The Emberfall residence stood at the edge of Suntails Hollow, its tidy garden dotted with flame-hued flowers that swayed in the breeze. Inside, Ryssa heard voices drifting from the study as she entered. Her mother, Meryth, and her grandfather, Vaerin, were mid-conversation, their tones low and serious.
"…and the squad moved past the Hollow just days ago," Meryth said, pacing slowly as she gestured. "If they've requisitioned supplies here, they're likely preparing for a push against Lyradin. Their aggression grows bolder with every campaign."
Vaerin sighed heavily, leaning on his desk. "The knights are loyal, but loyalty doesn't always mean wisdom. Expanding territory isn't always worth the blood it demands." His gaze shifted to Meryth. "The Hollow will survive this—it always has—but kingdoms may not."
At that moment, Ryssa cleared her throat at the doorway, and both tieflings turned to her. Meryth smiled warmly. "Ryssa, darling. Back from your adventures?"
"More like errands," Ryssa replied with a wry grin.
"What brings you here today? Did you finally decide to learn the family pyromancy?" Vaerin asked.
"Not today, Grandpa," Ryssa said with a wry smile, "I came to ask Grandpa something important."
"Oh, important is it?" His voice is deep yet kind.
Pulling up a chair across from him. "I wanted to ask about a magic pendant."
Vaerin leaned back thoughtfully. "A magic pendant, you say? What kind?"
"It's my friend Dorian's," Ryssa explained. "The pendant is silver, shaped like wings, with a hollow circle. He was told it could awaken his magic veins if he meditated with it. Does that sound familiar?"
Vaerin furrowed his brow, his tail swishing behind him. "Awaken magic veins?" He folded his hands in front of him. "That doesn't ring a bell. Typically, one's magic veins open naturally—or with the aid of great stress, focused ritual, or very experienced arcane practitioners."
Ryssa tilted her head. "So, it's not a thing at all?"
"Not exactly," Vaerin said slowly. "While I've never encountered such an artifact, I can't dismiss it outright. I'm an old man, Ryssa. Magic evolves. Techniques advance, and new artifacts are uncovered all the time."
He stood with surprising agility for his age and walked to a high shelf, pulling down a faded blue book. "This," he said, placing it in her hands, "is a catalog of known magical pendants and talismans. It's not comprehensive, but it might give you some clues. If you pursue this, though, tell your friend to tread carefully. Artifacts that touch magic veins are often as dangerous as they are wondrous."
"Thanks, Grandpa." Ryssa hugged him tightly.
The morning after her visit, Ryssa returned to Dorian and the others with the book her grandfather had given her. Underneath the familiar oak tree, Dorian was already plucking his lute, focusing on a melody meant to channel the faint sparks of magic he had begun to feel.
"What did you find?" Dorian asked eagerly, setting the lute aside as Ryssa approached.
"Grandpa didn't recognize the pendant," she admitted, holding up the thick tome. "But he gave me this—descriptions of magic pendants, at least the known ones. It might be outdated, but it's a start."
Dorian thumbed through the book, stopping to scan a few entries about similar artifacts. "I guess it's possible magic's advanced since this was written… or maybe the bard wasn't being completely honest with me."
Lucas, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, smirked. "He wasn't honest with you? Shocking."
Ryssa rolled her eyes. "That's beside the point. What matters is figuring out how to use what you've already got."
Dorian gave a thoughtful nod. "Most people don't even get to feel their magic veins activating—I've been lucky. But I don't know what kind of magic mine might be tied to."
"We've all read the basics," Bogo chimed in, setting his knife aside as he whittled a stick into a practice wand. "Coating your body with aura, manipulating your surroundings, elements, weapons… You've got options, but none of it's going to happen in a day."
"I know that," Dorian said, brushing his fingers along the strings of his lute. "We'll start small and see where it leads."
Dorian's first attempts to enhance his body with aura magic weren't the spectacular bursts of power he had envisioned. The others gathered supplies for a simple set of challenges—barrels to lift, logs to sprint between—but hours of practice left him mostly tired and only failed.
Ryssa perched nearby, her sharp gaze flicking between Dorian and her own hand, which glowed faintly with magic. "If aura's not working, why not try ambient magic? You're creative—you could start there instead."
Dorian huffed but smiled. "Maybe. But I'll figure this one out first."
Lucas stepped forward, the stick he had claimed as his sword slung over his shoulder. "Face it, Dorian—your veins might just be lazy. At least mine don't have to wake up."
The remark was met with laughter, but something unspoken lingered behind Lucas's words. Dorian paused, sensing it, but Lucas quickly changed the subject, inviting the others to challenge him to a mock duel while Dorian caught his breath.
As Lucas lunged and parried, his movements fluid and exaggerated, his grin remained, but his tone took on a more wistful edge. "I don't know why you're all so worried about this. We're farmers—magic or not, it's dirt and wheat at the end of the day."
After days of experiments, Ryssa brought over a basket of old candles. "If you're leaning elemental, start small—no ice storms or fireballs. Try lighting one of these." She set the candles on the ground.
Dorian focused on a single wick, his energy channeling through the silver pendant. A faint spark jumped—but extinguished before it took hold.
Nearby, Bogo continued his quiet work, assembling crude tools and reshaping damaged sticks. His patience was unshakable, though his movements grew more deliberate whenever Lucas's remarks turned cutting or Ryssa bristled.
"Bogo," Ryssa said suddenly, her tail flicking. "Why do you bring your tools everywhere? Can't be that fascinating."
The dwarf shrugged, rubbing the edge of his small hammer. "I guess I like having something to fix. Or build. That, and... you guys aren't the most gentle." He gestured toward Lucas, whose branch-sword now had splinters sticking out awkwardly.
As Lucas laughed and tossed his makeshift sword aside, Ryssa watched Dorian with quiet awe. When the candle flame finally held steady under his persistent focus, her golden eyes glinted with pride. "You're relentless," she said softly. "I wish I had that kind of drive."
By the week's end, they shifted their focus to support magic and weapon coating. Dorian worked to channel his energy into a small branch, intending to mimic how aura might flow through a blade.
The stick didn't glow at first. Bogo approached, handing Dorian one of the newly carved pieces. "Try it with this one. Better balance."
With his friend's tool in hand and their quiet support fueling him, Dorian grinned, his pride extended to all of them. "We're figuring it out," he said, his voice steady with promise.