Chapter 271: Witch Tree [1]

Once lunch was over, Shana and the three sisters returned to the training yard.

Very little had happened during the meal after Monika finished bandaging Airam’s hand. Airam had eaten more than usual, accepting each dish without comment and asking for another serving when she had finished. Her appetite had improved; her mood had not. She barely spoke, and the maids approached her place with a caution that made even setting down a plate seem like a delicate task.

Hermione had been less silent.

She had tried to appear indifferent to Ulrich’s absence, but every few minutes she found another reason to ask Monika about him. At first, she wanted to know whether he had eaten much earlier. Then she asked whether Ceres had arrived before they went to the yard, whether their business together had taken all morning, and why he had not told them he would miss lunch.

She spaced the questions carefully. Between one and the next, she ate a few bites, spoke to Esther, or pretended to inspect something on her plate. Anyone listening could still have understood what was bothering her.

“Did he say he wanted an early meal?” she had asked at one point.

“My lord had the meal brought earlier, yes.”

“And Ceres was still with him?”

“Yes, Lady Hermione.”

Hermione had nodded as though this answered a matter of no particular importance. A little later, she asked why they had not been called to join him.

It would not have troubled her nearly as much if Ulrich had eaten alone. He did not sit with them at every meal, and she knew he had work that could keep him occupied long after the rest of the household was ready to eat, not to mention his own research. She had grown accustomed to hearing that he was in his office or attending to something elsewhere in the estate.

But he had eaten with Ceres.

He had found time to sit with her while leaving the sisters to wait for him at the table. Hermione could think of several reasonable explanations, none of which seemed reasonable for long once she remembered that Ceres had been given a room in which to wait for him that morning.

It felt as though he had chosen her company over theirs.

Hermione disliked the thought, and she disliked still more that she could not stop returning to it. She had not wanted to make a scene in front of Shana. Airam had already drawn enough attention with the glass, and Hermione had no intention of adding to it by openly complaining that Ulrich had taken a meal without them.

Her questions had made the complaint clear enough anyway.

Esther had not questioned Monika. She had eaten quietly, listening whenever Hermione spoke, and looked toward Ulrich’s empty chair more than once.

She was not angry with Ceres. The girl had done nothing to her, and Esther could not bring herself to dislike someone merely because Ulrich had paid her attention. Still, she had been looking forward to seeing him at lunch. Hearing that he had already eaten, and that Ceres had been with him, left her disappointed in a way she did not know how to explain.

Ceres seemed to share something with Ulrich that the sisters could not understand. He made arrangements for her, met with her privately, and attended to matters concerning her that neither Monika nor Fabian would explain. Perhaps they could not explain them. Esther did not know whether their answers were careful because they had been told to keep quiet or because they genuinely knew no more than the girls did.

Either possibility made the uncertainty worse.

The sisters had believed something had changed after Valmoria. Ulrich had brought Airam back, returned home badly injured, and then stopped Hermione and Esther when they tried to leave. He had told them they belonged to his House, that the House was family, and that he would bring them back if anyone took them.

They had held those words close.

Now another girl stood within that same household: a witch, like them, and close to their own age. She received a kind of attention they had not expected to share, and none of them knew enough about her place in Ulrich’s life to stop wondering about it.

Shana understood almost none of this.

She had heard Ceres’s name at the table and seen what followed, but that was all. She did not know the girl, what Ulrich did for her, or why the sisters had reacted so strongly. Hermione’s carefully separated questions had made it obvious that the matter was upsetting, though they had done little to clarify it for Shana.

She had decided not to ask.

The sisters had only just begun to tolerate her. Their conversation about Anna-Maria had helped, but Shana could not assume that their willingness to listen would extend to questions about Ulrich and another girl. She had been brought here to teach them about their Witch Trees. That was something she could do without needing to understand everything happening in the estate.

When they reached the practice ground, Shana chose a clear patch of grass and lowered herself to sit cross-legged. Her gown settled around her knees. She looked up at the girls and indicated the space in front of her.

“Please sit like this.”

Hermione glanced down at her.

“Is that really necessary?”

Her tone held some of the irritation she had kept at the lunch table. She was still standing with her arms folded, and Shana hesitated before answering. She did not want their first attempt at a lesson to become another argument.

Esther had already sat down. She arranged her legs as Shana had shown them and looked up at Hermione with a small sulk.

“Big Sister, Shana is here to help us. Just listen.”

Hermione looked at her, then at Shana. For a moment, she seemed ready to object again.

“Hmph.”

She lowered herself onto the grass beside Esther and crossed her legs, taking a little longer than necessary to settle comfortably. Airam followed without speaking. She kept her bandaged hand resting where it would not be pressed against the ground, her expression still dark.

Shana smiled at Esther. She said nothing, but she was grateful the youngest sister had spared her the need to insist.

Shana waited until all three sisters had sat properly on the grass before speaking.

“You asked whether sitting like this was necessary,” she said, looking at Hermione. “It is an exercise we give to young witches when they begin learning about their Trees, your Blood-Tree. You do not need to sit this way whenever you use witchcraft, but it helps you remain still without making your breathing uncomfortable.”

Hermione glanced down at her crossed legs. She had managed to find a position that did not pull at the breeches she wore, though she still looked unconvinced that any of this would teach her something useful.

“And what are we supposed to do while we sit?”

“First, understand what you are trying to reach.”

Shana placed her hands loosely on her knees so the girls could follow her example.

“You have been learning core magic with a Grandmaster, I heard. This is different. A mana core and a Witch Tree do not respond in the same way, and trying to treat one like the other will only make this harder.”

At the mention of their magic lessons, Hermione paid closer attention.

“Your Tree is alive,” Shana continued. “It grows with you. It carries mana, responds to strain, and can be hurt. You can learn to direct it, but before that, you need to recognise it and understand how it feels when you are not demanding anything from it.”

Airam looked at her own hands. One remained bandaged from lunch.

“I can already use runes.”

“I know,” Shana said carefully. “Being able to use witchcraft does not always mean you understand what happens inside you when you do.”

Airam raised her gaze.

“The trunk is called the Weald. Some witches call it the Blood-Oak. It is the central part of the Tree, the anchor from which the Branches grow. Each Branch carries ten Veins.”

“Exactly ten?” Hermione asked.

“In most cases, yes.”

“And the Branches are what we use to cast?”

“The Veins,” Shana corrected. “The Branches carry the mana and support them. When you cast a spell, you twist the Veins to spin mana into threads. Then those threads are woven together into the spell you want to release.”

Hermione’s brows drew together as she considered that.

“So the Branches are channels.”

“That is a good way to think of them. Threads from Veins on the same Branch can come together quickly. If you need threads from different Branches, they have farther to travel before they can be woven.”

Esther lifted her hand from her knee.

“How many Branches do we have?”

“That is something I hope you will eventually be able to tell me. An ordinary witch has two, which gives her twenty Veins. Some have more, but today I do not want you trying to count them.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked.

“Because the first thing young witches do after finding their Trees is try to make them do something impressive.” Shana gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I would rather you did not damage yours during our first lesson.”

Hermione’s lips pressed shut, though she could hardly claim the thought had not occurred to her.

“Twisting the Veins puts strain on them,” Shana explained. “If you keep forcing them, they tear and scar. A damaged Vein becomes harder to use, and one that tears completely may never work again. More Branches give you more Veins, but they do not make careless casting safe.”

Esther raised a worried brow.

“We’re not going to cast anything?”

“No. You are only going to look.”

That answer seemed to reassure her.

Shana checked their posture, asking Esther to ease her shoulders and Hermione to stop leaning forward. Airam sat straight without needing to be told, although the tension in her jaw made it clear that being motionless did not mean being relaxed.

“Close your eyes,” Shana said. “Keep your hands open. You do not need to form runes or gather mana.”

The sisters obeyed. Hermione took a little longer to uncross her arms, but eventually rested both hands on her knees.

“Breathe in slowly. Do not take so much air that you strain to hold it. Then let it out at the same pace.”

For several moments, the yard was quiet except for the girls’ breathing and the birds in the trees beyond them. Shana watched until Esther stopped lifting her shoulders with every breath.

“Feel where your body touches the ground,” she said. “The weight of your legs, your hands resting on your knees. Let those things stay where they are. Then bring your attention inward, toward the centre of your chest.”

Hermione frowned behind her closed eyes.

“Careful, unconsciously you might look for your mana core,” Shana added. “And do not try to draw a Formula Ring. You are looking for the place your witchcraft answers from, before you shape it.”

She let them sit with that for a while.

“If you cannot see anything, pay attention to what you feel. Warmth, pressure, movement. Follow it gently. Some witches see their Trees clearly when they begin; others recognise them through their shape or the flow inside them. You must not force yourself to find what you think ought to be there.”

Esther’s lips parted.

Shana noticed at once. “Esther?”

“I think…” Esther breathed in, then forgot to let the breath out.

“Keep breathing.”

Esther obeyed, and a smile spread over her face.

“I can see something.”

Hermione’s eyes almost opened.

“Stay with it,” Shana said. “Tell me what you see without reaching for it.”

“I—It’s a tree.”

The speed in which Esther found it surprised Shana. She had expected them to spend much of the afternoon learning to distinguish the Tree from the other sensations within their bodies.

“What does it look like?”

“Gold.” Esther’s smile grew. “It’s beautiful.”