The spark bloomed from David’s hand with a soft snap, scattering tiny arcs of light into the air.

  He blinked, stunned. The runes he’d conjured were still hovering faintly in front of him, fading slowly as the last of the mana dissipated.

  “I did it,” he murmured.

  Dolen sat cross-legged on a root, carving nonsense into the dirt with a stick.

  “That was a spark. Nice job.” He stood, brushed off his robes, and stretched with a yawn. “Good progress for day one. Let’s call it.”

  David grinned, pride swelling in his chest as he wiped sweat from his brow.

  But the feeling didn’t last long.

  A shimmer on the edge of his vision caught his attention.

  A large, lurching shape was heading their way, its signature more intense than the typical creature of the forest.

  “A monster. Big one.” David said quickly, spinning toward the treeline. “Let’s run!”

  Dolen raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. “I might walk fast, kid,” he said, “but I rarely run.”

  Branches cracked in the distance. A moment later, the thing emerged.

  It stumbled through the brush and into the clearing. Vaguely humanoid, but grotesque. Its arms were too long, dragging the ground. Its body thick with layered muscle.

  Blackened, bristle-like fur covered its back and shoulders. Its jaw was wide and overfilled with yellowed teeth. And when it saw David, it didn’t hesitate.

  It charged.

  David flinched backward on instinct, ready to dodge, but the creature slammed headfirst into an invisible wall with a deafening thud.

  It recoiled, then darted to the side, only to crash into another wall.

  The barriers formed a seamless box around it.

  The creature threw itself at the sides, scratching and howling in frustration. Its claws raked the unseen surface, and it began ramming into the corners, trying to break through.

  David turned to Dolen, mouth dry. “What even is that?”

  “Relax,” Dolen muttered, watching it thrash. “Just a bristlemane.”

  Dolen made a lazy gesture with his fingers.

  David stared as a sudden cluster of runes flashed into view, encircling the trapped beast for a split second before disappearing.

  Then, without warning, a torrent of fire erupted beneath the bristlemane’s feet.

  The monster shrieked in agony. It flailed, trying to escape, slamming into the barrier again and again as flames licked up its limbs, catching fur and skin alike.

  Its howls turned to ragged screeches, then guttural choking sounds.

  It kept trying to get away until it stopped moving.

  Dolen didn’t watch. He had already turned back toward the city path, hands folded behind his back, humming something tuneless as he walked.

  David stood frozen, heart pounding. They could have just moved away and avoided the encounter entirely.

  “Wasn’t that… overkill?” he asked quietly.

  Dolen shrugged. “Just a flare.”

  David stared at the burning remains, the shimmering barrier now gone, then tore his gaze away.

  Just a mindless brute.

  David’s eyes bored into the back of Dolen’s hood. What did it feel like to wield such power?

  He jogged to catch up with him, leaving the charred corpse behind.

  David and Dolen returned to Mason’s Retreat in the afternoon.

  The weather was sunny and the streets were stirring with life.

  David’s chest heaved up and down, but he already planned how he would continue the training without Dolen.

  They barely made it inside before a young silver haired girl ran up to them. “Uncle Dolen!” She squeaked. “Are you here to play with us?”

  “Not today, Talia.” He rustled her hair. “Just passing through. Got to bring this guy back.” He pointed to David.

  Some people turned around to look at them, but quickly returned to their drinks. Dolen must have been a regular.

  The girl turned to David and smiled. Was she the one who always wanted to talk to him? Or was that the other twin?

  Before he could decide, the girl extended her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Talia!” She turned around and shouted into the rather empty room. “Dalia! The boy you said looked nice is here!”

  Dalia peeked out of the doors behind the bar. Her eyes met David’s and her cheeks instantly colored red.

  She ran up to them, fast as a boarman charge.

  “Talia!” She screamed at her sister. “Don’t make fun of me!”

  Before David could get a grasp on the situation, Viera’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “Dolen! My office. Now!”

  She stood behind the bar, arms crossed, her gaze sharp enough to slice.

  David flinched. Was their excursion not authorized?

  Dolen didn’t care one bit.

  Viera held the door to her office open and he briskly walked in.

  David followed at a jog, his eyes boring into the ground.

  The atmosphere inside the office was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  “I gave you a pouch of silver, and then you vanished,” she snapped. “I was this close to sending people after you.”

  “I took him,” Dolen said, completely unbothered.

  He stepped around David and threw himself into a chair, kicking his feet up onto a nearby bench. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Viera’s eyes narrowed. “You took him.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “For training, like you asked me to.” Dolen said, as if it were obvious. “See? I listen to you.”

  “That’s not how this works…” Viera muttered, pinching her nose.

  “Well, it should be.” He grinned and gestured toward David. “He’s sharp. Keep him busy, sis.”

  David blinked. “You’re siblings?”

  “Ehh, I wish.” Dolen replied, already halfway to the door. “My real sister’s not nearly as cute.” He winked at David and was out the door before Viera could open her mouth.

  David stood there, floored. Too much was happening all at once.

  Viera then turned back to David with a heavy sigh, her tone shifting. “Come with me.”

  David followed her as she stood before the wall.

  Then she… walked right into it?

  Viera vanished behind the wooden boards. Hesitantly, he put his hand up to the wall, only to see it fall through to the other side.

  He immediately focused on his mana vision. The whole room was filled with different magical effects, but the particular wall stood out slightly.

  Must be an illusion.

  David stepped through, emerging into a separate chamber.

  A single desk stood in the center, covered in rough parchment, worn scrolls, and stacks of brittle, folded paper.

  Most of it was filled with squiggly lines and looping symbols. None of it readable to an ordinary eye.

  “This is your workplace from now on.” Viera dropped a stack of empty paper in front of him. “Translate this and write it all down.”

  David slid into the seat and pulled the first sheet closer.

  Viera kept watch of him for a while as he started reading.

  The title caught his eye:

  “The Account of the Lovandel Schism — Part II”

  He blinked.

  The first few paragraphs were dry. Names, dates, political context.

  He had worried if he’d actually be able to translate it without Aura’s help, but the text wasn’t difficult.

  Dry writing.

  He skimmed until a phrase jumped out at him:

  “The Kira and Paulan houses pushed heavily for Lovandel relocation, citing their efficient dealings with native races in the reclaimed territories.”

  Native races?

  His eyes narrowed.

  The passage continued, describing how these “native races” were deemed ‘hostile beyond reason’ and how the Lovandels had “successfully pacified resistance.”

  Was that a way of referring to monsters? Like they were people?

  He raised his head to ask a question, but Viera was gone already. He must have been too engrossed to notice her departure.

  The document went on, droning about meaningless detail, which David scrupulously translated onto fresh pages.

  Overall, The Lovandels, whoever they were, grew disgruntled and increasingly self-sufficient, declared autonomy a generation later, forming their own empire.

  The document ended abruptly, without much commentary.

  David leaned back in the chair, heart beating faster.

  The story book he’d read growing up had a lot of information on monsters, on history and the noble houses, but it never mentioned this.

  Monsters were evil and mindless. Nobles were golden hearted and united.

  This document surely wasn’t something the authorities wanted people to read.

  He put his own thoughts aside and continued through the remaining papers.

  Sadly, he couldn’t find neither part one nor part three to the lovandel’s story.

  Some time later, footsteps tore David away from his work.

  Talia entered the room. He was almost sure it was her, not Dalia.

  “Mo-” She stopped mid-word and corrected herself. “Miss Viera had to go out. She asked me to tell you when it’s the end of your shift.”

  What? Already?

  David looked at her, a little shocked.

  “It’s midnight..” The girl added helpfully. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner!”

  No way. Aura and Bert must be getting worried. Sophie too.

  “Maybe next time.” He thanked the girl for the offer and smiled, but quickly left.

  Once he went outside, it was completely dark.

  As he went back home, thoughts warred in his head.

  The sensitive info. Having a powerful mage like Dolen in their service.

  This wasn’t some random gang. These people weren’t shady crooks.

  They were organized. Hidden. Dangerous.

  A rebellion?

  And now he was part of it. For now, at least.

  But even knowing all that, he couldn’t regret his choices.

  A steady income and a powerful magic tutor.

  Not like his life was any safer before this point, so what’s the harm?

  The citizenship rune glowed against Sophie’s skin for only a moment before fading, leaving behind a faint warmth… and nothing else.

  No bells. No speeches. No change in how the people looked at her.

  Still, it was done.

  Sophie was officially a citizen.

  She stepped out of the dusty bureau with a shaky breath.

  She’d prefer to have Marco with her, especially since he brought in most of the money she spent today… But he had new responsibilities these days.

  A funny thought, considering he wasn’t even twelve.

  A major goal accomplished. Safety. Security. Belonging.

  But more importantly, maybe now she could make a difference for them.

  Sophie approached the refugee camp under the walls. As usual, lines upon lines of people queued at the check-in desk to try and gain entry to the city.

  Most failed.

  Refugees kept flooding the outer roads, swelling the makeshift camps beyond anything the city could handle.

  Tents, carts, and simple shelters stretched along the valley outside the walls.

  Hundreds of new faces had arrived in just the last few days. Some looked exhausted. Others, afraid. Too many were children.

  Sophie had seen it. Walked among them.

  She’d been one of them up to this morning.

  But now? She could help. She would help.

  She approached the check-in point.

  One of the faces was familiar. Hito, the guard who led them to the examination center on their first day here.

  “Mister.. Sir Hito?” She asked “Could we talk for a second?”

  Truth be told, she didn’t remember him well, but she did know his name.

  “Hey, you’re that girl we threw in jail.” The guard chuckled. “Glad you’re doing better.”

  “Yes, well… I’m Sophie and I’m a citizen now.” Her cheeks got slightly red, but she continued ”What stops us from letting people in the city?”

  “Congratz.” Hito smiled. “Orders do.”

  “Whose?”

  “Lord Garonian’s” His eyes flicked toward the city. “Got a problem, take it up with him.”

  “How would I do that?”

  The man’s eyes widened a bit. “You really want to go back to jail, don’t you?”

  “If I have to.” She crossed her arms and stared right at the man.

  “You’re ballsy, I like that in women.” He looked her up and down. Then his eyes flicked to the refugees in the distance. “Do you care that much?”

  “I do. So, your answer?” She didn’t appreciate his wandering gaze, but didn’t comment on that.

  “Try the guild. Or the church. If your case is good enough, someone will bring it up to the lord.” He shrugged.

  She thanked the man and walked away, before he got any ideas other than ogling her.

  She went back to the city and bought a few bags of vegetables and flatbread before returning to the refugee camp.

  It was a lot. It would never be enough.

  The children recognized her first.

  She didn’t know their names, despite wanting to.

  When she sat on the dirt and pulled out the food, they crowded around like they always did: silent at first, then loudly chewing. But too scared to talk.

  Eventually, they’d warm up to her, she hoped.

  The mothers weren’t far behind.

  “Celia! Joline!” Sophie brightened seeing the two wizened women. “I’ve brought more food.”

  They too came from Grainwick, though they left before the massacre.

  “You’re always like sunshine, Sophie.” Celia brushed her cheek. Joline was already starting a fire under a large pot.

  “You’re not bad yourself. If I could keep even half of your energy at your age, I’d be happy.”

  “Oh you little rascal. Are you calling me old?” Celia mocked being annoyed.

  She enjoyed their company as much as she welcomed their help. Sophie worked with them to prepare soup for as many mouths as they could.

  But internally, Sophie’s heart was being torn apart.

  If nothing changed, they could all die when the long night comes.

  Maybe she could at least get some help? Marco was working with some pretty powerful people, maybe they could stand with her for the refugee cause?

  She watched the kids devour the soup as she weighed her options.

  I’ve got barely a week to do something.

  It was hopeless. Or was it?

  Something so insignificant, like bringing a bag of food… And yet, it was enough to make a difference for some of them.

  Even if no one else cared… She wasn’t going to stop trying.