And, Connor had waited. Until the slavers' acts of brutality toward their 'merchandise' had overcome him with rage.

He'd slipped from the darkness and butchered them. Only, in his blind rage he'd missed one of them. One that'd come up behind him and struck. Only for their blade to fall upon Victor's steel, followed shortly by their neck.

It doesn't do to be blinded by anger, Connor. He could almost hear Victor's words now just as they'd been then.

I'm sorry, uncle, he'd said. He remembered the heat of slaver blood and his own shame upon his cheeks.

You're a good lad, Victor had said as he wiped blood from Connor's face with a knuckle covered in a leather glove, one day you'll learn to use that anger. To rule it.

They'd not been idle words. Victor had shown Connor a variety of meditations and techniques to do exactly that. Building upon previous lessons Victor had given him. And all discarded by Connor in his desire for a different life.

Connor understood why he'd done it. Even sympathized with his old self. Even now he didn't want the life Victor had pushed him toward. But, if there'd ever been a choice, it was long past gone.

Now, there was only a single path before him. A thin, winding, serpentine one with a perilous drop to death and worse on all sides.

And I must walk it all the same. No matter what.

Connor focused on the present and let his mind fall into a meditation he hadn't used in what felt like forever. It was unsteady at first. As though shaking off dust, but rapidly locked into place as his mind flowed through the techniques Victor had made him practice for hours on end.

The steady, deep rhythm of breath forced upon him by The Syndicate's paralyzing magic was perfect for it.

Rage, hatred, guilt, pain, and raw emotion coursed through him to the beat of his pulse like a drum. He allowed it to fill his core but kept his mind distant from it. As though observing it. Like watching over a lake of boiling lava from upon high.

He felt the heat radiating from it, singeing his mind. Hatred and rage flared, threatening to erupt and consume him, to overwhelm him once more should he try to suppress it. But suppression was not what this meditation was for.

Instead of consuming him, it flowed through him like liquid metal being poured into a mold and was bound to him. Like a monstrous hound coming to its master's heel.