After the afternoon lectures, Valentina retreated to a quiet corner of the library and settled down at a secluded table, surrounded by tall bookshelves that shielded her from prying eyes. She spread out her notes and pulled out a thin, leather-bound book – a treatise on advanced Leb-Essence manipulation, which they would soon cover in Professor Emberfell''s lecture.


    With trembling hands, she opened the book and began to read. The descriptions of the complex Weaving techniques were fascinating but also frightening in their intricacy.


    "I can do it," she murmured quietly to herself. "I just have to try."


    "Of course, you can, little Weaver," Vyxara whispered in her head. "With my help, it would be child''s play."


    Valentina shook her head resolutely. "No," she thought, "I have to do this on my own. I can''t always be dependent on you."


    She felt Vyxara''s amusement like a warm wave in her consciousness. "Whatever you say. But remember, I''m always here if you need me."


    Valentina ignored the demon and concentrated on the task in front of her instead. She reached for her vial of Distilled Essence, only to realize once again that it was almost empty. With a suppressed curse, she set it aside. She would have to get by without it.


    Carefully, she began to draw the first lines of the complex Weaving pattern. The Essence around her reacted sluggishly. Working without Distilled Essence and only with Ambient Essence always felt like dragging a wheelbarrow through deep mud – at least without Vyxara to help her keep the movements of her Weaving hands and fingers meticulously precise and maximally efficient. Valentina bit her lip and concentrated harder.


    Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the lines began to form. Threads of living Essence danced in the air in front of her, twisting and turning in intricate patterns. Sweat formed on Valentina''s forehead as she tried to control the unruly Essence and, at the same time, make all the necessary calculations in her head.


    Suddenly, she felt something give way. The pattern began to disintegrate. The Essence threads dissolved and disappeared. Valentina gasped with exertion and frustration.


    "Damn it!" she hissed quietly and slammed her fist on the table. A few students nearby looked up, startled, but she ignored them.


    "You see?" said Vyxara gently. "You need me. Without Distilled Essence, it''s wasted effort."


    Valentina closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She knew the demon was right, and that made her angry. Angry at herself, angry at the circumstances that had put her in this situation.


    "It''s not fair," she murmured quietly.


    "Life is rarely fair, little Weaver," Vyxara replied. "But you have the power to turn it in your favor and not depend on fairness. All you have to do is accept my help."


    Valentina opened her eyes and stared at the open book in front of her. The words blurred before her eyes.


    "Is it really so wrong?" she asked herself. "If I use this knowledge to help others, to support my family... Isn''t that a good cause?"


    "Of course it is," purred Vyxara. "You have so much potential, Valentina. Why shouldn''t you make full use of it? Instead of begging for fairness, you should do everything you can to become strong enough to enforce fairness against the injustice in your world. Not just for your own sake, but also for all the others who deserve fairness."


    Valentina sighed deeply. She knew she was walking a dangerous path. But at the same time, she couldn''t deny that Vyxara was right about a lot of things. She couldn''t expect the world to just be fair to her – she had to make it fair.


    "Maybe... maybe you''re right," she thought hesitantly. "Maybe I should accept your help. But only for the competition. Just until I get my family out of debt."


    She sensed Vyxara''s satisfaction. "A wise decision, little Weaver. You will see, together, we will accomplish many great things."


    With one last glance at the open book, Valentina packed up her things. She had made a decision, even if she still wasn''t sure if it was the right one. But one thing was clear: she needed more Distilled Essence, and she needed it badly.


    As she left the library, a plan was already forming in her head. She would have to pay a visit to Barnaby''s Necessities, the dodgy store near the university. Maybe, just maybe, she would find what she needed there. She had always found Distilled Essence at Barnaby''s at reasonable, though not cheap, prices. You could get anything at Barnaby''s – if you didn''t think too hard about where it came from.


    ~


    Dusk was falling over Bridgewater as Valentina hurried through the narrow streets of the oldest part of the city. The smell of damp stone and burning wood hung in the air. She pulled her worn coat tighter around her as she turned into a particularly gloomy side street.


    At the end of the alley, wedged between a shabby tailor and an abandoned smithy, stood Barnaby''s Necessities. The crooked sign above the door squeaked in the evening wind, its old lettering barely legible.


    Valentina took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A rusty bell tinkled faintly as she entered.


    The store was a chaotic labyrinth of crammed shelves and wobbly piles of curiosities. Dusty books piled up next to rusty swords, stuffed animals stared from the walls. The smell of old leather, herbs and something weird – perhaps some foreign spice, perhaps a decaying rat somewhere – hung heavy in the air.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Barnaby?" Valentina called out hesitantly. "Are you there?"


    A rustle sounded from the depths of the store, followed by a muffled curse. Then Barnaby of Trissbrook appeared from behind a pile of battered armor.


    The shopkeeper was a bulky man in his fifties, his nearly bald skull gleaming in the dim light of the oil lamps. His wrinkled face was framed by a scruffy gray beard, and his small, alert eyes scrutinized Valentina with a mixture of suspicion, greed and interest.


    "Ah, the girl from the university," he grumbled. His voice sounded like he''d eaten gravel for breakfast. "What gives me the honor?"


    Valentina stepped closer to the counter, careful not to knock anything over. "I need Distilled Essence," she said quietly. "Urgently."


    Barnaby raised a bushy eyebrow. "Urgent, huh? Well, girl, urgent things are expensive. Especially these days."


    He bent down under the counter and pulled out a dusty bottle. The pale blue of the distilled Essence shimmered faintly through the cloudy glass.


    "This is my last supply," he said. "Good quality, distilled directly by an Essence master from the capital. Will cost you a pretty penny."


    Valentina swallowed hard. "How much?"


    Barnaby named a price that made Valentina dizzy. "That... that''s more than twice as much as last time!" she protested.


    The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, girl, times are hard. The goblins are making the trade routes unsafe, taxes are rising. Besides," here he grinned wryly, "I know you need it. Urgently, as you say."


    Valentina felt panic rising inside her. She needed the Essence, but at this price... "Please, Barnaby," she said, leaning forward. She put on her most charming smile, played with a strand of her hair, and bent her left leg slightly as she looked deep into his eyes. It had worked once before. "Couldn''t you... make an exception? I know you actually have a big heart."


    Barnaby''s eyes traveled over her face, then lower. Interest – maybe lust even – flickered in his gaze for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Sorry, girl. A little flirting won''t cut it this time. Business is business."


    Valentina felt a blush rise to her face, partly out of shame and partly out of frustration. She reached into her pocket and counted her remaining money. It was nowhere near enough.


    "I... I can''t afford it," she said quietly, the words hurting her throat.


    Barnaby sighed heavily. "Well, then, I can''t help you. Come back when you have the money."


    He put the bottle back under the counter, the gentle clink sounding like a death sentence in Valentina''s ears.


    "Wait!" she called out desperately. "I... I have this." She pulled out the small silver pendant her mother had given her as a parting gift and to which she had originally intended to bind Vyxara. "It''s real silver. It must be worth something."


    Barnaby took the locket and looked at it critically. For a moment, Valentina saw something like pity flash in his eyes. Then he shook his head. "I''m sorry, girl. That doesn''t even cover half the price."


    He gave her back the pendant. Valentina stared at it, tears stinging her eyes. She knew she wouldn''t be able to bring herself to sell it anyway.


    "Is there... is there nothing else I can do?" she asked quietly, the desperation clear in her voice.


    Barnaby scrutinized her for a long time, letting his eyes wander greedily over her body. Then he sighed heavily. "Listen, girl. I like you. You remind me of my daughter before she was... well. But business is business. I can''t give you the Essence any cheaper, no matter how much you beg or flirt."


    Valentina left the store with a heavy heart. The cool night air hit her like a blow as she stepped out onto the street. She felt desperate and completely lost.


    "Don''t worry, little Weaver," Vyxara purred. "We''ll find a way. We always find a way."


    Valentina suppressed her rising tears and made her way back to the university empty-handed.


    ~


    Valentina closed the door of her small attic room behind her and went to her small desk. She lit a candle and began to empty the contents of her pockets. A few coins clinked sadly on the worn wooden surface.


    "That''s all?" she mumbled in disbelief. She counted the money three times in the desperate hope that the sum would increase as if by some miracle of the Martyr. But the result remained the same – frighteningly little.


    "Oh dear," Vyxara whispered in her head. "This doesn''t look good, does it?"


    Valentina ignored the demon and turned to her supply of Distilled Essence instead. The small bottle was almost empty, only a tiny remnant, just enough for two drops or maybe three, shimmered at the bottom.


    "Damn it," she cursed quietly. She reached for the documents for the Greystone competition and skimmed the requirements to estimate how much Distilled Essence she would need. Her heart sank deeper with every word.


    "I''ll probably need at least a whole bottle of Essence," she said to herself. "And that''s just for the preparation. I''ll need a lot more for the actual competition."


    She lowered the papers and stared out of the window. She could see the Burning Tower in the distance. She thought of her family back home, of the debts that weighed on them. Of the hopes and expectations they had placed in her.


    Valentina shook her head. "I don''t know what to do."


    "Then let''s get creative," purred the demon. "There are so many ways to get what you need. We could fleece a few rich students. Or steal your friend Crispin''s stash under some pretext, you know he''d do anything for you, or maybe you could give some... special tutoring sessions."


    "Vyxara!" Valentina hissed indignantly. "That''s-"


    "What, immoral?" The demon laughed softly. "Oh, little Weaver, you always want to do none of the things that might solve your problems. If you don’t want to fail you have to choose one of those things you don’t want to do."


    Valentina closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She knew that Vyxara was right in a way.


    "There must be another way," she murmured.


    "It doesn''t always exist another way," Vyxara said gently. "The world doesn''t owe you a way that suits you better."


    Valentina opened her eyes and stared at the documents in front of her. The Greystone competition was her chance to change everything. To lift her family out of poverty, to make a name for herself.


    She got up and went to the window. Night had fallen, and the lights of Bridgewater twinkled like stars. Somewhere out there were other students preparing for the competition. Students with unlimited resources, with connections, and privileges she could only dream of.


    "It''s just not fair," she whispered.


    "We''ve been this far, little Weaver," Vyxara replied. "If you want fairness, then you have to be strong enough to enforce it."


    Valentina turned away from the window and let her gaze wander around the room. Her gaze lingered on the small wooden amulet of the Burning Tower her brother had carved for her. What would the Martyr think of her? Had he already given up on her long ago?


    With a deep breath, she walked back to the desk and sat down. She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to write a list of all the ways she could think of to get the resources she needed.


    Some of the ideas were harmless and unpromising – giving real tutoring, taking on extra duties for professors, shining shoes. Others were riskier – playing cards for money in taverns, maybe even small scams.


    When she had finished, Valentina stared at the list for a long time. She knew she had to make some kind of decision.


    "Well, little Weaver?" asked Vyxara gently. "What are you going to do?"


    Valentina did not answer. Instead, she got up, extinguished the candle and lay down on her narrow bed. She stared into the darkness, her mind racing with thoughts.


    Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, she would make a decision. But for now, she let the exhaustion take over, hoping that sleep would bring her clarity.