Free Web NovelChapter 277: Chapter 277
Circe’s breath caught as the words settled deep into her bones. Her gaze snapped back to Dena, who had delivered the order as casually as if she were sending her on a mundane task.
She gulped nervously, grateful that Dena had her back turned and could not see the uncertainty that flickered across her face. Her fingers curled instinctively at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she fought the urge to retreat.
"I asked you to teach me how to defend myself with my powers," Circe said, her voice tight, "not how to murder with them."
Her gaze strayed back to the hare despite herself. The small creature sat helplessly atop the stone platform, its sides rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Sickness churned violently in Circe’s gut at the sight of it, worse now that she knew exactly what Dena expected of her.
She had killed before. She knew the weight of ending a life, knew how it felt to spill blood with her hands. But every time she had done so, it had been for a cause, out of necessity, or out of survival. There was a vast difference between killing an attacker in self-defense and killing a harmless creature. Not for food or for sustenance. Just because she could.
It felt wrong. Wasteful. Cruel. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
Dena turned back to face her fully, her expression still steeped in that same detached apathy, as though Circe’s revulsion meant nothing at all.
"What is the difference?" Dena asked, her voice a lazy drawl that echoed faintly against the cave walls. "In this life, you will learn that true self-defense often means eliminating the threat, sometimes even before it has a chance to strike. Why wait until an enemy is charging at you when you can destroy them long before then?"
Circe remained rooted to the spot, her feet refusing to move no matter how hard she willed them to.
Dena tilted her head slightly, studying her like an insect pinned beneath glass.
"Would you have preferred it if I brought a feral wild animal instead?" she continued. "One that wouldn’t hesitate to tear into you? Would you be more amenable then?"
Circe said nothing. Responding would be pointless. She could already feel the futility of continuing the argument settling heavily in her chest. Dena was not a being who compromised, nor one who entertained moral objections.
And it would be foolish to openly defy someone who wielded magic unlike anything Circe had ever known. Still, she did not move.
Even in her refusal, she felt it: the familiar surge awakening within her. Magic rushed to the surface as though summoned against her will, concentrating sharply in her chest until each breath became labored. It pressed inward, heavy and insistent, until the space behind her ribs felt too small to contain it.
Circe doubled over, unable to stop herself. The air around the platform thickened abruptly, compressing against her skin like a red-hot brand. Only then did she realize this was Dena’s doing—a deliberate punishment, and a way of forcing her compliance by dragging her power to the surface.
The hare shifted slightly. Its claws scraped softly against the stone, the sound unbearably loud in the oppressive silence of the cave.
"Give me a reason," Circe gritted out, fighting the bile that surged up her throat as the crushing weight of Dena’s magic settled over her.
It was agony. Like countless pinprick needles stabbing into her skin all at once, forcing her submission.
"Because the hare will die regardless," Dena said calmly. "The magic of the cave will either smother it or worse stretch its skin until it tears apart. This place does that to every animal foolish enough to wander into its depths." She gestured vaguely toward the platform. "It may look well now, but it won’t remain so for long. You may as well make use of its doomed fate for your lessons."
The callousness in her tone made Circe’s stomach twist. She could barely keep the disgust from her face.
Dena noticed it immediately and smiled.
"When you are as old as I am," she said lightly, "you lose your taste for such delicate sensitivities."
She stepped aside, granting Circe an unobstructed view of the stone platform and its trembling occupant.
The stone beneath Circe’s bare feet grew colder as she approached, leeching warmth from her skin and sending a chill creeping up her legs. Each step made her pulse thunder louder in her ears, until her awareness narrowed sharply. The world shrank to the small, living creature before her and the low, ceaseless hum of power vibrating through the cave.
She felt it threading through her chest, weaving itself into her magic. It was the same sensation she had experienced during earlier lessons. That strange tug just behind her ribs, like invisible fingers brushing against her heart.
This time, it did not stop at awareness.
Circe halted when she stood close enough to touch the hare.
She drew in a deep breath, and felt Dena’s magic finally withdraw. At the same moment, she extended her hand, barely conscious of the motion. Her fingers brushed the animal’s fur, so light a touch that it barely reacted.
The hare didn’t move.
It looked so docile, so helpless, that Circe’s heart clenched painfully at what she was about to do.
Then, a second later, sensation exploded through her fingertips.
It felt like plunging her hand into a frozen lake—sharp, biting cold that stole her breath and set every nerve alight. She almost jerked away instinctively, but something kept her rooted in place. Her skin prickled violently, her nerves screaming as the unfamiliar sensation surged deeper.
It was unlike anything she had ever felt before.
The hare twitched beneath her hands, its small body shuddering in sharp, nervous jerks, as though it sensed the same unseen pressure gathering in the air that Circe did.
She swallowed hard and fought to steady her nerves once the initial shock wore off. Drawing in a slow, trembling breath, she closed her eyes and turned inward, concentrating as she sifted through the chaos of sensations that assaulted her awareness all at once. It was so overwhelming that her knees nearly buckled beneath the strain.
