---
His mind wandered back to the village. He pictured Gael scratching his beard over a ledger, the miners swinging hammers in the small forge, the faint hum of mana as new blades were born. He wondered if any of them had realized how quickly their lives were changing, or how far he had come in such a short time.
"They're going to be shocked when I walk back in as a Circle One mage," he thought with a quiet satisfaction. "The man they followed into the wild will come back… different."
Fizz stirred in his sleep, muttering, "Master Forgetful… better… not… drop… pancakes…" before curling tighter and resuming his soft snores.
John's guilt softened into warmth. He pulled the corner of his cloak over the tiny puffball to keep him warm. "You're a menace," he whispered, "but you're my menace."
