The woods enveloped them in a serene hush as Lucius guided Moren along a narrow path cocooned by the shimmering silver leaves of ancient trees. The sun began its slow descent, casting golden shafts of light through the trees like the fingers of a dying flame, draping itself like delicate silk over the gnarled roots and lush moss that carpeted the forest floor. Softly, the melodious birdsong floated through the canopy, weaving a gentle symphony in the air.
Moren's senses were alive with the vibrant tapestry of the forest; the distant murmur of a stream whispered in her ears, the invigorating scent of wild mint crushed beneath their boots filled her nostrils, and the air carried a subtle sweetness that danced upon her tongue.
Luna flew happily overhead, flying in and out of sight as she darted between branches and leaves.
Lucius came to a stop and lifted a hand. "We're here," he said. My old Mentor will help you understand the quieter side of our power," Lucius replied, his voice low. "You know how to fight. Now, you need to learn how to heal. And listen."
"This place is… something else," Moren whispered, stepping cautiously forward. The air here felt heavier—but not oppressive. More aware.
A modest structure nestled beneath the twisted arms of an enormous, ancient tree whose roots arched above the ground like the ribs of some slumbering beast. The building wasn't quite a cottage nor a shrine but something in between. Its stone foundation was overgrown with ivy, and its wooden walls had been softened by age and moss, though not a single plank seemed out of place. Crystals of varying hues had been set into the outer walls like wards, glowing faintly.
A narrow footpath wound its way toward the entrance, worn smooth by years of careful steps. The garden surrounding the tree was a vibrant tapestry of life, where herbs and flowers thrived in seemingly chaotic yet harmoniously unruly rows, their scents mingling in the air to create a fragrant symphony.
On the porch, wind chimes crafted from delicate bones, wispy feathers, and gleaming crystals swayed gently in the breeze, producing a soft, melodic tinkle. Above, a lazy plume of smoke spiraled upwards from the chimney, dispersing slowly into the clear blue sky.
An Elven woman emerged before they could knock as if she'd sensed them coming. Her skin was dark brown with silver freckles, her long white hair woven into cords with beads and sprigs of dried thyme. She wore a simple grey dress that looked well maintained and no shoes from the dirt on her feet. Her eyes—bright silver and knowing—landed on Lucius and Moren.
"Lucius," She greeted politely with a hint of chill in her tone. "It's been far too long after our last night together." The Dark Elf woman's eyes had an edge to them, staring harshly at Lucius.
Moren watched as her Master wince at her words and decided to stay quiet for the time being.
"You must be the new apprentice," she said with a warm and inviting smile. "Come in, child. I've been expecting you."
The Dark Elf woman's complete change in her personality caught Moren off-guard for a moment before she bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you, Ma'am." She breathed, stepping inside. Inside, the cottage smelled of rosemary, beeswax, and wood smoke. Dried herbs hung from the rafters. Nearby bookcases were filled with books, potions, and magical trinkets that seemed to hum as Luna fluttered into the room and landed on her shoulder. "This is Luna, my familiar."
Lucius coughed into his hand before following Moren inside, averting his eyes from the return of the woman's cold stare. "Moren, this is Vaelwyn. She's a Hedge Witch. One of the best I know."
A kettle whistled. Vaelwyn moved past her guests to make three cups before handing Moren a steaming cup without asking what she liked. "Taste," she said. "Then sit."
Moren sipped—Chamomile, honey, and something that settled the storm inside her chest. "Master has taught me a little about blood magic," Moren said after a moment, hesitant. "I've always seen potions as… well, ingredients and outcomes. Practical."
Vaelwyn chuckled softly. "Potions are more than that, dear. Each one is a promise. A whisper to the body, to nature, to the spirit. And unlike the battlefield, there's no enemy here—only need." She sipped from her cup while studying Moren very closely.
"Like all apprentices before you, you are here to learn how to survive on your own." Vaelwyn moved to a wide table covered in bowls and jars, beckoning Moren to join her. "You'll learn how to brew salves, teas, elixirs—but more than that, you'll learn when not to use them. A hedge witch serves the land and the people. We listen. We walk the boundary between wilderness and hearth."
Lucius leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but eyes watchful. "Moren is a decent potion maker," He said with a hint of a smile on his face. "She is a city girl, and I don't think she has ever farmed her own herbs or ingredients."
Vaelwyn smiled knowingly. "I can see that. But I think a healer might be buried beneath the hunter's path." She said cryptically, motioning for Moren to come closer to her. "Show me what you can do with these ingredients, and we can go from there."
"Ok," Moren replied excitedly, finishing her tea before hurrying to get started. She glanced at the recipe before picking up the knife and getting to work.
As the lesson commenced, Moren felt a newfound sense of grounding envelop her, something she hadn't experienced during the tumultuous Hell Week. Her hands moved with precision as she meticulously chopped the vibrant green herbs, each slice releasing a fresh, earthy aroma that filled the air. Moren stirred with deliberate intention, the wooden spoon gliding through the mixture with a rhythmic grace. For the first time, she sensed the balance within herself—a harmonious blend of the tumultuous storm, the serene stillness, the raw power, and the tranquil peace.
"I like her," Vaelwyn whispered, her eyes fixed on Moren as she meticulously crafted the potion, her hands moving with practiced grace and unwavering focus. The room was filled with the subtle aroma of herbs and magical ingredients, and Vaelwyn's voice carried a note of admiration. "It's been a long time since any of you Hunters have brought me a student with such promise." Her gaze shifted to Lucius, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I think I may keep her."
Lucius rolled his eyes dramatically, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a reluctant smile. "Nice try, Mistress," he retorted, planting his hands firmly on his hips. The dim light of the chamber cast shadows over his strong features, accentuating his determined stance. "I promised Jace that I would keep an eye on her and see her training through to completion." Pride welled up in him as he watched the potion in Moren's cauldron begin to shimmer, the colors melding together perfectly.
Vaelwyn hummed softly, a teasing lilt in her voice. "We'll see," she said, her tone light and full of mischief. "As you know, I have persuaded a few apprentices over the centuries." Her eyes sparkled with the weight of untold stories, her presence a testament to years of wisdom.
Lucius huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, a gesture that both challenged and acknowledged Vaelwyn's playful threat. The room's interplay of light and shadow mirrored the unspoken bond between teacher and former student.
"I think the potion is finished," Moren called out, getting Vaelwyn and Lucius's attention. "How did I do?"
Vaelwyn moved closer to inspect the potion with an approving nod. "You did very well." She praised her new student. "I can see a few areas where I can help you improve, but you did wonderful overall." She reached over to grab a few herbs from a nearby shelf. "Let me show you a few tricks to perfect it."
Moren inched closer, her eyes fixed on the Hedge Witch as she deftly added a few simple items to the concoction, making it shimmer with an almost ethereal glow. "Would it be alright if I jot down some notes about what you've added?" She asked, eager to capture the process.
"Of course, dear," Vaelwyn replied, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. Her voice was as warm as her smile. "Let me show you some of my notes on other potions and mixtures." She bustled over to a towering bookshelf, its shelves crammed with ancient, well-worn tomes, and returned clutching a few of the oldest, most timeworn books.
Meanwhile, Lucius quietly settled into a nearby chair, content to observe as Moren and Vaelwyn delved into an animated conversation about the intricacies of potion crafting. He could smell the scent of herbs and the soft rustle of pages as they discussed ways to enhance their brews. Lucius felt a sense of reassurance, knowing that Moren was in expert hands.
A few hours later, as the sky transitioned into a tapestry of purples and oranges, Lucius tightened the worn leather straps of his pack, the metal buckles reflecting the soft, dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves overhead. He paused on the cobblestone garden path, taking in the sight of Moren one last time.
"I'll be back in two weeks," Lucius assured her, his voice steady yet filled with unspoken wisdom. "Trust Vaelwyn. Let her impart everything she knows, not just what you think you need to learn."
Moren arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her gaze. "That's ominous."
"It means you're paying attention." Lucius offered a rare, dry smile, the corners of his lips barely turning upwards. "She taught me something I had to learn the hard way years ago." With a solemn nod to Vaelwyn, he turned on his heel and slipped into the dense canopy of trees to the horses. His cloak fluttered momentarily before blending seamlessly with the shadows, like smoke dissipating into the air.
The following morning, Moren stood silently, enveloped by the garden's soothing calmness like a warm, comforting embrace. The gentle rustling of the wind, the sweet melodies of birds, and the continuous murmur of a nearby spring infused the atmosphere with serenity.
Luna flew out to perch on a nearby branch to keep an eye on things.
"Come join me over here," Vaelwyn called out, her voice calm and assured, breaking the silence. "He trusts you to find your center. I believe you can remain still long enough to discover it."
The initial days were challenging for Moren. She clumsily handled fragile herbs, her fingers too rough, crushing delicate petals with each careless movement. She watched in distress as a sleeping draught spilled over the cauldron's edge, leaving a sticky mess. Once steady and skilled with a blade, her hands now felt awkward and untrained, struggling with potions she had never made before. More than once, she quietly cursed, sighed in frustration and even thought about marching off into the dense, shadowy forest.
Luna was always at Moren's side to comfort her with head bumps and nuzzling her cheek. Moren appreciated her familiars kindness.
But Vaelwyn, with her calm demeanor and steady gaze, remained patient. "You don't fight a river," she explained, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "You learn how to wade in without drowning."
Each time frustration welled up in her chest, Vaelwyn remained the still point in the storm—never judging, never correcting too sharply. The older witch would hum a tune older than the trees or gently guide Moren's hands back into alignment. Her patience reminded Moren of the forest itself: ancient, watchful, and unhurried.
One morning, as dawn mist clung to the garden like a second skin, Moren approached the ritual bowl without being asked. Her hands, though still calloused, trembled less. She crushed the bloodroot with a mortar and pestle, measured out the lunar blossoms, and stirred with slow, circular motions—clockwise, as Vaelwyn had shown her, "so the brew knows your intent."
"Better," Vaelwyn said softly from the stone bench beneath the vine-laced arbor. "You're listening now—not just with your ears, but with your breath."
Moren blinked, surprised by the praise. "I didn't think I'd ever get the hang of this."
"You're not meant to get the hang of it," Vaelwyn said with a faint smile. "You're meant to be with it. Magic doesn't yield to control—it responds to presence."
The words settled into Moren like seeds on fertile soil. And though doubt still lived in the corners of her heart, a quiet sense of possibility began to bloom.
By the fifth day, Moren found a new rhythm. She woke before the first light of dawn, feeling the cool earth beneath her bare feet as she wandered through the garden. Moren began recognizing each plant by its appearance, unique fragrance, and the memories they stirred. She accompanied Vaelwyn to the nearby village, carrying a carefully prepared tonic to soothe a sick child's fever. She lent her hands to a warding ritual for an expectant mother, watching as Vaelwyn traced protective symbols in the air. Moren learned to grind dried willow bark into a fine powder, ready to ease the burning heat of a fever and discovered the delicate balance required to brew a tea that could calm the raw edges of grief.
By the end of the first week, Moren sat beside the crystal-clear spring, a simple wooden bowl filled with dried chamomile and orange peel resting gently in her lap. The air around Moren was infused with the subtle, soothing aroma of herbs. Her heightened senses, once a cacophony of noise, had now settled into a harmonious hum, attuned and synchronized with the natural world enveloping her.
Vaelwyn approached silently, her footsteps barely disturbing the lush grass as she settled down next to Moren. "Excellent," She approved, glancing at the bowl. "Much better than when you started."
"Thank you, Mistress," Moren agreed, finishing her salve before setting it down. "I understand why Lucius wanted me to come here." She let out a deep breath. "I feel much better. I can still feel the wolf inside me, but it's calm and content."
"Many Veilborn have felt the same way. A few couldn't last more than a few days of the quiet before rushing off to hunter monsters or beasts," Vaelwyn explained, reaching into her bag and pulling out a glass sphere that had three swirls of blue, green, and yellow. "Hold this, please."
Moren accepted the orb and watched as the orb slowly started to grow. "Is this an affinity orb?" She asked as the glowing grew stronger. Moren knew from her studies that an affinity orb showed the holder if they were compatible with Arcane, Divine, or Primal magic.
"It is," Vaelwyn confirmed, intently studying the orb as its glowing ceased, settling into a mesmerizing swirl of bright blue and green interwoven with a muted yellow. The hues seemed to pulse with an inner life, reflecting the potent energies it assessed. "You have a strong affinity for Arcane and Primal magic, with a subtle hint of divine magic," she explained, her voice tinged with awe. Vaelwyn's eyes sparkled with excitement, the prospect of such a unique combination thrilling her. "Fascinating," she murmured as if speaking to herself. "You are going to be a fascinating student." The anticipation in her voice was palpable, promising a journey of discovery and potential.
"What comes next?" Moren inquired as Vaelwyn stored the orb away. Her voice carried a note of eagerness, a spark of anticipation now that the path ahead seemed more certain.
"Next," Vaelwyn replied with a slight, knowing grin, "we start our magical training." She stood up slowly and motioned for Moren to join her.
The two walked together, their footsteps harmonizing with the rhythmic pulse of the earth. The garden surrounded them in vibrant greens and gentle yellows, the colors reflecting the new energy that pulsed through Moren. She held the moment with care, savoring the promise of transformation that lay ahead while feeling the subtle shift in her own resolve.
After returning to Vaelwyn's home, she hurried around her home, grabbed four different books, and laid them on the table one by one. Green, blue, yellow, and red covers, each of which looks worn and well-loved.
"Here are the different disciplines," She gestured to each book. "Place your hand on each one of them."
Moren read the cover of each one. Greenwich, Charmmaker, Spirit Walker, and Witchfire. She placed a hand on each one, and it wasn't until her hand landed on the red cover that tiny sparkles of magical fire rose into the air before vanishing. "That's new." She muttered, pulling her hand back as the sparkles faded.
"Of course," Vaelwyn mused, her voice smooth while putting away the other three books before sitting across from Moren. "I have been around for almost 500 years. I saw many things on the frontlines during the Great Aether War." She closed her eyes momentarily and let out a long breath as if the memories themselves were heavy. "I've trained countless Veilborn, mid-wives, and even taken a few apprentices, and in all that time," She trailed off, opening the ancient book between them, its pages brittle and ink faded. "Only three people have ever been chosen by this book." The fire in the hearth crackled low between them, casting flickering shadows across the lined features of her face.
"What is Witchfire?" Moren asked, leaning forward, curiosity prickling along her spine. Moren eyes were drawn to the book as Vaelwyn turned a few pages, revealing inked illustrations of flames—each different in shape, hue, and energy. One curled like ivy. Another pulsed like a heartbeat. One looked like a bird with wings of smoke.
"Witchfire," Vaelwyn began in a lecturing tone. "It is a type of Primal magic that revolves around fire magic. "It is not just fire. It is Primal magic, older than the gods and the Weave itself. It's fire from within—flame born not of spell or scroll. It's truth, burning off the lies we wear like cloaks to hide from pain. It's a rage-given shape. It's love, too—when that love is so fierce, it would burn down the world to protect what's sacred." Vaelwyn flipped a few pages and tapped a paragraph with her finger, the nail stained with years of ink and herbs.
"You don't cast Witchfire like a wizard throws a fireball," She continued with a roll of her eyes. "They force the Weave of magic to their command. This is Primal. You move the Weave through you. You summon it from your soul. From the hurt you carry, the wrongs you've seen, and the fire that refuses to go out no matter how long the night stretches. It responds to those who walk the line between wrath and justice."
Moren swallowed hard as she scanned the words on the page. The symbols almost seemed to shimmer with magic. She returned her attention to Vaelwyn as she continued.
"Fire is a destructive force that burns everything in its path and leaves behind a charred path in its wake." The Hedge Witch said, placing a gentle hand on Moren's. "But fire can also cleanse the rot and evil that dares to linger in the world. It can be a blessing and purifies things that hide in the darkness."
Moren absorbed Vaelwyn's words, allowing them to settle like a heavy weight on her shoulders. After a tense pause, she finally spoke with unwavering resolve, "I place my fate in your hands, Mistress," she declared, bowing her head in solemn respect. "Where do we begin?"
Vaelwyn's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity as she turned to the book's first page. "Where everyone must begin—at the very beginning," she replied, her voice laced with determination and a sly smile. "Let's dive in."
When Lucius returned two weeks later, he was surprised to find Moren with her hair tied up in a loose ponytail, sleeves rolled, and laughing with a pair of village children as they picked marigolds for salves.
She looked different—not in the way her eyes now caught the light like a flicker of fire or the subtle silver line forming along her collarbone from the ritual—but in her posture, her breath, her calm.
When she saw Lucius, she stood and dusted off her hands.
"Welcome back, Master," Moren greeted with a broad, playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "How do I look?"
Lucius surveyed her intently, taking in every detail before nodding slowly. "You look good," he replied, slipping his heavy pack and shield off his shoulder with a practiced ease. "Seems like you took to her training better than most, including myself."
Moren beamed, her face lighting up with pride. "I had a good mentor," she said, surprising him with a warm embrace. She felt him tense momentarily, a fleeting stiffness before he returned the hug briefly and then gently pulled away.
"Let's get inside and catch up," Lucius suggested, glancing at the sky where the first stars were beginning to emerge. "Tonight is the night of your first transformation, and we need to get everything prepared in time."
"Of course, follow me," Moren replied, moving toward the house with a grace and elegance that seemed almost otherworldly.
Lucius exhaled a shuddered breath, steadying himself before following his apprentice inside. He was determined not to break his promise to Jacen. The unexpected hug had rattled him, but not enough to make him falter. As they approached the house, he spotted Vaelwyn in the window, her expression disapproving before she vanished from view. With a resigned sigh, Lucius focused on the task at hand, preparing Moren for a night she would never forget.
As midnight approached, Moren stood in the heart of the ancient woods, her bare feet grounded beneath the ethereal glow of Aetheria's twin moons. Selisara, the silver eye of the goddess of balance, cast a serene luminescence while Myrrhavel, the indigo sentinel, watched over the mysteries of the unknown. Their combined light drenched the forest in a spectral glow, weaving long, sinuous shadows that danced through the towering trees like the whispers of forgotten spirits. As Moren had reached the clearing—the place Vaelwyn had spoken of—the Hollow of Echoes. The grass was flattened in a perfect circle, ringed with stones etched in runes so old they whispered rather than shone. Moren knelt at the center, placing a hand to the earth, feeling the thrum beneath her palm.
The air was cool and crisp against her skin, a gentle caress that mingled with the soft, damp earth beneath her feet, laced with the freshness of dew. Every sound in the serene night was magnified; the gentle rustle of leaves, the distant, haunting hoot of an owl, and the steady, rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat resonated in her chest like a war drum echoing through the silence.
With a deliberate, slow inhale, she filled her lungs with the earthy perfume of rich moss and blooming wildflowers. This secluded spot—deep within the woodlands beyond the borders of Ethos—had been chosen by Lucius for its remarkable isolation and the peculiar thinning of the Veil. She could sense it already: the elusive shimmer of a world hidden just beneath the surface, reality poised like a curtain ready to be swept aside.
Her boots, coat, and weapons lay neatly folded on a moss-covered stone nearby. Tonight, she had no need for armor—only unwavering resolve.
From a distance, Lucius stood vigil, a silent sentinel among the trees. His eyes, alight with a gentle glow in the moonlight, watched her intently. He had promised not to interfere unless she lost control, a testament to his trust in her. But beyond mere trust, he believed in her, a steadfast confidence that buoyed her spirit amidst the shadows.
Moren closed her eyes and focused on her breath's steady rise and fall. The ritual weeks ago had changed her. She could feel it deep in her bones. The heat behind her eyes. The way her senses had sharpened. The hunger sometimes gnawed at her—not for food, but for purpose, the hunt.
And now, under the pull of the full moons, the final threshold approached.
Her body tensed as a tremor ran through her limbs. Her breath hitched. The mark on her collarbone—etched in dark Veil-blood during the trial—began to burn with a fierce intensity. She clutched her side, falling to one knee as the first wave of pain rippled through her.
It wasn't like breaking. It was like becoming.
Bones shifted. Muscles stretched. Her nails lengthened into claws as her fingers splayed into the dirt. A growl escaped her lips, primal and guttural. Her heart raced—pounding faster than any spell or potion could match.
The moons above seemed to pulse in rhythm with her transformation.
And then—just for a moment—Moren looked up, her emerald eyes now tinged with silver, catching the moon's light.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
The world blurred around her—shapes melting, colors bleeding into one another as her vision sharpened and distorted all at once. Every heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears. Her skin burned, her bones cracked and shifted, and for one harrowing moment, she thought she might splinter apart entirely.
But she didn't.
Instead, Moren drove her claws deep into the earth—her earth. The forest floor embraced her fiercely, rooting her to its primal essence. She felt the beast within surge with raw power, wild and ancient, tearing its way to the surface with the force of a roaring tempest erupting in her chest. It screamed for dominance, unbridled freedom, and the taste of blood.
But she did not yield.
"No," she growled through clenched teeth, her voice deepened yet unmistakably hers. "Not like this." A low snarl rumbled in her throat, teetering between instinct and language. She felt the wolf's presence pressing in, that peculiar in-between realm where shadows bore weight and breath. It called to her, enticing her with the thrill of the hunt and the purity of rage. Yet, she hesitated, torn between the allure of surrendering to it and the fear of losing herself completely.
She remembered Lucius' words: "The first time, it will try to claim you. The second time, you'll believe it's already yours. The third is when you choose who you truly are."
Moren made her decision. With a fierce determination, she drove her clawed hands into the earth, forcing herself upright with every ounce of her quivering strength. Her spine twisted violently as the final waves of transformation surged through her, fur erupting across her skin like a wildfire. Her features contorted and stretched, morphing into a form that was neither wholly beast nor entirely elf—but something far beyond either. She became a living embodiment of smoke and moonlight, a creature of raw, untamed power.
Then, with a long, shuddering breath, she stilled.
The wind rustled through the trees as if in recognition.
Moren stood tall now—taller than before—her silhouette sharp against the glow of Selisara and Myrrhavel. Her eyes burned silver. Her form was a graceful blend of elegance and hunter's fury, wrapped in a primal stillness. Reddish-brown fur covered her body, and it took her a few moments to adjust to having a wolf's snout and teeth.
Behind her, Lucius stepped forward into the clearing, his arms folded but his gaze unblinking.
"You did it," he said softly, reverently. "You controlled it."
Moren turned toward him, her expression calm but wild, her voice a low rasp. "No. I became it."
And she smiled—a genuine, fierce, triumphant smile.
"I feel alive," Moren grumbled, her voice low and restless as she paced back and forth like a caged animal. Her limbs itched with an energy that begged for release. "I need to run." Vaelwyn appeared as if carried by an invisible breeze, her presence as ethereal and sudden as the rustle of leaves in the wind. "Run, let the wolf show you how to hunt," she urged, whispering words of encouragement.
Lucius, standing nearby, transformed into his Lycan form with a fluid grace. His body elongated, muscles rippling under a thickening pelt of fur, eyes glowing with a fierce, predatory light. "Catch me if you can," he snarled, his voice a deep rumble resonating through the clearing before he launched into the woods. His powerful legs propelled him forward in a blur of speed, a challenging howl echoing through the trees and stirring the night air.
"Sounds good to me!" Moren exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement. She dropped to all fours, her body moving with the natural fluidity of a predator as she raced after her Master, her heart pounding in time with the earth beneath her, every sense heightened by the thrill of the hunt.
Vaelwyn knelt down in the grass, her smile a mixture of joy and melancholy as the barks, and howls echoed through the forest, signaling the retreat of animals from the two predators frolicking nearby. She retrieved a pair of charms she had been crafting as a gift for Moren, her fingers deftly tracing the runes. A soft hum escaped her lips, but beneath it lay a sadness, knowing her home would fall into silence once Moren departed, leaving her torn between the happiness of their shared moments and the looming solitude.
Moren slept late into the afternoon, her body still weary from running into the early hours of the morning with her Master. She couldn't shake the disappointment of learning from Lucius that after this initial transformation, she could only maintain it for a mere ten minutes until she grew older to handle the taxing strain on the body. Moren lay on her makeshift bed, grappling with the mix of sadness and a hesitant acceptance that this limitation might be for the best with her newfound ability.
When Moren finally got up, she found Vaelwyn had made an enormous feast covering her table while Lucius shoved a roll into his mouth like an animal. "Thank you for making food for us," She thanked her teacher before sitting down and filling her plate with a heaping pile. "I'm starving."
"That's how most Veilborns feel after their first transformation," Vaelwyn chuckled, sliding a pitcher of fresh juice toward Moren. "Your Master here was quite the ravenous one his first night, and he emptied my pantry completely all those years ago." She shot Lucius a mischievous grin.
Lucius shot the Dark Elf woman a playful scowl, swallowing his mouthful before brandishing his fork like a mighty sword. "I stocked your pantry with my own gold, you know," he quipped with a grin, chomping down on a hefty bite of sausage.
Moren couldn't stifle her laughter, nearly causing juice to spray from her nose. "Oh," she remarked with a playful glint in her eye, making Vaelwyn's grin widen with glee. "Got any embarrassing tales to spill?" Moren flashed her Master a sly, fanged grin.
"What?" Lucius croaked, nearly choking on his food, his fork clattering onto the plate as he snapped his head up to meet his Mentor's gaze with wide, panicked eyes. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum. "No, you are not allowed to tell her any stories!" The very thought made his stomach churn. The last thing he wanted was for Moren and Vaelwyn to bond over tales of his youthful antics, each embarrassing escapade playing out like a vivid scene in his mind.
Vaelwyn feigned ignorance to his plea, tapping her chin with a mischievous grin. "Oh, Lucius," she teased, chiding him like a misbehaving child. "Moren and I have grown quite close, you know. It would be quite unfair not to arm her with a little blackmail—oops, I mean leverage, for our little debates."
Moren emitted a cackling laugh reminiscent of a witch for childhood stories, which filled Vaelwyn with pride.
Lucius groaned when Vaelwyn recounted the incident with the beehive, which had Moren laughing so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair. 'I'll definitely get her back during training,' he thought to himself, returning to his meal and trying his best to ignore them both.
After Vaelwyn grew bored of teasing Lucius and it started shifting into early evening, Moren and Lucius had their bags packed onto their horses. Moren accepted quite a bit of last-minute advice and received a blank journal.
"It is a tradition that each witch writes out her first journal and one day passes it along to their first student," She explained, pulling out a well-worn green book. "With so many former students. I have written this a few times, and I hope this will help with your journey along with these." Vaelwyn placed a pair of earrings atop the book.
Moren accepted the book and studied the earing closely. One was a police white wolf's tooth with tiny engraving on the surface. The other was a small orange-grinning pumpkin. Both looked beautiful and had simple hooks attached to them. "Thank you," She breathed and, with Vaelwyn's help, added a new hole in her slightly pointed ears.
"The fang will keep you warm during the coldest nights or cool during the hottest ones," Vaelwyn explained as she placed the fang earring in Moren's right ear. "The pumpkin signifies you as a Hedge Witch and can shroud you in a cloud of leaves if needed. Use it wisely, as it only has enough magic for a single use each day." She fastened it in Moren's left ear.
Moren gave the Dark Elf woman a tight embrace. "I will miss our time together." She whispered as the shorter woman patted her back. "Can I visit sometime?"
"You are always welcome here," Vaelwyn replied softly, stepping back to stare up at Moren. "As I tell all of my former students." She let out a soft sigh before making a shooing gesture. "Now, off you two go before it gets dark. Visit when you can and stay safe."
"Will do, Mistress," Lucius said with a polite nod. "Come along, Moren, we need to get back to Ethos. Hopefully, Heiko has calmed down a bit."
"You hope anyway," Moren remarked with a grin. "If not, I'll be getting a bit of a show." She watched Luna fly past Lucius in an almost taunting way, making her smile.
"Hmm," Lucius growled as he threw his leg over the saddle and clicked his tongue to get the horse moving down the path.
Vaelwyn stood still, her eyes following the retreating figures of the Veilborn until they disappeared entirely from view. Only then did she slowly turn her gaze toward the dense, shadowy woods. The trees stood tall and silent, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze. "You can come out, my Lady," she called out with respectful deference, her voice carrying a hint of warmth. "You could have revealed yourself any time during the past two weeks." Her words echoed through the forest, mingling with the whispers of nature around her.
"You know the rules as well as I do," Ceyanna remarked, materializing gracefully in a swirling puff of pink mist and fluttering leaves. Her presence was ethereal, like a whisper carried by the wind. "She has grown quite well," she continued, her voice rich with pride and awe, resonating like a melody. "Not surprised my little Ember is a Witchfire." Her words were tinged with warmth and admiration, a testament to the remarkable transformation she had witnessed.
Vaelwyn snorted. "I'm certain you realized it the first time you met her." She clasped her hands together. "Would you care to stay for tea, my Lady?"
Ceyanna smiled warmly, nodding her head with genuine affection. "I always have time for an old friend," she said, moving gracefully towards the quaint little house, its weathered stones and ivy-covered walls evoking a sense of history and comfort. "You know, I could make your home a bit more comfortable with just a snap of my fingers," she offered her voice light and teasing.
Vaelwyn chuckled. The sound was rich and full of warmth. "I am aware," he replied, casting a fond glance around at the rustic charm of his abode. "But this is my home, and I am happy just the way it is," he said, his tone content and unwavering.
"My offer is always available to you, free of charge, of course," Ceyanna laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she gazed off into the distance for a moment, where the sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. "Time is moving faster than I thought," she mused, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "Be safe, my little Ember."
As they strolled down the cobblestone streets of Ethos, the gentle glow of lamp posts illuminated their path. The warm, golden light cast long shadows as it mingled with the cool evening air. Around them, people were either making their way home or had already settled in for the night, their silhouettes moving like phantoms against the backdrop of quaint townhouses. After returning their horses to the stable, Lucius and Moren strolled toward the imposing Ravenheart Estate, its grand silhouette etched against the twilight sky.
Lucius broke the comfortable silence, his voice calm yet purposeful. "We will remain in the city for a while to hone your Hemocraft skills," he explained, glancing thoughtfully at his eager apprentice. "There is a job that requires our attention. I've been told it's not urgent, so we can focus on your training before we embark."
Moren's eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement at the prospect of mastering her new craft and embarking on an adventure. "What is the job?" she inquired, eager to learn more about the task that awaited them.
"Supposed to be a simple investigation in the mountains north of Dwarvenhaven," Lucius remarked. "The details were a bit vague, but when we arrive at the meeting point, we can get more details." He waved his hand dismissively. "Usually a band of mountain goblins and Orcs bothering trade routes. Should be an easy job."
Moren was just about to speak when a door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang, and both Veilborn Hunters turned their attention to see an irate Heiko storming out, brandishing a frying pan with a fierce grip. Her eyes blazed with fury, and her brows were drawn tight in an expression of pure wrath. "I think she's upset," she mused, observing her Master as he took a cautious step back, his usual confidence replaced with apprehension. "Better not run; I suspect she will hunt you down this time."
"I think so, too," Lucius grumbled under his breath before forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement, palms outward. "Heiko, you're looking lovely today," he offered, his voice edged with nervous charm, hoping to diffuse the tension that crackled in the air.
The Car Beast-kin woman stood with an air of disdain, her expression utterly unimpressed. "You left me a note," she snarled her voice a low, threatening growl as she brandished the frying pan with a menacing flourish. "You didn't have the courage to stay and confront me after you took Moren as your apprentice." Her words cut through the air, sharp and cold as winter's breath.
Jace hurried outside, eager to calm his wife and diffuse the tension. "How about we step inside for some tea and discuss this like reasonable adults?" he suggested, his tone gentle as he slipped an arm around Heiko's waist, attempting to draw her into a comforting embrace.
"Fine," Heiko snapped, her voice laced with irritation. With a swift flick of her wrist, she sent the pan hurtling through the air the moment Lucius let his guard down, striking him with a resounding thud to his groin. The impact echoed like a drumbeat as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. "Join us inside when you're able," she added, her words clipped, before she stormed off into the house, leaving Lucius sprawled on the ground.
Moren knelt beside her Master's prone form, her heart pounding with concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry, as her Master struggled to catch a breath, alternating between gasping for air and swearing in a medley of languages.
Luna was letting out a series of short hoots in the form of laughter before fluttering down to land on Moren's Shoulder.
Jace groaned as he moved over to assist Lucius in rising to his feet. The effort was evident in his movements, but his determination was unwavering. "I'll get you a bag of ice," he promised his old friend, his tone filled with a mixture of camaraderie and care as he gently supported Lucius, steadying him with a firm grip.
"Might want to get him a shield when he tells her about our job in a month," Moren remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and caution. She observed her Uncle and Master suddenly stiffen, their bodies betraying a shared tension. Their eyes met, communicating silently in a language of concern and unspoken agreement. "Better to do it now rather than later," she continued, her words hanging in the air like a gentle nudge, urging them to face the inevitable before time ran out.
Luna nodded her head in agreement and hooted.
"You're on your own on that, Lucius," Jace said as he helped his friend into his home. "I'm not getting kicked out of my bed again because of you." He noticed his friend's expression of betrayal. "Hey, you started all this chaos and then took off. This is all on you."
"Grab more ice," Lucius muttered as he moved along. "And find a doctor. I might need one."
Moren offered her Master a smile filled with empathy and determination. "I'll gather several potions just to be prepared," she declared with resolve as they stepped into the study. There, Heiko sat with an imposing presence, like the leader of an intense inquisition, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "More than just a few," she added, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on them.