Because deep down, he wondered if he could ever offer someone that kind of steadiness—for Hemina.
The thought of her lit something in him but lately pressed like a stone on his chest. He’d never spoken the words aloud, but they haunted him nonetheless: What if she gets pregnant? What if he brought a child into this world—a world that still saw him as less, still whispered “barbarian” behind closed doors?
Could he protect her? Provide for her? As a slave—even one treated well—could he give her a future that didn’t taste like chains?
Worse: what if she came to resent him for it?
Spud had spent nights imagining their child—brown-eyed, curious, maybe wild like him—but the image always ended the same: with fear. Not his own, but hers. Hemina, alone, burdened with a life she didn’t choose. Ashamed. Bitter. Gone.
Lost in the spiral, Spud barely registered when Roldin muttered, voice thick with frustration, “I don’t want to learn this damn tongue. It’s not for me.”
He grabbed his coat and turned toward the door.
“No use pretending, Spud. You can teach, but I’m not the one who’ll change.”
Spud didn’t stop him. The silence that followed felt less like failure and more like mercy.
Alone in the dusty study room, Spud sat still—hands folded, breath shallow.
Maybe it was time to reconsider things with Hemina—not because he didn’t care, but precisely because he did. Because love, real love, sometimes meant pulling back to protect someone—even from yourself.
And yet… something inside resisted. The part shaped by every long hour under Arkin’s tutelage.
He thought of the magician often now—more than he admitted. As a boy, he’d believed teaching was simple: pouring knowledge from one vessel into another. But now, sitting where Arkin once stood, he saw the truth. Teaching was weight. It was patience. It was watching someone struggle, and not stepping in too soon. It was trust.
In that quiet space, Spud realized something: he had never truly appreciated what Arkin had carried for him.
That understanding softened him. Humbled him. It changed how he approached Atlas and Roldin. It made him more than a student. It made him a steward of others’ growth.
As Micah’s next lesson approached, Spud considered confiding in him. The older man had touched on relationships before—always with a glint of mischief, some comment about passion or anatomy. But Spud sensed there was more to Micah than clever quips. The man had known loss. Had loved and lost and survived.
Maybe he could help Spud understand how to hold love without breaking under it.
Micah’s fluency in Midterran was growing fast, and with it, their conversations had begun to feel effortless—unguarded, honest. He laughed now without reservation, teased with a looseness Spud had never expected from the once-stoic man. And with Alexi often close, the three of them shared something rare: a pocket of warmth carved from the cold stone of the world, a flicker of joy where none should have survived.
These moments, however fleeting, reminded Spud of Arkin—his first teacher, his most enduring mystery. Micah wasn’t quite like Arkin, not really, and yet the echoes were unmistakable: a similar gravity, a similar silence broken only when it truly mattered.
Lately, Spud found his thoughts returning to Arkin often—not just the magician, but the man who had once taught him in half-sentences and sidelong glances. Now that Spud himself stood in the role of teacher, he felt the weight of those moments in new ways. Arkin's lessons hadn’t faded; they’d deepened. They shaped Spud’s voice when he spoke to his own students, and they reminded him always that leadership wasn’t about control—it was about carrying something precious without crushing it.
*
Spud’s determination to bridge the linguistic and cultural divide grew with each passing day. Alongside Elder Elzon, he had spent countless hours unraveling the intricacies of Opal’s language—its syntax, its rhythm, its strange metaphors. Today, they sat side by side in the quiet study chamber, fingers tracing the faded lines of matching, weathered copies of The New Histories of Opal.
Spud’s lips moved carefully, hesitating over unfamiliar shapes. “Scorpion?” he said, raising a brow in question.
Elzon nodded, pleased. “Indeed, that’s the word.”
Weeks of study were finally paying off. Words that once looked like scratches on stone now made sense. Patterns appeared. Ideas took shape.
Spud tilted his head, studying the sentence. “Odd name for a mountain, isn’t it?”
Elzon smiled. “At first, yes. But if you look at the island’s shape—a scorpion, with towers like its spine—it’s clever.”
Spud smiled faintly. “I see it now.”
He read slowly: “Scorpion’s Back Tower once was almost…” He hesitated, squinting at the unfamiliar word. “Double?”
“Close,” Elzon said kindly. “Here, it means ‘twice.’”
Spud nodded and continued: “Once was almost twice as big as it is now.” He glanced at Elzon for confirmation before going on. “It is… believed that during the trade wars they…”
The next word stopped him. Doubt crept in. No matter how hard he worked—reading, repeating, following Arkin’s careful lessons—the magic wouldn’t come. Only sparks and fizzles. Even the words slipped away.
Eight months as Arkin’s apprentice, and still no sign he belonged.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmpWrGRWAmE
Did Arkin choose him out of pity?207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe37krt4ItQ
The thought hollowed him. Arkin never said so. He was patient and encouraging. But Spud couldn’t help wondering if others—maybe even Arkin—regretted it.
He thought of Timmy. It was Timmy’s sixteenth birthday. He imagined his brother sparring and laughing, his path clear—swords, glory, simplicity. No old books, no frustrating spells, no silence when magic failed.
Spud swallowed the bitter taste and pushed the doubt away. Not today.
He straightened and read aloud again:207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGNSc8cr27v
“It is believed that during the trade wars they made—”207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvHxjMClh1I
“Declared,” Elzon corrected softly.
Spud blinked, surprised, then looked up. Elzon closed his book and smiled kindly.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3LtwSjgwDX
“You’re learning faster than I did at your age. I don’t think language is the problem.”
Spud traced patterns on the worn book cover, eyes down.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hivLQ1Ohk
“Is it your magic studies?” Elzon asked gently. “Or something else?”
Spud’s voice dropped to a quiet whisper.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuLLNDBz1eV
“I think I’ll fail alchemy.”
Elzon softened his tone. “Look at me, please.”
Spud hesitated, then met his steady gaze.
A single candle flickered between them, casting shadows that danced along the stone walls.
Spud’s fingers trembled as they traced the faded letters. His chest tightened—not just from effort, but from doubt clawing at his heart. Months of struggle had worn him down, yet he pressed on, desperate to belong.
“Why do you think that?” Elzon’s voice was gentle but firm, drawing Spud back from his spiraling thoughts.
Spud swallowed hard, eyes falling again.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQLNMAu73Nl
“Magic… I’m not sure it’s really for me.” The words came raw, more a confession to himself than to Elzon.
“Alchemy isn’t magic,” Elzon said kindly, leaning forward.
Spud blinked, surprised.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXP3xJIejv6
“It’s not?”
“No. When I served in the priesthood of Sevregal, I learned alchemy is about transformation—careful, patient change. It’s a craft built on knowledge and steady hands, not raw power. Magicians use it as a tool, but it isn’t magic itself. Like a sword isn’t the battle—though you’ll want one when the battle comes.”
A small knot of relief loosened in Spud’s shoulders.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0eykGtXsiN
“Oh.” His voice was softer now. “Alright.”
Elzon’s steady gaze met his.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnXewL9z2o6
“As for the rest—you haven’t done magic yet. That’s very different from can’t. When it comes, you’ll have something most apprentices lack.”
Spud’s throat tightened again.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhZu8txa7aL
“Have what?”
“Stone to build on.” Elzon tapped the open page between them.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzHxyD2CWKG
“Discipline. Language. Memory. Tell me—how many spells can you recite word for word?”
Spud’s fingers clenched the book’s edge.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr7WjuE7MnP
“At least twelve. Maybe more.”
A rare smile cracked Elzon’s weathered face.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjldmE0vgQ5
“Twelve’s not maybe. That’s a foundation. Magic likes a steady house to live in. You’re laying stones, one by one.”
Spud’s voice dropped to a whisper, almost lost in the candle’s crackle.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ08YeY7O0Ms
“What if it never… arrives?”
Elzon’s eyes softened with understanding.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLTdpWirVW3
“Then you’ll still be a scholar fluent in two tongues, a patient teacher, and a boy who sees things through. That’s no small thing.”
The silence stretched, thick as shadows in the room’s corners.
“But I don’t think that’s your path,” Elzon said at last.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqK2lmTIz9i
“I think your road winds higher up the mountain. Some learn to wield a blade by instinct. Others study its weight, balance, and form. You’re the latter. It’s a slower path—but the blade stays sharper longer.”
He leaned back, nodding toward the book between them.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbiREm9tQLl
“Two things for now: first—breathe. Let the words settle. Second—when Arkin returns, watch his hands. Alchemy’s about shape and sequence, just like language. You already understand more than you think.”
Spud hesitated, the flickering candlelight catching the faint tremor in his hands.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8bZweQ2POD
“So… if I ever figure out what’s holding me back… I’ll become a magician?”
“Not a full one. But unskilled, yes. You’d skip the novice stage entirely,” Elzon said thoughtfully. “It’s rare—but not unheard of.”
Spud looked down, eyes shadowed with doubt.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo0mT2Mdhl4
“Do you know magic?”
Elzon’s gaze dropped, as if recalling distant memories, the firelight tracing the worn lines of his face.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJoFuu5IkYA
“I know enough to respect its power—and to know my limits. As a priest of Sevregal, my path was different. I studied alchemy and ancient rites more than magic as a weapon. Magic is everything—the world’s soul, a pulse running through all things. If you know how, you can harness it.”
Spud’s voice was barely audible.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWBcdquTb2t
“I don’t think I’ll ever do magic.”
Elzon’s brow lifted, curiosity softening his expression.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOvwHZn0q2c
“And why’s that?”
Spud swallowed, the weight of his doubt pressing hard.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOaT4bYF4Uc
“Arkin didn’t pick me because he saw talent. I think… maybe he just felt sorry.”
Elzon frowned, then looked back up, eyes sharp yet kind.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUVr5E8Mw7t
“I don’t believe that. Why else do you think he picked you?”
Spud hesitated, the words tangled in his throat.
“Speak up, lad,” Elzon urged, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “My ears aren’t what they used to be.”
Spud took a deep breath and lifted his chin.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrmisTMnlgV
“Because… I was the only one who wasn’t chosen. I think he felt sorry for me.”
The crack of the door interrupted them, a firm voice breaking the quiet.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN9FVi0MVLA
“That’s hogwash.”
They turned. Arkin stood framed in the doorway, staff in one hand, a basket in the other. He stepped in, set both down with care, and crossed the room in three unhurried strides.
He placed a steady hand on Spud’s shoulder.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxGp8MhOOlS
“I did feel sympathy for you that day. But that wasn’t why I chose you. It only confirmed what I already knew.”
Spud’s eyes welled.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbEPcIpWDVS
“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered.
Arkin shook his head gently.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡByZA8oo6F3
“No need for apologies. You’ve surpassed every expectation I had.”
Then his expression darkened.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx85l4gB27k
“But your being left alone in that courtyard… that’s on me. That was my failure.”
He sighed, heavy with weariness, and reached for a stool, dragging it to the center of the room before sitting down with a wince.
“There’s much to say,” Arkin began, steadying his breath. “But first—do you remember when you and Timmy came to the Duke, after the mage attacked you in the woods?”
Spud nodded, eyes wide, heart pounding.
“I felt it then,” Arkin said. “A force—raw and untrained, but unmistakable. Power that isn’t learned. It’s born. That moment told me everything: you were meant for this. And I was meant to guide you—not shape you from nothing, but help you uncover what was already inside.”
Elzon leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Then why leave him standing there on Path Day? Why let him think he’d been passed over?”
Arkin’s shoulders sagged under the memory. “Because I doubted myself. I questioned whether I was the one to teach him. I saw what he carried, and it terrified me—because I didn’t fully understand it. I hesitated. And in that hesitation, I failed him. Watching him stand alone… it broke something in me. Fate put us on a path, and I almost let fear turn me from it.”
Spud stared at him, torn between confusion and aching anger. “If I was meant for this—why do I still struggle with the simplest spells?”
Arkin turned to him, voice softer now. “Because what lives inside you doesn’t follow rules. It doesn’t obey forms or spellbooks. Maybe even I can’t teach it properly. But I can help you listen to it. Do you remember the pain—the moment you blacked out during the attack?”
Spud nodded slowly.
“The bolt was already loosed,” Arkin said, watching him closely. “Then pain—blinding pain—and you fell to your knees. When it passed, you found yourself inside a barrier?”
“Yeah,” Spud said, brow creasing. “I thought I’d made it just in time. But… I don’t remember casting it.”
“That’s the point,” Arkin said. “You didn’t cast that spell the way we think of casting. That bolt should’ve hit you before your knees even touched the ground. You should’ve fallen—hard. But something stopped time. Just enough. Long enough for the magic to wrap around you.”
“That’s not possible,” Spud whispered. “I didn’t even know that kind of spell existed.”
“It’s not a spell,” Arkin replied. “It’s you. Something deeper. Your magic isn’t learned—it’s instinctual. It wakes to protect you before you even know you’re in danger. And every time you try to force it into shapes it doesn’t want to take, it fights you. That pain in your head? That’s the resistance.”
Spud’s breath caught. The truth both terrified and thrilled him. This power lived inside him, wild and untamed, not to be mastered but to be trusted.
Spud swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together like a constellation he’d never seen before.
“But why can’t I control it? Why does it feel like... it controls me?”
Arkin’s eyes shone with a mix of pride and sorrow. “Trying to control it is like trying to hold back the sea with your hands. It’s not about dominance. It’s about trust. You have to let it guide you.”
Spud looked down, heart hammering against his ribs. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.
Arkin stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Spud’s shoulder. “That’s your path—not imitating others, not perfecting technique—but understanding the storm inside you. You’re not like the rest. That’s why you were chosen.”
The weight of it all crashed over Spud. He sagged slightly, wearied by the truth. “So I just... let it do what it wants? And hope it doesn’t tear me apart?”
“No,” Arkin said, his voice gentler now, steady as stone. “We’ll learn it. Together. Step by step. We’ll unlock the shape of your gift, and its rhythm. You’re not alone, Spud—not in this.”
Spud met his gaze, and something in him steadied. There was still fear, yes—but also a flicker of hope.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhx2PVJpgw6
“You really think we can do it?”
Arkin smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. “I know we can.”
Spud nodded slowly, grounding himself in Arkin’s belief. It was enough, for now.
“I’ve probably given you enough to turn your brain to mush,” Arkin said, standing and brushing off his robes. “But there’s no rest for apprentices. Pack up your books. You’ve got a visitor.”
Spud looked up. “A visitor? Who?”
Arkin’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Someone I suspect you need right now. And on his birthday, I think you’re the one he wants to see.”
Arkin slipped out the door, Elzon rising and following close behind. Just as the sound of retreating footsteps faded, new ones echoed up the stairwell.
A familiar voice rang out.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrSDsDMqEhs
“Come on, shortie. Let’s go!”
Timmy appeared in the doorway like a spark of sunlight. His grin was wide, eyes bright with mischief. For a moment, the air around Spud felt lighter.
Spud stood, curiosity tugging at his lips. He grabbed his slingshot and tucked it into his back pocket.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6pRsYE1Rq8
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here,” Timmy called out, already halfway down the spiral stairs, his laughter chasing ahead of him through the stone.
Spud followed quickly, spotting the twin wooden swords tucked into Timmy’s belt.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoGtcby9a4M
“What’s with the training swords?”
Timmy glanced back with a grin. “Fronan lent them to me,” he said, giving a cheeky wink. “Figured I’d give you a few pointers. Birthday perks.”
Spud’s smile grew as he caught up. “And did you remember your slingshot, wise teacher?”
Timmy's grin widened. “Of course. What kind of birthday adventure would it be without a little chaos?”
Their laughter echoed down the tower as they descended together.
At the city gates, they were met by Miclum, the ever-stalwart captain of the guards, striding toward them with purpose and an easy smile.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ6tcTs4X1y
“Well now, what are you two up to on this fine day?” he asked, eyes crinkling with warmth.
“Heading into the woods, sir,” Spud said eagerly, practically bouncing on his heels.
Timmy stood a little taller beside him. “It’s my birthday,” he added with a grin.
Miclum chuckled, nodding. “Sixteen, huh? I remember that—barely.” He clapped Timmy on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, lad. Make it a good one. Seen your folks yet?”
Timmy smiled. “Just before I came to get Spud. Mum made cream buns and fruit cakes.”
Miclum groaned with mock envy. “Tell her she still owes me a slice one of these years. I hear you’re doing well in your apprenticeship… Not planning to take my job, are you?”
“I’m aiming higher than that, sir,” Timmy said with a grin.
“Oh?” Miclum raised an eyebrow. “You hear about the tournament in Hoperun? Win that, and they call you the greatest fighter in the Kingdom.”
“Then your job’s safe,” Timmy laughed. “That’s where I’m going—one day.”
Miclum chuckled and waved them on. “Off you go, boys—but don’t stir up too much trouble. I’d hate to have to run you down on your birthday.”
They gave him a playful salute as he walked off, still chuckling to himself.
As they continued through the outer gate, Spud glanced sideways. “When’d you see Mum and Dad?”
“Right before I found you,” Timmy said, the memory clearly fresh. “Still warm from the oven. Those buns were perfect.”
Spud’s stomach growled at the thought. “We should’ve gone there first.”
Timmy hesitated, the grin already forming. “They gave me some for you.”
Spud’s face lit up. “Where are they?”
Timmy patted his stomach and shrugged, laughing. “Well... I did say they were perfect.”
“You’re lucky it’s your birthday, you pig,” Spud muttered—but the smile on his face gave him away. He bumped Timmy’s shoulder as they turned down the eastern path, the safer route. Neither had set foot in the southern woods since the night of the mage.207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMbMuDsJn0k
and then Add to home screen.