[2 Days Before the Final...]
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[Lona Academy of Arcane and Magical Arts]
–Special Training Facility–
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Hileya stepped closer to the dueling ring, a polished stone platform elevated from the rest of the training chamber. Her eyes swept across each paper drawn with magic diagrams Vel had spread along the stone rail.
"Here's the problem. We don't have time to go through the basics. How magic circles work, what the Academy teaches in the first term. That alone would take weeks."
He turned to Hileya.
"So we'll do what people did before they actually went to an academy. Skip the theory, learn by doing." He tapped the nearest parchment. "I'll show you some spells and their incantations. We see what works."
Vel glanced around the room. The chamber was wider than he'd expected from the outside. White polished masonry, tinted windows set high along the walls, bright without direct sun. Training dummies lined one side, made from some dark material that looked like they could take a full swing and stay intact. Nothing like the wooden ones back at the lodging yard.
A message had arrived that morning, granting finalists access to one of the Academy's reserved training chambers.
Except Tomas hadn't shown.
"Do you think Tomas got the message too?" Celia asked from behind them, arms crossed, her hair tied back. "Where is he?"
"I don't think anyone would miss a message from the Archmagister."
Vel looked to the entrance. "Maybe he needed some space. You know how he gets anxious before big things. We can check on him later."
Celia considered that, then shrugged. "Fair enough."
Still... not like him to skip without a word.
He set the thought aside.
Hileya followed his gaze toward the entrance. Her silhouette caught faintly in the polished stone beneath her feet.
"I haven't seen any servants walk past. I'm not sure I'm even allowed here, master."
"I don't see anyone stopping us on the way here," Vel said, setting a dummy down beside them.
He picked up the first parchment from the stone rail and held it where both Hileya and Celia could see.
"Let's start with this one." He pointed to the magic circle drawn on the sheet. Single ring, three sigils. "I call it Ice Touch. It does something similar to what's been happening to you, except you get to control it."
His eyes stayed on Hileya as he placed his hand flat against the dummy. "Feryis Minorem."
A magic circle flickered to life around his wrist, sigils rotating briefly before frost spread from his palm across the dummy, thin and controlled. It stopped the moment he lifted his hand, the circle fading with it.
"Say it out loud, like a command." He handed the parchment to Hileya. "And this drawing is the instruction, specifically for the water spirit."
Hileya studied the drawing for a moment, then set it down. She placed her hand against the dummy and spoke.
"Feryis Minorem."
Nothing happened.
She pulled back and looked at her hand. Her brow creased slightly. "There's something. I can feel it gathering, but it won't pass through."
"Ah." Vel nodded. "That's normal for first-time casters. Even if you brought up the spell in casual conversation, nothing would happen. The incantation is just words until the spirit knows you mean it."
He tapped the parchment. "Also, have this visualized in your mind, and the flow of energy as you say the words." He traced the lines as he spoke.
"Remember that feeling just now. The way the energy gathered around your hand." He closed his own fist slowly. "Hold on to that sensation as long as you can. It's like a muscle you already have. You just need your mind to figure out which way to pull."
Hileya stared at Vel, her hand resting against her chest.
"That's... a lot of things to do at once, young master. It's far more complex than fighting with the dagger."
"She's right," Celia said. "That's a lot of effort for something so small."
"Well, that's what separates casters from fighters." Vel shrugged. "Some people work better with their mind than their muscles. But don't worry, with practice, it should become trivial once you know how it's done."
Hileya returned to the parchment. She studied it longer this time.
She extended her hand, fingers spread. Her arm was tense, rigid from shoulder to fingertip. Vel stepped behind her and leaned in, gently adjusting her arm with one hand.
"Relax. Feel it, don't force it."
A faint scent of moonbloom caught him from her hair, fresh and faintly sweet. He realized how close he was, and pulled back before the thought could settle.
Celia was watching. She said nothing.
Hileya stiffened at his proximity, but relaxed again as Vel stepped back.
She drew a breath and repeated the words. Steadier this time.
A magic circle, faint, incomplete, but unmistakable flickered around her wrist. It hung there like a pale bracelet, shimmering for a single beat before it dissolved.
Vel and Celia both went still.
It took him a second. "There!" His voice pitched higher than usual. "You almost had it!"
"I can feel it," Hileya said, staring at her own hand. "The feeling when it happened."
Vel nodded.
Without prompting, she extended her hand again.
"Feryis Minorem."
This time, it held. The sigils rotated, faint but steady, light pulsing along the ring.
"Yes, you got it. Hold it. Concentrate."
Hileya pressed her palm against the dummy. The magic circle dimming threatening to scatter. Frost crept outward from her touch, uneven at first, then the spell found its rhythm.
Celia stepped in right beside them now, eyes wide.
"Wow," Celia breathed. "There were a few back in Caldwen's class that took a whole week to get to this," she looked at Vel. "Nema even said it would take months, maybe longer."
Vel'd seen first-time casters at the Academy struggle for days before producing even a flicker. Some never got past that stage in their first week. Hileya had done it in minutes.
"I'm sure it's the contract elevating her growth," Vel said. "Just... faster than expected."
Way too fast.
"Perhaps it wasn't just the contract, master. Maybe part of it was you."
Vel blinked. Celia's mouth twitched but she said nothing.
"Let's move on to the next one."
They went through spell after spell. A basic mist veil. A minor water bolt. A frost coating for her dagger. Each one came easier than the last, Hileya needing fewer attempts before the magic circle stabilized around her wrist. Even the simple darkness spell Vel had developed on theory alone produced a faint result, the air around her fingertips dimming like a shadow had passed over them.
Hileya flexed her fingers, studying them. "Though I must admit, casting does feel too slow for close combat, just like Miss Celia said." Her free hand drifted to the dagger. "If there was a way to combine both..."
Vel looked at Celia. Celia met his eyes.
He blinked, visibly surprised. But Celia tilted her head, like she'd heard this somewhere before. Probably from the one she was already looking at.
Right. Not everyone fights the same way.
He'd been thinking about this from his own perspective. But Hileya wasn't him. She'd been training with the dagger for months. Even her status listed weapon proficiency before anything else. Forcing her down the path of a pure caster might do more harm than good.
That left only one thing.
"You just described weapon arts," Vel said. "If that's your preferred fighting style, we could do something about it." He crossed his arms, chin tilted up just slightly. "But knowing both casting and blade work would prove advantageous. That I can assure you."
He looked a little too proud saying it.
"One would have to be a bookworm with way too much free time to pursue both paths," Celia said, not looking at Vel. "Can't imagine who that could be."
She tapped her chin. "But we'd need someone who actually knows Dagger Arts. Techniques that work with her elements specifically."
Her eyes sharpened, turning to Vel."We could ask around the Guild."
Vel nodded, but a wry smile still lingering from Celia's comment. That was the most practical route. The Academy wouldn't help, but adventurers who'd spent years fighting with unconventional weapons and elements were a different story.
"Then let's head there now."
They were gathering the parchments when Hileya spoke.
"Master, don't you need to practice for your final match?"
"Not really." Vel rolled the sheets together and tucked them under his arm. "You're more important."
Hileya's cheeks colored. She opened her mouth, closed it, and simply bowed her head.
Celia let out a quiet sigh through her nose but kept walking.
Vel paused at the stone rail, flipped one of the parchments over, and scribbled a few lines on the back.
"In case Tomas gets here later," he said, leaving it where it wouldn't be missed.
The three of them left the chamber and made their way toward the Lona Adventurers' Guild.
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–Lona Adventurers' Guild Headquarters–
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Mori shook her head.
"Dark element users are rare. Rarer than Light, even. The only one registered with us who'd fit your situation is currently on an expedition across the western sea." She set her quill down. "I'm sorry. I wish I could do more."
Vel stepped back from the desk.
He'd noticed the absence at the Academy too. Plenty of Fire, Earth, Water, Air. A handful of Light. But Dark was almost nonexistent. He'd seen the numbers but never questioning why.
"Could you tell me more? About why there are so few?"
Mori leaned back in her chair, choosing her words.
"Every other element can go both ways. Heal or harm. Build or destroy. But Dark element... does not share that balance. The majority of people who carry that affinity..." She paused. "Let's say...for every one that walks the right path, a dozen end up on the opposite side. The ones we trust enough to keep on our roster, I could count on one hand."
She had a point. But Hileya turned out fine.
Maybe that's the prejudice talking. If society decides what you are before you've done anything, why try to prove them wrong? Fire-attuned are rebellious by nature. They'd fight back, burn brighter just to make a point. But Dark... Entropy accepts things for what they are.
"What about a water-attuned instructor instead?" Celia offered. "That could work as an alternative."
Mori nodded. "You could also file a formal request for a teacher. Pin it on the board. I'm sure someone would answer it eventually."
True. But Vel had been hoping for someone with real experience. A fighter who'd spent years in the field, not just anyone who happened to answer a posting. What if whoever turned up wasn't the right fit?
He looked at Hileya. She hadn't said a word since they arrived, but her gaze had drifted to the floor.
She's disappointed too.
He turned back to Mori.
"Well, better than waiting for nothing. Let's file it."
Mori stamped the form, walked it to the board, and pinned it among the rows of open requests. By the time Vel, Celia, and Hileya stepped out through the front entrance, it was already buried between two expedition postings.
---
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–Laren & Duren Forge–
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The forge sat at the end of a narrow alley, far from the polished storefronts of the central merchant district. A wooden sign dangled above the entrance, a hammer and anvil carved into it, the edges worn as if eaten by insects. Just the low glow of coals through an open front and the steady ring of metal on metal.
The storefront didn't exactly invite customers. But that was why Vel came here. He needed someone who spent their time on the craft, not rushing through requests for the masses.
"Why are we here?" Celia asked, glancing at the soot-stained walls.
"For my sword."
The forge master looked up from the workbench. "Ah, the young appraiser." He set down a file. "Commission?"
"If it's ready, Laren."
"Nearly. Hang on." Laren wiped his hands on his apron and disappeared into the back.
Vel let his gaze drift around the place while he waited, but it landed on the older man at the far side of the forge.
He had stopped whatever he was doing. His hands still on the blade across his knee, his eyes on Hileya. The moment he noticed Vel looking, he returned to his work.
That's a first.
Every time Vel had visited, the man could as well have been another anvil in this workshop. Never looking up. Never talking. Testing blades like he'd done it ten thousand times and would do it ten thousand more.
Laren came back with the commission and set the wrapped sword on the counter. "Here. Tried my best with what you asked. More balanced between hard and flexible material." He tapped the spine. "Wouldn't push it past mid-tier arts though."
Vel unwrapped the cloth and lifted the blade. The weight sat right. He gave it a slow turn, feeling the distribution through his wrist. Good.
"It'll do."
"It'll do?" Laren's brow twitched. "Weeks of work and I get 'it'll do'?"
"It's excellent."
"That's more like it."
Across the room, the older man's gaze found them again. Not the commission. Not Laren. Not the customer who'd asked for it. His eyes fixated on Hileya.
Vel caught it. And this time, so did Laren.
Then he looked away, same as before.
Whatever Laren was thinking was cut short by Vel's next request.
"Could you take a look at this too?" Vel gestured to Hileya. She unsheathed her dagger and set it on the counter.
Laren picked it up, turned it over. "Old piece. Patched up a few times from what I can tell." He glanced toward the back of the forge. "Duren, take a look—"
He stopped.
Duren was already standing. He'd crossed half the distance without a sound, his eyes on the blade. Laren stared at him, mouth still open around the unfinished sentence.
Duren took the dagger from Laren's hand, held it up to the light, ran his thumb along the flat.
"Got a good base. Decent craft." He turned the blade once more. "Would need a reforge if you want to improve it. Patching would no longer hold."
His gaze shifted from the dagger to Hileya. It stayed there a moment longer than it should have.
"Why would a half-elf servant carry such a weapon?"
Half-elf? Vel hadn't told anyone about Hileya's heritage. She kept it hidden, her hair framing her face just so, the ears never visible.
"How did you—"
"Are you even trying?" Duren's tone didn't shift. Flat. Matter of fact. "Silver hair. Blue eyes. Fair skin. Hair framed to hide both ears." He set the dagger down on the counter. "Doesn't take a genius. All the tells are there."
He said it like it was obvious. Laren was another story. The forge master's hand ran through his beard as he looked at Hileya. It had never even crossed his mind.
Duren turned away without another word and walked back toward his stool.
"Sorry about him," Laren said, scratching his neck. "That old man never talks to customers. Or anyone at all. Don't know what got into—"
He stopped. He'd been looking at Hileya as he spoke. His eyes drifted to Duren's retreating back, then back to Hileya. Something dawned behind them, slow and heavy.
"I see..." His voice dropped. "She reminds you of her, didn't she."
Duren froze. His back still turned.
The forge crackled. No one spoke.
The man said nothing. He sat back down on his stool and returned to his work as if the last minute hadn't happened.
"Reminds him of who?" Vel asked, quieter now.
Laren leaned against the counter, arms folded.
"His late partner. Also a half-elf." He glanced toward Duren's back. "Yet, that gal was different from her sort. Most end up as servants, like this one." He nodded toward Hileya. "But that woman fought to become an adventurer. High-ranking as that."
The way Laren spoke about Hileya sat wrong in Vel's chest. Like this one. He wanted to say something, but put it aside.
"What happened?"
Laren took a heavy breath.
"Died on a mission. Accident. The weapon failed." He paused. "That old man was there too."
"You talk too much, old friend."
Duren's voice came from across the room, low and flat. He hadn't turned around.
Laren glanced over his shoulder but quickly turned back to Vel. His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"Ever since she died, he buried himself in this forge. Retired. The only time he stops sitting there is to sleep and eat."
Wait. Retired?
"He was an adventurer too?"
Laren nodded.
His voice returned to normal.
"But he was right though. Why does 'this one' need a weapon?"
Vel looked at Laren. Then at Hileya, standing off to the side, eyes down, saying nothing. The same way she always did when people talked about her like she wasn't in the room.
"Her name is Hileya."
Laren blinked.
"And being rejected by both races doesn't mean she should be treated any less."
The words weren't loud. But the forge seemed quieter after them.
Behind them, Duren's back went straight. His hands stilled on the blade. Rigid. Like something had struck him that he hadn't braced for.
Laren looked between Vel and the older man, then cleared his throat.
"Right. My apologies. Didn't mean anything by it."
Vel let out a sigh. He wasn't trying to leave a bad impression. He liked this place, and he wanted to keep doing business here.
"No worry. Just wanted to clear things up." He turned the conversation back. "She needs the weapon to learn Dagger Arts. That blade might not hold if she starts practicing seriously."
He paused.
"Though..." Another sigh. "We had no luck finding a teacher at the Guild. Not for her element."
"Oh?" Laren raised an eyebrow. "What element?"
"Dark. And Water."
"A dual-attuned?" Laren's interest sharpened. "Interesting."
Vel glanced toward Duren. Nothing. No shift, no pause, no stolen look. As if the information meant nothing to him. Or perhaps it was no surprise at all.
Laren's expression changed. He turned toward the back of the forge, something clicking behind his eyes.
"Wait. Duren." His voice carried across the room. "Didn't you used to take in apprentices?"
The hammering continued. One beat. Two.
"It was her idea. Not mine."
"Really?" Laren folded his arms. "You just seemed more... gleeful with them around."
"Stop talking about the past."
"Said the one who couldn't leave it behind."
The hammering stopped.
Laren let out a breath. When he spoke again, the merchant tone was gone.
"Ever since that day you came back with blood on your face, all I see from you is a vessel. Your mind's stuck somewhere in the past, Duren. You didn't even talk about what happened. Not once."
Silence from the stool. Then, low and strained.
"What do you want, Laren."
"Maybe start living again, for a start. Go out there." Laren's voice softened. "Wasn't that why you two became adventurers?"
"Stop."
"Would she really want to see you like this? Trapped in the past."
Duren stood. Straight. His hands hung at his sides, and when he spoke, the flatness was gone. What came out was raw.
"What she wanted?" He turned around. His eyes were dry but something behind them had cracked open. "What she wanted is what I couldn't give her. I was there. I felt the cold take over her body as I carried her back."
His grip tightened on the hammer.
"If I deserved to teach anyone, she would have been alive."
His voice broke on the next words.
"If I were good enough, my weapons wouldn't have failed her!"
The hammer came down on the blade with everything he'd been holding. The impact split the metal clean in two. Both halves flew across the room, clattering against the far wall and spinning to a stop on the stone floor.
No one moved.
A long silence passed before Duren spoke again. Quieter now.
"It should have been me."
He stared at the empty space on the anvil where the blade had been.
"She loved those blades because I was the one who made them. They were the only thing she trusted." His voice carried no anger anymore. Just weight. "Not her party members. Not the ones who called themselves her friends. And not those cowards that ran for their lives."
He exhaled, slow and hollow.
"So tell me. What is left out there." He looked down at his hands. "At least in here, I can atone for my own sins."
The hammer slipped from his grip and hit the floor with a dull clang. He lowered himself back onto the stool, shoulders curved forward, smaller than he'd been a moment ago.
No one could answer that. Not even Vel.
He'd lost Oakhaven. He'd lost his old life, his old world. But none of those wounds cut the way Duren's did. The kind where there was no one else to blame. Just yourself, sitting in the same chair, day after day, testing blades that would never make up for the one that mattered.
"Sorry, kid." Duren's voice was flat again, closed off. "You'll have to find your teacher somewhere else."
He stood and turned toward the back room.
Then the dagger left the counter.
It crossed the forge in a single arc. No warning. No sound. By the time anyone registered what had happened, Duren's hand was already up. He caught the weapon at the handle, not the blade, without looking.
His fingers closed around the grip like they'd done it a thousand times.
It wasn't Vel who threw it. It was Hileya.
Every head turned.
She stood with her hands dropped to her sides, chin level, her gaze fixed on Duren.
"Master Duren. I cannot fathom what you went through." Her voice was steady. Not loud, not soft. Measured in the way someone speaks when every word has been chosen before it leaves their mouth. "But please, look at the blade you are holding."
Duren's fingers shifted around the handle. He didn't look down.
"Can it save someone's life in this state?"
A pause. Then, barely above a murmur.
"Not even itself."
"Yet I beg to differ." Hileya took a step forward. "It has saved me many times. It saved me from becoming a tool for the powerful. Saved me from a fate far worse than death." Her hands stayed at her sides, still. "And for most of it, I didn't even need to draw it."
The forge was silent. Even the coals seemed to have quieted.
"It was never the weapon itself that was special, Master Duren. It was the person who gave it to me." Her gaze didn't waver. "The trust and the care that came with it helped me through hardship. Constantly reminding me. Pushing me forward."
She paused.
"And I am sure it was the same for her."
Duren's jaw tightened.
"Your partner. Have you ever thought about why she made that decision?" Hileya's voice dropped, not in volume, but in weight. "Had it been me, I would have done the same thing. For my master. Even knowing the weapon in my hand would not hold. Even knowing I am not enough."
Something passed across Duren's face. A crack that hadn't been there a moment ago.
"So please, Master Duren." Hileya bowed her head, just slightly. "Would you let history repeat itself? Would you leave things as they are, knowing that it won't just be the weapon that breaks?"
She lifted her head.
"Or would you honor what she did, and not let the choice she made be meaningless?"
Even Vel found himself caught off guard.
In all the time they'd spent together, he had never seen Hileya speak like this. Never seen her stand like this. A side of her that had always been there, perhaps, but never had the chance to surface.
But every word seemed to reach somewhere deep within Duren.
The silence stretched on long enough that it began to feel permanent. Waiting for a response that seemed like it would never come.
Then Duren lowered the hand that caught the dagger. The handle danced around his fingers, flipping into a reverse grip in one fluid motion.
He turned and walked to the counter, stopping beside Laren.
"Big words." His eyes met Hileya's. "But do you have what it takes to finish what you started?"
"As long as there are people who believe in me and depend on me," Hileya replied. "I would."
Duren drove the dagger into the counter. It stood straight, the tip plunged into the wood.
He held it there.
And only now, with the blade still and the light catching it, could everyone see it clearly. The sharp edge was coated in a thin layer of dull ice. If Duren hadn't caught it, the throw would have been harmless.
Vel stared. She had cast a spell while everyone was focused on Duren's outburst. Or quiet enough that no one heard the incantation leave her lips.
When did she...
But then, something else. A dark mist began to form around the blade where Duren's hand gripped the handle. It swirled and mixed with the icy mist, two elements coiling around each other like they'd always belonged together.
Laren's eyes went wide. He looked from the dagger to Duren.
"Since when... wasn't that her—"
Duren didn't answer.
He released his hand from the dagger. The frosted surface caught his reflection, but Duren stared through the mist like he was seeing someone else.
Then he looked at Hileya.
"Her name was Tia. The Shade." His voice had changed. Not softer, but something in it had settled, like a stone finally reaching the bottom of a deep well. "You do well to remember it. What you are about to learn was her legacy."
He straightened.
"Tomorrow. Leave this here."
He turned and walked toward the doorway to the back room. But just before he passed through, he stopped without looking back.
"Laren. Make sure you charge that young man for the fees."
And he was gone.
Laren exhaled like he'd been holding it the entire time.
"Well." He scratched his beard. "That happened."
He turned to Vel, the merchant resurfacing.
"Private lessons from a Platinum adventurer."
"Don't come cheap."
"Retired. Ex-Platinum."
"Same thing." Laren shrugged.
"Is it though."
"I can charge accordingly."
"Name it."
"Fifteen silver per session. Materials not included."
Vel didn't flinch, but the number sat heavy. Academy students didn't carry that kind of coin regularly. Laren knew it too, watching him with the patience of a man who'd negotiated across this counter a thousand times.
Then he leaned forward.
"Or..." He tapped the counter. "You're an appraiser, aren't you? A good one, from what I've seen."
Vel waited.
"Guild appraisers charge a fortune and take their sweet time. If you handle mine exclusively, no middleman, no guild fees, I'd consider that more than fair."
"As long as the lessons continue?"
"As long as the lessons continue."
"Deal."
They shook on it over the counter, and Laren was already smiling before their hands parted.
The three of them stepped back into the alley. Late afternoon light slanted between the rooftops, warmer than the forge they'd just left.
Celia walked beside Vel in silence for a while before she spoke.
"I didn't know she had that in her."
Neither did Vel. He glanced at Hileya, a step behind them as always. Same posture. Same quiet presence. Hands clasped in front of her the way they always were.
But something had shifted. Not in how she carried herself. In how he saw her.
Back in Elnor, he'd told her she had potential. At the Academy, he'd seen glimpses of it during training. But what happened in that forge wasn't potential. That was conviction. The kind you couldn't teach.
"Hileya."
She looked up.
"That was well done."
A pause. Then, the faintest curve at the corner of her lips.
"I simply said what needed to be said, master."
Celia glanced over her shoulder at Hileya, then at Vel. A look passed between them that said the same thing without words.
She's not just following anymore.