Ben stared at his bowl of stew, the question hanging in the air like a bad smell. What had he walked away with? He remembered the wand—that strange, contracting staff that had saved his life in the labyrinth—but everything after that was a blur of blood loss and pain. He looked up at the captain's eyes, which held something calculating their predatory gleam.

  "So?" Ben prompted, setting down his spoon. "What exactly did I bring back?"

  The captain's whiskers twitched. "This." His paw reached down and placed a wand on the table.

  The ebony wand—no longer than Ben's forearm, delicate gold filigree spiraling along its length—lay inert on the table. The moment it appeared, Ben felt a tugging sensation in his chest, like someone had tied a string to his sternum and was gently pulling.

  "Whoa," Thimble whispered, as she focused on the wand. "It's still active."

  Before anyone could say another word, the wand twitched, then shot across the table like it had been fired from a slingshot. Ben's hand moved without conscious thought, fingers opening just in time to catch the wooden shaft. The moment his skin made contact, warmth spread up his arm and settled somewhere behind his heart—not unpleasant, but definitely weird as hell.

  "Uh," Ben stammered. "That was...new.”

  Ben turned the wand over in his hands. It felt lighter than it should, like it was hollow, but there was an undeniable solidity to it—an assurance that it wouldn't break, no matter what. "I just gave it the missing crystal. It was obviously supposed to go there. Then the staff transformed, I barely flicked it and it blew up the throne.”

  "Fascinating," Thimble murmured, tapping something on her holo-pad. "And you had no prior experience with arcane artifacts before waking up in the facility?"

  "None that I remember," Ben replied, tracing one of the golden spirals with his thumb. The lines were cool to the touch, but not cold.

  Thorn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, leaned closer to examine the wand. "I've seen artifacts bond to demons before, but never without at least a minor sacrifice or invocation." He poked the wand cautiously, then jerked back when it emitted a faint golden spark. "Temperamental little thing, isn't it?"

  Ben frowned. "You don't know what this is? I thought you were supposed to be my supernatural guide."

  "Even I have gaps in my knowledge," Thorn sniffed, looking offended. "Wands aren't exactly common in the lower reaches.”

  “Here, allow me,” the gnome said as she repeated her trick of scanning with her holo-pad.

  Thimble tapped rapidly, brow furrowed. "This is graded as unique. Meaning, it’s bound to you so thoroughly, my sensors can’t give it a rating. One thing’s for certain: You need training. Like, yesterday. You’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you.

  "A danger how?" Ben asked, suddenly eyeing the wand with suspicion.

  "Weapons are limited to the type of mana the creator could channel," Thimble explained. "Another reason for mana clips. A fire sword, enchanted by a fire mage, can only ever channel fire mana, no matter who wields it. But a wand? A wand adapts to its user. It can channel any type of mana you can access. Which means—"

  "It's only as limited as I am," Ben finished. "And since I have no idea what I'm doing..."

  "You could blow a hole through the ship," the captain said bluntly. "Or yourself."

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  "I would prefer you didn't do either," Ember chimed in from the ceiling. "My hull integrity is important to me."

  "Hey, your hull integrity is important to me, too," Ben said, carefully setting the wand on the table. It immediately rolled back toward his hand like an eager puppy. He sighed and picked it up again. "Fine, I get it. I need training."

  "We can arrange that at Whisper's Edge," the captain said. "There are a few... practitioners there who might be willing to help, for the right price."

  "Speaking of Whisper's Edge," Thimble interjected, "we need to discuss what stays secret."

  The captain nodded, his expression grave. "Divine grade anything attracts attention. That's asking to be hunted."

  "So, we keep my core under wraps," Ben said slowly. "And the wand."

  “The core might be easier to keep secret. It’s fully merged. Fully merged cores are part of the body now, but the right expert or scanner could still get a reading,” the pantheran stated.

  "And Thorn," Thimble added. "Familiar bonds between demons and humans are supposed to be impossible. The last thing we need is some religious zealot or corporate scientist deciding you two need to be dissected for the greater good."

  Thorn shuddered visibly at the word "dissected."

  "Good," the captain grunted. "The fewer people who know what you really are, the better."

  "And what am I, exactly?" Ben asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. "Because I'm still figuring that out myself."

  The captain's eyes fixed on him, serious as a heart attack. "Trouble, Benjamin. The kind that changes worlds."

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Ben fiddled with his wand, trying to process everything. Divine-grade soul, unique artifact, impossible familiar bond—it was too much. And underneath it all, the nagging feeling that none of this was accidental. Someone hid that core. Could someone have orchestrated all of this?

  “How can I keep Thorn a secret now? He’s not exactly small anymore. People will ask why a demon is in our group anyway, right?”

  Thimble gave Thorn a look, “Go ahead and show him.”

  Sulking, Thorn replied, “Fine.” He stood up in the chair he was squatting in and jumped on the table, his body shrinking back to his former six inches.

  “I don’t care for this at all. I’ve taken a liking to being big.”

  “But I need my familiar,” Ben reassured the little guy. “I need your advice in my ear and to have my back in a fight.”

  This seemed to placate the grimp and he stood up a little straighter.

  "So," he said finally, "who are we meeting at Whisper's Edge? Because it sounds like we need allies who know what they're doing, and that's definitely not me."

  "I have a few contacts," the captain replied. "Old friends who know how to keep their mouths shut. We'll start there."

  "And until then," Thimble added, "just keep your gates closed unless your life is in danger. We don’t want you to accidentally unleash your null gate and turn the ship's engines into very expensive paperweights."

  "That would be appreciated," Ember said dryly.

  Ben nodded, taking another bite of his now-cold stew. "So why is a null gate so special anyway? You all freaked out when I found that rag."

  Thimble and the captain exchanged glances.

  "Null gates are theoretical," Thimble explained slowly. "As in, they shouldn't exist. The ability to negate magic… directly contradicts the fundamental principles of how mana works. It's like... like having a mathematical equation that says two plus two equals zero. It breaks reality."

  "Which means," the captain continued, "that someone, somewhere, figured out how to break reality on purpose. And then someone enchanted that knowledge into a cleaning rag stuffed into one of hundreds of crap boxes I usually keep in Embers long-term storage. Most of it was excess shipment, collateral, or me taking something instead of payment like a dumbass."

  "Great," Ben muttered. "More mysteries."

  "Captain," Ember interrupted, their voice taking on a more formal tone. "We're approaching the Helix system. We'll be exiting slipspace in approximately seventeen minutes."

  The captain stood, stretching his massive frame until several joints popped audibly. "Finish up. Everyone to their stations for arrival. Benjamin, stay with Thimble—she'll get you kitted out with proper clothes. Can't have you walking around Whisper's Edge looking like a fresh-spawned draft."

  "What's wrong with how I look?" Ben asked, glancing down at his plain clothing.

  "Everything," Thimble said cheerfully, already heading for the door. "You look like a newbie. At Whisper's Edge, that's an invitation to get mugged, kidnapped, or sold to the highest bidder."

  "Charming," Ben sighed, pocketing his wand and following her out. As he left the captain's quarters, he cast one last look back at the table where they'd been sitting, Thorn’s comforting weight on his shoulder. Soon, they'd be at Whisper's Edge—a place that sounded about as safe as bacon in a doghouse.

  But as the wand pulsed warmly against his thigh, Ben felt something unfamiliar stirring in his chest. Not confidence, exactly, but something close to it. A readiness, perhaps. Whatever was waiting for them at Whisper's Edge, at least he wasn’t alone.