I woke up early the next morning, still carrying the thrill of yesterday’s reunion with my brothers. I sat by the chair, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

  “Everything feels like a dream,” I whispered, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “And if it is, I want to keep this dream a little longer.”

  Lina arrived shortly after and helped me into a yellow-and-white dress made of a light, breezy fabric that moved easily with my steps.

  I packed the first five books Mara found from our library. Two were still missing, but the young librarian mentioned I might find them at the City Library.

  I left the manor and followed the paved paths leading to the Mage Tavern. Despite the early hour, white smoke was already curling from the chimney like the clouds above.

  On the front yard, table and chairs were neatly arranged. I sat on one of the wooden chairs, though it was damp and cold from the morning dew.

  Not long after, the door creaked open, and Master Orindal stepped out. For a second, I thought he somehow knew I was already outside.

  “It’s still too early,” he remarked, taking the seat across from me.

  “I’ll make sure to come later next time,” I said with a small smile. “I brought the books from the list. I only found five out of seven, but I’ll try the City Library for the rest.”

  He gave a silent nod before heading back inside. He seemed disoriented. Moments later, he returned, now dressed in a thick, dark-blue robe.

  “Let me see them,” he said, gesturing toward the books. I slid them over.

  “But before we begin, how are you faring with your Class?”

  “I’m not sure if I’m doing well or not,” I admitted. “But allow me to show you what I’ve achieved so far.”

  I summoned my [Awakened Status] and told him about my [Attributes] and [Skills]. He listened, occasionally asking specific questions about my [Class].

  “You’re not doing badly. Reaching level 5 on your own isn’t an easy feat. I didn’t expect you to have a [Brewmaster Class], though.” He glanced at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not saying it’s good. It’s just... uncommon. Most people I’ve seen with that Class drop it before reaching level 20. They usually transition into a Mage Class instead.”

  His words made me pause. It felt like both a compliment and a warning.

  “I don’t want to train into a new Class,” I said firmly.

  He held my gaze a moment longer than expected.

  “That might be how you feel now,” he said at last. “But eventually, you’ll hit a wall. [Brewmaster] is a combatless Class. You won’t be able to protect yourself if danger arises. Some Brewmasters do brew potions to throw at enemies, but that takes training and precision.”

  The idea of flinging potions like grenades amused me. I bit back a laugh.

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  His eyes lit up with something between curiosity and pride. “Let me teach you a few basic defensive and offensive spells. Just a few are enough to hold your own against most creatures or even rival mages of your level.”

  I leaned forward, intrigued.

  “You mentioned having unassigned attribute points,” he continued. “Let me help you allocate them properly. I’ll show you how to maximize your Class’s potential.”

  He explained that Intelligence, Wisdom, and Dexterity were the most critical for magic-based Classes. These attributes improved casting speed and enabled access to more advanced skills.

  “Remember the five-point rule,” he said. “Two to Intelligence. One each to Wisdom, Dexterity, and Constitution. That ratio will serve you well.”

  “What about Strength?”

  “It's not necessary for your Class. But if you really want to, you can switch out Constitution for Strength occasionally.”

  I followed his advice and allocated my points accordingly. I considered adding to Strength but quickly changed my mind. Next time, maybe.

  “Now, let’s get to the books,” he said, handing me a red leather-bound tome with gold-lettered text: The Arcane Compendium: Histories of the Great Masters.

  “Finish it in two days,” he instructed. “And take note of each mage’s accomplishments and contributions. And just as importantly, the flaws of their arts. Even their fatal ones as a person and a mage. I’ll be asking questions after you've done your work.”

  I took a mental note of everything he said.

  [Deep Concentration] made reading easy. Plus, I enjoyed thick books. After becoming Empress Valeria’s ward, I’d been forced to read and memorize tomes. Most of it were dry genealogies and house histories. Just remembering them made me shiver. Not from fear, but from the sheer boredom they brought.

  Compared to those, The Arcane Compendium was a joy.

  I devoured each page, jotting down anything that caught my attention. One passage described Valmarin the Seer, a mage gifted with foresight. Once a crown prince of a fallen kingdom, he became a full-fledged mage under the very mentor who’d helped destroy his homeland.

  His greatest flaw? Inaction. Despite seeing the future, he could never stop it. That helplessness drove him to burn every book on seership, erasing knowledge so others wouldn’t suffer the same curse.

  Up until now, the secrets about foreseeing the future remained a mystery, but for a different reason. The Lumen Church had forbidden it. For them, it was blasphemous and heretical to peer into what had yet to come.

  I was halfway through finishing the book by lunchtime. I set it down and leaned back in my chair. My hands were stiff, and my back ached from sitting upright for so long. Outside, clouds drifted lazily across the sky, casting soft shadows over the courtyard.

  Can Master Orindal fly?

  The thought caught me off guard. But knowing he was an elven mage of immeasurable age, it wouldn't surprise me. Surely he could, like many mages who lived in the Capital.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The door creaked open, and Master Orindal entered with a plate of steaming bread and butter. I straightened instinctively.

  "How was it?" he asked as he spread butter across on his slice of bread.

  "The book is insightful. I enjoyed reading it."

  He smiled. "I'm glad. But I must admit, it’s one of the longer ones."

  "Its length is bearable. The Royal University trained us to digest dense references."

  He nodded. "Have you had lunch?"

  Before I could respond, he pointed across the courtyard with his knife. "I think the Duke is about to summon you."

  I turned to see Lina approaching from the hallway.

  As I stood, I remembered something I wanted to ask to him. I paused. "What did you talk about with my father?"

  "Hmm. Think of it as an old deal, one meant to be fulfilled. It involves your grandfather. I simply reminded your father about it."

  I wanted to ask more, but his words alone made it clear that he wouldn’t say anything further. Whatever history bound them, it wasn’t meant for me to know just yet.

  In my room, Lina helped me change into a fresh set of clothes and applied light cosmetics to my face. Before we left for the dining hall, I asked her to deliver a message to Mara, the librarian.

  At the entrance of the hall, I found Everard adjusting his coat.

  "Good afternoon, Everard."

  He looked like he had just come from the training grounds. His hair was still damp, and faint creases ran along his shirt and maroon coat.

  He turned with a smile that reached his eyes. "Hello! I heard Master Orindal has taken you as his student."

  "Yes, though not without its hardships. Even before you arrived, I’d been trying to convince him."

  A warm radiant smile was plastered on his face. "I'm glad you're doing what you want."

  I smiled in return. My memories of Everard were always warm like the first days of summer. In my previous life, thoughts of home always began with him and our childhood. So when I heard of his death, it crushed me. Even then, I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral. I was carrying a potential heir, and Griffin refused my request to see Everard one last time.

  Looking back, maybe that was when things truly began to unravel between Griffin and me. The first seed of resentment had been planted then in my heart

  "Shall we go in?" he asked gently.

  I nodded and followed, watching him from behind.

  It was the plague in Norhenn that took him. As part of his duty as an Imperial Knight, Everard had been sent to a border town between Norhenn and the Lumen Empire to help with relief efforts. But the mission became a disaster. The doctors, soldiers, and mages who were deployed there caught the plague. To prevent it from spreading, the Capital barred them from returning until cured. Most of them never made it back. They died waiting... isolated and forgotten.

  I stared at his back as we walked. I wondered what Everard had thought about on his deathbed. Did he think of us, as I had thought of them while waiting for death in a dungeon cell?

  This time... I won’t let him suffer that same lonely end. I swear to carve out a path filled with happiness for his future.

  We ate in silence. Once I was done, I excused myself and returned to the Mage Tavern. Master Orindal was nowhere in sight, but my book and notes were still where I had left them.

  I sat down and resumed reading. By five in the afternoon, I had finished a third of the book. A neat stack of notes had formed beside me, each one was a summary of the Great Mages featured in the text and their contributions.

  The tolling bells snapped me out of my trance. I blinked, realizing how dark it had grown. The windows of the Mage Tavern now glowed with warm blue lights.

  The door opened, and Master Orindal walked in, his robes faintly rustling. His expression was serious and stern enough to unsettle me,, Only if he didn't have the smear of soot across his forehead.

  "Your classes end at 5:30. Please head home. We’ll continue tomorrow."

  "Okay. But I’ll try to finish my notes on this topic tonight."

  "Suit yourself," he said. "If you manage it, I’ll ask you a question first thing tomorrow."

  I stood, then hesitated. "Master, there’s... soot on your forehead."

  His hand shot up to his brow. When he saw the smudge on his palm, his face turned vividly red.

  I returned to the manor just in time for our family dinner. Once I’d finished eating, I headed straight to the library to work on my notes. It was easier to concentrate there than in my room. The bed there felt far too inviting.

  As I flipped through the book, I sensed someone nearby. It was Everard. He stood by my side, eyes shifting between the pages I was reading and the growing pile of notes beside me. His brow creased.

  He cleared his throat. “Morgana, can I ask you something? Mother told me you’re trying to learn the ways of an Old Witch.”

  The term “Old Witch” referred to women who practiced the Golden Runes without formal education. Their craft revolved around herbs, powdered animal parts, and minerals. You’d usually find them in the countryside brewing love potions, helping with childbirth, or chanting to herd sheep.

  The comparison stung. I sighed

  “Of course not. I’m studying potion brewing. I’ve been granted a Brewmaster Class.”

  His eyes widened. He understood what that meant. Brewmasters, Alchemists, and Herbologists were in high demand especially within the military.

  “Can I ask what made you choose this path? Most who receive the Golden Runes don’t pursue it.”

  I hesitated.

  I wanted to travel the world, I thought.

  But that answer felt naive, even to me.

  Everard gave a small smile. “You don’t have to tell me now... but don’t take what I'm about to say the wrong way. If you can’t clearly state why you’re doing something, it might mean you don’t see yourself in it. Hard work alone is not enough for you yo succeed, Morg. I spoke from experience. I’ve seen a great number of talented people in the military walk away because it wasn’t truly what they wanted. It wasn’t their dream. I hope you’ll find a reason... something deeper. Because when everything crumbles and you’re at your lowest, that reason will be the only light to guide you out of darkness.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

  He leaned back, arms folded behind his head. “I hope to hear your answer someday. Until then, I hope you succeed. And if you ever need help, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

  I finalized my notes an hour before midnight but lingered another hour. My thoughts kept drifting back to Everard’s words.

  Why was I doing this?

  I’d started this whole plan just to get away from the Royal University. But now that I was free...

  I did want to travel the Known World, to see its wonders. But that reason felt shallow, childish. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist.

  I hated how it made me feel like I was doing all this on a whim, just like Mother claimed. That night, I barely slept. Nightmares slipped through the cracks in my resolve.

  The next morning, I presented my notes to Master Orindal. He glanced at the pages, then at me.

  “You look sleep-deprived.”

  I closed my eyes. “I just havea bad dream.”

  “If you’re unwell, help yourself to some tea. I’ll give you a dreamcatcher later.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

  The scent of the tea calmed my nerves. As Orindal scanned my notes, he asked his first question.

  “Did you notice any similarities among the Great Mages?”

  “They all made major contributions in their time. But... they were still human. Flawed. Some of those flaws led to their downfall.”

  Orindal nodded. “The greater the power, the greater the risk of losing yourself to it. Remember what I told you? Magic is an imitation of truth. We don’t create truths. When your own magic starts to deceive you, you’re already heading toward ruin. That’s why we study history to avoid repeating the mistakes of our predecessors. What else did you find?”

  I told him many were pioneers of their own paths. Some were even legendary figures, nearly on the cusp of Eldarhood. He kept pressing, and I answered as best I could.

  “Notice anything else?” he asked.

  I tried to think, but nothing came. I shook my head.

  “No Brewmaster was ever named among the Great Masters,” he said. “The Arcane Conclave sees potion-making as incomplete magic. It is a foundational, but never the focus. Even I have knowledge about potion crafting, but no mage dedicates their life solely to it. Most ,ages will specialize in some different field and add alchemy or potion crafting on their skill set."

  I nodded slowly.

  “I hope you understand what I’m saying, Morgana. The path you’ve chosen will be lonely. It appears to me that you have no plans of pursuing other branches of magic because if you do... you will first ask me to teach you about fireballs or turning the ground into ice. From the start, all you wanted was potions. That’s why I hesitated to take you on. A path like this is bound to hurt and even destroy you. I know some-"

  His words made me shiver.

  He paused. “Do you plan to learn other forms of magic or improve your current skills in the future?”

  I met his gaze. “Honestly, Master Orindal, right now I just want to become a licensed Brewmaster. I’m not thinking about anything beyond that.”

  He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to help you. I’ll teach you all I know. But as you read the next book, I want you to find your reason for wanting to pursue the path of potions. The Golden Runes aren’t enough to carry you through. You need a stronger anchor, something that will hold you steady when the road becomes unbearable. Trust me. You’ll need it.”

  He pushed the next book toward me.

  The Arcane Codex: Theories and Chronicles of Magic.

  Chapter 13 will drop on Friday (May 2).