The town of Greystone sat on a cliff's edge like it regretted existing. Weather-beaten and mostly gray (hence the name), it boasted two taverns, one alchemist, and a smell that suggested something had died in the well last week and nobody wanted to bring it up.
Julian, Lira, and Blobby arrived near dusk, covered in dust, scratches, and secrets.
"Please tell me this town has no cultists, no goblins, no surprise boss fights," Julian muttered as they passed the crooked gate.
[Unlikely. At least two of those are statistically inevitable.]
"I was afraid you'd say that."
The locals barely looked up as they entered. A sleepy guard with an eye patch grunted them through. Children chased a dog with three legs and half a tail. A man was aggressively arguing with a chicken.
Julian pointed at him. "That guy's living the dream."
They made for the tavern called **The Stooped Raven**, mostly because it didn't have blood on the sign. Inside, the air was warm, filled with the smell of garlic stew and roasted carrots. A bard in the corner sang dramatically about a sheep who betrayed his village.
Julian dropped into the nearest chair. "We need a plan."
"We need food," Lira replied. "Then we can plan."
Julian didn't argue.
Ten minutes later, with a bowl of something vaguely edible in front of him, Julian leaned closer. "Okay. So far, we have a scroll full of brain magic, a cult that wants to kill us, and a magical cloak that keeps calling me 'disgraceful.'"
*Because you are,* the cloak whispered.
"Not helping."
[We need information. Someone who studies old magic. Preferably not dead.]
"I asked the bartender. There's a mage in this town. Retired. Lives in a tower on the cliffs."
Lira nodded. "Sounds promising."
Julian squinted. "Or trap-sounding."
[Correct. You've played enough games to know how this works.]
Julian finished his stew, left a coin on the table, and stood. "Let's get it over with."
---
The tower stood like a broken tooth at the cliff's edge. Crows circled overhead. The path up was steep, uneven, and suspiciously overgrown.
Julian knocked.
There was no answer.
He knocked again.
From behind the door came a loud thud, followed by a voice shouting, "If you're selling mushrooms, I already said NO!"
Julian blinked. "We're not here to sell mushrooms!"
The door creaked open. A hunched man with wild hair, five scarves, and one slipper peered out. His eyes blinked at different speeds.
"You smell like magic and burnt socks."
"That's... fair."
Lira stepped forward. "We need help. You're the only one in this town with arcane knowledge."
The old man sniffed, then sneezed. "Fine. Come in. But if the slime eats my books, I'm throwing all of you off the cliff."
Blobby jiggled innocently.
Inside, the tower was stacked with scrolls, teacups, and at least three clocks that ran in reverse. Julian felt a headache just from looking at the ceiling.
The mage squinted at the sealed scroll in Lira's hands. "Ooh. That's nasty stuff. Real brain-twister. Where'd you get it?"
"A ruin," Julian said. "It tried to kill us."
"Well of course it did. That's how you know it's valuable." He poked the scroll. "This right here? This was made by pre-Guild mentalists. Real ancient freaks. Believed in pure willpower magic."
"Sounds dangerous."
"Oh, it is. But if you can control it—" he tapped Julian's head—"you can do things no one else can."
Julian swallowed. "Like what?"
"Erase memories. Lock thoughts. Control fear. Or weaponize ideas."
[Fun fact: Also how marketing works.]
The mage leaned back. "But the kind of magic in that scroll? It draws attention. Dangerous people. You're already being hunted, aren't you?"
Julian nodded slowly.
"Then you have two choices: run forever... or learn faster than they can chase."
Lira looked at Julian. "We've come this far."
He sighed. "Let's not die today, okay?"
[No promises.]
The mage grinned, revealing far too many teeth.
"Good.
Class starts now."