A few days passed, and life settled into a strange mix of normal and not. I helped Mom and Dad with the last bits of work around our little farm. Dad had planned the harvest so well that he could handle most of the corn and wheat on his own. Mom spent her time wrapping up a few metal scrap projects around the house and for some neighbors, reshaping old tools and pots into something useful again.

  Every morning I woke up with the same thought.

  Tomorrow we head to Hawthorn for the festival and in two days, it’s finally time for the Integration.

  It felt close enough to taste.

  I rolled out of bed so fast I almost hit my head on the low ceiling of my loft. My room was small, just big enough for my bed, a little shelf, and a crate where I kept my treasures. I made the bed as quickly as I could, then pulled on my usual clothes. Wool pants, cotton shirt. I owned two pairs of pants and two shirts, one long sleeved and one short. Mom always said she would trade for more clothes once I stopped growing.

  I knew I should be grateful. The clothes were thick, well made, and warm. Still, sometimes I wished for something with more color than plain gray and white. Maybe a bit of green or blue. Maybe even some kind of pattern. Something that had a little more character.

  Even so, this loft was mine. It was cramped and simple, but it was my space. I even had two books of my very own stacked carefully on the shelf, and a few knick knacks like some of the cooler rocks John and I had found on our walks over the years lined up along the wall. When I finally climbed up here at night, it always felt like the world quieted down. Just me, the rafters, and the soft sounds of the house.

  The boards under my feet creaked as I moved, and I could already hear Mom and Dad in the kitchen. My body usually woke up around sunrise because that is when our little house came alive. Pans clinking, water pouring, quiet voices talking about the day.

  I climbed down the ladder that led straight to the front room.

  “Morning,” I mumbled as I stepped into the kitchen and rubbed my eyes.

  Our house was not big. The front half was a sitting area near the door, with a small table and a couple of chairs. The back half was the kitchen and dining area, all in one room, with a large window that looked out over our fields and our little barn. From there you could see the corn, the wheat, and a little stretch of road that ran toward Bramble.

  Mom and Dad were both moving faster than usual.

  “Dad, what is going on? You and Mom seem to be in a hurry,” I asked as I walked into the kitchen.

  Dad glanced up from the table where he was setting out plates. “Jude, good, you are up. We were hoping to eat breakfast together before the day gets too busy. We leave for Hawthorn tomorrow, and your mom and I want to talk to you about a few things.”

  Mom pulled a metal tray of bacon out of the oven and set it on the counter. The oven was one of the few rune enchanted things we owned. Certain mages could use their abilities to inscribe symbols into objects and give them a specific purpose. It was a lengthy and complicated process. People called those symbols runes.

  Runes used a small amount of Mana to keep working. If the rune was simple, a little Mana could last a long time. If it was complex, it usually needed to be filled with more Mana or filled more frequently. Our oven was simple. It got hot, then stayed hot, but it did not let you choose a perfect temperature like some of the expensive ones in Hawthorn. Mom had to watch it carefully whenever she baked.

  We also had a stone box that everyone just called ‘the freezer’. A cold rune kept the inside as icy as winter. Every couple of weeks, Mom or Dad would place a hand on the rune and push a small amount of their Mana into it. They said it barely dented their Mana pools, but if you forgot to charge the rune, the box warmed up and everything inside spoiled.

  We even had a bath tub with a heating rune set into one of the iron bands. It was another cheap one. You poured water in, added a touch of Mana, and it heated up. Add too much and you boiled yourself. Add too little and you took a very unpleasant lukewarm bath. Dad always said that was the price of being frugal. It made sense to me that you could just make it really hot and wait for it to cool off a bit.

  I grabbed three clay cups from the shelf next to where Mom was cooking breakfast, filled them from the water jug on the table, and sat down. Dad set plates in front of each of us. Mom was finishing up the oatmeal with sliced apples and warm bacon. The apples must have been from John’s family orchard, and the smell of bacon made my stomach all, but cry out to be fed.

  Dad took a long sip of water, then looked at me with a serious expression.

  “Jude, you are twelve now, and your mom and I have been meaning to talk to you more directly about what to expect at your Integration Ceremony and what these next years might look like.”

  Mom placed the last of the food on the table and sat beside him. “We may have waited longer than we should have,” she said. “Our parents did the same thing with us. They wanted us to enjoy our childhood as fully as we could before the Interface changed everything. Twelve can feel old when you are the one turning twelve, but in the grand scheme of Telos, you have barely begun. We want to talk to you about the Interface, how it works, and what it means. Things like health and Mana, levels, experience, attributes, and abilities.”

  I shifted in my chair. “I know most of this stuff already. John and I talk about it all the time,” I said, trying not to sound impatient and failing.

  Mom and Dad shared a look, both of them hiding a smile.

  “Jude,” Mom said gently, “you might know some pieces, but we want to make sure you understand how everything fits together. At least as well as we can explain it before we head to Hawthorn.”

  They wanted to help. I knew that. So I shut my mouth, picked up my fork, and listened.

  Dad took my silence as his sign to begin.

  “As you know,” he said, “the Kingdom of Briar is one of twelve kingdoms spread across Telos. Each kingdom formed near a seal point after the Grand Seal was created. Our main task is the same as the other eleven. We are supposed to grow stronger and find a way, someday, to shut the Twisted Realms for good.”

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  He paused to let that sink in, then went on.

  “The Architect gave us the Interface to work toward that goal. Training, fighting, learning. That is how we grow. At first, after the Grand Seal was created, humanity did exactly what it needed to. Monsters still leaked through, but not as many as people feared. Those who fought them grew in strength. The materials from monsters turned out to be incredibly useful. They were used to make armor, weapons, tools, even potions. Each kingdom got stronger, healthier, more comfortable.

  “But as they grew, something else happened. Families, organizations, and rulers began to gain power and wealth. Some wanted more. They started arguing, then fighting over land, resources, and secrets. Knowledge about the Interface, about how to grow faster or use certain abilities, became something people hoarded. The Architect’s main instruction, to work together and seek a lasting way to stop the Twisted Realms, got buried under ambition and politics.”

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

  “That has been a pattern for centuries. Our kingdom of Briar is one of the more peaceful ones. We have not been in a major war for a long time. But we still have our share of internal power struggles and petty games.”

  He looked right at me. “Soon, you will have gone through your Integration Ceremony. You will have your own Interface, your own Class and Abilities, your own path. In Briar, every child who Integrates has to attend the Capital Academy for at least one year. There, they will teach you how to grow and how to use what the Interface gives you. They will push you hard, but the goal is to set you up for success. That is where I met your mother,” he added, raising his eyebrows and giving Mom a playful look.

  Mom laughed and shook her head. I rolled my eyes, which only made them both smile harder. They could be so embarrassing.

  Dad continued. “The longer you can stay at the Academy, the better off you will be. You will head there one month after your Integration. The kingdom pays for your tuition, your room, and your food while you are there. At some point, they will place you into a training team, usually a mix of warriors and mages around your level. If you work well with your team and show promise, you can become official Monster Hunters.”

  The way he said that made it sound important. It probably was.

  “There is a global organization that tries to keep all capable fighters coordinated,” he said. “It is called the Monster Hunter Association, or the MHA. They help report monster sightings, assign hunting requests, and share information between kingdoms. The MHA also works as a separate group that helps keep peace between the kingdoms to keep everyone collaborating to keep the seals and monsters from going out of control.

  Because of that, active Monster Hunters can travel fairly freely between the borders of the various kingdoms and territories as long as they are active members above the Bronze rank.”

  My parents had mentioned the MHA before, but it had always sounded more like a club, it didn’t sound as important as it did now. Hearing Dad talk about it now felt different.

  “Your mother and I,” he said, “both made it to Level 20. We worked with one other teammate as Monster Hunters. Our third member’s name was Steven.”

  Dad went quiet. The air in the room felt heavier. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

  They had never talked much about why they stopped hunting monsters. Any time I asked, they just said there had been an accident and changed the subject.

  “Steven was a mage,” Dad said softly. “Fire and light. He used flames to burn monsters and blinding bursts to disorient them. The three of us met at the Academy and stayed together all the way through our early work with the MHA. We earned enough experience and completed enough hunting requests to reach bronze rank. Bronze rank means you are at least Level 20 and have proven you can handle yourself. Once you reach it, you get a lot more say in the jobs you take.”

  He stared down at the table as he spoke.

  “We were excited. We decided to accept a monster extermination request from a company three days’ journey from the capital. Too far from any major city, as it turned out. On the second night on our way to the job, we camped near the road. We set night watches like we were supposed to. Steven took the first watch, and your mother and I went to sleep in the tent.

  “We woke up to him screaming.”

  I felt my throat tighten.

  Dad’s voice was steady, but his eyes were distant. “We ran outside in our armor, weapons ready. Steven was surrounded by three insect creatures, taller than any of us, maybe six feet or more. They stood on blade-like legs and had arms like scythes. They were fast. We cut them down, but not before they cut him.”

  He stopped. Mom’s hand slid across the table and rested on his.

  “We were too far from any town, any healer, any other hunter,” Dad said. “Steven’s wound was fatal. We tried everything we could. We used health potions, salves, even some of your mother’s metal shaping to try and close the injury. It was not enough.”

  My chest hurt just listening. I had never met Steven, but I suddenly felt like I should say something, and I had no idea what.

  “Watching our teammate and friend die like that,” Dad said quietly, “showed us exactly how dangerous this work could be. We were new to bronze rank. We should have been more patient and waited before a big job like that. We should have taken safer opportunities closer to the capital. We thought we were ready for anything. We were wrong.”

  He took a breath and forced a small smile. “So we stepped back. We left the MHA, at least as active hunters. We moved out here to Bramble, bought this land, and started this farm. We told ourselves we would rest for a few years and then decide what to do next.”

  Mom’s eyes were shiny. “After a couple of years,” she said, “we did start to think about returning. We talked about going back to the MHA and finding a new team. But then we found out I was pregnant with you.”

  She looked at me and smiled, even with the tears there. “We chose to stay. It has been almost fourteen years now. In all that time, we have only gained two levels. That is not shameful. We live a good life. But it is very different from gaining twenty levels in just a few years like we did during our early hunting days. We stagnated a bit.”

  “The fastest way to grow strong is by hunting monsters. That is the truth. But it comes with real danger. We are not telling you this to scare you away from your path. We want you to understand the world as it is. Fighting monsters brings power and honor, but also risk. If we do not fight, the price humanity pays is far worse.”

  I swallowed hard. “I had no idea,” I said. “I knew there had been an accident, but… I did not know this much. I am sorry about Steven.”

  “Thank you,” Mom said quietly.

  Dad nodded. “Your mother and I have even talked about going active with the MHA again once you go off to the Academy. We have not made any final decisions. We are still far too young to completely set aside the fight for Telos.”

  The idea of my parents out there battling monsters while I trained in the capital made my stomach twist in a strange mix of fear and pride.

  “Wow,” I thought, “I never even considered that they might hunt monsters again. I always thought that part of their life was over.”

  I looked at both of them. They were strong, kind, and more serious than I was used to seeing. For the first time, I did not just see ‘Mom and Dad’. I saw warriors who had bled and fought and suffered.

  “Thank you for telling me all of that,” I said. “It feels heavier than I expected, but I am still excited. I want to see what kind of power the Interface gives me. I want to see what I can do.”

  Dad smiled, some of the weight lifting from his face. “That is all we can hope for,” he said. “That you go into this with open eyes and an open heart. The Interface will give you something. The rest will be up to you.”

  Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Whatever you become, Jude, warrior or mage, powerful or modest, we are proud of you already.”

  I nodded and finally picked up my fork again. The oatmeal was lukewarm, the bacon a little cold, but I did not really care. Tomorrow we would leave for Hawthorn.

  Soon, I would have the Interface and I would be able to grow strong and help do my part.

  And from that point on, nothing would ever be the same.