Dawn broke over Marblehaven as Clive and Lucia ventured towards the Shadowfen. They departed through the eastern gate just as the sun cleared the horizon.

  “Sneaking out again, Lady Thornwald?” the town guard Jerome called out with a knowing smile.

  “Hopefully for the last time.” Lucia responded.

  “Your father will have my head one of these days.”

  “Don’t worry, my dear lord father wouldn’t concern himself with me. Not since I chose herbs over husbands.”

  Jerome shook his head with a smile and stepped aside, unbolting the smaller pedestrian door within the larger gate. “Well, hopefully this isn’t the last we see of either of you. Take good care of her, artist.” Jerome nodded toward Clive.

  They continued down the path, leaving the safety of Marblehaven's walls behind. The well-worn trade road stretched before them, curving through fields of golden wheat and green pastures. The morning air was crisp and sweet, filled with the scent of wildflowers. Clive's [Apothecary's Nose] allowed him to identify each distinct bloom of lavender and chamomile. It brought joy to him.

  “So, herbs over husbands… Have you always been this obsessed with potions?” Clive teased, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

  Lucia's eyebrows shot up. "Hey, it's a passion, not an obsession."

  Clive chuckled to himself, shaking his head. It sounded exactly like what he would say.

  Lucia caught his expression and nudged him with her elbow. "You laugh. You know about the Gallentatines, but did you know that my father had three matching suitors lined up by my eighteenth birthday?" Her voice took on a mocking formality. "'The young Lord Hemsley, with lands adjoining ours.' 'Duke Averith's second son, what an honor.' 'The merchant Tallen's boy, not noble but wealthy enough to overlook it.'"

  "And you turned them all down for... botany?"

  She plucked a sprig of roadside lavender as they passed, rubbing it between her fingers and inhaling the scent. “Yes, I did. The last one I rejected at the actual engagement ceremony." She smiled at the memory. "I'd prepared a special concoction that, when spilled on his ceremonial robes, changed their color from blue to a rather vibrant pink. Quite permanent, too."

  Clive let out a hearty laugh. "And then what happened?"

  "That was that. Father left me alone after that. He was content to let me do my own thing, pursue my 'little hobby' as he calls it." Her voice softened. "Until now..."

  They crested a small hill, revealing a panoramic view of the countryside spread out before them. They took a break there, enjoying the view.

  "Your turn," Lucia said, passing Clive a waterskin. "What's your story? Before... all this."

  Clive took a long drink before answering. "Nothing as dramatic as ruined engagement ceremonies. I was... ordinary. From a place called Los Angeles. My mum was sick when I was young. Cancer—”

  “Cancer?” Lucia asked.

  “It’s a wasting disease. The kind that takes you bit by bit. Some days she couldn't even get out of bed." Clive smiled faintly. "I learned to draw to make her smile. Started with silly stick figures and superhero cartoons. She'd pin every one to her wall, even the terrible ones. Especially the terrible ones."

  A bird called from a nearby tree, its harsh cry momentarily breaking the spell of memory.

  "Her face when I brought her a new drawing..." he continued, "for a few moments, she'd forget the pain. It was like... magic." He glanced at Lucia. "The ordinary kind of magic, not the magical kind."

  "Sometimes that's the most powerful sort," Lucia said quietly.

  Clive nodded. "I took an interest in art after that, got pretty good at it. Everyone said I had talent."

  His expression hardened. "Then she died, and suddenly everyone had different advice. 'Art won't pay the bills, Clive.' 'Be practical, Clive.' 'Your mother would want you to be successful, Clive.'"

  He kicked at a stone in their path, sending it skittering ahead. "So I dropped it. Went to university, studied chemistry, and worked for a pharmaceutical company. Didn’t go back to it again until long after. Ironic, right? Couldn't save my mother, so I made medicines for other people's mothers instead."

  Lucia stared at him sympathetically, though confusion showed on her face. "I'm sorry about your mother," she said softly, then hesitated. But... pharma-what?"

  "Think of it as our version of alchemy," he explained. "Different principles, but the goal was the same—healing, curing ailments. I discovered something wrong with a new medicine... a new potion." He corrected himself on seeing her puzzled look. "People could have been hurt. I reported it, thinking I was doing the right thing."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "You did the right thing," Lucia assured him. “Potions are meant to help, not harm. I would have done the same.”

  "Yes. But it cost me everything. My career, my reputation. After that, I returned to art. It made me happy again, it became... my everything."

  “What is everything to you?”

  "My life revolved around it. Waking up at dawn to catch the right light, staying up until my eyes burned, trying to capture some fleeting image in my head."

  He handed the waterskin back to her, their fingers brushing momentarily. "It was..." he hesitated, "consuming."

  "It was the same for me," Lucia said after a thoughtful silence. She knelt to examine a small blue flower growing alone among the grasses. "I started with potions when I was a child. My grandmother was sick. A disease that ate away at her from the inside. The court physicians could do nothing."

  "So you tried to find a cure," Clive said softly.

  Lucia nodded. "I was eight. I'd sneak into the alchemy tower at night, reading scrolls I barely understood by candlelight. I brewed horrible concoctions that probably would have killed her faster had my mother not intercepted them."

  "Did she..." Clive let the question hang.

  "No." Lucia shook her head. "She died that winter. But something changed in me." She looked at Clive, her eyes reflecting the depth of that childhood determination. "I realized that knowledge has power. And I wanted that power. To change things. To fix what's broken. And now, it’s happening all over again."

  She paused and stared out into the vast expanse ahead of them. The morning light caught the unshed tears in her eyes, turning them to amber. "I won't let it happen again. Not my mother, not Marblehaven. I won't let the Stone Devil claim another victim."

  Clive stood and brushed grass from his trousers, extending his hand to Lucia. "Your mother won't end up like mine. Let’s go find the midnight blossoms."

  She accepted his hand, pulling herself up. For a moment they stood there, her grip lingering. "Do you really think we can do it?"

  “I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  "No. But I can promise we'll try everything."

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, Clive and Lucia found a suitable clearing beside a small stream. The day's heat had given way to a cool evening breeze that carried the scent of pine and damp earth.

  "This should do," Lucia said, dropping her pack beside a circle of stones that marked where other travelers had camped before. She began gathering kindling while Clive pulled out his sketchbook.

  "Are you going to do that thing again?" she asked, pausing in her kindling collection to watch him in anticipation.

  Clive smiled as he remembered the last time they had to camp. He had only managed a single-person tent then, but his abilities had grown since. He opened to a fresh page and began sketching, drawing on his previous success but expanding the design. Where his first tent had been a simple A-frame structure barely large enough for one person, this time he envisioned something more spacious. A proper two-person tent with a vestibule area for gear storage. Longer ridgepoles to accommodate the increased size, additional guy-line attachment points for stability, reinforced stress points where the extra fabric would create more wind resistance.

  "You're making it bigger," Lucia observed, dropping her armload of kindling and moving closer to peer over his shoulder.

  "Much bigger," Clive confirmed, adding details to the entrance flap—a proper zippered door rather than just a simple opening. "I don’t want to sleep in the rain again."

  When he was done, the page shimmered and materialized a larger tent in the clearing. The dark green canvas stretched taut over ash wood poles, creating a shelter easily twice the size of his previous creation.

  [Item Created: Double Waterproof Tent (Normal Quality)]

  [Durability: 20/20]

  [Properties: Waterproof, Wind-resistant, Sleeps 2]

  [MP Cost: 30]

  [Level Up]

  [Architectural Illustration – Level 2]

  “This is amazing,” Lucia said as she went inside to examine it. “It’s so spacious now. And you added an area to store our gear. Very thoughtful.”

  Clive smirked. “If we’re going to travel, we should at least do so in comfort.”

  Lucia emerged from the tent and settled beside the fire ring, unpacking their supplies. She pulled out the familiar wrapped bundles of dried meat and hardtack, examining them with obvious distaste. "Speaking of comfort... any chance your artistic talents extend to food? I'm getting rather tired of chewing leather."

  She held up a piece of the dried meat, which had the consistency and appeal of old boot sole. "This stuff could probably survive another century without spoiling. Unfortunately, it tastes like it already has."

  Clive chuckled and pulled out his sketchbook. "Worth a try. What do you think, fresh bread to start?"

  "That sounds delicious," Lucia said, leaning back on her hands to watch.

  He flipped to a new page and sketched a loaf of bread, concentrating on every detail he could remember. The golden-brown crust with its subtle scoring marks and the way flour might dust the surface.

  The results were disappointing.

  [Item Created: Replica Bread (Poor Quality)]

  [Material: Synthetic Composite]

  [Durability: 1/1]

  [Properties: Inedible, Decorative]

  [Note: "Appearance without substance"]

  "It looks real," Lucia said, poking the plastic-textured surface with her finger. "But it sounds like..." She rapped her knuckles against it. "Like hitting a wooden bowl."

  Clive tried again with an apple. The result was the same, visually perfect but fundamentally wrong. "I can create the form, but it’s all coming out wrong. It's like I'm missing something fundamental about what makes food... food."

  Lucia sighed. "I guess we’ll stick to this for now. " Lucia handed Clive a portion of dried meat.

  "For now," he said, tearing off another strip of the dried meat with his teeth. The salty, leathery texture required serious chewing, but Clive found he didn't mind it as much as he'd expected. It tasted better than the instant cup noodles or microwaved dinners he had at home. At least this was real meat.

  Still, as he worked his jaw around the stubborn fibers, he found himself imagining the crack of seared skin giving way to tender, pink beef, juice running down his chin.

  Once we get back to civilization, I'm going to find a chef. Someone who understands the culinary arts.

  Clive salivated at that thought. How long had it been since he had proper food?

  A sudden howl cut through the night air, jerking him back to the present.

  Grief shared is not grief halved, but purpose doubled.

  —Traveling Songs of the Eastern Roads