Chapter 258: The Three Arts
Later on, as dusk settled over the ship, Esme returned to Acheron’s side. Since Neville had taught her how to make the vaccine, she had brought some with her aboard. Though she wasn’t entirely sure if it would work, she hoped it might cleanse whatever sickness the dark waters had carried into his bloodstream.
She thought about Finn and hoped he was doing okay in the Damned.
Drawing in a careful breath, she injected the vaccine into his arm. A faint wince crossed his face, and when it was done, she helped him ease back onto the pillow, making sure he was comfortable.
"It feels wrong just lying here," he rasped, forcing a weak chuckle. "Guess I should enjoy the special treatment from our dear Luna while it lasts, before I’m fully healed and back on my feet again."
Esme’s lips curved into a faint smile. "You should focus on getting better first. Althea hasn’t stopped crying– she blames herself for what happened. You should talk to her when you can. But try to get some rest for now."
He hummed in approval.
Esme lingered for a moment before asking: "When Don came here... did you two talk about something important?"
"Don?"
Acheron blinked, frowning slightly before shaking his head.
"No. Why? Did he say something?"
Esme hesitated and shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I’ll leave you to rest now."
With that, she turned and slipped out of the cabin.
By now, the weight of the day pressed heavily on her shoulders.
The argument with Donovan still lingered in her mind, and she rubbed her temple like that would ease the headache it brought. She knew he was under strain, and she wished he’d stop being so hard on himself. She hadn’t gone to see him seeking answers– only to understand what was troubling him. But somehow, he had taken it the wrong way. Or maybe he misinterpreted her wordings. Either way, it didn’t end well as she had hoped.
Exhaling softly, she made her way to her cabin.
"No time," she heard her wolf say before she even got the chance to collapse on the bed. "We’ll continue from where we stopped earlier."
Esme wanted to cry.
"Can I just... close my eyes for five minutes. I promise it’ll be no more than five minutes."
"You can close your eyes afterwards," her wolf’s tone was final. Esme knew she could ignore the wolf if she wanted, but she also needed this lesson really badly.
But why now????
"Fine." she sulked.
Moving to the side table, she sat down. "Let’s begin. If I remember correctly, the Azure Requiem lets me use the flames to create any weapon I can imagine, right?"
"Yes."
There was a brief silence before the wolf continued, its voice low and measured. "To understand the rest of your powers, you need to know this— the blue flames isn’t merely destructive but purifying. It exists only to consume demonic corruption, not just burn flesh. Its magic interacts with demonic essence on a soul-deep level. The more you practice, the stronger your flames will grow."
"Oh?"
Esme tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her half-lidded eyes. She lazily reached for a book and pen to write them down.
"In time," the wolf said, "you’ll learn not to wield it through fear or anger. Once you truly command it, you’ll be able to shape it into more than weapons– sigils, veils, and even shields of light. This art is called the soulbourn veil. It will make sense when you awaken it. The final art is known as the Aster Resonance, but we’ll get into that when you–"
The wolf stopped mid-sentence.
Esme was already asleep.
******
When Donovan returned to the cabin, he found Esme fast asleep at the side table.
He hesitated by the doorway before stepping inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He approached the side table and watched her for a moment. The soft lamplight traced the curve of her cheek, her head resting against an open book as though she’d been fighting sleep while reading again.
A faint sigh escaped him.
Her face looked peaceful in a way that tugged at something deep in his chest. The tension from their earlier argument lingered in the air, but seeing her like this made it feel foolish now.
With careful hands, he slipped one arm beneath her knee and the other around her shoulders, lifting her from the chair. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling again against his chest.
He laid her gently on the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. For a long moment, he just stood there, guilt, affection and relief twisting quietly inside him. Then he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
"I’m sorry." He whispered.
*******
Meanwhile, Cora and Leonardo remained on deck. The sea stretched endlessly before them, and Cora leaned against the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon with a quiet anticipation on her face.
"I wonder when we’ll start seeing signs of the shore," she mused out loud. "There’s a port nearby, right?"
Leonardo hummed, nodding once. "There should be. With luck, someone there can help Acheron."
"But..." she glanced his way. "Can’t you just use your–" she waved her hands vaguely, "–you know... curse thingy and order the disease to go away?"
"It doesn’t work like that."
"How do you know? Have you tried?"
Leonardo didn’t answer. His gaze drifted past the wave, but his mind was elsewhere. He remembered having tried several times to save his father, Irwin, only to fail. Too many times he had lost count.
Cora must have sensed it, cause she didn’t press further. Instead, she gave his shoulder a light bump with her fist.
He blinked down at her, startled more by the gesture than the touch.
"I was trying to cheer up," she said with a small grin.
"Yeah... don’t do that."
She laughed softly, but he didn’t notice the faint curve at the corner of his mouth as he turned back to the sea.