Audree found themself in Haldo’s library, lying in a bed he was certain hadn’t existed an hour ago. At this point, he was beginning to suspect the old man simply willed new rooms into existence whenever he felt like it.

  It had been a few hours since everything went horribly sideways — since he’d gone completely power-drunk and murder-hungry after those miners jumped him at his own testing grounds, since Leif had unleashed his grand magical reveal. Audree still couldn’t believe it. Leif, of all people, was a mage.

  After dragging both of them here, Haldo had forced Audree into a well-needed nap. When he woke, the old librarian claimed there had been “plenty of signs” Leif had mana — at least to him, a literal mage-teacher with enchanted glasses that could see the stuff. Haldo had taken Leif somewhere deeper into the library for a private talk, leaving Audree alone with his thoughts. Never a good thing.

  He looked down at his arm, still sheathed in gold. The metallic sheen had faded after his sleep, thinning out like ink dissolving in water. With any luck, it would vanish completely before he actually needed to do something useful.

  His mind drifted back to the blurred memory of being knocked to the ground — the way he hadn’t even been able to fight back. All that prep work, all the potions he brewed for emergency situations, and none of it mattered when someone stronger got the drop on you.

  He turned toward the glass on the bedside table. His bruised face and sickly green eyes stared back.

  “You are such an idiot sometimes,” he muttered.

  A flicker of purple pulsed around his pupils, faint but definitely glowing.

  “Great. Now my eyes are messed up too.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to care. He could still see, so… whatever.

  Despite the sour taste in his mouth, his thoughts wandered to Leif. Quiet, reserved Leif — who had put up a better fight than Audree had. That fact should not have stung as much as it did.

  He remembered what Leif said before everything exploded. Maybe Audree had been treating him like something lesser without realizing it. The guilt sat heavy in his stomach, but he shoved it aside. He was already in a terrible mood. No point digging the hole deeper.

  He exhaled and let his head fall back against the pillow, trying to think of anything — anything — that didn’t make him feel like a failure.

  Audree slid out of the bed, legs unsteady but working, and took in the room. It looked like Haldo had dumped every forgotten corner of the library into one space — desks stacked in odd angles, shelves crammed with scrolls, and dusty boxes piled high enough to topple if anyone breathed too hard. His replacement bag, the one his mom had shoved into his arms after he’d ruined the last two, sat neatly beside the bed.

  He had no intention of rummaging through Haldo’s things.

  …Except he absolutely did.

  Curiosity always won.

  He wandered until something on the far wall caught his eye — a painting. And not just any painting. An expensive one. The kind commissioned by nobles, not reclusive librarians. Leif had been right. Haldo had money. Lots of it.

  The portrait showed two men standing beside a young woman.

  The first man, older, wore robes and held a staff, thin spectacles perched on his nose. His expression was stern, disapproving in that timeless way old men managed. The resemblance to Haldo was unmistakable — if Haldo were younger, sharper, and slightly more willing to murder someone with a glare.

  The second man was the opposite — smiling warmly, a book floating above his open hand, the other arm resting casually atop the head of the young woman beside him. She looked deeply annoyed at the gesture. Her robes matched the first man’s, though hers were tailored narrower, more practical. The three of them stood in a grand, vaulted hallway filled with banners and warm light.

  Old friends? Colleagues? A mage order?

  Audree couldn’t guess.

  Below that painting, half-hidden on the floor, was a second one — smaller, unframed, beaten by time. He knelt and brushed dust from the surface.

  The breath left his lungs.

  This painting felt alive in a way the other didn’t, as if the artist had captured movement mid-stride. The scene showed two women crouched in a windswept field.

  One of them was Ina — his mom — far younger, hair tied back, wearing a battered chestplate carved around the shoulders for freer motion. Across her torso ran a belt lined with potion vials for quick access. Her baggy trousers were reinforced with bits of plating, and a sword hung at her hip. She looked like someone ripped straight from an adventure novel.

  And she was holding, with both hands, the severed head of a creature.

  The creature itself was… unsettling.

  Its skull was long and narrow, almost deer-like, but twisted. Smooth bone ridges ran down the snout, ending in a mouth lined with needle-thin teeth, each one hooked backward like a fishing barb. Four black, empty eye sockets stared in different directions, giving it a disorienting, wrongness-inducing stare. A ring of bony spines flared around its neck like a collar, each spine chipped as if it had been slamming against stone.

  Even decapitated, it radiated a faint sense of predator.

  Beside Ina crouched another woman — the same young woman from the first painting. She wore a beautifully crafted hat, too fine for a battlefield, and carried a staff in one hand. Her robes were tighter, fitted for movement and spellcasting, entirely different from the grand ceremonial robes in the hallway portrait.

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  They looked like they had just finished a hunt.

  A dangerous one.

  “What…?” Audree whispered.

  His throat felt tight.

  Was his mother some kind of badass warrior alchemist in her youth? And who was this other woman? It definitely wasn’t Nora.

  He couldn’t deny how cool Ina looked. Fierce. Deadly. Confident in a way he had never seen her be in their sleepy little town life. Norra just seemed like Audree’s angry mother.

  And Haldo had this painting.

  Why?

  Audree thought about everything he knew about his mothers — which, frustratingly, wasn’t much. He’d never cared enough to ask, and whenever the topic drifted toward their past, the air always got tight, like everyone in the room had agreed not to breathe.

  He didn’t have long to dwell on it. Footsteps echoed down the hall.

  Panic fluttered in his chest.

  He needed answers — and this painting felt like the only proof he had. With his legs still shaky and one arm stubbornly unmoving, he crouched, rolled the smaller painting as gently as he could, and slid it into his bag. This was a forgotten, dust-choked room. Haldo wouldn’t miss it. Probably.

  He straightened just as the door creaked open.

  Haldo stepped inside, carrying two cups of tea, steam curling upward.

  “I see you’re finally awake,” he said, eyebrow raised. “And making quite a racket, might I add.”

  Audree rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah. Sorry. My legs are kinda wobbly.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all that’s wrong.” Haldo handed him a cup and took a slow sip of his own. “With the beating you took, I expected far worse.”

  Audree frowned. “What did you do to them?”

  “Nothing but a stern talking-to.”

  “What? They tried to kill me!”

  “They didn’t, though.”

  Audree blinked, stunned. “What?”

  Haldo set his cup aside, expression turning grave.

  “The path you’ve chosen is yours, Audree. I’ll help you when I can, but let’s be clear — I am not your babysitter. The fights you get into are your own. Hoping someone will swoop in to save you when things get tough is a fine way to end up dead.”

  The sharpness of his tone cut clean through the air.

  He glanced at the portrait on the wall. “Sometimes the only things you can rely on are your closest friends… and the hands the gods gave you to claw your way to victory.”

  He shifted his gaze back down to Audree. “So choose your friends wisely… and stop breaking bonds so easily.”

  Audree swallowed, throat suddenly dry. His eyes flicked back to the painting. The three figures stood proudly in the grand hall, fierce and unshakeable.

  “Who were these people?” he asked quietly.

  Haldo took another slow sip. “My friends. And the student I told you about — the one I… had a disagreement with.”

  “Where was this taken?”

  “A place in Guildhaven, the capital,” Haldo said, voice softening. “There is a school . From a time when I actually wanted to see the world beyond this dusty little town. A younger, still bitter version of myself.”

  “A school?” Audree echoed.

  “Yes. A school.” Haldo’s gaze drifted to the portrait again. “A school for mages, in fact. The man beside me — the one with the floating book — he runs it now.”

  Audree hesitated. “Do you still talk to him?”

  “Not often,” Haldo admitted. “But if you’re asking whether we’re on good terms — yes.”

  Audree shifted his weight, heart picking up.

  “What would a school like that even teach?”

  Haldo tilted his head, considering how to condense years of knowledge.

  “Guildhaven trains mages in every discipline,” Haldo said. “Elementalists, conjurers, enchanters, wardwrights, healers. Students learn to read mana, shape it, bend it, and — if they’re foolish — break it. They study magical theory, spellcraft, alchemical support, rune design, astral practice, and combat casting. It’s… prestigious. Strict. Dangerous, if you don’t respect what you’re learning.”

  He sighed. “There’s a reason people compete for a chance to get in.”

  Audree stood silent for a long moment.

  Finally, he asked, “Do you think… I could get in?”

  “No.” Haldo didn’t even blink.

  Audree’s mouth fell open. “Wow. Okay.”

  “Guildhaven is one of the top schools in the country,” Haldo continued flatly. “Despite what they claim, it mostly accepts nobles or exceptionally gifted mages. There are other schools you could likely get into — ones better suited for late starters or alternative magic paths.”

  He paused, eyeing Audree over the rim of his cup.

  “But you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’re a smart boy, but a magic school requires a strong understanding of mana and keywords. Alchemy is useful — but it’s not the core of magic.”

  He folded his arms.

  “And frankly, you still have plenty to handle here. I haven’t even finished your amulet. You haven’t told me your progress. Or your setbacks.”

  Audree didn’t argue. The idea of a school filled with mages was cool — unbelievably cool — but right now he was a limping, half-bruised disaster with one golden arm and a head full of problems.

  He definitely wasn’t in shape, mentally or physically, to entertain the thought.

  Audree tried to shift away from the awkward topic of magic schools and instead answered Haldo’s earlier question.

  “I… well, Leif and I have been gathering the pieces for the amulet. Honestly, it’s gone pretty smoothly. I have everything except a few ingredients that are impossible to find in Embershade.”

  “Hm. I suspected as much.”

  Haldo stepped away, pacing toward the bag Audree had set by the bed. “Do you have any ideas for substitutes?”

  Audree stiffened. “Uh—wait—!”

  Too late.

  Haldo had already bent down, opened the bag, and pulled out the rolled painting. His brows shot up.

  “I see,” he said quietly. “I didn’t take you for a thief, boy.”

  Audree froze. His stomach dropped through the floor.

  “I—I only took it because I needed to ask my mother about her past—”

  “I don’t think stealing from me is the best idea,” Haldo cut in, voice flat as stone. “Whatever you get up to outside my home is none of my business. But everything in here is mine.”

  He let out a long, disappointed sigh and looked Audree up and down — the bruises, the wobbling stance, the wild hair, the single immobile hand.

  “You look like a damned homeless alley cat,” he muttered. “I’ll let this be a warning. I don’t believe you’ve stolen from me before, and I trust this won’t become a habit.”

  Audree clenched his good hand into a fist. “Do you have answers, Haldo? I shouldn’t have taken it, I know that. But the more I look around — the more strange things I find about my parents… and about myself. I need answers.”

  Haldo studied him for a long moment.

  “I… can’t tell you anything Nora and Ina haven’t.”

  His voice softened, only barely.

  “Your parents are complicated people. If you want the truth about them, you’ll have to find it on your own. All I can say is that I never met either of them before they settled here.”

  He slipped the painting back into the bag and nudged it toward Audree.

  “You can keep that. I don’t need it anymore. And I trust you’re wise enough not to take from me again.”

  His eyes scanned the dust-covered room, amusement flickering at the mess.

  “Don’t get me wrong — I have no problem with a good theft. You just need to know who you’re stealing from, and whether it’s worth the trouble.”

  He leaned slightly closer.

  “Audree,” he said calmly, “you are aware that, in this place, I can literally incinerate you?”

  Audree went rigid, eyes wide.

  Haldo burst into a loud, barking laugh that echoed around the room. It was so sudden and sharp that Audree flinched.

  Was that… supposed to be a joke?

  Unsure, terrified, and wanting desperately not to offend the possibly-deranged old mage, Audree forced out a shaky laugh of his own.

  He suddenly realized that Haldo was, in fact, a crazy old magic man — and he was standing very, very close to him.