After I left the two Trola, I got back to our cabin. It was late at night and I could almost sense the despair emanating from inside. Veena opened the door with a tired expression. There was loud banging of metal coming from upstairs.

“It’s at it again,” father said wearily from the table. 

“I will prepare some black tea for the morning,” mother said. “Looks like there won’t be much sleep tonight.”

“I’ll go deal with it,” I said.

They all turned to look at me. 

“Are you sure, Luka?” Danek said from the table. “Last time it got angry and it was the worst night yet.”

I told them what had transpired between me and the primordial spirit.

“You met a god?” Alik asked incredulously before falling into a theatrical solemnity. “As expected of my great and powerful—”

I shot a water bullet at him.

“Was this someone like Mez in the temple?” mother asked.

“Not exactly,” I said. “This was someone even more powerful.”

“And you made friends with this god?” father asked with a wide grin. “That’s my boy!”

“So will you be able to deal with this spirit upstairs?” Veena asked. “I swear, another night like this and I will get angry.”

After having beaten up six pirates already in fits of frustration, I wasn’t eager to see what angry looked for the noble girl.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it now,” I said.

I went upstairs and sighed at the mess. It was even worse than the last time. Pieces of broken furniture scattered around, ripped sheets, toppled cupboards and broken windows. I immediately noticed the spirit. A swirling mess of helpless anger floated in a corner of the ceiling. Suddenly the room animated, and a barrage of broken table legs and other trash started flying at me. I cast a barrier and let them scatter harmlessly around me. I sent a pulse asking for a connection, and was instantly rejected.

Instead, the spirit sent a pulse, telling me that even if he can’t hurt me, my family would not be sleeping tonight.

I sent a pulse asking why the spirit was so angry. It just threw more stuff at me and let out a screech and the wind wailed on the shutters of the window, banging them loudly against the window frame. It raged at me and told me it would not be tricked into broken promises again.

I sent a forceful pulse of my will through Spiritual Presence. That held the spirit still and prevented it from causing more havoc. This was the same Zamadi had done to me in our first encounter.

“Everything alright, little gem?” I heard mom shout from downstairs.

“Yes, mom,” I called. “Just having a conversation.”

The spirit growled at me under the pressure, telling me it will make such a ruckus tonight that it will drive everyone crazy.

“I will hold you like this all night if I have to,” I told it flatly. “I don’t mind one night without sleep. But that is going to be very uncomfortable for both of us. Tell me of this broken promise.”

There was a silence that stretched for a while. I held my pressure on the spirit. Not unkindly, just firmly. Then finally I felt the spirit relent and send me a begrudging pulse.

“The dinner bell,” the pulse said. 

Within the pulse was sent the location of the bell, and I dug around until I found a smudgy brass bell. It was beautifully made, and just touching it sent a reverberation across it. It felt heavy in my hands. The handle was broken and the clapper was missing.

“Is this what you’ve been throwing around?” I asked. “Where’s the clapper?”

Sullenly the spirit sent pulses so I could find it.

“So,” I said after placing the items in front of me and sitting back down. “What’s the story behind this bell?”

The spirit explained. He had made that bell. After losing his leg as a buccaneer for Bombasar, he had become a Blacksmith. But instead of making cutlasses and cannonballs, he had specialized in becoming a Bellwright. In doing so, Bombasar had lost interest in him and ultimately forgotten him. He had made all these beautiful things, and the Pirate Prince had ignored his work. This had angered him. Then he died, and through this anger, he had become a spirit full of resentful energy. Bombasar had come to him and weighed whether to recruit this spirit of anger. 

The spirit had asked Bombasar to fix the brass dinner bell, which had been the spirit’s finest work. The spirit only asked Bombasar to take the bell and use it someplace where it might bring joy to people. Like the tavern when someone bought a round. Then they could talk about a pact.

Bombasar had initially agreed, but nothing ever happened. Later the angry spirit heard from other spirits that Jalani had reminded the Pirate Prince a few times, but he had always forgotten. Ultimately, after weighing the power of this spirit and deciding it was weak, Bombasar had just decided to laugh it off and not waste his time.

The spirit could never forgive this. And now we were Bombasar’s guests in the spirit’s old house. This felt like a slap in the face for the angry spirit.

“I understand,” I said. “I can’t make right what Bombasar wronged, but I’ll see what I can do about the bell.”

The spirit sent another pulse. A sullen suspicion, asking me whether I was just saying what I needed to, so the spirit would stop making noise.

“I won’t lie, the noise is really annoying,” I said. “But I’m not asking you to do anything. I just said I’ll fix the bell.”

Something seemed to relax in the spirit, and I let it go. I could feel the subtle pulses of emotion through my Spirit Connection, even the ones that weren’t meant for me. I could feel the pride in his work, and the indignation towards Bombasar. I also felt an echo of the fun this spirit had had when crafting his bells. I sent a pulse back, which contained the joy I felt when I played with magic.

The spirit went still, but I could feel a shift in its emotions. Neither of us sent any further pulses. I just sat there, and the swirling bundle of anger hovered in front of me. It was still and waiting. I gave it a reassuring pulse and got up and went downstairs with the bell and its clapper.

“Mom, can you fix this?” I asked and put the bell down on the table.

“What’s this?” she asked, and picked it up. “This is fine work.”

“It belonged to the spirit upstairs,” I said. “It was really important to him.”

“If we fix this, will the blasted thing shut up?” Veena asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But at least it won’t make it angrier.”

“So you are just offering to help it without assurances?” Danek asked aghast.

“Isn’t that what you do when you place bets on me?” I said and chuckled.

“Well, the first one was one such bet,” Danek admitted. “But the subsequent ones have been less volatile decisions.”

“This reminds me of how you just agreed to teach me an Epic Skill,” Alik said.

Veena looked at me. “And now you’ve received another one from a god?”

“That makes three,” I said.

“Three?”

I nodded. I didn’t mention the Mythic Skill. That was still a secret I wanted to keep.

Veena dropped her gaze and just looked at the table. “Three Epic Skills… All of those Attributes… At his age… The growth potential…”

“I think you broke her,” mother said and chuckled. 

“Can you fix it,” father asked and leaned in to kiss her hair. She brought up a hand to caress his cheek.

“I can’t make it as fine as it was,” she said. “But I have decent Crafting. I can attach the clapper and give it a proper polish.

“There’s some tools in the living room cupboard,” Danek said.

“I’ll go fetch them,” Alik said.

“There’s also cooking oil that I can use for a finishing sheen,” mother said. “Jonaka, my love, will you bring me some cloth and water.”

“Right away,” father said and when he passed me he mussed my hair.

I sought to find the spirit’s presence upstairs, and I found it was watching. My family started moving. Veena cleared the table, and Danek got out of the way with his book.

The spirit didn’t want to reveal anything, but with my Skill, I could sense that it was trying to repress being pleased.

Mother took to working the bell and during the rest of the evening, she made it as fine as she could. She cleaned it from the muck, attached the clapper, gave it an oily sheen, and even carved a wooden handle from a thick, dark branch cut from the gnarled trees from the shore.

All the while, I could feel the angry spirit watching. It fussed about and wanted me to pass on kinds of suggestions to mother. I obliged, and when she was done, the bell looked fantastic.

It had been a murky, tarnished old thing discarded in the corner of a broken room. Now it commanded attention in the middle of the table.

Finally mother took it and rang it.

I could distinctly feel the immediate rush of joy from upstairs, pushing through all of the sullen anger.

“The spirit likes it mom,” I said. “A lot.”

“That is good, little gem. Tell the spirit I think his work is beautiful, and I hope my low level Crafting did it some justice.

The joy upstairs transformed into sobbing that felt like release.

“He heard you,” I said.

Later, the spirit called me upstairs. It told me my mother was a fine craftsman, and an even better parent, to raise me. I agreed, she was great.

“Can we keep the bell?” I asked.

The spirit responded with a pulse of such profound joy, that it was followed by embarrassment. I only laughed.

“I understand. I love showing off my magic too.”

Then the spirit got solemn and asked me to release it. It had never intended to become a spirit, and was only left on this plane because of the gnawing anger. It was done with its grudge, and haunting. It wanted to go beyond now.

“How do I do that?” 

Scatter me, the pulse said. 

“Will that kill you? Wouldn’t you rather live now that you’re no longer angry?”

The spirit considered this, but then sent a pulse of shaking its head. It wanted to move on.

I pushed my Spirit Connection onto it. It resisted, a little with fear, but ultimately relented. Then I pressed my Spiritual Presence onto it and did as it told me. I pushed into it to scatter its essence. This would destroy the spirit, but it was what it wanted. It wanted peace.

In its final moments, before I unraveled its core, it thanked me. Then its swirling essence caught in a wind that clattered the shutters one last time and it was gone.

[Spirit Connection Level 11!]

[+4 Spiritual Power]

I watched the empty corner for a while.

Then I went downstairs.

“Well?” father asked.

“He’s gone.”

Mother looked up from putting the tools away. “Did you help him?”

I nodded. “He said you did beautiful work.”

She smiled and brushed a thumb over the bell’s polished surface.

Veena watched the roof warily. She looked absolutely ready to fall over. She had handled the poor sleep with the least grace of us. She got up and stomped off into her bedroom.

“If anyone wakes me before noon,” she said grumpily, “there will be consequences.”

The rest of us followed soon after. Mother tucked me in and placed the brass bell on my nightstand. Then she brushed my cheek with a finger.

“You did good today,” she said.

“We should keep the bell,” I said. “The spirit liked that.”

I cast my Mana Sight on the bell. It seemed to have some faint trace of mana, I didn’t understand. But I was certain it wasn’t there before.

“Huh…” I said.

“What is it, little gem?” 

“I don’t know exactly,” I said and looked at the bell. “I think the bell is now an artifact.”

Mother raised an eyebrow. “It has magical powers now?”

“I think spiritual,” I said and used my Passage Between Spirit And Magic. I gave a little bit of my cultivated mana to the bell. At first nothing happened, but then something sucked it up and created spiritual energy. 

“Ring it,” I said.

Mother gave the bell one tug, and the bell rang clearly. Immediately a soft, pleasant feeling of harmony settled on us. My mother smiled at me and got up.

“What a wonderful sound. Sleep well, little gem.”

I snuggled into the sheets and lay there listening to the sea.

It felt good. The bell was fixed. The spirit was at peace and my family could sleep. I couldn't, however. I was still way too excited by the encounter. I now understood what Zamadi had meant by Spiritcasting. I had done it. It was more forming relationships than structured magic.

But there was a distinct component of wielding the power of the spirits, that I had only brushed the surface of with the little wind spirit.

I brought up the description of my new Special Perk again.

Willing spirits may anchor themselves within your cultivation, drawing upon your mana to manifest their abilities.

I looked at my cultivated hand beneath the blanket. While, I hadn’t anchored anything to my cultivation, the little wind spirit had used the mana I gave her and she had given me back her spiritual power, that I could have used to control her wind. So this was the power Bombasar commanded. The anchoring must be similar to what Jalani did with his staff. My cultivation could work as a conduit for my Spiritcasting.

There were many interesting implications I was looking forward to.

Either way, tomorrow I would go full-hog on training these strange spirit arts. I would find spirits, willing to play with me, and see what I could do with Passage Between Spirit and Magic.