The last few days of recovery crawled by for Audree, each hour blending into the next like thick syrup on a cold morning. Despite being confined mostly to bed, his thoughts raced at a pace that made resting feel impossible.

First came the explanations. The kind you dreaded. The kind that came with long sighs, furrowed brows, and your mother staring at your glowing arm like it might start a fire in her alchemy room. There had been talks—lots of talks—about what happened, the dreams, the strange rune-burned skin, and whatever in all the stars that “soul space” mess had been. Ina wasn’t pleased. Norra, at least, tried to understand.

Then came the reality check. His notes? Gone. His gear? Ruined. His carefully organized materials? Turned to char and dust. It was a painful truth that the explosion had cost him more than just a week of pain—it had wiped out months of work. So he spent his time scribbling plans on scraps of paper Norra handed him, mapping out how to recollect what he had lost, maybe even improve it this time around.

But even as he stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks like wandering trails, one thing kept creeping into his mind: possibility.

The mark—this strange new thing—whatever it was, had opened a door. Maybe several. He didn’t know what it meant, or how it worked, or even if it was dangerous… but for someone like Audree, someone born without the gift of magic but burdened with the ambition of a mage, it was impossible to ignore. The feeling of mana, the spell, the dream… it was all real. And it made his heart beat faster.

Yet alongside the excitement, there was a sting. A sharp reminder of what rushing into things could cost. The way he had gone about his last experiment—unprepared, impatient, reckless—it wasn’t like him. It wasn’t the careful, methodical student Haldo had watched scribble notes in the back of the library for years. Somewhere in his eagerness to prove something, he had cut corners. And it had almost cost him his life.

He let that thought sit with him for a while. Not to wallow in it. Not to beat himself up. But to learn.

No more rushing. No more experiments without planning. He had been given another chance—and this time, he was going to make sure it counted.

Because if magic was finally opening its door to him, he was going to step through it the right way.

Meanwhile, Nora and Ina had both mentioned it a few times now—how that boy, Lief, kept waiting outside the house every day. Rain or shine. Sitting like some sad puppy at the doorstep, occasionally scaring away what few customers they had. It was starting to make them uncomfortable.

Audree had almost forgotten about the kid entirely. Honestly, he thought that after the incident—after the light show and near-death explosion—Lief would have run off like anyone else with half a brain. But instead, it seemed like the baker’s boy was even more invested than before.

That was strange.

Stranger still was the realization that Audree didn’t really have many people in his life. Not anyone he actually spent time with. He could count the number of people he'd “hung out” with on one hand—and even then, those were more out of obligation than desire. Most were boring. No drive, no ambition, just people waiting for the next mining shift or the next town celebration to give their life meaning.

He had always been content with his solitude. Lonely, sure, but it was a quiet sort of loneliness. Manageable. Predictable. Potions and experiments were better company anyway—they didn’t talk back, didn’t let him down.

And yet now… here he was. Walking around with some random baker’s kid who kept finding reasons to tag along. Lief didn’t talk much about himself. He didn’t pry. He just followed, wide-eyed and fascinated, soaking up every muttered explanation or half-baked theory Audree rambled out.

It was… weird.

But also, kind of nice.

Lief wasn’t spreading rumors. He wasn’t asking for potions or secrets. He wasn’t trying to get something from Audree like so many others did. He just… wanted to be there.

Maybe, it wasn’t such a bad thing to have a strange little assistant.

While walking, Audree looked down at his wrapped arm. It was Ina’s idea. Something about keeping the family’s already questionable reputation from crumbling into nothing. “Ever since your little mana explosion, we’re lucky our house hasn't been burned down already,” she had said, wrapping the cloth tight around his forearm. “Some of the lower-rank Tower guards have started sniffing around. They didn’t act on anything yet, but there are definitely eyes on us now. Just... keep that thing covered, Audree.”

That was probably the worst part of all this. Audree had grown up hearing from both his mothers about the importance of lying low. Staying out of trouble. Making themselves useful, but no to noticeable. A perfect balance.

He had probably just thrown all of that away.

His mind started to spiral. What if they got kicked out of Embershade? What if Nora and Ina got arrested for harboring a magical anomaly? What if—?

“One thing at a time, Audree. Do they even do that?” he muttered to himself, pacing past Merrin’s Menagerie with his cloak pulled a little tighter.

Behind him, Lief’s soft footsteps kept pace. “What was that? Is everything okay, Audree?”

Audree looked back, momentarily forgetting he’d even asked the kid to come along. “Yeah, yeah. It's all good. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

He reached for his bracelet, an unconscious habit by now—except his fingers met bare skin.

His brow furrowed. “Dang it.”

Lief looked at him with concern but didn’t press it.

It was gone. Of course it was gone. Probably incinerated in the explosion like everything else. That bracelet had been with him since he was a kid—a gift from Nora on his seventh birthday. A simple thing. Leather with tiny metal beads, each carved with a different symbol.

He sighed. Of course he’d lost it.

Lief finally spoke again, softer this time. “Are you sure everything’s okay? If you want to talk about it, I’m fine just listening.”

Audree didn’t answer right away. But then he shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... I lost some things in the explosion. That’s all. And it’s annoying.”

He forced a smile. “But thanks.”

Lief chuckled. “Well, if we try hard enough, maybe we can replace most of it. And you don’t have to fake a smile, you know? I get it—losing something important sucks. But you don’t have to do everything alone.”

He gave a thumbs-up like it was some grand declaration.

And to Audree’s surprise... it helped. The tightness in his chest eased just a little.

“Thanks, I guess.” He tried not to grin but failed.

Lief beamed. “Well, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Audree shook his head, half-smirking. “Yeah, you probably are right.”

Audree unzipped the new bag Nora had given him—an old satchel, sturdy but worn, and immediately felt a wave of relief. There it was. His slime. Nestled safely among scraps of cloth and spare bottles. It looked... content. Whole. Somewhere in its soft, pulsing glow, Audree sensed hope—a potential link to whatever power had marked him in those early days of recovery.

Maybe, he thought, Haldo has answers. I hope he’s in the library today—but something tells me he’s busy.