“The only thing worse than an undead Lich is a breathing Marked.” Magus Supreme Likel Plinem.

The snow hare stood out like a sore thumb in the mix of yellow grass and dead leaves. Its head cautiously bobbed up and down after each nibble of the budding plants, savoring the fresh roots as its black-tipped ears scanned for any sign of predators. It would only be a few days before its white hair shed to match the brown and gray earthy tones of its transforming surroundings. A slight rustle in the brush next to the animal made the hare stop in its tracks, jaw still rotating as it broke down the roots in its mouth.

After the brush next to it sat silent for a moment, a feline creature of the same size launched itself from the shrubbery, snatched the hare’s neck in its jaws, and gave a firm shake. The hare didn’t squeal, unable to flee as a soft crack echoed through the otherwise quiet forest, and the creature, unfit for its environment, went limp. The green and brown striped brush cub let out a pleased trill and purr as it sank its razor-sharp fangs deep into the soft flesh, feeling the warm red liquid fill its mouth, the taste of a good meal budding on its tongue. Poor guy. If only he’d have stayed in the mountains for a few more days, maybe he would’ve had a chance.

Now, the brush cub took its turn to sit silently for a moment when it heard an unfamiliar sound coming from the tree the feline had been nestled near just a minute ago. The feline looked up. Its pulse soared, and her slanted pupils dilated as its gaze fixed on the creature in the tree. Her mouth opened, dropping the hare to the forest floor with a wet thump from the earth, to make herself lighter in hopes of fleeing the glimmering creature that crouched on its hind legs. Pain radiated from behind her shoulder as she found herself on her side, clawing at the same earth her prey had stood on a moment before. As her vision began to fade, she cast one more glance up to the tree to see the strange, near hairless, gaunt creature rise to its full height and begin its awkward descent from the limb it balanced on.

Aidric let out labored breaths once he reached the base of the tree, fog billowing from his mouth with each exhale as he made his way to the two animals on the forest floor. It never failed to surprise Aidric how a few hundred feet in altitude could completely alter the weather. Slinging the bow his mother had fashioned for him across his shoulders, he dropped to a knee a safe distance away from the brush cub, which barely clung to life as more of its own blood seeped from the poor creature’s mouth.

There was a slight hum and burn that emanated from Aidric’s chest, when an object as cold as the snow another hundred feet up the mountain formed in his hand, tinging the edges of his vision white. Offering what small mercy he could, Aidric placed the blade of the object between his fingers, and gave a firm whip of his wrist, severing the feline's neck from its body. No cry, no attempt to flee, and no blood escaped as the ‘Ice Dagger’ froze the wound closed. The predator’s eyelids relaxed, the purple hue that danced around its pupils faded, and she slipped away to whatever came after.

Aidric took a deep breath, and placed both of his palms against his upper thighs with his elbows flared out as his thumb pressed into his hips, and looked between both animals. “I give thanks to the land for providing nourishment to my prey. I give thanks to my prey for giving me the opportunity to see another day. Know that taking your life is not an act I commit without remorse, and I wish you peace in knowing what you have left behind will not go to waste.” Aidric brought his hands together at his navel, his left palm faced up, his right faced down, and curled his hands into fists, and his cold fingers pressed against his warm palms as he bowed at the waist.

“Very nicely done, Ady.” Ada’s voice popped up from behind him, a testament to just how much Aidric still had left to learn in the art of hunting. He was surprised the cub and hare still came to the spot his mother had spotted them in a few days ago with how much noise he made climbing the tree.

“Thanks.” Aidric said, as the same ache came from his chest and a frigid feeling brushed against his palm. He flipped the hare on its back and started skinning as his mother dropped the ominous sack with long, dried blood stains to the ground.

“No incantation or anything! Just like your sister.” Ada said, no small amount of pride in her voice as she tousled her son’s hair.

Aidric paused for a moment before he continued his task, making small cuts to avoid nicking the stomach. “Not that it matters.” Aidric said, frustration and sadness evident in his tone. “We’re commoners. They won’t even let us cast third-tier spells. Besides…” Aidric stopped at the rabbit’s throat and moved back to its hind quarters. “Magic and Ether’s what killed Madison in the first place, and… it’s gonna take me, too.” Ada kneeled beside her son and began working on the brush cub.

“Don’t say that.” Ada’s voice was somber as she cut with her dagger. “You don’t know that. Ether poisoning runs its course in six months. You got sick two years ago, if you had it, you would’ve…” Ada stopped herself short, the pain of losing one child was more than enough for a hundred life times, but to lose both… “You’re going to get better.”

“Yeah.” Aidric said, trying to bring some fading hope into their conversation. “I’ll be a Whisp for some royal house or the Collective, and you and dad won’t have to shovel pig styes anymore.” Aidric snorted, sending a short billow of steam from his nose. “I’m a hot commodity, you know?”

Whisperers, or Whisps, were held in high regard by the Magus Collective. For reasons unknown to even the Ascended, the rare few were able to conjure their spells without any need for an incantation, and on top of that, produced more potent magic when they did cast. Madison had been one as well, which lead to traveling nobles and high-born gifting her tomes of spells in hopes they could coerce her to join their house as an Oathsworn. Aidric would often join her in the late hours of the night, reading through the tomes. Learning those spells in such a short amount of time, however, exceeded both of their thresholds. Everyone contained a different capacity for Ether, but by the time someone began to display symptoms of poisoning, it was already too late.

“A hot commodity, huh?” Ada asked, as a smile creeped onto her lips. “You do know who your father is, right?” Aidric chuckled and rolled his eyes, dispelling his ‘Ice Dagger’ before tossing the intestines and other inedible organs into the brush in hopes it would attract more fauna into the area. His mother did the same, wiping the crimson stains that were on her blade against her pant leg, and slid it back into the sheathe on her waist. Aidric deposited the edible organs into the sack his mother had brought, while Ada tied a string around the hind legs of both animals, and slung them over her shoulder.

“Ready?” She stuck her hand out behind her, still splotched with tinges of dried blood, and smiled. Aidric took her hand, and the two made their descent into the valley towards home. A half hour later, the two had their hunt for the day hung up just outside the door. The bland smell of boiled oats made its way through the windows, a welcome replacement to the smell of blood and guts that had been trailing them their entire walk back.

Neal looked over from the stove as they walked through the door, giving the thick paste one final stir before scooping out helpings into three bowls. “Welcome back! How’d it go?”

“Our son is going to make a damn fine hunter one day.” Ada said. She pushed the small of Aidric’s back towards the washbasin, following right behind him to clean their hands. “He got a hare and a brush cub.” Neal set the wooden bowls and spoons down on the table, giving a few head nods.

“Hell yeah. Brush cub too? How’d you manage that?” Neal asked.

“By thankfully inheriting my patience instead of yours.”

After sitting around the table and eating their late morning meal, the wooden bowls clattered on the kitchen table as everyone finished their breakfast. The taste of gruel was unappealing, made sadder by the fading smells of the bacon that could have been. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the two adults tossed weary glances back and forth at one another.

“Ady... why don’t you go see if anyone needs help on their farm?” Ada hardly looked in Aidric’s direction as she grabbed the bowls from the table.

“Just be back before nightfall, okay, bud?” Neal wrung his hands together over the top of the table, his knuckles turning white as he faked a smile. Swinging his legs to the side of the chair, Aidric hopped down onto the floor and started walking towards the door. “If you start to feel bad, take a break, okay? Don’t use your magic if you don’t have to.” Stopping in front of the opened door, Aidric tossed them a smile over his shoulder.

“I love you, guys.” The two smiled and gave him a nod, as if they weren’t about to discuss their son’s potential future.

“We love you too, Ady.” Ada said, just as Aidric breached the threshold, and made his way down the short trail to the road at the front of the yard. Ada watched her son’s slim, retreating figure make his way to the far side of the patchy yellow and green yard, then to the hard-packed dirt road running parallel to the river before she spoke.

“When are we going to tell him?” Ada asked.

“Tell him what?” Neal stood from the table, and walked next to his wife to peer through the slats.

“About how the world really is.” Ada said, as she placed one of the now rinsed bowls on the makeshift drying rack she’d whittled from branches and tied together with strings.

“This is how the world really is.” Neal went to wrap his arm around his wife, only for her to sidestep him and smack her palm down on the flimsy counter. The thin wood flexed and shook with the impact, hanging on for dear life as Ada pointed a finger at Neal.

“Don’t give me that shit, Neal. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“Do we have to? What’s so wrong about being a farmer or a blacksmith? Or even a hunter. He’s good at that too, right?” Neal asked. His voice remained calm, even in the face of his wife’s ire. When Ada cocked an eyebrow, however, the man raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. That’s what we came out her for, isn’t it?”

“We came out here to get away from the shit that makes you black out, Neal! Yet you still opted to be in the reserve forces! We were supposed to leave all that behind, start a family. Even after everything we saw, you volunteered to stay under their thumb. If…” Ada cut herself short and rolled her tongue around in her mouth. “When Aidric gets better, he needs to be ready.”

Neal shifted uneasily from foot to foot, placing his hands on his hips as he paced back and forth for a few steps through the kitchen. His heel clacked against the shoddy hardwood floor as he came to a halt and turned his head to face Ada.

“Alright. We’ll tell him when he turns sixteen.”

“Neal…” Ada’s frustrated voice rang out through the house, but Neal stepped towards her in an attempt to nip her anger before it could truly bloom.

“We’ll still teach him how to fight, but…” Neal took a step back, and looked out the window to see Aidric talking with Lauren and Priscilla across the river. “Let him try to enjoy what little of a childhood he has.” At that, Ada’s anger was wiped away as she looked out the window. She let out a heavy sigh and wrapped her arm around her husband, running her hand up and down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against her hand.

“Deal.” Ada said. A smile spread across Neal’s face, even as he saw the glint of light against the steel that his wife had at some point slid from her waist. “Sixteen, or I’ll cut you.”

“Deal.”

“Good.” Ada gave her husband a peck on the cheek and turned for the door. “Now help me skin these hides.”