GRACE WELDER
I didn't bother waiting for Gavin. The moment he led the horse away, I darted toward the Transport Guild, my boots pounding against the stone-cobbled streets. The bitter cold bit into my cheeks, but I barely registered it. Each breath clouded the air as I pushed forward, the looming wooden doors of the guild drawing closer with every hurried step.
Without hesitation, I hammered my fist against the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The wood was rough beneath my aching knuckles, the sharp pain in my hands was quickly ignored as I continued to pound. The door felt like solid stone, absorbing each hit as though mocking my desperation. But I didn't stop.
Bang! Bangggg!
The sound echoed through the stillness of the night. My fingers stung from the effort, my hand trembling slightly as I drew back for one last strike—when suddenly, the door creaked open.
Standing there, bathed in the dim lantern light spilling out from inside, was Mr. Valtron. His weathered face, framed by salt-and-pepper hair, held a look of surprise. The years had been kind to his broad frame; the muscular build of his youth still lingered under the lines of age, though his eyes held a weariness I hadn't seen before.
"Miss Welder?" His voice broke the silence, thick with disbelief.
I nodded, chest heaving from the rush, trying to catch my breath. Mr. Valtron, the head of the Transport Guild, once a fellow guild member of mine, stood there blinking at me. He'd always been closer to Gavin, spending most of their off hours drinking together in the taverns, but his tone now was all concern.
"Miss Welder, what in the world are you doing here at this hour?" His voice was gruff but laced with worry as he stepped aside and beckoned me into the warmth of the guild hall. "It's freezing out there!"
I stumbled inside, clutching the small bundle against my chest. The warmth hit me like a wave, but before I could even begin to explain, a small sneeze escaped from the swaddled cloth in my arms.
Mr. Valtron's eyes widened in shock, his gaze dropping to the child nestled against me. "You… you rode all the way here with the baby?"
His tone was incredulous, almost horrified. He took a step back as if the gravity of the situation had just landed on him, his brows knitting together. His disbelief was palpable, as though the sight of me, disheveled and winded, wasn't enough—now I had to be holding a baby in the dead of night.
"Honey!" he called out suddenly, voice rising as he turned toward the hallway. A slender woman enters the room, wearing a brown gown and a blue headscarf that wraps around her dark hair.
"Did Tristian and Alfred pass through here?" I gasped, my breath shaky as clouds of mist spilled from my lips, freezing in the cold night air.
"Tristian?" Mr. Valtron blinked in surprise as his wife gently took Jolt from my arms. His brow furrowed with concern. "Miss Welder, they didn't take this route. Alfred mentioned using the mountain pass, going through the River Tigras. Why? What's going on?"
His words hit me like a physical blow. My entire chest tightened, squeezing in on itself until it felt as though my ribs were constricting around my lungs. I couldn't breathe. It was as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out, leaving nothing but a suffocating void.
Everything slowed down.
The walls seemed to close in, the world narrowing to the sound of my rapid heartbeat pounding in my ears. My vision blurred at the edges, the room warping and spinning in ways it shouldn't. Panic clawed up my throat, cold and merciless, wrapping around my mind like a vice.
I tried to steady myself, but the floor seemed to tilt beneath me, my legs buckling. My knees hit the ground, but I barely felt the impact as a cold sweat broke out across my skin. My chest constricted even more, an invisible force pressing down on me, crushing me, until every breath I took was shallow and sharp like I was breathing through a straw.
"Miss Welder?!" Mr. Valtron's voice felt distant, muffled, as though I were hearing him through layers of water. He knelt beside me, his face a blur of concern. His wife hovered over him, her hand on my back.
But their voices were drowned out by the roaring in my head.
The air around me felt thick, and heavy, as though I was trying to breathe through a blanket. My heart pounded frantically in my chest, its erratic beats growing louder and louder until it was the only sound I could hear. I needed to calm down, I knew that, but I couldn't. The panic surged like a flood, crashing through every barrier I tried to erect in my mind.
"I need to…" I choked, my hands clawing at my throat, desperate for air. I gasped, the breath rattling in my chest. "I have to find Tristian…"
I staggered to my feet, barely able to keep my balance. The room spun violently around me, the door warping and stretching in my vision. I lurched toward it, my body moving on pure instinct, driven by nothing but the need to act. To move. To...do... something.
"My son…" I gasped, my voice cracking. "I have to find him…"
My legs wobbled beneath me, the world swaying as though I were standing on the deck of a ship caught in a storm. I barely made it two steps before the ground gave out beneath me. My body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and in the blur of my fall, I saw Gavin rushing through the entrance, his face twisted with alarm.
I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. My lips moved, but no sound escaped. My body felt too heavy, too weak, like all the energy had been drained from me. The last thing I remembered was Gavin's arms wrapping around me, his voice a panicked blur as the world went dark.
I was falling.
Plunging through an endless darkness, the suffocating void pressing in from every side. There was no air, no light, nothing but the overwhelming weight of the blackness swallowing me whole. I couldn't breathe. The panic that had started in the guild now manifested here, in the void, as a crushing force that wrapped around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.
I clawed at the darkness, desperate for something, anything, to anchor myself to. But there was nothing. Just the endless fall, the void dragging me deeper into its suffocating embrace.
Then, faint and distant, I heard it—a small, innocent giggle, echoing through the void like a lifeline. I turned, straining to see through the thick, choking shadows.
There, just barely visible in the distance, was Tristian. He sat on the ground, playing with the small wooden toy plane Gavin had given him for his third birthday. He giggled as he flew it through the air in clumsy circles, completely unaware of the darkness around him.
"Tristian," I whispered, my voice breaking. I tried to move toward him, but my feet wouldn't obey. It was as though the ground beneath me had turned to quicksand, pulling me down, trapping me in place.
A cold hand clamped around my ankle, yanking me backward. I gasped, struggling against the force that dragged me deeper into the void. My heart raced, panic surging anew as I saw a figure materialize beside my son—a faceless man, his body made of the same shadows that surrounded us.
"No… No! Get away from him!" I screamed, thrashing against the invisible grip. My nails dug into the blackness, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing to hold on to.
The figure bent down and scooped Tristian into his arms. My son didn't resist. He simply smiled, completely trusting, as the figure began to walk away, carrying him deeper into the shadows.
"No! Don't take him! Tristian!" I screamed, my voice hoarse, but it was no use. The darkness starts to swallow them both, just then, Tristan's eyes look at me, smiling like he usually does whenever he wakes up and sees me.
"Tristian!" I yelled as I spun around, putting all my strength into my clenched fist, hitting whoever—or whatever—was behind me.
"Ouch!" Benedict's voice broke through my daze as my eyes blinked open, adjusting to the blinding light. I realized I was lying on a long white leather sofa. Squinting, I saw Gavin's worried face, and next to him stood Benedict, clutching his nose. My fist, still stretched out from the impact, remained clenched tight.
Sally's gentle hand on my arm helped me sit up.
"What... happened?" I asked, confused as I took in my surroundings. The clean scent, the pristine white walls—it was Benedict's home, the capital.
"You passed out," Gavin said, offering me a glass of water.
"And Tristian? What about—"
"Tristian..." Benedict began, only to stop as Mr. Valtron appeared from a portal. A maid, dressed in typical maid attire, guided him through. He held something in his hand, his eyes sharp.
"According to Gavin," Benedict continued, rubbing his bruised nose and readjusting it, "you sensed the presence of two people in the carriage. Both female. One was Tristian's age, and the other older. Luckily, the transport guild keeps records of all their passengers."
"Let's see," Mr. Valtron muttered, using his spatial magic to conjure a visible screen. He displayed all the routes taken by guild members, scrolling through them until he reached Alfred's log. We watched his first stop—back in Igdeel, thirty minutes before he arrived at our home. A young girl stepped out, dressed in a maroon outfit with matching boots. Her red, wavy hair caught the light. Beside her stood a woman, her long red gown flowing, hair the same fiery shade.
"Those are disguises," I spat, anger surging through me as the glass in my hand froze solid.
"Focus on the older woman," Benedict urged, zooming in on her as the screen sharpened.
.
"Isn't that Darius?" Sally whips out as the lady's face becomes zoomed, "I heard she was tutoring a genius from the Freychild, so that means," we turned to the little girl, "that must be the young lady from the Freychild family, Elowen Freychild."
"Yes, I could tell by that look in her eyes," Benedict added, his voice steady. "The ascendant who possesses the Mirror Attribute."
"Mirror Attribute?" I gasped, trying to piece together the implications. "You mean she can see other people's abilities? That's... Why is she—?"
"There's only one way to find out," Benedict cut in, his expression hardening. "Humphrey!"
A tall, light-skinned man entered the room with quiet elegance. He wore the unmistakable black attire of a butler—white shirt, black coat, and trousers, a neatly tied bow at his throat, and sleek black gloves that concealed his hands.
"You called for me, Master?" His voice was calm, polite, and measured as if nothing could faze him.
"Prepare a portal. We're heading to the Freychild house," Benedict ordered, his tone sharp with urgency. "And send word—we need to meet with the young lady and Miss Darius."
Humphrey bowed with flawless precision. "As you wish, my lord," he replied, politely and calmly before disappearing from the room.
"I'm coming with you," I said, struggling to rise, my body weak and unsteady. But my legs betrayed me, wobbling beneath the weight of my exhaustion.
"You won't be able to, darling," Gavin's voice came soft yet firm, his hand gently cupping my face. His other hand guided me back onto the sofa, his touch steadying my faltering resolve. "You've used too much Aether since we left. And then, when you collapsed… I don't know what happened, but you were draining more than you should have."
"But…" I began, desperation clawing at me, only for his thumb to press gently against my lips, silencing me with a tenderness that broke through my panic.
"If we find him," Gavin murmured, his words carefully chosen, "Tristian would blame himself if he saw you like this. He'd think it's his fault. You need to rest. Refine your Aether, let us take care of this. Jolt needs you strong."
His gaze softened, laden with a silent but deep understanding. "You need to eat. If not for yourself, then for Jolt. Refine your Aether and let us handle the rest."
"Will you relax, sis," Sally said as she sat beside me, her presence a calming force. "My husband would never let anything happen to his godson. Let him handle this." She smiled warmly, the kind of smile that reached deep into the soul, comforting in ways words never could. "Have you forgotten what you told me when Tristian turned fifteen?" Her smile broadened, eyes glimmering with nostalgia. "You said he was destined to be the greatest adventurer. Think of this as one of his grand adventures. He'll find his way back, eventually."
Without warning, she pulled me into a tight, comforting hug, her arms wrapping around me as though she was burying all my fears within the warmth of her embrace. It was the kind of hug that felt like a shield, one that absorbed every shred of doubt and anxiety. Her warmth seeped into me, slowly erasing the tension that had coiled within my chest. A deep sense of assurance washed over me, one I hadn't realized I needed until now.
She was right. I couldn't panic. Tristian was my son—he has the blood of Welder and Trunker clans, flowing in his veins. He will make it through and no matter what he will come back home just like he always does. I need to be strong until he returns.