After some time, Isolde and Lira excused themselves, leaving Katherine alone with Roland to discuss the possibilities of her becoming his apprentice.

  Roland glanced at Katherine, his posture relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s fond of you, you know,” he confided, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I can only think of a handful of times Lira has taken it upon herself to help someone find work.”

  Katherine kept her features composed, but her eyes flickered with a mix of discomfort and guarded appreciation. “Honestly, I think it’s because of how we met,” she replied, her tone steady but distant, not offering further details.

  Roland chuckled softly, leaning forward with genuine interest. “That may be, but you’re the first she’s spoken of who doesn’t seem to have an agenda or any skepticism about her generosity.”

  Katherine raised her hand, her expression firm, signaling Roland to pause. “Everyone has an agenda, whether they admit it or not,” she said, her voice calm but insistent. She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the side as she gathered her thoughts. “As for her generosity, I feel it comes from a good place, but I’m wary of accepting too much. I would have been fine with just a single outfit and a night at the inn.” A trace of vulnerability softened her stoicism, though she quickly masked it. “Lira is generous to a fault. From what I understand, that’s because of who she is—and it makes people wary of her. To me, Lira is an acquaintance who helped me out of a bad situation, that is all at this point.” She hesitated, unsure if she truly believed her own words, a flicker of gratitude mingling with caution in her eyes.

  Roland opened his mouth to speak, but Katherine cut him off, her hand lifting slightly. “So, if she wants to recruit you—” he began.

  “She hasn’t,” Katherine interjected, her tone making it clear she wanted to steer the discussion away from Lira’s motives. She took a steadying breath, steering the conversation back to safer ground. “Let’s focus on the apprenticeship,” she suggested, her voice resolute and inviting a return to the original topic.

  Roland nodded, sensing that Katherine wasn’t easily swayed. “Very well.” He leaned back a little, watching her with mild curiosity.

  Katherine hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. “Why did you agree to talk with me?” she asked, her tone neutral but probing.

  With a casual shrug, Roland replied, “Honestly? Your familiar. Lira never told me much about him, except that you bonded with him on your way to the city.” He glanced at Katherine, gauging her reaction.

  “Which was technically true, but that’s light on details,” Katherine admitted, a hint of amusement in her voice.

  Roland’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, testing her confidence. “To gain a familiar just by staring it down is unheard of,” he said, his praise inviting her to relax and drop some of her formality.

  Katherine offered a slight smirk, giving him just a little of what he wanted. “Roland, like Lira’s mom used to say, ‘Flattery will take you places,’ but only if it’s used right. Since this is my shot at a job, I’m keeping things professional.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Who says you’ve got the job?”

  Katherine smiled, meeting his gaze with confidence. “The fact we’re still talking,” she pointed out. “Sure, you might want to see how much I know about caring for Shade, but you already know I’m figuring things out as I go. If you didn’t want to help or keep the door open, you’d have left by now. Instead, you’re trying to see how close I am to Lira.”

  Roland considered her words, his posture relaxing further. “You’re oddly confident,” he observed, testing her resolve.

  Katherine’s smile widened. “Or maybe I’m bluffing,” she teased, “but you already know that.”

  After a brief pause, Roland relented, his tone turning businesslike. “Alright. Come by tomorrow morning before dawn. I’ll let my colleagues know to expect you and show you where the barn is.”

  ...

  The next morning, Katherine stood at the doorway to the barn waiting for Roland to arrive.

  “Apparently, before dawn has a different meaning here,” Katherine mused, looking up at the sky as the stars started to fade by the slowly approaching dawn. Shade ever presents stood behind Katherine pressing his side against the back of Katherine’s pelvis

  “Morning,” Roland said in greeting accompanied by a yawn. “You’re early.”

  Katherine looked at Roland. “You did say ‘before dawn’,” she pointed out before gesturing to the sky that is slightly brighter now than it was when Katherine arrived. “It’s before dawn.”

  “It’s too early in the morning to argue,” Roland groaned opening the side door leading into an office. “Today, you’re going to start with affinities opposite of Shade. The reason is so that you don’t accidently stunt his growth or at worse unintentionally harm him. I assume that he’s been hunting for himself.”

  Katherine nodded, then realized that he probably wasn’t awake enough to understand in a reasonable time. “Yes, he hunts for himself.”

  “Good,” Roland commented, tossing Katherine a jacket and gloves. “I don’t think you’ll want him around for this part.”

  Shade lingered close to Katherine, clearly reluctant to venture far. He pressed his nose against her leg, then looked up, meowing softly as if asking to stay in her shadow. Katherine glanced at Roland, uncertain. “Uh, what do you think?” she asked, her voice tinged with hesitation.

  Roland shook his head, concern evident in his eyes. “I would rather not—at least on the first day,” he replied, trying to reassure them. He gestured toward the office door. “We can leave the door open. The frame keeps the creatures from getting out this way, so Shade can stay nearby. My main worry is that, in the mornings, either of you could hurt the other through your bond, especially since you’re connected by the soul.” Roland’s voice softened, hinting at personal experience. “Soul damage is hard to heal.”

  Katherine took in the barn’s sturdy stone exterior and glanced around the office, noting its brick-like construction. She tried to refocus on the task. “What affinities are we dealing with, exactly?” she asked.

  Roland answered with a casual shrug. “Just creatures with the fire affinity this morning. They’re usually less volatile than those with a light affinity, but there’s still a risk.” He leaned forward, his tone more serious. “If the creatures surround you—front and back—you won’t have a shadow for Shade to slip into. If he tries to help from your shadow but can’t reach you, it could trigger a magical backlash. Fire affinity creatures disrupt dark magic, and with your soul bond, any disturbance could hurt both of you.”

  Seeing the unease in both Katherine and Shade, Roland offered a small reassurance. “Fortunately, the ones you’ll start with are among the most docile here.”

  Katherine nodded, thoughtful. “Shade’s affinity is darkness and space,” she explained. “I understand how fire could harm his darkness affinity, but what about his space affinity? Couldn’t he just teleport to me if there’s trouble?”

  Roland smiled at her question, shaking his head gently. “You’re forgetting he’s still a cub,” he reminded her. “He won’t be able to teleport reliably until he’s fully grown—and even then, it might still depend on shadows.”

  Katherine made her decision looking down at Shade. “Stay in here,” Katherine told Shade. His ear drooped at the command but understood it was for his own good.

  Katherine pushed through the barn’s side door and was instantly assaulted by the sharp stench of sulfur, gasoline, and scorched earth. The blend hit her hard, forcing her to double over, eyes watering as she fought to stay upright. Her stomach twisted, but years in combat zones had taught her how to steel herself against worse—though even those memories didn’t make this any easier.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Oh god,” she gasped, grateful she’d skipped breakfast. She dry-heaved, throat burning, and spat out the bitter taste clinging to her tongue. “This is terrible. I’ve been deployed in places that smelled better than this.”

  Roland offered a shrug, unfazed. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, handing her a metal shovel designed for horse stalls.

  Katherine wiped her mouth, forcing herself to focus through the haze. “I can taste it. That’s just wrong.”

  Roland motioned toward the far stalls. “We’re cleaning up after the Pyrelings today.”

  She followed him, shovel in hand, and finally took in the creatures filling the barn. Pyrelings resembled horses in shape and stature—massive, twice the size of even the biggest traditional draft breeds. Instead of flesh, their bodies appeared formed from stone, with joints, eyes, and tails blazing with living fire. Their manes glowed, heat radiating off them like open furnaces. It was as if someone had engineered the Budweiser Clydesdales to be elemental powerhouses, both formidable and mesmerizing.

  Amid the fiery herd, one Pyreling stood out—a smaller, blue-flamed creature among the predominantly orange and red. Katherine’s curiosity cut through her discomfort. “Roland why is that one blue?” she asked, watching him expertly scoop up an oddly shaped object from the sand.

  “I believe that one is younger than the rest,” Roland said with a thoughtful shrug, as if he wasn’t entirely certain. “The color and the amount of heat they give off tend to change as they get older.”

  Katherine considered his words, trying to reason through the possibilities. “Is there a way to find out why? Maybe books, specific skills, or something like that?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  Roland leaned against his shovel, thinking. “Books, maybe—there are a few that might have something about it,” he replied. “As for skills, I’m sure someone might know, but most people keep that sort of thing to themselves. So, it’ll be hard to tell.”

  Katherine, usually observant, was caught off guard when something nudged her shoulder. “Hey,” she said, assuming it was a person—only to turn and find herself nose-to-snout with the blue pyreling. The creature nudged her again, and suddenly a prompt appeared, something she hadn’t seen in days, but this time for a different reason.

  Contract Attempt

  A Pyreling has sensed your ability to make familiar contracts and may want to become your familiar.

  Objective

  Enact Soul Contract

  Tame Pyreling (0/1)

  Katherine stared at the message, heart pounding. She’d never expected a creature like this to choose her—especially not so soon after bonding with Shade. Was she even allowed to accept?

  “Um, Roland, I might have a problem,” Katherine admitted, unsure what to do.

  Roland glanced at her, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it?” he asked, assuming she might be in danger.

  “Apparently, it wants to be a familiar,” Katherine replied, body still tense. “But I’m not sure that I can—at least legally speaking.”

  A grin spread across Roland’s face. “Well, you can—but I see what you mean.”

  ...

  Lira blinked in surprise when Katherine and Roland joined her family for breakfast. She’d always suspected Katherine wasn’t much of a breakfast eater—that her new responsibilities, coupled with nerves, might make food the last thing on her mind. Seeing Katherine arrive with Roland, who stood slightly apart and seemed to be watching over her, only deepened Lira’s suspicions. She wondered if the pair were hiding something, especially since both of them reeked of smoke and sulfur, their clothes carrying the unmistakable stench of the elemental pens.

  Duke Osric greeted them warmly, his gracious tone filling the dining room. “Ah, Roland, glad you’re here. And this must be your apprentice. Please, join us—both of you.”

  Roland hesitated, offering a sheepish smile. “I’d rather not, your grace. We just came from one of the elemental pens and probably aren’t fit for polite company right now.”

  As Lira tried to guess which elemental creatures they’d been working with, the acrid smell hanging around Katherine and Roland made her think of fire affinities—Pyrelings, perhaps. She watched her father closely, noticing how he picked up on Roland’s more formal way of speaking, which was unusual for the generally easygoing tamer.

  The duke’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s the matter, Roland? You’re not usually one to refuse even a cup of tea. Did something happen in the pens?”

  Roland nodded, glancing at Katherine as if seeking confirmation. “You could say that. Do you remember that odd Pyreling we have?”

  Osric leaned back, considering. “Of course,” he replied, as a server poured him a hot drink.

  Roland drew a breath, his tone more cautious. “It seems it wants to form a contract.”

  Everyone at the table paused, turning to him with wide eyes, as if he’d announced the sun was rising in the west. Lira suppressed a smirk at the drama, sensing Corin bristle beside her at the unexpected news.

  Katherine spoke up, her voice steady but a hint of tension beneath. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble—I just wanted to let you know what happened as soon as I could.” She glanced at Roland for support, mindful not to overstep boundaries. Lira watched as Katherine kept her tone measured, determined not to escalate the situation despite the weight of the moment.

  Osric studied Katherine, nodding slowly. “You must be Katherine. My daughter speaks highly of you—though not always in ways I expect.”

  Katherine returned the look, her words polite but careful. “I don’t know what she’s told you, so I won’t speak to that. But since one of your creatures showed interest in bonding with me, I thought it only right to inform you. I wanted to handle things properly.”

  The sudden challenge came from a boy a few years younger than Lira—her brother, Corin. He leaned forward, voice tight with skepticism. “What makes you think my father would give a peasant a creature like a Pyreling?”

  Lira caught Corin’s defensiveness and shot him a look. “Corin, at least give her credit—she’s reporting the creature’s intent instead of just taking it. And honestly, given the wrong circumstances, I bet she could take you down.” She grinned, teasing, but her words weren’t entirely a joke.

  Katherine’s lips twitched, and she shook her head, reassuring the staff with a gentle tone. “I wouldn’t.” But her restraint was clear, and Lira suspected that Katherine was holding back much more than she let on.

  Lira watched her brother, noticing how Corin seemed tense despite Katherine’s attempt to reassure him. Katherine’s words were meant to comfort, but there was a subtle edge to her tone—she was alert, scanning the room, as if expecting trouble. Lira’s parents studied Katherine in return, and every member of the staff seemed acutely aware of the tension.

  Katherine’s gaze landed on one of the guards, her voice dropping lower and losing its earlier warmth. “Put the knife away,” she said, her tone steely, trying to keep the situation from escalating. She held herself rigid, the memory of past threats flickering in her mind—she wanted to send a clear message without resorting to outright violence. “No need to make this harder than it has to be.”

  The family guard stepped forward, now clearly visible to everyone. “With how high my level is, I doubt you could manage that,” he replied, his posture defensive but not hostile, perhaps testing her resolve more than truly threatening her.

  Lira raised an eyebrow at the guard, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Are you willing to test that theory?” she asked, her tone half-challenging, half amused, hoping to diffuse the confrontation with a touch of humor.

  The guard glanced from Lira to Katherine, noting Katherine’s tense posture—she looked ready to spring into action—then to Shade, who had slipped into the room and now mirrored his master’s wariness, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. The guard hesitated, reading the room. “I’d rather not,” he said, finally relaxing his grip on the knife, recognizing that this standoff was more about proving intent than actual danger.

  Katherine squared her shoulders and looked past Lira, her gaze settling somewhere behind her friend. “What about you?” she called out, her tone sharp and unwavering. The entire room shifted their attention to Katherine, surprised by her apparent ability to sense someone others could not. “Would you rather come out willingly, or do I need to grab you by the mask?” she threatened, voice cold. Shade immediately mirrored Katherine’s tension, shifting his gaze in the same direction and baring his teeth, a low, aggressive rumble vibrating in his chest—a silent warning to the unseen presence.

  Lira turned in her seat, scanning the space behind her for any sign of the person Katherine had detected, but she found nothing. “Katherine,” Lira began, confusion evident in her voice as she turned back to her friend. “What does this person look like?” Her words were careful, and she rose slowly from her chair, wary but curious, approaching Katherine for clarity.

  Katherine’s eyes remained fixed on the invisible figure. “They’re about a head taller than you,” she said, focusing intently. “Wearing black—wait, now they’re in white robes—damn it. They just changed color again.” Her uncertain description made her sound frantic, even to herself.

  Seeing Katherine struggle to sound sane, Lira decided to shift the focus away from clothing. She subtly reached for the pouch at her waist, trying not to draw attention. “You mentioned they were wearing a mask. What does it look like?” Lira asked, voice gentle but probing.

  Katherine’s posture remained rigid, every muscle taut. “Like bones,” she replied, her words clipped. “The front part of a skull, specifically. It looks like it once belonged to a large bird—a raven or crow.” As she spoke, Katherine noticed Lira’s hand moving toward the pouch. “Don’t even think about it, Lira. I know what you’re trying to do,” she warned, her voice low and tense, the room bristling with anticipation.

  Lira hesitated, her hand trembling slightly with guilt as she weighed her options. “For everyone’s sake, I need to do this,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper. She swiftly pulled her hand from the pouch and blew a fine powder into Katherine’s face. Instantly, Katherine’s body crumpled to the floor, limp and unresponsive—a stark contrast to her earlier resolve.

  Roland rushed forward, concern etched across his face as he knelt beside Katherine, checking for signs of distress. Lira’s apology to Roland came out tight with lingering remorse. “I’m sorry, Roland, but Katherine will have the rest of the day off,” she said, her tone both firm and regretful.

  Roland nodded, understanding heavy in his eyes. “No need to apologize,” he replied quietly. “I’d rather her be well, no matter what your father said about the Pyreling. We were supposed to go to the outer ponds after this, but the creatures there still give me nightmares when I see them feed—and I’ve worked with them for years.”