The living room was a mess. Fine copper dust glittered on the floor like tiny flecks of gold, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt metal. Eddie had already flung the wide window open, letting the cold evening air rush in. He grabbed the old fan from the corner and turned it on, the blades creaking as they started to spin.

Torrie was on her knees, sweeping up the scattered remnants of their experiment with a dustpan and broom. She wrinkled her nose, her face scrunching up in exaggerated disgust.

“It smells like we roasted a bunch of coins in here,” she said, glaring at Eddie as if it were somehow his fault.

“You’re the one who rushed it,” Eddie shot back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he tossed a damp cloth at her.

Torrie caught it mid-air and stuck out her tongue. “You’re the one who jinxed me! All that hovering and ‘steady your magic’ stuff—what was I supposed to do? Meditate?”

“You were supposed to focus,” Eddie retorted, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Not blow up half the living room.”

Torrie grinned as she resumed sweeping. “You’re just mad because you had to play hero with my wand. Admit it—you miss this stuff. Alchemy. Magic. The chaos.”

Eddie chuckled under his breath but didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed another cloth and started wiping down the table. The silence between them lingered for a moment, broken only by the soft hum of the fan and the rustling of Torrie’s broom.

Then Torrie spoke, her tone more curious than teasing. “Hey, Eddie…”

“Hmm?”

“Why’d you give me the ring?”

Eddie froze mid-swipe. The question hung in the air like a weight, heavier than the smell of burnt copper. He set the cloth down, avoiding Torrie’s gaze.

“You never told me,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “I mean, it’s your family’s heirloom, right? From your real family.”

Eddie exhaled, his hand tightening around the edge of the table. “Yeah, it is.”

Torrie stopped sweeping, leaning on the broom as she watched him. “So why me? I’m not exactly… careful with stuff like that.”

Eddie continued wiping down the table, the copper dust clinging to the cloth. Torrie was perched on the armrest of the couch, still fiddling with the jade-silver ring. She twirled it around her finger, her gaze thoughtful.

Eddie glanced at the silver-jade ring on Torrie’s finger as she turned it, the green stone catching the light.

“You’ll use them more than I will,” he said, his tone casual, though there was an edge of finality to it.

“So… you gave it to me because I’d use it more than you do?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Eddie nodded, not looking up. “Yeah. You’re in Aella Academy now, just starting out. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Torrie tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “But why don’t you need it?”

The question was so simple, so direct, that it caught Eddie off guard. His hand froze mid-swipe, and for a moment, he just stared at the damp cloth in his hand, as though it held the answer.

Torrie leaned forward, her tone still curious but now laced with something deeper. “What do you mean, Eddie? Why don’t you use it anymore?”

Eddie set the cloth down and straightened, his shoulders tense. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, the words sticking in his throat.

“I just… don’t, alright?” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual.

Torrie frowned, unsatisfied. “That’s not an answer.”

Eddie ran a hand through his silver hair, the gesture betraying his frustration. “It’s complicated, Torrie.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” she shot back, her tone sharper now. “You were amazing at Alchemy. Everyone at Aella Academy said so. You had that scholarship and everything! So why—” She stopped herself, hesitating. Then, softer, “Why don’t you want to do Alchemy anymore?”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier, even with the window open and the fan whirring. Eddie leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Torrie… I don’t think you’d understand,” he said finally, his voice low.

Torrie stood, her expression a mix of defiance and hurt. “Try me.”

Eddie hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor as if the answer might be written there.

After a moment, he managed a half-hearted smile. “It’s because I’m focusing on potion-making now. You know, that doesn’t really use magic much.”

Torrie raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Really? Potion-making doesn’t use magic much?”

Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s true. You don’t need fancy spells for chopping herbs or boiling cauldrons, you know?”

Torrie crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “Eddie, you’re terrible at lying. You know that, right?”

Before she could press further, the front door creaked open.

“Eddie?” Markus called from the doorway.

He stepped inside, holding the edge of the doorframe with one hand and looking flustered. “Do you have the key to the shop? It’s opening time, and I can’t find it anywhere.”

Relieved, Eddie slumped his shoulders, then straightened, taking the opportunity. “Oh, uh, yeah, I think I’ve got it.” He patted his pockets with exaggerated enthusiasm, already making his way toward the door. “Let me check.”

Torrie watched him go, her eyes narrowing. “Eddie…” she started, but he cut her off.

“I’ll be right back!” he said over his shoulder, his tone too bright, too eager. “Markus and I need to get the storefront sorted.”

Eddie was just about to step out the door, a mix of relief and escape flooding through him, when Torrie’s voice cut through the air.

“Eddie!”

He froze, his hand on the doorframe, the cool wood under his fingertips feeling heavier than before. He turned back to see her standing in the doorway, holding something in her hand.

Torrie’s fingers were wrapped around the chains, and Eddie’s heirloom ring—engraved with symbols of his family—rested on top. She was offering it back to him, the delicate metal glinting in the light.

“Here,” Torrie said, her voice small but firm. “Take it back. It’s yours. They are meant to be yours.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Torrie’s eyes were steady, piercing his green eyes, as though trying to read something he wasn’t saying. Eddie felt a strange knot tighten in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.

Then, with a deep breath, he smiled—a soft, forced thing that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” Eddie said quietly, his voice almost lost in the air between them. “Keep it. It’s better suited for you than me.”

Torrie’s brows furrowed, a flash of confusion in her expression. She didn’t argue, as if accepting the weight of his decision. Slowly, she closed her fingers around the ring once more, her grip firm and determined.

Eddie gave her one last glance, a final, fleeting look that held everything they both left unsaid, then turned away, slipping out the door and into the early morning light.

He walked, his steps quick and purposeful, as if the moment with Torrie had never happened. As he passed the familiar sights of Weshaven, his thoughts shifted back to his routine—The Apothecary, his work, the things that didn’t ask him to explain anything.

The weight of the ring was no longer in his pocket, but he could still feel it, a reminder he had left behind.

And just like that, he lost himself in the rhythm of his day.