Audree woke up with a gasp.

Pain flared across his body like a distant firestorm—dull in most places, but blazing in one.

His right arm.

It felt like someone had driven molten nails into the bones, and every breath made the ache worse.

He blinked against the low, warm light of the room, his vision blurry.

Where am I...?

The dream—if it had been a dream—was already fading, like smoke curling through his fingers. A lake. A statue. Green fire. Stars falling like glass.

His mind felt like it had been torn in two.

He shifted slightly, and a new pain lanced through his arm. He fell back into the bed with a quiet groan.

“Great,” he muttered.

As his vision cleared, he saw her.

Nora—slumped by the foot of the bed, her head resting on her arms, fast asleep. Dried tear tracks marked her cheeks, and her face was pale and drawn.

Beside her, scattered on the floor and the bedside table, were used potion bottles. Some shattered. Some empty. The bitter smell of overworked alchemy still lingered in the air.

Ina, no doubt.

He swallowed, throat dry.

They had been here. They'd stayed.

Of course they had.

He tried to lift his right arm again—but a flash of burning shot through his shoulder and down to his fingertips. He let out a sharp gasp and dropped back into the bed.

What happened...?

The memories came in jagged flashes.

The arm mount. The runes.
The chanting. The spellbook.

And then—

The mana reversal.

His breath caught.

Idiot.

He hadn’t accounted for that. He’d focused so much on the link, the spell’s flow, the theory—it had slipped past him completely.

Mana could rebound. And when it did...

His notebook.

It had exploded. Along with the rig. The book that held everything—his formulas, his progress, his hopes—

Not to mention this was his first time activating runes.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

His left hand clenched, and he slammed it down on the mattress in frustration.

But the jolt made his right arm flare again—so sharp, so immediate he bit down on a cry.

He lay there, jaw clenched, chest heaving.

The pain wasn't just physical.

It was failure.

Everything hurt.

Audree lay still, the burn in his arm slowly ebbing, replaced by a heavier ache in his chest.

Not physical.

Guilt.

He hadn’t accounted for mana reversal. He hadn’t built safeguards. He’d let his excitement lead him into something half-tested and dangerous.

And in doing so... he might have killed the only magical creature that had ever trusted him.

The thought twisted in his gut like a knife.

But then—

Movement.

Just outside the cracked door, he caught the unmistakable wobble of blue.

A small, familiar shape drifted past the hallway’s shadow.

His breath caught—and then released in a rush of quiet relief.

The slime.

It was alive.

Wandering, curious as ever, slipping past doorframes like nothing had happened. They had lost just a small piece of it. At least he had spared that one.

Audree let his head fall back against the pillow, the tension in his chest unraveling just a little.

“Thank the stars...” he whispered.

With his uninjured arm, he pushed himself up—slowly—to assess the damage. His ribs ached, and a deep bruise ran across his side. Bandages wrapped around his forehead explained the pounding ache in his skull.

But the worst was his right arm.

And as he looked at it—

He froze.

It was... marked.

Golden runes lined the skin in intricate patterns that shimmered faintly in the low light. Not the messy symbols he had scrawled the day before—these were clean. Complex. Foreign.

Runes he’d never seen in any book.

And in the center of his palm, burned into the flesh like a sigil:

A golden cauldron, with a green skull hovering above it.

And inside the skull’s grin—faint, but undeniable—was the same twisted smile he'd seen on the horned axe-wielding woman from his dream.

Audree’s breath hitched.

What in all the hells was happening?

Before he could process it further—

CRASH.

A plate shattered somewhere in the hall, and footsteps thundered toward him.

Then pain flared in his side—not from injury, but from the tightest hug he'd ever received.

Wet.

Shaking.

Ina.

Her arms wrapped around him, clinging fiercely, face buried against his chest, tears soaking through his shirt.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” she choked.

Her voice was sharp—but the fear underneath it was raw and real.

Audree didn’t answer.

Because right now... he didn’t have one.

After a few moments in Ina’s tight, trembling embrace, there was another rustle from the corner of the room.

Nora stirred, groggily lifting her head from the foot of the bed. Her eyes blinked open, still red-rimmed from sleep—and crying.

“Audree...?”

She stood and crossed the room quickly, dropping to her knees beside Ina and wrapping her arms around both of them.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

Audree’s breath caught in his throat.

He tried to keep it together—really tried—but the knot in his chest unraveled all at once.

A hot tear slid down his cheek before he could stop it.

Was it really that bad...?

He had known it was dangerous. He had known he was rushing.

But seeing them like this?

Feeling them shake?

He’d messed up. Bad.

They held him for what felt like forever. The warmth, the weight of it—it wasn’t comforting at first. It was heavy.

The cost of almost not coming back.

Eventually, they pulled away, Ina guiding Nora gently toward the door.

“We shouldn’t crowd him,” she said softly. “Give him a bit to rest before we throw questions at him.”

Nora hesitated, squeezing Audree’s hand once more before following Ina out of the room.

But before Ina stepped out, she looked over her shoulder, smirking slightly through tear-damp lashes.

“Oh—and by the way?”

Audree blinked.

“You were in a coma,” she said flatly.

Audree blinked in confusion. “Wait... a coma? How long was I out?”

Ina raised a brow, lips curling into a sly, tired smirk.

“Long enough for your hair to grow vines and the town to crown you a sleeping forest prince.”

He stared at her.

Norra snorted softly, cutting in. “Three days. Felt like three thousand, though. You scared the life out of us.”

Audree swallowed hard, throat tight.

Ina's gaze softened, her smile falling into something more sincere.

“You’ll rest for now. But we’re going to talk. Later.”

And then she stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking gently shut behind her.

From under the door, a ripple of movement caught Audree’s eye.

His slime.

It slipped through the narrow space like water—boneless and fluid—then reformed itself into a wobbling blob just inside the room.

Audree blinked. “Well... I haven’t seen you do that before.”

The slime bounced forward with an almost springy motion, landing beside the bed in a single, cheerful plop.

“Well, aren’t you full of energy today,” he said softly.

But something was different.

It was a little smaller than usual—less vibrant, its glow dimmed slightly.

The joy in the slime’s movement clashed with the tightness in Audree’s chest.

He looked away, guilt rising in his throat like bile.

“I’m sorry, little buddy,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to lose a part of yourself. I didn’t mean for any of this crazy mess to happen.”

The slime tilted slightly—almost like it was listening.

Then, slowly, it scooted up beside him, its surface flattening gently against his side.

Audree winced at first—the contact sent a jolt of pain through his ribs—but then...

Rumble.

A low, garbled sound began to vibrate from the slime’s body. It wasn’t loud. Not sharp.

Almost like... purring.

But wetter. Stranger.

The sound was oddly soothing.

And then the runes on Audree’s arm began to glow—softly at first, then brighter, responding to the contact.

He gasped as he felt something shift inside him.

A connection.

Mana flowed between them—not in a one-way surge like before, but back and forth, gentle, pulsing, rhythmic.

It felt right.

The pain in his side eased.

Gradually, slowly—but undeniably.

Audree sat there in stunned silence, his hand resting gently atop the slime’s quivering form.

“What... was that?” he whispered.

His mind reeled.

It hadn’t been a spell.

It hadn’t been forced.

It had been... a link.

Mutual.

For the first time—it hadn’t been about control.

But even as the pain eased and the glow of the runes dimmed, a deep weariness began to pull at Audree again.

His body was still worn thin—his mind even more so.

He let out a soft breath, sinking back into the pillows. “Okay... one mystery at a time,” he murmured.

Beside him, the slime quivered once more—then slowly, its form relaxed, flattening out into a soft, pulsing blob.

It, too, was tired.

Within moments, its glow faded to a gentle shimmer, and it curled into itself, nestling by Audree’s side like a sleeping pet.

He reached out with his good arm and rested his fingers lightly against its surface.

Warm. Comforting.

Together, they slept.

And for the first time since the spell had exploded, Audree didn’t dream of fire or falling stars.

Only calm.

Only quiet.