Kalem stood on the ridge overlooking the Ironworks, the parchment bearing the crest of the Arcathis Academy clutched in his hand. The afternoon sun caught the edges of the finely embossed emblem, casting a faint glow as though urging him to take the next step. Below, the familiar bustle of the Ironworks carried on, the clang of hammers and the hum of forges filling the valley with life. This was his home, his sanctuary—and yet, the path ahead seemed to stretch endlessly beyond it.
Vornar and Tharic stood behind him, their postures a mix of pride and reluctance. Even the Augury lingered nearby, his inscrutable gaze fixed on Kalem as though evaluating his potential one last time.
"So, what are you going to do, boy?" Tharic asked, his gruff tone barely masking the emotion beneath. "Stay here and keep hammering at that forge, or take a leap into the unknown?"
Kalem exhaled slowly, still gazing at the horizon. "I don't know. The idea of leaving… it's overwhelming. But staying feels like… stalling."
"Then you've already decided," the Augury said, stepping forward. His dark robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, lending him an air of gravity. "The path ahead is daunting, but it's the only way you'll find answers—not just about the ruins, but about yourself."
"If you're going," Vornar interjected, "you'll need to prepare. You can't head out empty-handed."
Tharic nodded. "We'll help you make tools, weapons, and gear to sell along the way. The road's unpredictable and having a bit of coin can't hurt."
Kalem turned to face them, his chest tightening at the sight of their determined faces. They believed in him more than he sometimes believed in himself. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. "For everything."
In Tharic's modest home, the three mentors gathered around a small table, their voices low but animated. The room was sparsely furnished, with shelves cluttered with minerals and tools, and a single cot pushed against the wall.
"You seriously need to drink less and save up for a better house," Vornar remarked, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
Tharic waved him off, a tankard of ale in hand. "I only need a place to sleep and store my minerals. Anything fancy would be wasted on me."
The Augury leaned against the wall, his expression mildly amused. "Practicality has its merits, but perhaps some comfort wouldn't hurt."
"Anyway," Vornar said, steering the conversation back on track, "do you think it'll be enough? What we're giving Kalem, I mean. Just a bag full of things to sell?"
Tharic frowned. "That's what I've been wondering. The academy sounds prestigious. What if he's saddled with fees we can't even fathom?"
The Augury sighed, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "Are you two idiots? The Arcathis Academy is sponsored by The Bank. Do you honestly think they'd expect payment from a mere country boy?"
Vornar raised an eyebrow. "Wait, how do you even know that? And why would an organization like The Bank do something like that?"
The Augury's lips curved into a faint smile. "I've been alive for 222 years. Compared to the typical elven lifespan of 200 years, I'm what you might call… an anomaly. I've seen much in my time, including The Bank's rise to power."
Tharic chuckled, taking another swig of ale. "Well, that explains your attitude. Ancient and grumpy."
Vornar leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "But that doesn't make sense. Traits like extended lifespans usually show up over generations, not as one-off occurrences."
The Augury's expression darkened slightly, his tone measured. "Elves are less fertile than most races. High elves like myself, in exchange for longevity and a stronger affinity with magic, lose the ability to have children entirely. My existence is rare, not impossible."
Vornar's face fell. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
The Augury waved a hand dismissively. "No need for apologies. I came to terms with it a century ago. But there is something else we should discuss."
Both men looked at him expectantly.
"It's Kalem," Tharic said, his tone unusually serious. "We need to find out what species he belongs to."
Vornar groaned, snatching Tharic's tankard away. "You've had too much to drink."
"No, hear me out," Tharic insisted. "The boy's skills, his resilience… it's not normal. There's something different about him."
The Augury chuckled softly. "And what would you suggest? A blood test? Interrogation?"
"I'm just saying we shouldn't dismiss the possibility," Tharic muttered, crossing his arms.
Vornar rolled his eyes. "Let the boy be. He's got enough on his plate without us adding nonsense to the mix."
The Augury smirked, his gaze distant. "Perhaps Tharic's ale-addled instincts aren't entirely wrong. But for now, Kalem's journey is his own. Whatever truths he uncovers about himself, he'll have to face them in time."
The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their discussion lingering as the night deepened. Outside, the valley slept peacefully, unaware of the young artisan on the brink of a new adventure.