The girls were back in the store, surrounded by artifacts and ancient texts they had acquired earlier that day. They had been there since their arrival—five hours ago now—fussing over etched designs and faded runes, trying to determine whether the old texts carried hidden messages.

  That, after all, had been the favored method of the ancient rune masters and aetherists.

  Back when magic was forbidden—for reasons long lost to time—the scholars of aether had concealed their knowledge within seemingly mundane works. Treatises on botany, records of geography, even biographies of long-dead scholars often carried layered meanings, spells woven subtly into phrasing and structure.

  The girls didn’t mind in the slightest.

  It was knowledge—and knowledge was what they had always sought.

  Eventually, order emerged from the clutter. Items of genuine value and arcane significance were placed neatly to the left atop the table, while those that were little more than ancient collectibles were set aside on the floor to the right. Those could be handed off to the assistant to sell. The rest… those they would study themselves.

  Violet leaned back in her chair and released a tired breath. Only then did she glance toward the window and realize how dark it had become.

  They’d lost themselves in the work again.

  Well—at least this was the one time she wouldn’t be admonished for it, Violet thought.

  “Aunt?”

  Astrid’s voice reached her from nearby.

  The word barely registered at first—until Violet followed Astrid’s gaze.

  Standing just beyond the doorway, her presence nearly filling the frame, was a tall woman—well over six feet, her head brushing close to the top of the door. She leaned comfortably against the wall, one leg braced behind her, a faint smile resting on her face as she watched them.

  Maerith.

  From her relaxed posture, it was clear she had been there for some time, quietly observing the two of them bustle about the shop, treating dusty relics as though they were priceless treasures. The sight stirred a deep nostalgia within her—and with it, a rare sense of peace.

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  In Viremont, Maerith was known as the finest runesmith and runeweaver in the kingdom. Few knew where she had come from. All that was known was that she had arrived years ago with two young girls in tow, claiming to be their aunt.

  She never spoke of their parents.

  The girls never pressed her.

  She was family. That was all that mattered.

  Violet was out of her seat before Astrid had even fully moved, crossing the room and throwing herself into Maerith’s arms.

  “Tsk—now there, Elowee,” Maerith chided softly as she caught her with effortless ease. “You’re far too old to be leaping into my arms like this.”

  Astrid followed a moment later, joining the embrace.

  Maerith held them both, her smile deepening as she looked down at the girls she had raised.

  Yes.

  She had done right by them—at least that much.

  It was as though Violet had de-aged the moment she saw her aunt.

  She either sat beside Maerith or rested her head in her lap, peppering her with questions where she had been, what she had been doing, whether she had eaten properly, whether she had slept at all. Maerith answered each one with a mirthful smile, her voice calm and unhurried.

  She explained that she had been hired by the kingdom’s High Scholars to assist in the excavation and study of an ancient temple one buried deep within the earth and sealed beneath layers of protective runes. Few would dare claim true understanding of runes, and fewer still could back such claims.

  Maerith was one of them.

  Her title was not one earned through rumor or reverence, but through skill, pure undeniable mastery.

  When she had first arrived in the kingdom, the empire was still reeling from its recent war with a neighboring power. Stability was fragile, and many runesmiths and rune masters scrambled to gain favor with the crown. Each sought to become the kingdom’s primary supplier of enchanted weapons and artifacts, hoping for royal aid, funding, and the freedom to pursue their own research.

  Maerith had wanted none of that.

  At the time, she had only been searching for a place to stay during the chaos. Still, she saw no reason to refuse the kingdom’s support if all it required was crafting a few weapons and offering assistance when needed.

  So she did.

  And in doing so, she outclassed every runesmith in the empire then, and horrifyingly, even now.

  That was why they had come to her when an ancient relic site from the Aether-Burst era was discovered its ruins layered in archaic protection runes that defied conventional methods. And thus far, she had not failed them.

  Violet listened, utterly entranced by the stories of the temple and its secrets. She couldn’t help but wish she had been there, wished she had been the one unraveling those ancient defenses.

  She knew she could have done it.

  After all, Maerith herself had taught her.

  She wouldn’t have been as fast—she hadn’t learned runeweaving yet—but she would have broken through eventually. Of that, she was certain.

  Violet sighed softly, resting more fully against her aunt’s lap, hoping that one day Maerith would send her instead.

  She knew better than to ask now.

  If she did, she would be told to air-cast runes using only her mind and magic, within seconds. It was always the same trial. And she always failed. She hadn’t gotten it right even once.

  If you spent more time training your mind and less time lazing over books, you’d be able to by now.

  Her aunt’s voice echoed in her memory.

  Violet had no argument for it.

  But how could her curiosity ever allow her to abandon knowledge?