The last few days of recovery crawled by for Audree, each hour blending into the next like thick syrup on a cold morning. Despite being confined mostly to bed, his thoughts raced at a pace that made resting feel impossible.

  First came the explanations. The kind you dreaded. The kind that came with long sighs, furrowed brows, and your mother staring at your glowing arm like it might start a fire in her alchemy room. There had been talks—lots of talks—about what happened, the dreams, the strange rune-burned skin, and whatever in all the stars that “soul space” mess had been. Ina wasn’t pleased. Norra, at least, tried to understand.

  Then came the reality check. His notes? Gone. His gear? Ruined. His carefully organized materials? Turned to char and dust. It was a painful truth that the explosion had cost him more than just a week of pain—it had wiped out months of work. So he spent his time scribbling plans on scraps of paper Norra handed him, mapping out how to recollect what he had lost, maybe even improve it this time around.

  But even as he stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks like wandering trails, one thing kept creeping into his mind: possibility.

  The mark—this strange new thing—whatever it was, had opened a door. Maybe several. He didn’t know what it meant, or how it worked, or even if it was dangerous… but for someone like Audree, someone born without the gift of magic but burdened with the ambition of a mage, it was impossible to ignore. The feeling of mana, the spell, the dream… it was all real. And it made his heart beat faster.

  Yet alongside the excitement, there was a sting. A sharp reminder of what rushing into things could cost. The way he had gone about his last experiment—unprepared, impatient, reckless—it wasn’t like him. It wasn’t the careful, methodical student Haldo had watched scribble notes in the back of the library for years. Somewhere in his eagerness to prove something, he had cut corners. And it had almost cost him his life.

  He let that thought sit with him for a while. Not to wallow in it. Not to beat himself up. But to learn.

  No more rushing. No more experiments without planning. He had been given another chance—and this time, he was going to make sure it counted.

  Because if magic was finally opening its door to him, he was going to step through it the right way.

  Meanwhile, Nora and Ina had both mentioned it a few times now—how that boy, Lief, kept waiting outside the house every day. Rain or shine. Sitting like some sad puppy at the doorstep, occasionally scaring away what few customers they had. It was starting to make them uncomfortable.

  Audree had almost forgotten about the kid entirely. Honestly, he thought that after the incident—after the light show and near-death explosion—Lief would have run off like anyone else with half a brain. But instead, it seemed like the baker’s boy was even more invested than before.

  That was strange.

  Stranger still was the realization that Audree didn’t really have many people in his life. Not anyone he actually spent time with. He could count the number of people he'd “hung out” with on one hand—and even then, those were more out of obligation than desire. Most were boring. No drive, no ambition, just people waiting for the next mining shift or the next town celebration to give their life meaning.

  He had always been content with his solitude. Lonely, sure, but it was a quiet sort of loneliness. Manageable. Predictable. Potions and experiments were better company anyway—they didn’t talk back, didn’t let him down.

  And yet now… here he was. Walking around with some random baker’s kid who kept finding reasons to tag along. Lief didn’t talk much about himself. He didn’t pry. He just followed, wide-eyed and fascinated, soaking up every muttered explanation or half-baked theory Audree rambled out.

  It was… weird.

  But also, kind of nice.

  Lief wasn’t spreading rumors. He wasn’t asking for potions or secrets. He wasn’t trying to get something from Audree like so many others did. He just… wanted to be there.

  Maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing to have a strange little assistant.

  While walking, Audree looked down at his wrapped arm. It was Ina’s idea. Something about keeping the family’s already questionable reputation from crumbling into nothing. “Ever since your little mana explosion, we’re lucky our house hasn't been burned down already,” she had said, wrapping the cloth tight around his forearm. “Some of the lower-rank Tower guards have started sniffing around. They didn’t act on anything yet, but there are definitely eyes on us now. Just... keep that thing covered, Audree.”

  That was probably the worst part of all this. Audree had grown up hearing from both his mothers about the importance of lying low. Staying out of trouble. Making themselves useful, but no to noticeable. A perfect balance.

  He had probably just thrown all of that away.

  His mind started to spiral. What if they got kicked out of Embershade? What if Nora and Ina got arrested for harboring a magical anomaly? What if—?

  “One thing at a time, Audree. Do they even do that?” he muttered to himself, pacing past Merrin’s Menagerie with his cloak pulled a little tighter.

  Behind him, Lief’s soft footsteps kept pace. “What was that? Is everything okay, Audree?”

  Audree looked back, momentarily forgetting he’d even asked the kid to come along. “Yeah, yeah. It's all good. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

  He reached for his bracelet, an unconscious habit by now—except his fingers met bare skin.

  His brow furrowed. “Dang it.”

  Lief looked at him with concern but didn’t press it.

  It was gone. Of course it was gone. Probably incinerated in the explosion like everything else. That bracelet had been with him since he was a kid—a gift from Nora on his seventh birthday. A simple thing. Leather with tiny metal beads, each carved with a different symbol.

  He sighed. Of course he’d lost it.

  Lief finally spoke again, softer this time. “Are you sure everything’s okay? If you want to talk about it, I’m fine just listening.”

  Audree didn’t answer right away. But then he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... I lost some things in the explosion. That’s all. And it’s annoying.”

  He forced a smile. “But thanks.”

  Lief chuckled. “Well, if we try hard enough, maybe we can replace most of it. And you don’t have to fake a smile, you know? I get it—losing something important sucks. But you don’t have to do everything alone.”

  He gave a thumbs-up like it was some grand declaration.

  And to Audree’s surprise... it helped. The tightness in his chest eased just a little.

  “Thanks, I guess.” He tried not to grin but failed.

  Lief beamed. “Well, that’s what friends are for, right?”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Audree shook his head, half-smirking. “Yeah, you probably are right.”

  Audree unzipped the new bag Nora had given him—an old satchel, sturdy but worn, and immediately felt a wave of relief. There it was. His slime. Nestled safely among scraps of cloth and spare bottles. It looked... content. Whole. Somewhere in its soft, pulsing glow, Audree sensed hope—a potential link to whatever power had marked him in those early days of recovery.

  Maybe, he thought, Haldo has answers. I hope he’s in the library today—but something tells me he’s busy.

  —-------------------------------------

  Meanwhile, deep beneath Embershade...

  Haldo tumbled into a hidden chamber, lit by clusters of glowing torches set into blackened stone walls. He wore layered robes now, far richer than his usual librarian attire. Around him, scattered on the floor, were twisted, grotesque bodies—odd creatures drained of life. Strange, he thought, “it seems we have a visitor.”

  He rose, settling into a stone chair, and poured himself a cup of tea from a carved, wooden urn. The rich aroma mingled with damp earth and ancient spell-ward incense.

  Moments later, a blood-red flywheel of magic whipped toward him—faster than the eye could follow.

  Haldo didn’t flinch. He lifted a finger to touch the air, and the sawdisk froze, hovering.

  “Your attack cannot bother me until I finish my tea, Ms. Runeswell,” Haldo said without looking up. “It’s too early for this silly game you play.”

  From across the gloom a blood puddle sat. It sighed heavily before forming into Verla Runeswell, crimson robes brushing the floor as she stepped toward him.

  “‘Velra,’* please. One of these days I will discover your keyword.” She paused, studying him. “It seems what people say are true. Your control over magic is extraordinary—not normal. Being able to halt an attack in mid-air... that screams some form of temporal manipulation.”

  She shook her head. “But that’s too obvious. My instincts say your power lies deeper—more intrinsic than time alone. And then there’s your perfect control of mana. It’s unnatural for humans like us.”

  Haldo sipped, unfazed.

  “I assure you,” he said, curling his lips into a polite but condescending smile. “You will not guess it. But if it makes you feel better, continue speculating, my dear."

  Sitting back, he set the teacup down.

  “It seems my tea is empty.” He said, eyeing the cup.

  Without warning, his other hand flicked, and dozens of translucent mana hands erupted behind him. They snatched the disk out of the air as soon as it blinked back into motion. The dozens of mana hands overwhelmed the disk crushing it.

  Blood dripped from the shattered edges onto the stone, pooling at Haldo’s feet—and then the crimson liquid spiraled upward, streaming back into the orb atop Velra’s staff. Its red liquid core glowed brighter, fuller.

  “Hmm. It seems you’ve learned a few things since we last talked, Velra,” Haldo murmured, rubbing his chin as he studied her.

  Velra smirked and twirled her staff idly. “Yeah, well... the path of magic is a never-ending quest for power. But it’s an interesting quest nonetheless.”

  “That it is,” Haldo said with a knowing grin.

  Her face grew more serious. “There are many things changing beyond your dusty hole, Haldo. Beasts are becoming more rampant. More of the Vitia have begun to reveal themselves. And someone’s been dipping their magic into things that don’t belong to them.”

  Haldo’s eyes narrowed slightly at that. “I see. I’ve noticed the same... subtle changes. Actually had a few meetings with my cabal in these very halls. So yes—I’m aware.”

  He raised a brow. “I assume you didn’t come all this way just to kill my poor undead door guards and toss blood saws at my skull. But then again… maybe someone like you would.”

  Velra’s expression flared. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

  With a lazy motion, Haldo conjured a fresh teapot from the air and refilled his cup. “Think nothing of it,” he waved her off.

  Velra folded her arms with a huff. “For the record, those monsters at your door attacked me. I was just defending myself.”

  “Mmhm,” Haldo replied flatly, not even bothering to look up as he savored another sip.

  “But anyway,” she continued, “this isn’t about your dusty tomb or my combat prowess. This is about the potion maker’s kid.”

  At that, Haldo finally raised an eyebrow.

  “Ah—Audree, I assume,” Haldo said carefully, stirring his tea. “What about him? He hasn’t pestered you with dreams of magecraft, has he?” He sighed, and leaned back in his chair.

  Velra shook her head. “Actually, it’s something else.” She pressed her lips, recalling the incident. “It seems the boy may have a future as a mage... or something like it.”

  Haldo’s eyes narrowed. “Really now? What makes you say that? The boy has no mana pool—I saw it myself.” He tapped his finger on the cup. “Without mana, his future as a mage—keyword or not—isn’t justunlikely, it’s impossible. He’s just a dreamer. I pity him, in a way.”

  Velra leaned forward, voice low. “That’s just it... he doesn’t need a pool. Somehow, he draws mana from other spells and channels it into himself. He actually did it to me when I was healing him.” She paused, the memory still cutting deep. “It felt like… like a beast pulling at my essence, consuming as much mana as it could. Unsettling, Mr. Haldo. Truly.”

  Haldo paused mid-stir, his demeanor shifting as concern crept into his eyes. “Unsettling indeed,” he murmured. “I know of a few rare cases where someone can leech magic—but never from a living source, and never passively. Usually it takes complicated rituals or artifacts. But for him... it just happened.”

  He cleared his throat and sipped his tea slowly. “Has this left you weakened?”

  Velra shook her head firmly. “No—my mana eventually recovered. But he did slow it. It was like my mana… paused, waiting to be refilled. It took nearly a day to fully recharge.” She looked down at her staff. “It was disconcerting.”

  “I see... are you sure it’s not witchcraft?” Haldo asked, raising a skeptical brow over his glasses.

  Velra shot him a sideways glance. “Quite sure. This didn’t feel borrowed or bound. It felt like his. Like a dormant power finally nudged awake—though whether it was his tampering with runes, a connection with that slime, or something else entirely, I can’t say yet.” She tapped her staff thoughtfully. “But I know this much—he connected with his soulspace.”

  That made Haldo lean forward slightly.

  “He entered it,” she added. “And within it, he was given a choice. I won’t divulge the specifics—sharing another mage’s soulspace revelations is... dangerous business—but the fact that he was able to access it at all proves something’s there. Power, perhaps. Maybe even potential.”

  She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her next words. “Have you ever heard of a woman with a massive axe... wings, horns? Divine, maybe.”

  Haldo blinked, thoughtful. “That does ring a bell. Old stories—fragments, really. Half-mad ravings from survivors of the Gracken raids. They called her the Endbringer, the Mother of Calamity. Said her axe could split mountains, her wings roar like storms, her gaze turn cities to ash.”

  He scoffed and waved his hand. “But that’s ancient drivel. Myths of broken minds and drunk scribes. The kingdoms said to have fallen to her? Still standing. No records. Just hearsay and hallucinations. You aren’t looking to follow in some force scribes nonsense are you Miss Runeswell?”

  Velra frowned. “No, I wasn’t hunting myths. Audree described a statue in his soulspace—horns, wings, axe. I was curious if you’d seen or heard anything similar. Thought your dusty archives might offer more than mine.”

  “I see...” Haldo said slowly.

  Just then, a faint magical chime rang through the air—a ward alert. Someone had entered the library.

  “Well, duty calls.” He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “Seems I have a guest.”

  Velra stepped back, giving a polite nod. “Right. I’ll take my leave, then. But Haldo...” she paused. “Whatever this is—this boy—he might be something new. Or something forgotten.”

  Haldo gave her a look. “Indeed. But let’s hope he’s not something lost for good reason.”

  As she turned to leave, she called over her shoulder, “And for the last time, call me Velra, old man.”

  Haldo smirked faintly, waving her off without a word as he vanished into the twisting stone paths of the underground library. Soon after Velra rolled her eyes before disappearing into a pool of blood.