It was early evening when A’nallia found her master standing out on the back lawn between the fruit and forest trees. She'd stayed as busy as possible during the day, practically begging Maren to give her work just to avoid this moment. She didn’t really know why. She was sure he considered the matter from this morning concluded and would have nothing to say about the night before, but her insecurities were too great and she couldn’t stop the rapid beating in her chest or anxious fluttering in her gut.

“Over here.” He gestured for her to stand next to one of the forest trees and placed his palm against the bark. That steady voice, that unwavering calmness in him, helped to relax her and she followed, pressing an open palm into the old wood. “All witches have some life magic. Demons too.”

She nodded. Life magic, the ability to sense life and magic, along with the ability to heal, was present in small amounts in all magical beings. This was a basic teaching in the Imperium and the first thing tested when a witch arrived at the Tower.

“Witches are not powerful in life magic because it takes life to give life. You cannot create something out of nothing, so you drain part of your life to heal part of another. Your magic is stronger than others, so it drains more of yourself.” His eyes drifted to her hair, hanging loose and messy across her chest. “This is why your hair turns white.”

A’nallia stared intently at her master, eyes wide. She had never heard him say so much at one time and suddenly realized how very little she knew about this wolf demon.

“You knew this?” She couldn’t hide her surprise, and her voice tightened feeling a trace of anger. “If you knew, why did you ask me?”

He lifted his gaze to stare back, his grey eyes less distant than when he'd first purchased her. Perhaps it was just her sentimentality creating emotions that didn’t exist, but she thought she could make out a slightly furrowed brow and eyes a bit smaller from guilt.

“I wanted to see if you knew. To see what that Black Tower of yours teaches their witches.”

“But then you still didn’t tell me.”

“It didn’t matter at the time.”

“It matters now?”

“It matters now.”

He was serious. And he was concerned. Not concerned about her magic or what she had done to A’ldissa earlier that day. His concern was for her - worried that something might happen if she didn’t understand the things he was about to teach her. She pushed her frustration aside and nodded, knowing that while she had spent her entire life in the Imperium, she trusted this demon infinitely more.

“Then tell me what the Imperium did not.”

He removed his hand from the tree and placed it over hers, pressing it gently into the rough bark. “Do you feel the life in this tree? All living things have a spirit, and an energy that sustains it.”

She could recognize it easily. It was warmth - the same warmth she felt and radiated out when she used healing magic. She nodded again and he removed his hand from hers.

“Good.”

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small pocketknife and brought it to his forearm. He sliced a large gash through the thin skin, blood rushing out of the open wound.

“What are you doing?” Her voice cracked, her breath trapped in her throat as she scrambled to grasp his arm, but he pulled it away. She was frozen in confusion as he motioned for her to place her palm back on the tree.

“The longer you take, the longer I will bleed.” She swiftly pushed her palm into the wood and he reached his injured arm toward her. “This time, that life energy that you feel, that you use to heal. Pull it from the tree instead.”

She nodded a third time, panicking internally but keeping cool on the outside. With a gentle grip on his wrist, she closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth inside the tree. Slowly, she sensed it moving through her arm, across her chest, and through the other arm, channeling into her master. She directed it to his wound, as she always did, and felt the blood vessels close, the skin knit, and the scar disappear. Her hand fell from the tree but she kept hold of his wrist, pulling herself to his side to examine him. Wiping the remaining blood away, she saw nothing, not even the faintest line to indicate there had been a wound to begin with. She then looked at the tree, its bark under her touch a little bit greyer and a little more splintered, but the rest of it seemed fine.

“This tree has a lot of life in it. You cannot damage it from something small like this.” He gently took her hair in his hand, making sure not to dirty it with blood. “See? No white.”

A’nallia remained motionless for many moments, lost in thought, not releasing her hold. Her master stood patiently next to her, waiting for her to be ready.

“So...” She formed the words along with the thought. “So, that is what I did to A’ldissa this morning. And that is how you knew I could do it.”

At the realization, she immediately dropped his wrist, almost throwing it away, and took a few steps back. She didn’t know this magic had been inside her and she didn’t know how to control it.

“Mm. I wondered when you said you can remove scars. Other witches cannot heal a scar. My thoughts were confirmed this morning.”

A’nallia wasn’t sure what to think. Could she have drained the life from A’ldissa? Would she have? That moment was a blur in her memory, but she knew it hadn’t felt horrible, or even unpleasant. Did she have the control to stop herself? She had always been just a healer, never having magic that could harm someone. It made her useless to the Imperium, but part of her was glad to be weak. She didn’t want to hunt monsters or be forced to kill. She didn’t want to burn people out of fear or freeze them in anger. But now she didn’t know what she could do. Were there more like her out there - girls the Imperium had lied to about their healing magic? Or did the Imperium not even know? Was she so unique that they just assumed she had no power?

Deep and even, her master’s voice broke through the chaos.

“You will practice. You will gain control. But for now, the sun is gone, so we will sleep.”

He began walking toward the manor and she obediently followed. He often knew what she was thinking without her speaking it out loud. It seemed he knew a lot of things.