Doran waited until Qasim settled down before speaking.
"Nahr’keth isn’t like magic."
"You can know every word in the language, pronounce every sentence perfectly, even know your True Name..."
"...and nothing will happen."
"Actually no... You will get a punishment for disrespecting the rune."
"Maybe you lose the ability to see, or maybe you will start bleeding from your ears or maybe just a really bad things will happen."
Qasim listened quietly.
"The reason is simple."
"You haven’t formed a connection."
Doran picked up a small stone from the ground and rolled it between his fingers.
"Think of a rune like a mathematical formula."
"You may memorize the formula perfectly, but if you don’t understand what it represents or when it should be used..."
"...it’s nothing more than meaningless symbols."
"So... Meaningless symbols that can do bad things to me....yeah I understand."
He looked at Qasim.
"The runes are not your servants."
"They are concepts that existed long before any race."
"If you don’t understand their concept..."
"It doesn’t matter how good you speak the language."
Qasim slowly nodded.
"So before speaking to a rune I have to understand it?"
"Exactly."
Doran smiled.
"And that’s the difficult part."
"Normally, every Nahr’keth user must travel the world searching for Rune Sites."
"Places where the original runes leak a tiny part of their existence into reality."
"Only there can you study a rune and build your own connection."
He paused.
"Unfortunately..."
"Most Rune Sites are under the control of the vampires."
"So for humans, finding one is almost impossible."
Qasim frowned.
"Then... how did you?"
"My teacher."
Doran answered immediately.
"He inherited the connection from his own teacher."
"And now..."
"...I’ll pass that knowledge to you."
Qasim hesitated.
"...You’ll lose your connection?"
Doran shook his head.
"No."
"It’s not something that disappears."
"I’m not giving you my power."
"I’m simply giving you the understanding."
"It’s like teaching someone how to solve a mathematical equation."
"You still know it afterward."
"The student simply learns it too."
Qasim let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"...Good."
A brief silence filled the room.
Then Doran slowly opened the upper part of his shirt.
For the first time...
Qasim saw the tattoo hidden beneath it.
Unlike his own cracked markings...
Doran’s tattoo was incredibly simple.
A single straight line.
Several tiny dots resting near one end.
Nothing more.
Doran placed one hand over his own tattoo.
The other rested gently on the back of Qasim’s hand.
"Close your eyes."
"And don’t force anything."
Qasim obeyed.
The room disappeared.
No endless darkness.
No screaming.
Only...
Light.
Gentle.
Warm.
Silent.
It was everywhere.
Morning began because of it.
Travelers found their path through it.
Children laughed beneath it.
Farmers depended on it.
Yet the same light could burn.
Expose.
Judge.
Hide nothing.
Light wasn’t simply brightness.
It revealed truth.
It protected.
It punished.
It gave life.
And sometimes...
It decided who deserved to keep it.
Without realizing it...
Qasim slowly understood.
His eyes opened.
Doran was already standing with a small bottle of water resting on a wooden table.
He pointed at it.
"Destroy it."
Qasim took a deep breath.
For the first time he whispered his own True Name.
"Dead Pit Kask Attackrov Akhs Great Light."
Blue lines spread across his body.
A beam of pale blue light burst from his hand.
It pierced the bottle cleanly.
A perfectly round hole appeared through its center before water began pouring onto the floor.
Qasim stared at it with wide eyes.
"...It worked."
A faint smile appeared on Doran’s face.
"It did."
He crossed his arms.
"Your aim is rough."
"Your output is unstable."
"And your control is terrible."
He looked back at the boy.
"But for a first attempt."
"You did well."
"You really are making this old man like teaching."
"Really?!"
"No, not really."
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