Ferris could only vaguely remember how they’d returned to the Boroughs. She recalled Castellar barking at her to throw her boots and tunic back on, then stepping into the guildmaster’s office in the same, abrupt way they’d landed in the caverns to begin with; however, she was in such a groggy state at the time that she didn’t know how she’d managed to get to and from those points. She’d only fully awoken after she felt the blast of mid-morning light coming through the window and saw Tobius’ stunned—but not altogether surprised—expression.

Thankfully, they hadn’t had to give more than a brief report. The fox’s presence and their disheveled appearances said enough. Afterwards, Tobius ordered them to make a quick stop to the infirmary, rest, and get ready to work like mad to make up for the scare.

Like always, Ferris and Castellar avoided crossing paths when they could, but something was different. Now, when they had to engage, they avoided speaking entirely.

It was Castellar who initiated the long silence. He didn’t respond to Ferris’ snark, saving whatever discussion that did pass between them for when they had an audience. It didn’t bother Ferris: There were no pointless pleasantries, no forced attempts to get along. Moreover, she was just too busy to worry over it. Her training had intensified and there were too many local affairs to deal with.

Sickness naturally increased as winter settled in, putting her medicinal skills to use. Every seer stayed alert for fear of a hailstorm or flooding—not to mention possible attacks as nature’s resources dwindled and stories of marauders grew. There was a newly adoptive family that needed instruction regarding monster children and how their magic could erupt in moments of intense emotion.  

Ferris had just returned from visiting said family on the outskirts of the Boroughs when she received word that the guild was about to get another young member. Iva’s water broke.

To call things chaotic was an understatement. Iva was moved to a private room away from much of the guild’s traffic. Even so, there were far too many busybodies lingering about. The healers and midwife had more volunteers than they needed to fetch hot water. Dom spent much of his time dragging away nosy students who wanted to see the birth. Ferris’ and Iva’s roommates were gathered together, wanting something to do, but only clucking at one another like a bunch of hens.  

Both Iva’s and Percy’s masters—Camlet and Crococus, the Heads of the Orange and Purple Mages respectively—waited out in the hall for moral support. Camlet, a fabric-like monster with a flair for the dramatic, had stretched himself into a tizzy across the narrow space. Crococus, the old reptile that he was, did nothing more than stand hunched over his cane with a sour look. Nevertheless, the way his eyes sharply darted to the door each time it opened revealed his anxiety.

They were both better off than Hystrangea. The Head of the Green Mages had boasted nonstop how prepared she was for this birth—that she had overseen the delivery of many monster children and the care of their parents. Now, the flustered mess of petals sat huddled in a ball in the corner. Given nothing to do except sit and wait herself, Ferris plopped down on the floor beside her.

“You humans sure are something else…” Hystrangea mumbled into her lap.

Ferris smirked, “Aren’t there plenty of monsters that have children the same way we do?”

The green mage groaned. Clearly, none of those monsters were among the ones she’d helped deliver.

The young woman patted her head. Although Hystrangea was at least twice her age, her small size, baby face, and expressive personality made Ferris feel older than her. Besides, she supposed that the process would scare anyone. Her own mother had two miscarriages before Ciara came into the world, and women sometimes died in childbirth.

Monsters didn’t have it easy either though, from what she understood. As beings made of magic, it was more a process of transferring their very lifeforce from parent to offspring. It was why Boss Monsters lost their immortality as their children grew, and why some species had no issues with the actual birth. Some monsters essentially took pieces of themselves to create offspring. Sometimes, there was only one parent involved—granted, Ferris heard that the toll was often far greater as a result.

“Iva and her son will be fine,” she said, not for the first time that day. Almost everyone who knew what was happening pressed her and the other seers for reassurance.

Another healer ran out of the room, clutching a bundle of scorched fabric with a trail of smoke following behind. Apparently, someone had said something to upset Iva and she torched a pillow by accident.  

Not long after that, Garrick—the guild’s Head Physician, only one position under Hystrangea—entered the hall. As all eyes turned to him, he gave the crowd a sheepish smile and waved his hand, echoing the same sentiments Ferris had just uttered.

Between his gentle disposition; vibrant, green eyes; and golden locks with a handsome stubble, Garrick had more than his share of admirers. Nevertheless, like most of Arnaud’s leaders, he favored a ‘tough love’ approach to getting things done. Seeing Hystrangea on the sidelines, he quickly ushered her to work.

“I’m not allowed in there,” he reminded her, shoving a cup into her leafy arms, “I’ve mixed up some herbs. See to it that she drinks this! Even Percy is in the laboratory right now, trying to help!”

Hearing this, Crococus took off. Ferris wondered if she should follow after him. It probably wasn’t a good idea to have two nervous men fiddling with lab equipment.

However, as Hystrangea was pushed inside the room with a half-terrified look, she decided to stay put. She couldn’t claim to have much experience with this sort of thing either, but would wait to see where she might be needed.

Hours passed and eventually, in the dead of night, Iva and Percy’s son finally arrived.

He was a cute boy, his skin only a shade lighter than his mother’s. He had dark eyes, which some were curious about until the older mages explained that it wasn’t really genetic. His eyes could change color as they got older, or if they didn’t, it wasn’t necessarily a sign that he wouldn’t manifest any magical talent. He was simply a new soul.

Aside from other women, Iva would have to remain isolated until the baptism. She found the whole thing annoying and no one pushed her to follow that tradition, but she insisted upon it anyway for her family’s sake. Ferris, Ciara, and the other girls offered to keep her company as much as possible.

About two weeks later, Ferris was practicing her spellcasting with Madame Valda in a field a short distance from the guild. They’d opted not to travel all the way to the tournament grounds, but needed to stay far enough from the compound so that a stray spell wouldn’t cause any damage. That day, her teacher didn’t offer to spar with her. Instead, Ferris was instructed to cast different spells from each category of magic.

Her Astral Dagger was basic, familiar. There were others with names that Ferris kept to herself, all that followed a celestial or temporal theme:

Starlight Dancer: Blue magic. A spell she could cast on herself or others to allow them to move swift distances in any direction with ease. It was essentially what she learned from watching Tobius and Castellar manipulate gravity.

Solar Strike: Yellow magic. It was a definite favorite of hers for its versatility. She hurled a solar disc through the air, able to change its direction or cause it to explode. Sometimes, it was a long-range attack; other times, it served as a shield by ricocheting other spells thrown her way.

Lunar Strike: Cyan magic. Typically, she used it as a quick attack against charging opponents, firing off a beam of light. With enough focus, she could channel the magic for them from any lunar discs she’d already cast.

Blazing Dawn: Orange magic. The sight alone of the massive fireball erupting from the ground was enough to stun some enemies—much to their misfortune.

Healer’s Aurora: Green magic. With a great deal of effort, she’d managed to craft her own healing spell, albeit a weak one. Surrounding her target with a soft, verdant glow, she could deal with everyday cuts and scrapes. She’d been so proud of herself when she’d first used it on Gwen and Ciara…

Turning the Hourglass: Purple magic. Ferris knew enough about poisons that making a spell that served as one never appealed to her. She focused on trap-based spells instead. She didn’t use it often, but it was funny to catch a troublemaker within its rotating pattern now and then.

Threads of Fate: Crimson magic. These were the strongest and surest of the red cords that instinctively appeared for her in times of danger. So long as she stayed conscious of them, she could evade most of whatever anyone threw at her.

Each and every spell had been crafted with care. They were the fruits of her training, her connections; echoes of herself and the people who helped her come this far.

However, as Ferris took a short break while nursing a cup of cold tea in her hands, Madame Valda revealed that she had one more thing to teach her.

They spent the rest of the lesson in a deep state of meditation. Sitting atop a thin blanket sprawled across the chilled soil, Valda held her student’s hands firmly in her own. Left mostly in the dark, it took Ferris a while to steady herself. She felt the energy around her shift at Valda aided her through her trance.

And then she felt nothing. Her soul seemed to be set adrift.

This wasn’t the emptiness that greeted her whenever she died, or the lost feeling she had when scrambling to see too far ahead into the future. This was something else entirely, like staring at a large text for too long. It was messy and overwhelming, powerful and horrifying. Runes and letters and numbers; lines packed into neat, little boxes that seemed to stretch on eternally; things she knew she wasn’t supposed to see and, thank God, were well beyond her reach— 

She didn’t know she was trembling until Madame Valda’s voice called her back to reality.

“I always meant to teach you this when you were ready,” the elder seer told her, her faint smile doing nothing to hide the concern in her gaze.

What this was… even when her wits came back to her, Ferris couldn’t make any sense of it. The young woman fought to calm her racing heart. She held her master’s hands in a vice-like grip, as if to anchor herself.

Were Madame Valda’s eyes always so dim?

“It’s the most powerful spell anyone with our ability can achieve. If you can master it,” she continued in a steady tone, making sure that Ferris took in her every word, “there is a way for you to leap forward and back across time without using the save points or dying. Although, the toll it may take on your soul is… immeasurable. I pray you never find cause to use it, and I kept this from you because you needed to learn something else first.”

Before she realized it, Ferris found herself pulled into Valda’s arms. For them, an embrace like this was not shared often. It wasn’t their way, and Ferris only remembered her teacher holding her in such a manner one other time—on an evening when she’d suffered a particularly grim and violent nightmare that nothing else would shake her from.

“When I peer into your future, I see a strong, resolute woman who would do anything for those she loves,” Valda’s cold fingers cupped her student’s cheek, “You love life very deeply, Ferris. You love good food, and nature, and laughter. You love discovery. You love your sister, and, in your time here, I’ve watched you fall in love with the Boroughs and its people.

“But I need you to love yourself too. You came to me a girl too comfortable with throwing her own life away. Our ability is not one that should be used by those who can’t cherish the time they are given, and so I watched and waited for you to fear death again.”

Ferris listened to her teacher carefully, but chuffed, “I think I might be too selfish for you to worry about that. If anything, maybe you should worry about my greed.”

“You’re not selfish enough. Not where it counts.”

The two seers rose to their feet and packed up what few items they’d brought with them. While the sun had yet to dip below the horizon, the guild was already lit with a warm glow that welcomed them back.

Some time after that, not long after the first snow had fallen, Madame Valda passed away.