Vince gasped, his eyes snapping open. The library spun around him, the solid wood of the bench grounding him as he clutched at its edges. His heart thundered in his chest, his breath coming in shallow bursts.
But the whisper remained, faint and distant, as though it were a part of him now. The pressure in his chest eased, replaced by a strange calm, a peace he couldn't quite explain.
The eye was gone; but its presence lingered, just out of reach. Vince exhaled slowly; his mind swirling. He took a few tentative steps to check his balance, shaking the last of the fuzziness from his head. His hand unconsciously brushed the hilt of his sword at his hip, grounding him further.
That was an elemental, he thought, wonder and excitement building in his chest. I really can be a mage.
Vince left the library, his steps more confident now. The sun of the courtyard greeted him as he made his way back to the training yard. The clanging of swords and shouted commands echoed off the stone walls, a rhythm as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
Gallen, ever vigilant, was pacing along the line of practicing men, barking corrections and nodding approval where warranted. He spotted Vince approaching and turned, arching a grizzled brow.
"Back already, lad?" Gallen asked, his voice carrying over the bustle of the training ground. "Didn't think you'd be up for wandering around."
Vince hesitated for a moment, then said, "I wanted to let you know I'm heading out for a bit. Just need to clear my head."
Gallen's expression hardened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "The city's still dangerous, Vince. Rorik's men are scattered, but not gone, and there's no telling what else might be lurking about."
"I won't go far," Vince assured him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Promise."
Gallen studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "All right, but don't make me come after you. If anything seems off, you come straight back here, understood?"
"Understood," Vince replied, giving a small wave as he turned to leave.
Vince made his way back to his room, changing into simpler clothes and belting his sword at his side. With a nod to the guards at the keep's gates, he stepped into the bustling streets of Maze City's rich district. The air here was clean, the cobbled streets lined with well-kept buildings and bustling merchants peddling their wares.
But Vince barely noticed the grandeur as he moved through the district, his steps taking him toward the red-light district. The further he walked, the more the polished streets gave way to a grittier, more chaotic atmosphere. By the time he reached what was once the House of Pearl, the smell of fresh timber and sawdust filled the air.
Hammering echoed across the street as carts laden with building materials lined the road, workers shouting instructions to one another. The burnt remains of the Pearl had been cleared away, and the skeleton of a new structure was already taking shape. Vince stopped, staring at the construction, a bittersweet pang in his chest.
Out front, a man stood observing the work. He was tall and slender, dressed in a sharp black suit and a wide-brimmed hat. Long blond hair flowed neatly down his back, and his face was adorned with a perpetual, almost mocking smile. His eyes, narrowed to slits, turned toward Vince as he approached.
"Ah, yes," the man said smoothly, his voice like silk. "You are called Vince, are you not? Yes, yes, you must be."
Vince stopped short, a flicker of unease creeping through him. "Do I know you, sir?" he asked cautiously.
The man gave a slight bow, his smile widening. "Forgive me, no. I am from the Whispering Woods, and I have heard much about you. People call me the Smiling Man."
He extended a hand in greeting, and Vince hesitated before meeting it with a firm shake.
"I will be overseeing the operations of the Pearl from now on," the Smiling Man continued. "I know you were part of this place since you were a child. I won't ask you to come back unless you wish to, but from what I hear, you have another path in life ahead of you."
Vince stiffened slightly, the man's words unsettling in their accuracy. He's well-informed, Vince thought, suppressing a shudder.
They both turned to look at the partially constructed building.
"This was my home," Vince said quietly. "They were my family."
The Smiling Man's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something else crossing his face. "Lira was my friend," he said softly. Then he laughed, the sound light but hollow. "Well, that's not like me. Forgive my sentiment."
Vince glanced at him, unsure of what to say. The man's smile returned, broader than before. "I will be watching your future with interest, young man."
Without another word, Vince turned and continued down the street, his steps heavier now. This isn't my home anymore, he thought, the realization settling like a stone in his chest.
The further Vince walked, the more the clean, orderly streets of the city gave way to the grime and chaos of the slums. The air grew heavier, filled with the acrid scent of refuse and the sharp tang of desperation. Vince moved with purpose, his gaze sharp as he navigated the crowded, uneven alleys. The slums weren't just chaotic; they were dangerous. He kept his hand near the hilt of his sword, though he hoped he wouldn't need it.
When he reached a nondescript corner where three alleys converged, he slowed. A man leaned casually against a crumbling wall, his tattered cloak blending into the shadows. His sharp eyes watched Vince approach, and as Vince neared, the man stepped forward, blocking his path.
"You lost, kid?" the man asked, his voice smooth but laced with warning.
"No," Vince replied, meeting the man's gaze. "I'm here to see Tors and Ren."
The man's eyebrow arched. "What's the word?"
"Black Bird," he asserted evenly, standing his ground.
The man studied him for a moment, then smirked. "I recognize you, the boy from the Pearl." He tilted his head toward a narrow, almost invisible doorway set into the side of the building. "You'll find your way through there. Watch your step."
Vince gave a curt nod and stepped toward the doorway. The man knocked twice on the wood, and the door creaked open, revealing a darkened passage. A smaller figure peeked out briefly, gave Vince a once-over, then waved him inside.
The door closed behind him with a soft click, cutting off the noise of the streets. Vince was plunged into near-darkness, save for the faint glow of torches flickering along the narrow passageway. The figure who had let him in, a wiry young woman with a dagger strapped to her thigh, nodded toward the hallway ahead.
"Straight through. Don't dawdle," she said curtly before slipping back into the shadows.
Vince moved forward, his footsteps echoing faintly in the enclosed space. The passage twisted and turned, leading him deeper into the belly of the slums. Occasionally, he passed small alcoves where other guild members sat playing cards or counting coins, their wary eyes tracking him as he walked by. Vince kept his focus ahead.
The passage eventually widened, sloping downward into what appeared to be a basement carved from rough stone. Here, the damp air carried the faint scent of mildew, and the faint sound of voices grew louder. Another door loomed at the end of the hallway, guarded by a burly man with a club resting on his shoulder.
"Vince! Gods above its good to see you made it!" the guard said, his voice a deep rumble.
Vince nodded. "Thanks Vin, I'm here to see Tors and Ren."
The guard smiled and stepped aside, unlocking the door with a heavy iron key. He pushed it open, revealing another long passage, this one lit with brighter torches. Vince stepped through, the door closing heavily behind him.
The air in the tunnels shifted as he moved deeper, growing warmer and carrying the faint scent of cheap ale. Finally, the tunnel opened into a wide, low-ceilinged chamber filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation. The thieves' guild.
The room was bustling with activity, its stone walls lined with mismatched furniture and piles of stolen goods. Men and women lounged at tables, their voices mixing in a raucous symphony of gambling, drinking, and trading stories. Vince's eyes scanned the crowd, and it didn't take long to find them.
"Tors!" he called, his voice cutting through the noise.
A familiar face turned toward him, and Tors' expression broke into a wide grin. "Vince!" he bellowed, standing up so quickly his chair toppled over. He pushed through the crowd, his arms open wide. Behind him, Ren appeared, his steps quick and his face lit with relief.
The three of them met in a fierce embrace, their arms tightening around each other as though trying to hold the pieces of their shattered world together. For a moment, none of them spoke, the weight of the past week hanging heavily between them.
Tors pulled back first, his hands gripping Vince's shoulders as he looked him over. "You're alive, you bastard," he said with a rough laugh, his voice thick with emotion. "We thought…"
Ren stepped closer, his usual composure cracking as he wiped at his eyes. "We thought we lost you," he finished quietly.
Vince shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "I'm here," he said simply.
The three of them sat together at a corner table, their reunion drawing the attention of a few nearby guild members who quickly lost interest. Drinks were brought over, and as the evening wore on, the conversation turned to everything that had happened.
They spoke of the Pearl, of the fire and the fight, their voices hushed but their emotions raw. Tors' fists clenched as he swore vengeance against Rorik's men, while Ren nodded in quiet agreement.
"They've scuttled away like rats," Ren said, his voice low. "But they'll regroup. No one's seen hide or hair of Rorik himself."
"And the shadow mage?" Vince asked, his voice tinged with anger.
Tors shook his head. "No word yet. The watch is hunting for him."
Vince leaned back in his chair, his mind racing over everything that had happened.
"Tors, Ren," Vince began, his voice steady but carrying an edge of nervousness. "There's something I need to tell you."
The brothers exchanged a quick glance, their expressions shifting to curiosity. Tors leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What is it, Vince? You look like you've got a secret ready to burst out."
Vince took a breath, steadying himself. "I've… I've opened my mana pool," he said, the words spilling out. "I can use mana."
There was a brief pause as the weight of his statement hung in the air. Then, Tors' jaw dropped, and Ren's eyes widened in astonishment.
"You're serious?" Ren asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're saying you can be a mage?"
Vince nodded, a small, hesitant smile breaking through. "Yeah. It happened after everything at the Pearl. I think it woke something up inside me. I don't know any spells yet, but I've been feeling this… pull. Like something is calling to me. Doonin, the mage who gave me my first lesson, thinks it might be an elemental trying to connect with me."
Tors let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Our Vince, a mage. Who would've thought?" His tone was filled with awe. "I mean, you're already good with a sword. Now you're telling me you might start throwing fireballs around too?"
Vince chuckled lightly. "Not fireballs," he said. "I think it's water. I've been feeling this… connection to it lately. The canals, the fountain in the keep, even the lake near the city. It's like I can feel the flow of it. And then there's this… presence. It's hard to explain, but I think it's a water elemental trying to bond with me."
Ren leaned forward, his eyes wide with wonder. "A water elemental? That's amazing, Vince. I've heard they're strong, adaptable. And they say bonding with one is like having fury of the sea at your side."
Tors grinned, his awe turning into excitement. "So, you're telling me you might start flooding places instead? That's a hell of a trick to have up your sleeve, mate."
Vince laughed, the sound surprising even himself. "I don't know if I'll be flooding anything, but yeah, I think it's water. It's like… it's always been there, but now I can feel it."
Tors slapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. "Well, I'll say this; you've always been full of surprises, Vince. A mage with a water elemental?"
Ren's smile softened. "Do you know what you're going to do with it? I mean, bonding with an elemental is huge. Are you staying here in Maze, or…?"
Vince hesitated, the enormity of his decision settling on him again. "I've been thinking about going to a mage academy. Somewhere I can really learn how to use magic; I heard of a school to the east: Argenthal Academy. It's one of the best."
Ren's face lit up. "Argenthal? That's huge, Vince! People talk about that place like it's where all the legends go to start their stories."
Tors clapped a hand on Vince's shoulder, his grin splitting his face. "That's amazing, mate. A proper mage academy. Can't get more official than that."
Vince's smile faltered slightly as doubt crept into his voice. "I'm not sure how I'll afford it, though. I mean, it's not like I have a fortune lying around. And with everything that's happened here, leaving Maze feels… wrong."
Tors' grip tightened, his voice firm. "Hey, listen to me. You've got this chance now, Vince. Something bigger than all this." He gestured around the room. "If you've got a shot at something greater, you take it. The Pearl… Lira… they'd want you to."
Ren nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You don't have to forget where you came from, Vince. But don't let it hold you back either. If this is your path, then follow it."
Vince looked between them, their words sinking in. The pull of the water elemental still lingered in the back of his mind, faint but persistent. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of his old self.
"Thanks, you two," he said, his voice steady. "I don't know where this will take me, but… I'll figure it out. And I'm not leaving you behind. You're stuck with me, no matter what."
Tors laughed, his usual bravado returning. "You better not forget us, Vince. Otherwise, we'll have to come find you and drag you back."
Ren grinned. "And maybe borrow some of that mage gold when you make it big."
The three of them shared a laugh, the weight of their struggles lifting slightly as they talked late into the night.
"Well, I guess this is it," Vince said, his voice tinged with reluctance. He gripped Tors' hand in a firm shake before pulling him into a tight embrace. "Stay safe, you two. Things are still dangerous out there."
"You're one to talk," Tors replied with a laugh, his grin wide but his eyes betraying a flicker of sadness. "Running off to become a mage and leaving us here to deal with this mess? You better come back with some fancy magic tricks."
Ren stepped forward, his usual stoicism cracking as he hugged Vince. "Don't be a stranger," he said quietly. "We'll be here when you need us.'
Vince chuckled softly, pulling away to look at both of them. "I'm not leaving forever. Just… trying to figure things out."
Tors clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out, mate. And when you do, you know where to find us."
With a final wave, Vince turned and walked toward the guild's side entrance, the weight of their shared history pressing on him. The tunnels stretched before him, but he barely noticed the twists and turns as he retraced his path out into the city. He soon emerged into the cool night air.
The streets of Maze were quiet now, the slums eerily still under the dim light of flickering lanterns. Vince moved with purpose, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword as his eyes darted to every shadow. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he stopped abruptly, his body tense. The alley ahead seemed empty, but his instincts screamed otherwise. Vince waited, his breath steady as his gaze swept over every darkened corner. A faint breeze stirred the grime and refuse, but nothing else moved.
After a long moment, Vince shook his head and continued on. Just nerves, he thought. Or maybe I'm finally losing it.
Twice more, he stopped, convinced that someone, or something, was following him. Each time, the streets seemed deserted, the shadows offering no answers. By the time he reached the rich district surrounding the Baron's keep, his shoulders were rigid with tension.
The guards at the gate straightened as he approached, their familiarity with him evident in their relaxed expressions.
"Welcome back, lad," one of them said with a nod. "Quiet night out there?"
"Not as quiet as I'd like," Vince replied, offering a faint smile. "But I made it back."
The guards waved him through, and Vince stepped into the expansive courtyard of the keep, the soft glow of lanterns casting warm light across the cobblestones.
As Vince crossed the courtyard, Barnaby appeared as if summoned by the very thought of comfort. The butler's polished demeanor and ever-present smile were as reassuring as the walls of the keep itself.
"Ah, Master Vince," Barnaby greeted, bowing slightly. "You're back just in time."
Vince blinked, caught off guard. "In time for what?"
"For a proper bath, of course," Barnaby said, his tone warm but efficient. "I've had one prepared for you in the west wing bathing room. The water is still hot, and I took the liberty of arranging a fresh change of clothes as well."
Vince let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"It is my duty, sir," Barnaby replied with a twinkle in his eye. "And might I add, a well-earned bath is often the first step to clearer thoughts."
"Thanks, Barnaby. I appreciate it," Vince said sincerely.
The butler bowed again and moved off, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the courtyard.
he west wing bathing room was a haven of warmth and quiet. Steam rose from the large, sunken tub, the scent of lavender filling the air. Vince shed his sweat-stained clothes and lowered himself into the water, a sigh of relief escaping him as the heat enveloped him.
The tension in his muscles began to melt away; and for the first time that day, his mind felt clear. He closed his eyes, and just relaxed.
After drying off and changing into the clean clothes Barnaby had provided, Vince made his way to his room. The corridors of the keep were quiet, the soft glow of lanterns casting long shadows along the stone walls. Pushing open his door, Vince froze at the sight before him.
Resting neatly on his bed was a leather-bound book, its cover embossed with intricate patterns that gleamed faintly in the lamplight. The title was stamped in gold lettering across the front: Runes: The Language of Magic.
Curiosity prickled at the edge of his exhaustion as he approached the bed. He ran his fingers over the cover, the supple leather cool and smooth to the touch. Picking it up, he opened to the first page, the neat, flowing script immediately capturing his attention.
The introduction was simple yet profound:
"Magic, at its core, is energy without form. Runes are the tools we use to give it purpose, structure, and efficiency. Each rune is a channel of power, directing mana to achieve a specific function. By combining runes, one can craft spells of great complexity and precision, while minimizing the mana required to fuel them."
Vince turned the page, his eyes scanning the diagrams that accompanied the text. Simple runes were depicted, each labeled with their purpose: Flow, Contain, Amplify, Release. The pages detailed how these foundational runes could be combined to create more complex magical constructs.
Further passages explained the connection between runes and mana pools, how a mage's circles allowed for intricate rune patterns and efficient mana use. Vince's mind raced as he absorbed the information; his excitement building with each page.
Vince placed the book carefully on his bedside table; its weight lingering in his hands even after he set it down. His thoughts churned; the events of the day playing over in his mind like the turning of a wheel. Mira, Gallen, Lira, The Pearl: all of it collided into a single, unrelenting truth; the world was vast, dangerous, and uncaring.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as his chest tightened. The memory of Mira, her fading smile, and the blood-soaked courtyard flashed before his eyes. The helplessness he'd felt, the overwhelming tide of loss; it burned in him, a fire he couldn't quench.
But the whisper of the elemental still lingered at the back of his mind, faint but steady, like the pull of a tide. It wasn't just a call. It was a chance.
Vince sat on the edge of his bed, his breath coming slow and steady now. He looked down at his hands, the hands that had failed to save so many. His voice was low, steady, as he spoke to the silence of his room.
"I need power," he said, the words hard. "I don't care how long it takes, how much I have to learn, or how far I have to go. No one else will suffer because I wasn't strong enough."
His grip tightened, and he felt the weight of the training blade he'd held earlier: the pull of the sword that had saved his life but couldn't save the lives that mattered most. His gaze drifted to the leather-bound book; its title gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Runes. Magic. Power.
The thought burned bright and fierce, cutting through the fog of his grief. I will be stronger. Strong enough to protect what's left and to honor those I've lost. I will never let the people I care about die.
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders straightening as he stood. The flicker of determination he'd felt earlier grew into something greater, something more resolute to his core.
The elemental was coming. He would bond with it. He would master his mana. And he would never, ever, be powerless again.