Audree’s gaze skimmed his alchemy rig—and the world snapped into sharp, merciless detail.

Ratios leapt at him. Angles accused him. Every untrue line of chalk, every hairline crack in glass, every off-white sheen in the tincture announced itself like a shouted fault. It was too much—an avalanche of numbers and tiny betrayals. His stomach turned. He tore his eyes away, but the seeing followed: measurements ghosted across the kiln bricks, reagent symbols traced themselves in the air, textbook margins he’d only skimmed now etched themselves behind his eyelids.

“Ooo—your eyes are glowing,” Lief said, half-whisper, half-squeal. “What does that do?”

The question barely reached him. A second feeling surged up—hot, chemical, unstoppable.

“Audree, are you okay? You look kinda—”

He didn’t answer. He stumbled to the hedge, dropped Bubbles with a soft plorp, and heaved until his throat burned and the sour tang of bile stung his nose. Rain-sweet air, ash-sour earth, and shame mixed at the back of his tongue.

After a while, Lief’s hand found his shoulder. Bubbles wobbled in Lief’s lap, dim and sleepy. The world steadied by inches.

“What happened?” Lief asked gently. “With your eyes.”

Audree wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Haldo said my keyword’s been helping—passively. Which… tracks. Alchemy’s always felt easy. I thought it was just Embershade being limited, but even when I push into harder stuff, I can usually make it work. The real fight lately’s been rune work—it’s a different craft, even if the books pretend they’re twins.”

Lief nodded. “So the eyes—do they help you see better?”

“‘Better’ isn’t the word,” Audree said, staring at the apparatus from the corner of his eye like it might bite. “For the first ten seconds it slammed me with formulas—layer after layer. It’s not clarity, it’s overload. And it forces me to see every flaw we left in that mix.” His voice thinned. “The longer I looked, the more… filthy it felt. Disgust. Like standing in a crooked room.”

He breathed, slow and even, the way Haldo had taught him. The burn in his veins dulled to a throb.

“It also chewed through a lot of mana,” he added. “I only noticed because of the meditations. I can feel the link to Bubbles now just by thinking about it.” He glanced at the slime, who gave a drowsy, agreeable glrp. “So it’s not all bad.”

Lief stroked the little creature’s surface, worry easing a notch. “That’s good.”

“A thing that’s actually good,” Audree said, “is I think I figured out something basic for mages—people with mana pools. Haldo’s notes mentioned it: body enhancement. Every mage with any control can strengthen their body by flowing mana through their pathways. Apparently that’s also how people shape spells and channel their keywords. The amount it enhances varies by person, but even a little is useful.”

Every moment he practiced, he felt closer to being a mage—and it thrilled him. But the closer he got, the more obstacles cropped up to trip him in the little magic he had. He wondered if Haldo and Velra had it this hard when they started, or if they were tossing out flashy, devastating spells that left everyone gawking. Right now his magic looked… lackluster. He couldn’t even attempt most mana-control exercises because they demanded steady, consistent flow—and despite Bubbles acting as a pseudo mana pool, the amount he could draw without bothering the slime was limited.

Even worse, though he could guide Bubbles’ mana well enough, he knew controlling his own pool would be far easier. He’d read about mana pathways—channels mages used to carry power smoothly. He didn’t have those. Which explained the burning, lightning-through-veins feeling whenever energy left his arm, carving its own route through flesh. Why am I like this?

Lief stared down, as if turning something over in his mind.

“What’s up, Lief?” Audree asked.

“It’s nothing important.” Lief looked away. “Do you think we should get the rest of the materials?”

Audree tightened a stopper on a cooling flask. By this point, he’d hoped his power might make the final stretch easier—that things would just… click into place. Instead, he hadn’t even managed to apply it before throwing up. An unfortunate setback—but there was time.

“Yeah, we probably should,” he said. “The problem is the last parts are usually found in the wild—forest stuff.” He eyed his list. “I’m not sure where to get those around here.”

Lief thought for a moment. “The only place near Embershade that probably has them is the forest.”

They looked at each other.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Audree,” Lief said.

And yes—it was a bad idea.

A very bad idea to go looking for those last few ingredients in the old woods. Rumors of disappearances, strange shapes between the trees, bedtime stories meant to scare children into staying home—none of that helped. The more Audree thought about it, the worse it sounded. Wild animals alone would be a problem… but the thought of something else—some magical creature lurking where no one dared go—made the back of his neck prickle.

“Lief,” Audree said at last, “why would you assume I’d go wandering into the creepy forest everyone disappears in?”

Lief gave him a deadpan look. “Because I’ve known you long enough to know you would. You’ve got a record of doing reckless stuff in the name of ‘advancement in magic.’”

Audree smirked. “Well, I’m glad you know me so well, my assistant.” He reached over and ruffled Lief’s hair, earning a squawk of protest. “But you’re right—running into those woods with who-knows-what crawling around would be pretty stupid without preparation. Still…” He lifted the finished potion from the beaker. The liquid glowed, swirling with molten yellows and oranges, light dancing over his face. “Manageable.”

“Complete,” he murmured with a note of satisfaction.

Lief sighed. “So you are planning on going in there now that I’ve put the thought in your head.”

Audree tilted his head, his expression somewhere between curious and mischievous. “Be honest, Lief. Have you ever wondered what’s really going on in those woods?”

Lief hesitated, caught off guard. “Um… maybe. Sometimes.” He rubbed his arm. “It just looks… peaceful, you know? Nothing ever comes out of there except deer and rabbits. Meanwhile, Embershade looks like it’s dying—except for the flower patch.”

He glanced toward the horizon, his voice softening. “I always thought that patch had to be magical. All the strange plants you find there… they don’t grow anywhere else.”

Audree blinked. Somehow, that had never crossed his mind.

Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Being able to just… go out there and enjoy nature would be nice,” Lief said quietly, his eyes drifting toward the smoke-hazed horizon. “Anything would be better than this ever-present orange and gray. But you know that’s a bad idea, Audree. We have no idea what’s in there making people go missing. And after hanging around you…” he gave a weak laugh, “I’ve learned that ‘it’s probably just a bear’ usually means something worse.”

Audree crossed his arms, his tone calm but stubborn. “I’ve been thinking about it, and honestly—if the woods were that big of a deal, someone would’ve done something by now. We might be in the far reaches of Aurumhold, but there are still guards, hunters, mages. People whose whole job is to handle problems like that. If some dangerous magical creature were really living in those woods, there’d be soldiers crawling all over it already.”

He gestured dismissively toward the forest line. “It’s probably just wolves or a bear or something. I doubt any big magical beast could even survive here. There’s barely any mana left in the land.”

Lief blinked at him, jaw falling open slightly. “Just a bear? Are you stupid, Audree?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “A bear could throw you across the clearing. A pack of wolves could tear us apart!”

Audree frowned. “Yes, I understand that, but—”

“But nothing!” Lief snapped, his voice rising. “You’re being stupid right now! People have gone missing!”

Audree froze, startled. Lief’s voice was louder than he’d ever heard it.

“They were probably killed in those woods, Audree! And you just want to waltz in there because you’re curious? Because you think you’re invincible?” Lief’s fists clenched. “You never listen—you just keep pushing forward, like no one else matters! Always forming your own path, ignoring every warning because you think you know better!”

Audree stood stunned, words caught in his throat.

What was happening? Why were they fighting? Everything had been fine moments ago—they’d been laughing, working together, like they always did. And now Lief was… furious.

He could feel frustration and confusion bubbling in his chest. Why is he yelling? he thought. He was all for following me before, like some eager assistant, and now he’s—

His thoughts tangled, irritation and guilt twisting together until he couldn’t tell which one burned hotter.

Lief’s voice shook, but his words were sharp and heavy. “Well, Audree, I know you might not see me—or anyone else here—as being on your level, but these fears we have? They come from a real place. In my entire life living here, I haven’t once seen a single guard from Gildhaven come down to this smog-choked town. Not one.”

He took a breath, anger and frustration threading through his tone. “This place could get raided by bandits or burn to the ground, and the capital wouldn’t bat an eye. The only thing they’d care about is that the flow of metals stopped. That’s it. That’s all we are to them—resources.”

Audree crossed his arms, trying to stay calm. “Well, they did come to my parents’ house after… you know, the arm catastrophe. They seemed pretty interested in what happened, so I doubt it’s as bad as you think.”

Lief froze mid-step, staring at him. The faint glow of the dying sunset caught the thick smog over Embershade, turning it darker—almost bruised-looking—as night started to settle in.

“They came out,” Lief said slowly, “because of the mess you created. It took a literal explosion for anyone to care that this place exists.” His voice rose again, trembling with emotion. “People disappearing every couple of months doesn’t cause any real concern—as long as the mines keep running and money keeps flowing.”

He hesitated, guilt flickering in his eyes, but his words kept coming, lower now, edged with something bitter. “Pretty much all the weird stuff that happens around here does happen around you and your family…”

Audree sat there, silent, the words hanging between them like smoke.

He wasn’t wrong, not entirely—but something in the way Lief said it made his chest tighten. Audree’s jaw clenched.

And then, quieter, he muttered, “If that’s how you see it… why stick around, Lief? Why keep following me like some lost dog if you’re so against my family?”

His eyes lifted, meeting Lief’s with a hurt that he didn’t quite mean to show. “Don’t you have your own life? Something better to do than hang around the weird, troublemaking teen with the family that ‘causes problems all the time’?”

Audree could feel the heat rising in his chest, the argument clawing at the edges of his patience. This was exactly why he liked being alone.
No yelling, no drama, no one telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. Just silence and his work. No stupid conversations like this.

“Gods, Audree, you’re so stupid!” Lief’s voice cracked as he shouted. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, trembling. “You act so damn smart—like you know everything! Everyone around you either says how talented you are or how much potential you’ve got, but you have the interpersonal skills of a rock!”

By now, the two stood across from each other in the clearing, the fading sun bleeding orange through the thick smog. Between them, the air felt sharp, electric. Bubbles, sensing the tension, let out a soft gurgle and slipped nervously into Audree’s bag.

Lief took a shaky breath, his voice still loud but now filled with something heavier.
“Without your alchemy, you’re just like the rest of us—and that thought drives you crazy, doesn’t it? You hate being ordinary. You hate the idea that you might actually have limits!”

He took a step forward, eyes wet but burning. “You’re not a powerful mage, Audree. Not yet. You can’t just run off into some cursed forest thinking you’re invincible because you got lucky a few times!”

Audree tried to speak, but Lief wasn’t finished.

“And do you want to know why I hang around you?” Lief’s voice broke, somewhere between fury and heartbreak. “Because I thought you were cool, alright? I thought what you were doing was inspiring! I thought maybe, if I stuck around, I could find something more out of life too!”

He shook his head, breathing hard. “But I was wrong. You’re just an asshole who takes advantage of people being nice to you. You treat me like I’m your servant, Audree. That’s not friendship!”

Audree’s throat went dry, his mind blank.

“You never ask about me—never ask how I feel about anything. It’s always ‘Lief, grab this,’ or ‘Lief, let’s go risk our lives again!’ You didn’t even name your own slime—you just keep using it like a tool! You joke about me being your assistant, but the worst part is…” Lief’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I think you actually believe that.”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “That’s… shitty, Audree.”

Audree couldn’t find any words. The silence that followed felt suffocating, heavy enough to crush them both. He could see the hurt written all over Lief’s face, the kind of hurt that didn’t come from one argument—it had been sitting there for a while.

Then, before Audree could say anything, a harsh voice broke the air.

“Well, look what we’ve got here.”

Both boys turned toward the sound. Up on a rocky slope, several figures appeared— teens, maybe men, sliding down the stones with grins that looked anything but friendly.

“See, boys?” the rough voice called again. “Told you we’d find him out here.”

Audree’s gut twisted as the group approached, metal pipes and bats glinting faintly in the dim light. What could these people want?

Lief’s anger vanished instantly, replaced by tension and fear.

Audree still stood frozen, the echo of Lief’s words lingering in his mind—right up until the moment he realized they weren’t alone anymore.