“We, uh… we lost her two years ago to Ether poisoning.”

Filled with genuine sadness, Arthur’s face dropped and he covered his heart with his right hand. “Oh, Aidric my poor boy. I’m so sorry.” In an instant, his aura shifted, radiating an unmistakable sense of worry. “Oh, Gods… I didn’t sell her the scroll di-” Aidric raised his hand, silencing the merchant’s worries with a simple gesture.

“No. It was from some tomes that scholars dropped off at the very end of the festival. Madison and I kind of dived headfirst into them without telling our parents and... that was that.” Arthur’s head moved in a deliberate, slow shake; his eyes filled with sadness as he regarded the frail boy in front of him.

“Tragic. She was such a skilled young caster. I really had high hopes for her.” 

“Me too.” Aidric couldn’t help but avert his gaze from Arthur’s face as he gave his reply. From what Aidric’s father had shared, Arthur possessed a remarkable capacity for empathy and compassion. Though Neal and Arthur were raised in the same town, their upbringings diverged in significantly. Arthur’s family suffered a terrible fate all too common. They had been confined to their home for days, doors and windows boarded from the outside with whatever scraps the other villagers had. Through the barricades, the walls resounded with the constant coughs, and moans, as those inside stained rags crimson, waiting for the illness to pass, one way or another.

Against all odds, Arthur, the middle child, defied fate and emerged as the only one to survive among his family of seven. That was his reason for opening a spell shop, to offer healing magics at an affordable cost to other commoners, so no one had to suffer like his family had. Unfortunately, things never seem to go as planned, when high-born control everything you do.

A gentle breeze caused one of the lanterns hanging from the merchant’s sign to flicker and fade away. ‘Scholar’s Light’, a spell with a delicate nature, could be cast on flammable objects, yet it required specially made wicks for candles or lanterns to sustain its glow for a mere ten extra minutes. Since the spell’s flame only emitted light and no warmth, each wick had a price tag of fifty-copper. In theory, they were a valuable investment because the wick never ran out and could be reused endlessly. In reality, they were garbage.

“Damned things aren’t worth the money you spend on ‘em.” Arthur said. With a slight chuckle, Aidric’s eyes followed the merchant’s every move. He watched as the lantern was carefully taken off its hook, the metal chain making a faint rattling sound against its frame as it was placed on the wooden counter. Arthur tilted his head and cracked his neck, then rolled his shoulders, while clearing his scratchy throat. Raising his hands, he positioned the lantern in front of him and started reciting the incantation.

“Oh, darkest night, thieving my one delight. Though you try to take my sight, I deny you, with Scholar’s Light.” Just because Arthur sold spells, it didn’t necessarily mean he was proficient in using them. At a fundamental level, incantations were used to evoke the powers of Ether and manipulate them to meet the caster’s specific needs. The ability to cast a spell effectively depended on a person’s proficiency with certain types of magic. Like Neal, who focused on augmentations, found himself unable to cast anything beyond first-tier spells, no matter how hard he tried. Those that had tried to break beyond those limits were very often met with disastrous results.

No sooner had Arthur lit one lantern than the other one flickered and died. “Son of a-…” Aidric’s chuckle had inadvertently cut the merchant short. “Think you can do better, little guy? Give it a shot.” Arthur hung the lit lantern on the hook and took down the extinguished one, placing it on the counter. The merchant gave Aidric a wry smile as he motioned to the lantern.

Aidric simply thought of the spell, feeling a twinge of disapproval in his chest as he extended his right index finger towards the wick. In an instant, the air filled with the faint smell of burning sulfur and a soft orange light popped into existence. When he looked back at Arthur, the man’s jaw dropped to the floor in astonishment.

“Holy hell, you’re a Whisp, just like your sister!” Arthur said. “One is rare, but two in the same home?!” Arthur was overwhelmed, trying to comprehend how it was even possible, let alone the fact that he had seen it himself. “Please tell me you’re going to the mage academy when you turn eighteen. If not, tell me now, so I can convince you when you come to Inrora in a few days.” 

Aidric shrugged his shoulders and give him a defeated smile. He didn’t enjoy lying to people, but his options were limited at that moment. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’ll wake up tomorrow. Besides, you know they don’t let commoners attend.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, scanning the boy in front of him with a critical gaze. “Did you and your sister get sick at the same time?” Arthur asked. Aidric nodded. Folding his arms across his chest, the merchant rhythmically tapped his index finger on his bicep. “Very interesting. You having any trouble casting at all? I know you just casted a first-tier, but any problems with second?” Aidric shook his head and give him an eager smile.

“There’s one I’ve been wanting to try but just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Aidric said. “Want to check it out?” Arthur’s face lit up with a wide grin as he eagerly rubbed his hands together, as if he were about to enjoy a luxurious three-course meal. The man had always had a strange obsession with magic. 

“Hell yes I do, let’s see it.” Scanning his surroundings, Aidric’s gaze settled on his target, conveniently located a few paces away from the main path near Arthur’s stall. As Aidric approached, the large patch of dying yellow grass remained silent. When he kneeled down, his fingertips sank into the cool, damp earth, setting the stage for his casting. The earth seemed to come alive as black tendrils of smoke slithered across the ground, triggering a humming sensation in his chest. The once yellow grass now glowed with a renewed vitality in a lush shade of green. A rustling in the farthest patch caught both of them by surprise. A bird suddenly burst from the rejuvenated grass, but an eerie feeling washed over Aidric. 

“My Gods…” Arthur’s voice was so soft that it barely reached a whisper. Aidric felt an unusual sense of relief, knowing that he wasn’t going crazy. Arthur had seen it, too. The bird’s body looked distorted… broken. The bird’s frame was marred by small patches where feathers were missing, with small holes burrowed into its flesh, evident that ants had feasted on it. The bird clumsily made its way through the air, its flight pattern wavering as it headed towards the open fields. The patches on its body healed and regrew, restoring its normal shape after a few unsettling cracks. Aidric felt Arthur’s hands tightly clasped on his shoulder, forcefully spinning him away from the bird. Arthur’s gaze was filled with disapproval and fear, as if Aidric had just committed a grievous sin. His voice, scratchy and quiet, blended with the nervousness in his eyes as he looked around cautiously.

“Who taught you that spell?! Did the Library give it to you?!” Confused, Aidric gave him a meek reply.

“It was in one of the tomes Madison got…. What’s the Library?” Aidric couldn’t comprehend why Arthur’s face turned pale with horror. It couldn’t have been that bad. It was in one of the official Magus Collective released tomes Madison had received, after all. “You-” Arthur’s lecture abruptly ended when a high-pitched voice interrupted him, hollering for attention. 

“Mr. Sigmund! I wanna buy a scroll, please!” As the merchant released Aidric’s shoulders, he quickly turned around, only to find Lauren standing before his stall. With her hands confidently on her hips, she stood tall, her chest puffed out. She slowly turned her head towards the two, and when neither of them moved, began tapping her foot. Brat. 

“I’ll be right there!” Arthur said to her, his head cocked as he looked at the boy. His voice carried a grave tone, more serious than a Descended roaming for hearts. “Never cast that spell again, do you hear me? Don’t even mention you know it to another living soul.” 

Aidric acknowledged the man with a slow nod of his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. Arthur, satisfied he had made his point, confidently strode towards Lauren. What the hell was that about? Aidric wanted a detailed explanation, not a reprimand like he was a misbehaving dog. What could have been so terrible about a simple rejuvenation spell? It was a second-tier, so it’s not as if any laws had been broken.

As Arthur bent down, he carefully placed the scroll in Lauren’s outstretched hand, making sure not to drop the five copper coins he was holding. As Lauren unfurled the parchment, her eyes focused intently on the text, devouring its contents. With a self-assured nod of her head, she basked in the satisfaction of her new accomplishment. That was, until the paper burst into flames and crumpled to ash in her hands. She let out a horrified shriek, much to Arthur and Aidric’s amusement. 

“My… my scroll!” She said, her cheeks puffing out as she pointed a finger at Arthur. “Swindler!” Waving his hands in a sign of surrender, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. 

“It’s okay, Lauren, that’s just how scrolls work. That way, they can’t be shared with others who aren’t supposed to have them.” His words, though soothing, offered little solace for her disappointment. Lauren’s shoulders drooped as she observed the final remnants of ashes fluttering to the ground, dissolving into nothingness as a light breeze carried them away. 

“Aw, man.” Lauren grumbled, her foot kicking up a cloud of dirt, as she cast a side-eye glance at Aidric. Lauren, remembering that he was there, quickly replaced the disappointed look on her face with a confident smile and casually walked over to him. “Aidric, I learned a new spell!” Lauren said. Aidric gave her a warm smile and glanced at her soot covered hands. 

“What did you get?” She flashed him a smile so cheesy that it made him cringe, and she turned her head to the side, closing her eyes.

“I learned ‘Petrichor’ so I can water the fields too!” At her answer, Aidric’s pulse jumped and his palms slicked with a clammy sweat. 

“How many spells do you know already?” There was an unintended nervous edge to his voice that had caught Lauren off guard, causing her to lock eyes with him with an unsettled gaze. Her voice dropped to a somber tone, far from her usual cheery tempo.

“I didn’t know any. I just got this to help you. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Lauren’s eyes welled up with tears, and she released a soft sniffle. Her gaze dropped to a seemingly very interesting patch of dirt. Nice going. 

“I’m sorry, Lauren.” Aidric felt a wave of shame as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t want you to get sick.” Shaking her head, Lauren continued to avoid his gaze.

“I know.” As Lauren spoke, she sniffled again and hastily wiped her nose on her forearm. Aidric cast a glance past Lauren to the bonfire, where the crackling flames danced and illuminated the faces of her parents, who stood anxiously next to their shop. Claire appeared calm and at ease about the meeting, while Priscilla’s body language was tense and rigid.

“You try your best to help…” Lauren said. “But there’s a lot more than you can handle. You always look so tired.” This was the first time he’d seen a subtle rosy hue in her complexion. “I just think you could use a break is all.” There was a small ‘eep’ as Aidric took her into a big hug. After a few moments of hesitation, Lauren embraced him... and nearly snapped his back in half. Well, at least she seemed back to her old self, for the moment anyway. Even after she let go, Lauren’s shoulders remained tense. “Mom said we can’t hang out anymore. Does it make you mad, too?”

“Yes.” It didn’t. Though it wasn’t that he didn’t care, he simply couldn’t feel his anger. Despite his sadness at not being able to hang out with her anymore, he recognized the need to honor her parent’s wishes. Aidric let out a grunt and stumbled back from Lauren, the result of a solid thump against his chest. With her arms extended, she had that familiar watery glint in her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Aidric! I’m not stupid! You didn’t even try to come and see me! And your voice just now…” Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her voice shook as she spoke. “You don’t care! You just do what everyone tells you to do!” The sound of Lauren’s shouts drew the curious eyes of a few festival-goers. “I wish Madison was still here instead of you.” Aidric clenched his fists, trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat.

“Me too.” If being Marked meant that he would lose all the people he cared about, he didn’t want any part of it. His parents simply pretended everything was fine, and now he’d lost his only friend. He was sick of it. He wanted some Gods-dammed answers.