The Name of Names

𝔽𝕀𝕍𝔼

When night fell, Ismira was at the town she had met the mercenary. Paying for a room, she slipped up to it, guarding the doors with spells. Only then did she dare open the books.

These were books of the darkest magic, that much she was sure. Their purpose could only be used for it. This was what she had been searching for. And she had found it.

A spell to conjure a dark force of magic to do your bidding. It acts as physical, able to touch and interact with objects and people, yet appears as smoke, and can act as such if it wishes.

Ismira paused. If it wishes. A sentient creature? Perhaps a summoning spell?

She hesitated, as her eyes stared unseeing for a moment at the words, at the pronunciation. This was dangerous magic. Powerful magic. Something that may not have been meant to meddle with.

She snapped out of it, taking a deep breath. "Andlát domia." She whispered, diving into the magic. The spell reacted by surging. Ismira stiffened as she felt the energy drain out of herself, shredding through whatever energy it took to finish what she had cast.

Even as the energy drained from her, she couldn't feel panic. The darkness surging enveloped her as it formed, setting her senses moving, living, acting. This would not destroy her. This would make her.

She sank onto her knees as it took and took, and took. And before her, a cloud appeared, thick and black, and smokelike. It ceased forming, writhing as Ismira bent it to her own mind. Control.

Then it faded, and blackness clouded over Ismira's eyesight.

~*~

When Ismira awoke, she left her eyes closed. The blackness calmed the panic that threatened to rise. How long had she been here? A throb in the back of her head tapped a hollow beat, forcing her to open her eyes. To get up.

A groan passed through her lips as she used her hand to push herself upright into a sitting position. Everything ached, and she knew she'd gone too far.

Her memory triggered something, sending a phrase about the limits of magic trembling into her skull. Takes as much energy as it would in real life. That wasn't helpful in determining the cost of dark magic.

After sitting up for only a few seconds, Ismira lowered herself back down to the ground. She just wanted to lie here forever, resting for the rest of eternity. No. A voice—her voice of reason and will snapped. Get up.

She eased herself up into a sitting position again. Rolling pain threatened to take her under, but she forced herself to move up another notch. Blackness seethed at the edges of her vision, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, a few minutes had passed. She moved onto her knees, fighting the urge to vomit. Getting her feet under herself was a challenge in of itself. Then came the problem of trying to actually stand up.

She gripped the bedpost tightly as she put weight onto her feet, pushing herself into a standing position. Her knees wobbled dangerously, and she sat down hard on the bed. Her breath came in short gasps, but still she refused to let panic set in.

In. Out. In. Out. Second by second, her breathing slowed. The pain dimmed slightly.

Her satchel lay by the foot of the bed, and she reached over, dragging it onto her lap. A partial loaf of bread was inside, and she tore into it hungrily.

Energy slowly seeped back into her bones, and she sighed, feeling it inside herself.

When she again opened her eyes to consider the magic, it was sobering. Dark magic took infinitely more strength than light. Her eyes nearly blazed. But she was strong enough to do it. With more training, with building up her own strength even more, she could control it. Better than before.

~*~

Ismira rode back into Carvahall exhausted, but full of purpose. Her mother's eyes lit up with concern as she nearly fell out of the saddle. Her father lifted her gently, bringing her into the house and laying her down on her own bed.

"Fine," She murmured, "Just need rest." And she slipped into the depths of sleep.

~*~

When Ismira woke up, she felt weak, but at least better than what she had been. Swinging her legs over the bed, she pushed herself up, and walked out of her room. No one was in the kitchen, and she slid into one of the seats around the table.

She guessed it was late afternoon, and as her mother bustled in with a load of laundry, she considered the fact that an entire day had passed. Or more.

"Ismira," Her mother breathed, hurrying over and kneeling beside her daughter. "Are you alright?"

Ismira nodded. "Just tired from the journey."

Her mother's expression tightened, and her tone sharpened. "Perhaps you think I'm about as naive as a child. Sleeping for two days is not tired from the journey. That is tired from magic."

Ismira lifted her chin to look her mother square in the eye. "And what if it is?"

"This is dangerous to you, my dear girl." She sighed, lifting a hand to brush a piece of hair out of her face. "Please, take a rest. From all of it."

Ismira didn't respond.

Katrina stood up, moving over to the kitchen. When she returned, she returned with a plate of food that she set in front of Ismira. She pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, and then slipped out the door.

The food stared at Ismira in the face, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat, taking a bite. It was delicious, but the memory of her mother's sorrow filled eyes tainted it.

When it was done, she slipped out the back door, sitting and leaning against the house. If she were to pursue this course, it could destroy her family's relationship. Any more than it already is? Hot tears threatened to fall, but she refused to let them. She was stronger than this.

Her father came around the side of the house, settling beside her. Ismira braced herself for the words. The lecture about not using magic like this, not pressing her limits.

But it never came. Instead, he just rested his hands on his knees, staring out across the fields with her. The sun dipped lower and lower, painting the sky as it went, until finally everything went into darkness.

Roran quietly stood, extending a hand to her and pulling her up. They faced each other for a second.

"We love you. And we don't want to lose you. Please be careful." He squeezed her hand in between his own, and followed her inside.

Ismira tossed and turned in bed for what seemed like hours, despite how exhausted she was. The sky outside her window was dark, not even the stars peeking through to look at her.

I'm genuinely curious, if anyone is reading this, do you prefer Vanya's POV or Ismira's? Right now things are probably more interesting from Ismira's, but that should be changing soon!