Lessons in Ruin

The sky was overcast when Lydia arrived at the secluded clearing where she and Shywin conducted their lessons, the ones he demanded take place outside, far from his home. The trees around them seemed to loom closer than usual, their shadows long and dark under the early evening twilight and  the clouded sky. Lydia could feel the tension in the air before she even saw him. Shywin was already there, waiting, standing near a circle of runes he had inscribed on the ground. His posture was stiff, his expression sharp, and his mood, she could tell, was foul.

Lydia approached cautiously, her heart beating faster than usual. Safety dictated she learn to read Shywin’s moods over the years, and she learned enough to know today was not a day to push her luck. The way he stood, the tightness in his jaw- everything about the man she learned to plan her life around screamed that something had gone wrong, something beyond her control but for which she would likely pay.

“Are you finally ready to begin?” Shywin’s voice cut through the silence, cool and clipped- immediately positioning her at a disadvantage for a situation she didn’t even yet understand. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his focus remaining on the runes at his feet.

“Yes, Master,” Lydia replied, using the title he demanded during their lessons. She stepped closer, trying to shake off the unease gnawing at her. Trying to find the human she knew was in there, somewhere. 

“Today, we’re working on shadow manipulation,” Shywin said, his tone making it clear that this was not up for discussion. “It’s a foundational skill of necromancy and you should be further along by now.”

Lydia nodded, though she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Shadow magic was elusive, requiring a level of control and focus she often struggled to maintain under Shywin’s harsh scrutiny. But it was obvious that tonight she would have to push through it, failure wasn’t an option. 

Shywin extended his hand toward the ground, and the shadows around them began to writhe and shift as if alive. The shadows of the trees, of their bodies, of everything in their direct vicinity seemed to grow toward her mentor as Lydia watched -  fascinated and intimidated, as he molded the darkness into various shapes, his control, as always,  absolute. 

And with a snap of his fingers, the shadows dispersed, leaving the clearing looking oddly barren.

“Your turn,” he commanded, stepping back and crossing his arms.

Lydia took a deep breath and focused on the shadows around her. She willed them to move, to bend to her command the way Shywin’s had. For a moment, nothing happened, and her heart sank. Then, slowly, the shadows began to stir, swirling around her feet in hesitant, uneven patterns.

“Faster,” Shywin ordered, his voice impatient. The shadows faltered. 

Lydia tried to push the shadows further, but now they resisted, slipping through her mental grasp like water. She gritted her teeth and tried again, frustration mounting. The shadows responded sluggishly, forming shapes that were rough and indistinct, nothing like the crisp, precise forms Shywin had created.

“Pathetic,” Shywin snapped. He moved closer to her, his presence like a storm cloud hovering directly over the clearing. “This is basic, Lydia. Why are you struggling with something so simple?”

“I- I’m trying,” Lydia stammered, her concentration faltering under the weight of his disapproval. The shadows wavered and then collapsed back into the ground, slipping entirely from her control as couldn’t help but let out a pained groan. 

Shywin’s expression darkened, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “Trying isn’t enough,” he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her roughly to her feet. “You either succeed, or you don’t. And today, you’re failing.”

Lydia winced as his grip tightened, pain shooting through her arm- but knew better than to complain.  This was part of the lesson - one she had learned many times before. But today, the stakes felt higher. Shywin’s mood was worse than she had seen in months, and she could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.

“Again,” he ordered, pushing her back toward the center of the clearing. “And do it right this time Wren.”

Wren nodded, trying to steady her trembling hands. She focused on the shadows again, but her fear and frustration made it impossible to concentrate. She could feel Shywin’s eyes boring into her, and it only made her more anxious. The shadows refused to cooperate, remaining stubbornly still despite her best efforts.

“Useless,” Shywin spat, shaking his head. He stepped forward, raising his hand. For a split second, Wren thought he might strike her, but instead, he unleashed a blast of dark energy that shot backward until she hit a large oak tree,then crashing to the ground. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and she lay there, gasping for breath, as Her tutor slowly walked over, towering over her.

“If you can’t even handle this,” Shywin sneered, “then maybe you’re not worth my time.”

Wren’s  vision blurred with tears of pain and humiliation, but she forced herself to sit up, refusing to show weakness. She knew better than to argue or beg. Instead, she channeled all her focus into gathering every ounce of strength to stand, to prove that she could still be of use to him, even if she wasn’t sure how.

Shywin watched her struggle with a look of contempt, but there was also something else in his eyes - a flicker of satisfaction, as if her failure had somehow confirmed what he already believed. When she finally managed to stand, shaky but determined, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper.

“You’re pathetic, Wren Birk” he said, his words like venom. “But I suppose that’s what makes you so easy to control.” 

Lydia’s heart sank, the truth of his words cutting deeper than any wound. She had always known that Shywin saw her as little more than a tool, a pawn to be used and discarded when it no longer served its purpose. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with such cold detachment, made the reality of their relationship stark and undeniable.

“Go home,” he commanded, turning away from her. “I’m done with you for today.”

Wren hesitated, her body aching,  pride in tatters. She wanted to say something, to defend herself, to beg for another chance, but she knew it would be futile. Shywin had made up his mind, and there was no point in arguing. Swallowing her pain, she turned and began to walk away, her steps heavy and slow on the ground beneath her boots.

As she reached the edge of the clearing, she heard Shywin’s voice one last time, softer now, almost mocking. “And Wren,” he called after her, “don’t ever forget who made you what you are. You owe me everything.”

She didn’t turn back, didn’t respond. She kept walking, each step a battle against the tears that threatened to spill over. By the time she reached the path leading back to the city, she felt hollow, defeated, and utterly alone.

But Shywin, left standing in the clearing, felt nothing of the sort. As he watched her disappear into the distance, a small, satisfied smile curled at the corners of his lips. He had broken her down, bent her to his will once again. The power he held over her, the way he could manipulate her with just a few words or a well-placed blow, filled him with a dark sense of satisfaction.

Today had been a success after all.