Would she ever get enough of it? Even though she knew she was late again, Valentina stood in awe and admired the view. Although she had been at Bridgewater University for several months now, she still hadn''t lost that sense of wonder. The autumn sun bathed the mighty towers of the university''s fortifications in a warm golden light. The massive stone walls, their architecture interwoven with shimmering lines of essence, rose majestically into the sky before her. At the center of the sprawling campus stood the famous Burning Tower, one of the oldest and largest Flametowers in all of Sommerland.


    To the eye of an ordinary observer, the Burning Tower was simply a building worth marveling at, a masterpiece of architecture to be sure, but still a building like any other. To the few with the gift of seeing Essence, however, the tower was a breathtaking spectacle that left everyone who saw it for the first time speechless. Barely visible patterns of pure energy glittered on the surface of the building, an intricate weave of Leb, Viur, Wazzer and the other types of Essence that formed the heart of all weaving.


    The high-quality paved paths between the university buildings were buzzing with activity. The halberds of the university guards glinted in the evening light and a colorful mix of students from different backgrounds and backgrounds hurried about, on their way to the last lectures of the day. The scholarly art of Essence Weaving itself knew no classes. Either you had the ability to perceive Essence and thus weave it, or you did not. Few had it. The class differences between the students were sometimes subtle, but unmistakable if you knew what to look out for: here a young nobleman in fine silk, there the son of a farmer in solid yet clean wool.


    Some of the more experienced students, from the second and third years, naturally used minor Essence Weaving techniques as they made their way to their lectures. A young man with aristocratic features warmed himself with a small breeze of Viur Essence woven around him, while another student with flaming red hair brought the wilted flowers in her buttonhole back into bloom for a short time by skillfully manipulating the Leb Essence.


    As if snapped out of a trance, Valentina suddenly remembered that she herself was a student at Bridgewater University and had to make her way to her lecture, scolding herself inwardly for staring at the sights like a bumpkin again. Professor Horne would not be pleased if she barged into his lecture late. She wove her way through the bustling crowd into the interior of the university and shivered as her threadbare but carefully maintained red dress, a hand-me-down from her older sister, fluttered around her legs as she hurried up the steps of the main building.


    As she entered the cool halls of the main building, she made an effort to walk as slowly as possible. Not only would it be unseemly to run in the university, but she had no desire to attract the disgruntled attention of the janitors. As she walked, she tried to tame her long brown hair, which had come loose from her hastily braided plait.


    Students stood in small groups in the hall, excitedly discussing their past lectures, hastily comparing notes or copying assignments from each other. Here and there, Valentina caught snatches of conversation as she laboriously pushed her way through the crowd.


    "Have you heard yet? Professor Veilford is said to have made an important breakthrough in dimensional angular planar geometry," a student whispered excitedly to her friend.


    "Really? If that''s true, it could completely change the way we weave Viur Essence," the other student replied, her eyes wide.


    Valentina sighed. Unfortunately for her, such advanced concepts were still far beyond her capabilities at the moment. However, she pushed the thought aside and focused on the here and now. She had just made it to Professor Horne''s lecture on time and she had to give it her full attention now if she wanted to keep up.


    With one last deep breath to calm her nerves, Valentina entered Professor Horne''s musty lecture hall.


    The lecture hall was already well filled, but the omnipresent murmur of the students quickly died down as the professor stepped leisurely up to the lectern. Professor Wymond Horne was a true relic of Bridgewater University. Although he was respected for his abilities and past successes and findings, he was also increasingly the subject of ridicule, especially in recent years, because he didn''t seem to realize that his best days were over. He was well past the age at which university professors usually retired. His face was now marked with deep furrows and his formerly energetic, hands-on manner had given way to a nervous tremor. His long and once quite attractive gray hair peeked out thin and disheveled from under his academic cap, which he was one of the few professors to wear almost permanently, perhaps in the hope that it would give him more authority. He was not exactly one of the most popular professors, which also had to do with his notorious strictness.


    The smile with which he now addressed the students was unpleasant, a little too wide, a little too eager, his teeth yellow


    "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he greeted the students, his voice cool and precise. "Today we are going to deal with a topic that is as fascinating as it is controversial, namely the question of the origin of Essence."


    The lecture hall erupted in an excited whisper. Valentina slid frantically back and forth on her hard wooden seat as she hastily prepared some pieces of parchment for her notes, which she had already used several times and painstakingly scraped off again.


    Professor Horne raised his hand reassuringly to calm the startled students. "Before we delve into the theory, let''s review a few basics so we''re all on the same page. As we know, there are eight different basic types of Essence: Leb, Viur, Wazzer, Ard, Luvt, Lieht, Schate and Z?t. Each with their own unique properties and applications."


    He let his critical gaze wander over the students and then asked: "Who can tell me the main uses of Leb-Essence?"


    Several students raised their hands. Valentina hesitated, however. She knew the answer, of course, but it seemed so simple that she feared a trick question and was afraid of embarrassing herself.


    "Ah yes, Lady Innogen," Professor Horne nodded amiably to an elegant young woman in the front row. "Please, can you give us a hand?"


    Innogen Ashbourne, daughter of the Marquess of Timberpine, rose gracefully as always, her carefully coiffed golden locks shimmering in the light of the Essence lamps. "Leb Essence interacts with life and growth, Professor, and is therefore often used in medicine and agriculture."


    "Quite excellent, Lady Innogen," the professor praised him eagerly. "Well, that''s quite simple, of course. So why don''t we delve a little deeper into the matter?" Everyone knew that. Valentina couldn''t help but think that it looked to her as if the Professor had asked Innogen this simple question for the sole purpose of praising her afterwards - her or some other student from one of the influential noble families. Valentina clicked her tongue softly.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    With a fluid movement of his hand, Professor Horne wove a small sphere of pure light from the Ambient Essence and levitated it above his desk. "This is a simple pattern of Lieht Essence," he explained. "Look at the structure, how it contrasts with the Ambient Essence around it."


    Valentina squinted and strained to find the exact spot where the Ambient Essence merged with the pattern. She could make out a subtle shimmer, but nothing more. She knew that there were specially made glasses - expensive specially made glasses - that could help you see Essence even better. She sighed.


    "The question we have to ask ourselves today is this: Where does this energy come from? What is the true origin of the Essence that surrounds us, that we can see and ordinary people cannot?" Professor Horn extinguished the ball of light and began to walk up and down in front of his audience. "There are many theories. Some claim that Essence is simply a natural constant, a natural occurrence, like the air we breathe that surrounds us. Others, uneducated fools, see it as a kind of gift with religious significance, a gift from the Martyr to humanity. But the Martyr, as scholars know, was himself an Essence Weaver before he became the Martyr."


    His expression became more serious. "And of course, there are those who hold a much darker theory. They claim that Essence is a relic of demonic influence in the world, an echo of the forces that the Martyr tried to push back so many centuries ago." The room erupted again, and Valentina felt a cold shiver run down her spine. The thought that the very power she was aiming to learn and master, which was why she was at Bridgewater University, could be demonic in origin was unsettling.


    "That is, of course, a very controversial theory," Professor Horne continued. "But as scholars, it is our duty to consider all possibilities thoroughly, however unpleasant it may seem to simpler minds."


    "Excuse me, Professor," came a smug voice from the middle of the lecture hall. Valentina suppressed an annoyed groan. She knew that voice only too well.


    Faustus Boarfend, the eldest son and heir to an aspiring baron, rose ponderously and pretentiously. His richly decorated doublet stretched tightly over his ample belly as he straightened up. "I think we should take this theory very seriously. The chaotic nature of some of the Essence''s manifestations could very well suggest a demonic origin."


    Professor Horne nodded thoughtfully. "An interesting observation Master Boarfend. Can you elaborate on your thoughts?"


    Faustus grinned with a smile, visibly pleased by the attention he was receiving. "Just think of the non-linear dispersion of Viur Essence in a closed system. The fractal patterns that emerge are very similar to the theoretical models of demonic resonance signatures in corrupted essence as described in the writings of Magister Darkmoor."


    Valentina saw some of her fellow students nod in admiration. Faustus'' words certainly sounded very impressive, but she suspected that pompous terminology was more important to him than real understanding.


    "A provocative thesis, Boarfend," said Professor Horne. "But let''s not jump to conclusions. Would anyone like to present a counter-argument?"


    To Valentina''s surprise, Innogen spoke up again. "With all due respect, Professor, but I don''t think we should disregard the Martyr''s history. If Essence were truly demonic in origin, why would the Martyr have left us the ability to use it?"


    "An excellent point, Lagy Innogen," Professor Horne said with aplomb. "The legend of the Martyr is indeed fundamental to our understanding of Essence and its role in the constitution of our world. Who can remind us of the basics of the story?"


    Valentina felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. She knew the story well, of course - every child in Sommerland learned the story and Valentina''s parents were pious people. But the idea of telling the story in front of everyone made her palms all sweaty.


    To their relief, another student came forward. Edgar of Ashford, a slender fellow with ink-stained fingers, began to speak in a quiet but calm voice: More than 1400 years ago, the martyr discovered that the souls of all men were drawn into a realm of eternal torment after death. He realized that the demons feasted on the suffering of souls and became more powerful."


    Edgar took a deep breath and continued: "Filled with unimaginable courage and great sacrifice, the Martyr made a pact with the most powerful of all demons, one of the 11 tyrants of hell. The Martyr offered to take upon himself the suffering of all the souls that had ever lived in exchange for their release. In return, the demon would receive the Martyr''s body."


    Professor Horne nodded in agreement. "Go ahead, Edgar."


    "The demon agreed, drunk on the proposed deal and the prospect of overcoming the demons'' inherent barrier that prevents them from directly influencing our world and bringing darkness and ruin to the world with the Martyr as his vessel. But the Martyr outwitted him. Just as the pact was made, the Martyr''s tower burst into flames. The Martyr''s body was destroyed, but his soul used the combined power of the suffering of the souls of all those who had died up to that point to build a sanctuary in the heart of hell.


    Edgar lowered his voice in awe as he came to the end of the story. "Since that moment, the Martyr has fought tirelessly for the soul of everyone who has died. He offers the mercy of extinction instead of eternal torment. The demons, however, deprived of their food source, are only weakened, not defeated. They wait patiently to regain their lost power."


    Awed silence gripped the room after Edgar had finished his story. Even the insufferable Faustus seemed to have forgotten his arrogance, if only for a moment.


    Professor Horne finally broke the silence and nodded to Edgar. "Thank you Edgar. A concise retelling." Faustus snorted. "Concise? He babbled on forever," he whispered audibly to everyone else and rolled his eyes.


    The professor turned to the students again. "The question we need to answer now is: If Essence were truly demonic in origin, how does that fit with Martyr''s story? Is it possible that he purified this power and gave it to us as a tool?"


    Valentina felt her head spinning. The idea that this omnipresent power that surrounded her and that she craved so much could have arisen from such a dark source was anything but pleasant. At the same time, she found the idea that the Martyr might have turned something so dangerous into an instrument of good intriguing.


    "Valentina," Professor Horne''s voice gruffly snapped her out of her thoughts. "You''ve been very quiet so far. Do you have anything to say on the subject?"


    Valentina felt the blood rush to her cheeks. All eyes turned to her. She swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice clear and firm. "I... I think we should be careful not to jump to conclusions. The nature of the Essence is very complex and we may not even fully understand it yet. It''s even possible that we don''t have the basics to even ask the right questions."


    She took a deep breath and continued, encouraged by Professor Horne''s interested nod. "If Essence were truly demonic in origin, wouldn''t that mean that everything we do and try to do here would be tainted by sin?"


    Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Faustus roll his eyes, but Professor Horn nodded in agreement. "A very thoughtful approach, Valentina. It really is very important that they thoroughly consider the ethical implications of all our theories. Fortunately, for all we know, this theory is nothing more than utter hokum, and knows how to convince no one but borderline-heretic contrarians. The scholarly art of Essence Weaving is the responsible path - indeed the hard, arduous and above all expensive path - to great power. A power that weaker and more foolish spirits can achieve much more quickly and easily in pact with demons, but which is also much more ruinous for their salvation."


    Relieved that her questioning was over and thoughtful about Professor Horne''s comment, Valentina slumped back in her seat. She had managed to give a reasonably good answer without making a complete fool of herself.


    "Now," Professor Horne continued, "let''s look at the various theories about the origin of Essence in detail. Let''s start with the theory of Natural Emanation..."


    The lecture continued and soon Valentina''s head was buzzing with complex diagrams and difficult theoretical concepts. Her quill raced across the scraps of parchment and she tried as hard as she could to write down everything important. Around her, her wealthier fellow students seemed to be soaking up the information effortlessly, with their expensive Essence-induced quills and thick rolls of parchment that Valentina would probably never be able to afford.