Haldo didn’t tell him to. He didn’t need to. The exhausted, bruised, magic-bent disaster of a boy simply did what his instincts begged him to do—collapsed onto the strange conjured bed and refused to move for a full day.
He knew his mothers would worry.
He knew Ina would pace until her boots wore holes through the floorboards, that Norra would chew through half a bottle of stress-calming tincture before deciding whether or not to storm through Embershade.
He also knew the moment he walked home with one golden hand and a face that looked like it had lost a fight with a cart horse… there would be questions.
Questions he didn’t want to answer.
Some about magic.
Some about mistakes.
And some he didn’t have answers to himself.
So he hid.
The strange room that crazy old man dumped him in was… surprisingly comforting, in a chaotic, dust-covered, forgotten-lab sort of way. The air hummed faintly with leftover spells. Scrolls cluttered every surface. A stack of half-finished notes sat under a tea cup from gods-know-when.
It was weird.
It was disorganized.
It was… familiar.
It felt, in a strange way, like a place meant for someone like him.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, staring down at his golden hand. The sheen had faded further, but the weight remained. It felt heavy, useless, like dead metal fused to living skin.
He flexed his fingers.
Nothing.
Perfect.
He sighed and collapsed backward into the mattress, staring up at the warped ceiling.
He hated this.
Not the room.
Not the magic.
Not even the pain.
He hated that every idiot in town seemed to think his family was some cultist nightmare group sacrificing people in their cellar. He hated that rumors had gotten so bad that miners felt justified hunting him down like prey. He hated that he had been powerless to stop them.
And—worst of all—he hated that Lief wasn’t wrong.
If the woods were dangerous… someone needed to handle it. Someone competent. Someone with magic. Someone who actually understood what the hell was going on around Embershade.
Audree wasn’t competent.
He barely had magic.
And he understood nothing.
But he had parents worth protecting.
He let his thoughts drift back to the painting. His mother—young, fierce, armored, sword at her hip.
Not potion sellers.
She had been something else.
Something strong.
Were they still?
What else had they hidden?
And then there was Lief.
Audree exhaled sharply and dragged a hand over his face.
Haldo had taken the boy aside after everything. A “private talk,” whatever that meant. Maybe it was about the vines. The magic. The fact Lief had nearly punched a grown man through the dirt with flowers blooming off his knuckles.
Maybe—Audree winced—it was about the argument.
He hoped Lief was okay.
He hoped he hadn’t scared him off.
He hoped—
“Hope is pointless,” he muttered into the blanket. “He probably needs space.”
A lot had happened.
To both of them.
And maybe a little distance was normal after nearly dying together. Twice.
Audree stared at the crooked shelves again, feeling something tight wind through his chest.
He needed to get stronger.
Not for pride.
Not even for himself.
For them.
His parents.
His friend.
For every stupid rumor, every unfair accusation, every shadow hanging over their family—he needed power. To fight, to defend, to understand.
“Next time,” he whispered to the empty room, “I won’t be helpless.”
The gold had finally faded from Audree’s arm, leaving behind only a strange stiffness — like the limb had been forced to lift something impossibly heavy and was still recovering. It moved, at least. Weakly, but it moved.
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He flexed his fingers.
Sore, but not broken.
He’d take it.
The moment he felt steady on his feet again, he asked Haldo the question he’d been circling in his mind since waking:
“Can you train me? Combat. Spell fighting. Something.”
Haldo didn’t even pretend to consider it.
“No.”
Audree’s jaw clenched. “You didn’t even think about—”
“I didn’t need to think. All of the combat I know is highly specialized. Tied to my keyword, my history, my… mistakes. Teaching you wouldn’t work. For many reasons.”
Audree stared at him, irritation crawling under his skin.
“I need to learn something. I can’t keep getting beaten every time something happens.”
“Yes,” Haldo said bluntly, “but you won’t learn it from me.”
Audree opened his mouth to argue, but Haldo lifted a hand.
“If you want basic combat or structured spell discipline, I suggest Miss Runeswell.”
Audree blinked. “Velra?”
Haldo nodded. “She’s a blood mage. They’re irritatingly good at mixed combat.” Then he raised a brow. “And she seems fond of you. For some reason.”
Audree sighed. Velra was… fine, he guessed. A bit eccentric. Very dramatic with “nature”. But strong.
“I’ll… ask her,” he muttered.
Haldo’s expression sharpened.
“Before you go—control your anger, boy.”
Audree froze.
Haldo continued quietly, “I will not help you with this fight. Not directly. But rejection is a lesson. Your anger, if left unchecked, will lead you down a path that will hurt you.” His gaze dropped to Audree’s marked arm. “Your keyword may very well be a warning of that.”
Audree swallowed. Hard.
He looked down at his runes — faint now, but still glowing softly with a golden pulse.
“I know,” he murmured. “I… need to get myself together.”
“Good.” Haldo waved him toward the door. “Go home. Or go wherever. Just stop bleeding on my carpet.”
Audree rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
He grabbed his bag, tucked Haldo’s handwritten notes inside, and left.
Outside, the air was cold. Damp. The smog hung low, dimming the late afternoon light until the world looked the color of old copper. The road was empty.
He half expected to see Lief waiting — sitting on the wall, swinging his legs, pretending not to care while actually caring way too much.
But he wasn’t there.
Not even a hint of him.
Audree scoffed under his breath.
Great. I really did screw this up.
He looked into the bag.
Bubbles peeked up at him, wobbling, as if to say, You’re a mess.
“…Shut up,” Audree muttered.
The slime shot water at his cheek in response.
“Ah- h, what the,” he laughed.
With nothing else to do — and with no interest in immediately going home to face Ina’s inevitable meltdown — Audree turned toward the one place in town that always had something weird to gawk at.
Merrin’s Menagerie. Merrin’s was one of the few places in Embershade where magic still felt alive — even if most of it was junk, half-dead enchantments, and creatures nobody sane wanted to own.
And right now?
He desperately needed something magically distracting.
Something to remind him why he wanted power in the first place.
The walk from Haldo’s library to Merrin’s Menagerie was… unpleasant.
More unpleasant than usual.
Audree felt the stares long before he actually saw the miners giving them — sharp, suspicious, bitter looks thrown at him like rocks. Some slowed their steps when he passed; others muttered under their breath.
Of course. Rumors spread fast in a town this small, especially when he was involved.
He pulled his sleeve lower, adjusting the wrap around his rune-covered arm until the cloth hid nearly everything. Hiding the gold tint was harder, but thankfully the last of its color had faded an hour ago. His arm felt stiff and weak, but that was a problem that would fix itself with time.
Hopefully.
He muttered under his breath, “Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed — the whole town glaring like I’m about to bite them.”
Bubbles peeked out of the bag, blinking up at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Audree grumbled. “I didn’t ask for a reputation.”
Then he saw them.
Two armored figures walking down the main road. Not miners. Not locals. These were—
Knight-guards.
Real ones.
The first wore polished metal plate with a deep blue tabard marked with the symbol of Aurumhold — the golden sunburst. His hair was cropped short, his face clean and stern, eyes sharp under his helm. The second was taller, slimmer, leather reinforcements layered beneath his armor for mobility. A long spear rested on his shoulder, its blade giving off a faint magical shimmer.
They looked like they belonged in Guildhaven, not in a smog-choked mining town.
They were stopping people. Asking questions.
Audree’s blood ran cold.
“What the hell are knights doing here…?”
He ducked behind a rusted water barrel just as one of the knights turned. His heart hammered in his chest. Knights only came to a place like Embershade if:
- Someone complained to the Capital,
- Something dangerous appeared, or
- They were hunting something.
Audree didn’t need to guess which one involved him.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he whispered.
When the knights finally passed — boots clinking against stone — he darted down the street and didn’t stop until the warped wooden sign of Merrin’s Menagerie came into view.
He reached for the door.
Locked.
Before he could knock, the top window cracked open and Merrin’s irritated face popped out.
His hair looked more tangled than usual, goggles crooked on his forehead.
“There you are!” he hissed. “Do you have any idea the mess you’ve made?”
Audree blinked. “What?”
Merrin jabbed a thumb behind him. “I have an inspection tomorrow because of you! The place isn’t even remotely acceptable for that. Those damned bastards from Guildhaven are sniffing around looking for ‘strange magical disturbances,’ and I need you gone.”
“What are you talking about, Merrin? I didn’t—”
The window slammed shut before he finished.
Audree stood there in the street, baffled.
“…Well. That’s just perfect.”
He exhaled through his nose, long and irritated.
People glaring. Knights patrolling. Shops shutting him out.
Even Merrin was acting like he brought plague with him.
Bubbles poked out of the bag again and booped his chin.
“Yeah,” Audree muttered, “I get it. Things are getting worse.”
He turned back toward the road, shoulders tight with frustration and worry.
Whether Leif was right about the woods or not, whether Haldo refused to teach him or not —
Something was happening in Embershade.
And he was done letting other people decide the narrative about him…
or his family.