The Infusion Ritual

In the soft glow of the lamp casting delicate shadows across my room, I found myself standing before the mirror, clad in nothing but a sports bra and panties. With a curious gaze, I looked at my reflection, tracing the contours of my body with newfound appreciation. Time has sculpted me, shaping my curves and hips into elegant lines. The hazed strokes that I had now turned into strong six-pack abs with cuts adorned on my arms.

"Wait," I said, sharply looking at my chest. I slid my bra down off my shoulders and held my boobs gently, pressing on the sides and checking their curves properly.

"Hmm, as expected, it has shrunk a little bit more."

Well, that's given, as I am burning way too much fat. It's okay; I don't have time to feel insecure about all this stuff. And more importantly, it doesn't feel odd to my body posture in any way. Marie will get a new reason to tease me. **Sigh*

In that moment, bathed in the quiet intimacy of self-reflection, I couldn't help but realise that I've grown a lot in the past 8 months since my training started. Eight months passed, and I started recollecting the adruous journey. What once felt like a hard challenge had only grown more daunting with time. After a month, when I had just started to adapt, I was thrown with new challenges—not that I wasn't expecting, but it seemed all impossible until I did it.

Sessions of descending and ascending from the mountains with weights on my arms and legs where every muscle was screaming in protest. Under the watchful eye of my master, I delved deeper into the intricacies of combat, mastering various kicks and defensive techniques. Through relentless practice and unwavering dedication, I began to understand the fluidity of my master's movements and his ability to evade attacks without making them look like a big deal.

The mastery of the Witchcraft became second nature; its whirling dance is a testament to the understanding of its physics and how it functions with different wind pressures in the air, as well as how much strength it induces. For six relentless hours every day, I whirled it amidst the shadows of day or night. With each fluid motion, I cut through the air, slicing through the dense canopy of trees. I became one with my surroundings, melding seamlessly with the objects around me; my sole focus was honed on a singular purpose: hitting my target, no matter the obstacle. And as the days stretched on to months, a sense of mastery enveloped me. I could feel the control and precision, until finally, I stood amidst the stillness, my weapon wielded with a newfound prowess in my hand.

But progress came at a cost. My bones shattered, and my skin split under the unforgiving edge of my own blade. Yet, with each setback, I rose again, remembering the reason why I was here. I could feel the strength in me, but still, it wasn't enough to take down that bitch from that day; her eyes were different, and in the crucible of adversity, I forged not only my body but also my spirit, emerging stronger with every trial endured.

With passing time, my respect for Master also grew. Once a week, there was a day when I and Master spent the entire day fasting and meditating on the edge of a cliff without moving an inch for the rest of the day until evening came. This helped me learn to keep my body and mind in absolute control in silence.

And finally, after 8 months, the day I'd been waiting for so eagerly had come at last. The day for Infusion ritual.

As dawn's first light painted the temple courtyard in hues of gold, I sat poised in the middle of the alchemy circle that was drawn by Master with chalk. I am wearing a red-coloured blouse and a long white-coloured skirt. Sir Marthanda said it's Keral's traditional dress. It might be hard to move my legs in the air, but I like it. There's golden-coloured striping on the edges of the blouse and the skirt. My long hairs are tied up with a long pin, and beyond all this, what has caught my attention the most was my Witchcraft that was kept in front of me on the cloth above a small red-coloured box. It looked like a jewellery box or something.

My heart is racing fast with anticipation. I don't know what's going to happen, but I must stay calm.

"Close your eyes," said Master Marthanda. With a soft exhale, I tenderly shut my eyes, seeking solace in the tranquilly of darkness.

"Control your breathing, slow it down in peace, and focus on Witchcraft and Witchcraft alone. Nothing else should come in between your thoughts, like a straight connection to it." Said Master. "Your soul must be calm and become transparent enough that it accepts something from the materialistic world as its own form and blends with it."

I was listening and following the trail of the master's words until it cut off in silence, and I found myself in solace with the image of Witchcraft in my mind.

Suddenly, the lamps surrounding us flickered erratically, their glow intensifying before dimming, as if burdened by an unseen force. Soon, a faint aura began to emanate from Eleanor's body, casting an ethereal light that danced in the air.

"Open your eyes," said Master.

I slowly peeled open my eyes, and a sense of bewilderment washed over me, for I discovered myself enveloped in an unexpected shroud—a cloak of swirling, black-hued aura.

I remember from my kingdom during our class when Sir Rain told us that the colour of your aura represents the colour of your soul. I don't know what I am supposed to feel looking at black. Is it negative? Beyond anything that was happening to me, a sensation of weightlessness overcame me, as though the very atmosphere had undergone a revitalising transformation, infusing each breath with newfound freshness. It was as if I had been granted the chance to draw my first breath all over again. I never felt like this before. I turned my head to look at Master Marthanda, and I found him glaring at me in surprise.

"It's Black.." he slowly murmured.

"Hmm? Is everything okay, Master?" I said it in confusion.

"Ahh, yeah," he said, coming back from his deep thought. "Look at your Witchcraft now. Can you see it.?"

I look straight towards the box, and to my surprise, the same black aura is coming from Witchcraft too.

"Yes. I can see it," I said. "Stratch your arms; call it towards you." Master said.

I raised my arms towards it. There is a lot of distance in between; I don't know if it'll work or not- With a surreal grace, the Witchcraft began to levitate, defying the laws of gravity as it drifted effortlessly towards my outstretched hand, guided by an unseen force.

"Oh, my god..." I said, gulping down. "I did it." "Master, I did it." I said, standing in joy and excitement, jumping on the ground, tapping my legs, circling around, and holding Witchcraft on my chest.

"Yes, you did it," said Master with a soft smile on his face. I bet he was feeling proud of me.

"Yes, yes, yes, finally.!!!!" I said, looking up in the air.

Amidst the happiness that filled my heart, a shadow of unease crept in, unknown to me and Master Marthanda. Whispers swept through the kingdom of Aetheria like a chilling wind, carrying news of an unforeseen breach—the jail had been breached, and a fugitive had escaped, killing two knights to their deaths in the process.

"I can't believe it," one knight said.

"He ran away!" another replied.

"What are you looking at? Hit the siren. Call in the palace!!"

The piercing wail of the siren shattered the tranquilly of the kingdom, jolting its inhabitants from their slumber as they prepared to face the imminent challenges that loomed on the horizon.