By the time we left Stillwater, I had spent a total of 81 silver and 4 copper from the funds we brought with us: 4 silver for linen fabric from the marketplace, 40 silver on mana potion ingredients at Moira's apothecary, 20 silver for a small dagger from the blacksmith, 10 silver for Eliot's shield (half price), 5 silver for bloodroot to make stamina teas, and 2 silver and 4 copper on food and basic provisions for the wagon. We began the journey with 800 gold and 200 copper coins provided by my father. I had converted a small portion of the gold into manageable silver and copper coins. Now, we still had 798 gold, 59 silver, and 196 copper.
The rented wagon rumbled along the road as we made our way south toward the border. The map I'd purchased from Moira's shop confirmed that our next destination, Garnett's Reach, was just over three days away. Located near the border between countries, it was a bustling trade hub filled with merchants and travelers. But Garnett's Reach wasn't the true goal. Thirty minutes outside its walls, hidden deep within the forest, was a grotto I had discovered in my previous life—a secluded haven where I once built a home. It wasn't grand, but it was safe, and more importantly, it was familiar.
The road south was quiet, bordered by dense woods that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds accompanying us. Eliot sat beside me on the wagon seat, his shield resting across his lap like a prized possession. "What's Garnett's Reach like?" he asked, glancing up at me.
"It's busy," I said, guiding the horses around a bend in the road. "Traders come from all over to sell their goods there. You'll see people from different countries, hear different languages—it's nothing like Stillwater."
His eyes widened with curiosity. "Do you think we'll meet anyone interesting?"
I chuckled softly. "Maybe. But remember, we're there to get what we need and move on. The less attention we draw, the better."
He nodded, though his gaze lingered on the road ahead, clearly filled with excitement at the thought of the city.
We stopped for the night near a small clearing just off the road. The horses grazed quietly, tethered to a sturdy tree, while Eliot helped me gather firewood for a small campfire. After we ate, I began the nightly routine of casting Cleanse on both of us. The spell had grown stronger with each use, and the results were becoming more apparent. Eliot's complexion had taken on a healthy glow, and he no longer tired as quickly during the day.
"Why do you do that every night?" Eliot asked as I finished the spell.
"To make us stronger," I said simply. "The cleaner our bodies and mana are, the better we'll handle what's ahead."
He nodded thoughtfully, then yawned, his exhaustion catching up with him. "Will we be strong enough to fight monsters?"
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Someday. But for now, our goal is to avoid them whenever we can."
The next day, the road grew busier. We passed a few merchant caravans heading north, their wagons loaded with goods. Eliot waved enthusiastically at the travelers, who returned his gestures with friendly smiles. By mid-afternoon, we encountered a small group of mercenaries traveling on horseback. They stopped briefly to exchange pleasantries, their leader—a tall woman with a scar across her cheek—eyeing our wagon with mild curiosity.
"You two heading to Garnett's Reach?" she asked, her voice rough but not unkind.
"Yes," I replied carefully. "Just passing through."
"Be careful," she warned, her tone serious. "There've been reports of bandits near the forest edges. Keep your wits about you."
"Thank you," I said, inclining my head.
As they rode off, Eliot leaned closer to me. "Do you think we'll run into the bandits?"
"I doubt it," I said, though my hand instinctively rested on the hilt of the dagger tucked into my belt. "But we'll be ready if we do."
By the afternoon of the third day, the city of Garnett's Reach came into view. Its high stone walls rose against the horizon, punctuated by tall towers that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The gates were wide open, allowing a steady stream of travelers, merchants, and soldiers to pass in and out. As we approached, the bustling sounds of the city grew louder—vendors shouting their wares, the clatter of carts on cobblestones, and the distant hum of voices blending together in a symphony of activity.
Eliot's eyes were wide with awe as he took in the sight. "It's huge," he whispered.
"It is," I said, guiding the wagon toward the gates.
Inside, the streets were lined with shops, inns, and food stalls. People of all shapes and sizes filled the thoroughfares, their colorful garments and lively chatter painting a picture of endless variety.
"We'll stay here for the night," I said, steering the wagon toward a modest inn near the city center. "Then tomorrow, we'll head into the forest."
Eliot nodded, though his gaze was already wandering, his curiosity piqued by the sights and sounds around him.
The guild hall stood near the heart of the city, an imposing building of dark stone and iron, its massive wooden doors framed by banners representing various professions: a sword for mercenaries, a quill for scribes, a staff for mages, and more. The interior was even busier than the streets outside. Adventurers of all stripes milled about—armored warriors, robed mages, and nimble rogues—sharing stories, comparing gear, and posting requests on a large noticeboard.
Eliot clung to my hand, his wide eyes darting around the room. "There are so many people," he whispered.
"It's always like this in a guild hall," I said. "Stay close."
We approached the main desk, where a tired-looking clerk with spectacles perched on his nose sorted through a mountain of papers.
"Excuse me," I said, waiting for his attention.
The man glanced up, blinking as if he hadn't slept in days. "Yes? What can I do for you?"
"We need to register for proof of identity and determine which guilds we're suited for," I explained.
He nodded, pushing a clipboard toward me. "Fill this out. Names, ages, and skills."
I quickly completed the form, listing Eliot's basic magical aptitude and my own skills in mana manipulation and minor combat abilities. When I handed it back, the clerk squinted at the paper.
"You'll need to take the aptitude test," he said, gesturing toward a set of doors at the back of the hall. "First-timers are assessed there. Once we know your talents, we can recommend guilds for you and issue your documents."
The testing chamber was a large, open space divided into sections for various skills. Magical aptitude, physical combat, crafting, and other abilities were tested separately, each supervised by a guild official. A woman in a sharp black uniform greeted us as we entered. "New recruits?" she asked, her tone brisk.
"Yes," I replied. "We're here for aptitude testing."
She handed us two small, glowing crystals. "Hold these one at a time. They'll react to your innate abilities and provide a readout."
Eliot went first, clutching the crystal nervously. It pulsed with soft green and blue light before displaying a projection in the air:
Eliot Graywared Elemental Affinity: Water (Beginner) Mana Manipulation: Adept Physical Combat: Low Potential
an eyebrow. "Strong for his age," she noted. "With formal training, he'll develop well."
Eliot's face lit up at the praise, his gaze darting toward me as if seeking approval. I gave a small nod, keeping my satisfaction hidden behind a calm facade.
When it was my turn, I gripped the crystal firmly. It glowed brighter, and moments later, a more intricate projection appeared:
Marydia Graywared
Elemental Affinity: Fire, Wind (Intermediate)
Mana Manipulation: Advanced
Physical Combat: Adept
Crafting Potential: High
The woman's expression shifted, her sharp eyes narrowing with intrigue. "Impressive," she remarked. "You'll have your pick of guilds."
She handed us two recommendation slips, each outlining guilds tailored to our abilities. For Eliot, the Initiates' Arcane Circle, known for nurturing beginners in magical arts, was prominently listed. My options included the Adventurers' Guild, the Mage's Guild, and the Craftsmen's Guild.
Clutching the recommendations, we made our way toward our next destination: Stillwater Academy, a small yet reputable school nestled in the southern district of Garnett's Reach. Renowned for teaching fundamental subjects alongside beginner magic, it was an ideal place for Eliot to cultivate his talents.
The headmistress, Matron Hilde, was a stern but kind woman whose piercing gaze softened slightly as she reviewed Eliot's test results in her modest office. "He has potential," she said, her tone measured. "The tuition is five silver per month. Will that be manageable?"
"Yes," I replied, placing the coins for the first month onto her desk. "I'll pay in advance as needed."
Hilde nodded in approval. "Good. Eliot, your classes begin tomorrow. Be here at sunrise, prepared to learn."
Eliot practically bounced out of his seat, his excitement barely contained. "I get to learn magic?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.
Hilde offered a rare smile. "You will. But you'll also study reading, writing, and arithmetic. A well-rounded education is essential for any young mage."
Placing a reassuring hand on Eliot's shoulder as we exited, I spoke softly. "This is your chance, Eliot. Make the most of it."
"I will," he promised, determination gleaming in his eyes.
That evening, while Eliot slept soundly in the inn's modest bed, I finalized preparations for the next stage of our journey. Garnett's Reach had served its purpose, but the true test lay in the forest sanctuary ahead.
The city lights flickered beyond the window as I watched in silence. The night air buzzed faintly with the hum of distant voices and clattering hooves. Tomorrow, Eliot would begin a new chapter in his life, and I would ensure it was a foundation strong enough to withstand the trials of what was to come.
Marydia stood at the forest's edge, the towering trees before her like silent guardians, their dense canopy filtering the soft light of the afternoon sun. A cool breeze brushed her skin, carrying the fresh scent of pine and damp earth. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as memories of this place resurfaced. It had been years, or perhaps lifetimes, since she'd last set foot here—but some things remained unchanged.
The forest had withstood time's passage, untouched by the shifting of the worlds. Beyond the trees, she knew the grotto awaited her—her sanctuary, her refuge, a place where she could begin anew. The same place where she'd once healed, grown, and found solace in a life that had been far too brief. This time, however, she would build it stronger, faster, with purpose.
Turning back to the wagon, she secured the last of her supplies. Eliot was at school, most likely absorbed in a lecture on mana control or the basics of spellcraft, leaving her with the entire day ahead. The wagon, little more than a façade with a few blankets and empty sacks, would remain hidden at the forest's edge. All the real provisions were tucked away in her inventory, ensuring she could move swiftly and work undisturbed.
Her fingers brushed the staff she had chosen—simple, unadorned, but a powerful tool for channeling magic. With it in hand, she entered the forest, the bustling noise of the city fading as she stepped deeper into the stillness of nature.
The path to the grotto had been nearly forgotten, overrun by thick underbrush and creeping vines. Yet, Marydia's steps were sure, guided by memory and the subtle pull of mana. Sunlight dappled the earth in golden patterns, and the air was filled with the chirps of birds and the occasional rustle of small creatures retreating from her approach.
When the clearing finally came into view, her breath caught in her chest. The grotto, a natural hollow nestled between rocky outcroppings, stood just as she remembered it—half-hidden by a veil of ivy, a small stream bubbling gently nearby. The air was cooler here, more pure, as though the grotto existed in a world of its own.
She stepped inside, fingers grazing the smooth stone walls. This place had once been a refuge—her sanctuary in a life that had been all too fleeting. Now, she would create it again, more quickly, more efficiently, and with the knowledge she'd gained over lifetimes.
Standing in the center of the grotto, she extended her hands, summoning her mana. The ground hummed beneath her as she wove the first spell. The earth responded, shifting under her command as she flattened the grassy floor into smooth stone. Her magic shaped the terrain, creating a stable foundation for the home she envisioned.
The process was slower than she remembered. Manipulating the earth was draining, requiring precise control and significant reserves of mana. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she paused to catch her breath, resting a hand on her knee. "Slower than before," she muttered. In her past life, such tasks had been effortless, the magic flowing freely, but that had come with years of training and countless lessons learned the hard way.
She took a moment to regain her energy before continuing, this time coaxing plants to aid her work. Vines and ivy twisted up the walls, reinforcing the stone while adding beauty. Moss spread across the floor, softening the sharp edges of the stone. The magic flowed more smoothly now, each spell more confident than the last.
Hours passed in a blur of effort and concentration. The grotto slowly transformed. The main chamber, where she would live and work, was taking shape—spacious, cool, with walls that glowed faintly from the mana stones she embedded for light. A smaller room for storage, another for crafting potions and spells—each addition was methodical, purposeful.
Outside, she began cultivating the herb garden. The stream provided the perfect water source, and the soil was rich and fertile. She planted basil, lavender, fireleaf, and calnroot—each herb chosen for its properties, its usefulness in magic and healing. With a few gentle spells, she encouraged their growth, watching as tiny green shoots broke through the earth.
The sounds of the forest were a comforting backdrop. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the soft trickle of the stream—all of it worked to center her, to remind her of the life she was building. It was a life for Eliot, a place where he could grow up safe and free from the turmoil of the outside world. A place for both of them to heal and prepare.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the grotto had transformed. It was far from finished, but it was livable. The walls were sturdy, the garden planted, and the interior now felt like more than just an empty cavern—it was the beginning of a home.
She leaned against the cool stone, exhausted but content. Her mana reserves were nearly depleted, and her body ached from the exertion, but she allowed herself a small smile. "It's a start."
As the days passed, Marydia fell into a steady rhythm. Mornings were spent walking Eliot to the academy, listening as he spoke eagerly about his lessons. She found herself reveling in these small moments, her heart swelling with pride as she watched him flourish in his studies. Then, once he was safely inside the gates, she would return to the forest, her mind focused on the work ahead.
The grotto, once a hollow in the earth, was becoming more than a place of refuge—it was becoming a home. The hearth crackled with warmth, shelves held jars of herbs and potions, and the smell of fresh earth and lavender filled the air. The garden flourished under her care, and the plants she had planted grew quickly, their progress a testament to the magic she wielded.
Eliot, too, was thriving. He came home each evening full of stories—about new spells he had learned, new friends he had made. His confidence was growing with each passing day, and Marydia could see it in the way he carried himself, the way his eyes shone with excitement when he spoke of his lessons.
One evening, as they sat by the fire, Eliot looked up from the wooden fox he was carving.
"Do you think we'll always stay here?" he asked, his voice thoughtful.
Marydia glanced at him, her expression softening. "For a while," she said, her voice gentle. "You'll finish your studies here, and then... who knows? The world is a vast place, Eliot. But no matter where we go, this will always be our home."
Eliot nodded, as though content with her answer, and returned to his carving.
Marydia's gaze lingered on him, a mixture of pride and uncertainty settling in her chest. Five years wasn't long, and though they had built a sanctuary here, the knowledge of what awaited them—a merging of worlds, of magic and chaos—was never far from her mind.
She had seen what was coming, the upheaval, the destruction. In her previous life, she had been unprepared, caught off guard by forces beyond her control. This time, she would be ready. She would master her magic, push her limits, and ensure that Eliot would never be caught unawares.
For now, though, she allowed herself to enjoy the peace, to savor the quiet moments—the warmth of the fire, the sound of Eliot's humming, the sense of progress in their new life.
It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. And for now, that was all she needed.