The moon hung heavy over Fangrest, casting silver streaks across the hills. At the city's edge, where the warm glow of lanterns faded into cold shadow, a lone cottage stood overlooking the wood below—the last flicker of civilization before the unknown, or the first if you had gotten lost in the wilds.

  The town’s protective barrier ended just before it, leaving it exposed to the creatures that lurked in the woods beyond. To live there was not just foolish but suicidal—a truth whispered in wary taverns, repeated with a shake of the head. And yet, someone did.

  Being outside of the barrier would have been enough to deter any of the sane townsfolk. But, a few miles past the cottage, the Vanishing Serpent Labyrinth loomed in the darkness, its shifting pathways exuding a chilling hostility. That knowledge alone repelled even the bravest adventures that passed through the town.

  Unfortunately for Rowan, this forsaken place was the only place he could afford.

  Even more unfortunately, its owners were the only ones that would take him.

  In Lumina, magic wasn’t just power—it was life. Whether you were a soldier, a craftsman, or a scholar, without mana, you were nothing. A husk. A being so insignificant that even the poorest noble would step over you without a glance.

  And in a city like Fangrest, a place once meant for dreamers but now controlled by The Sanctum of the Eternal Spark, those without mana had no place.

  Still, Rowan had managed to carve out a fragile existence. An Aspect Reader. A job granted typically out of merit but, in his case, was granted either out of pity or necessity. He couldn’t wield identification magic, so his position remained lowly, but his knowledge of ancient artifacts and enchantments kept him employed. For now.

  A voice suddenly shattered the silence.

  “Rowan.”

  He jumped, slamming his head against a hovering lamp and smacking his knee into the table. Papers and ink scattered across the desk as he spun around, face burning.

  A chuckle sounded from the old man.

  His eyes snapped upward to see Guild Master Fujimura, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Beside him, peeking out with barely concealed amusement, was a young woman.

  “Your shift ended an hour ago. What are you still doing here?”

  Rowan hurriedly bowed, words tumbling out in a rush. “Apologies, sir! I was just—” He gestured to the pendant on the desk. “Ms. Kessler requested a translation. These runes resemble those of the Xelthar empire, but—”

  He faltered. The girl behind the guild master was still smiling, biting her lip to suppress laughter.

  “This is Elowen,” Fujimura sighed, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “She had her unveiling last month and has chosen to join our guild.”

  Rowan blinked. Last month? That wasn’t normal.

  “But, Master Fujimura,” he hesitated, glancing at the girl. “Aren’t newly unveiled supposed to report within a week?”

  A shadow crossed her expression.

  Fujimura cleared his throat. “There were…extenuating circumstances.”

  Rowan’s mind raced. Extenuating circumstances? His gaze flickered over Elowen again, noting the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her violet eyes—a rare color—lingered on him just a little too long.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  There was something off about her.

  But before he could dwell on it, the guild master snapped his fingers.

  “Mr. Ashford.”

  Rowan straightened. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d like you to show our newest member around tomorrow. Take her through Fangrest, explain the dungeon system, and give her an overview of what to expect as a newly unveiled.”

  Rowan’s gaze flickered from Fujimura to the abandoned pendant on the desk.

  He’d rather decipher the mysteries of an ancient artifact than babysit a stranger—but there was no way out of this.

  “…Of course, Master.”

  Fujimura nodded in approval, then turned to Elowen.

  “You’ll meet him at his home in the morning. Small cottage up the hill from the west gate. You can’t miss it.”

  Rowan noticed the way her brows furrowed before she spoke.

  “Pardon me if this sounds harsh,” Elowen’s voice was quieter now, but pointed, “but… he’s an Aethershade, isn’t he?”

  The words punched the air from Rowan’s lungs.

  Of course she knew. Mana-users could always tell when someone was mana-less.

  She hadn’t called him a Husk—the church’s preferred term for the “soulless,” the incomplete—but it still stung.

  Fujimura’s voice was sharp. “Yes, but that does not hinder him in any way. He’s more knowledgeable than most magic users—”

  She shook her head. “That’s not why I asked.”

  Her eyes flickered to Rowan again. “Isn’t it dangerous for him to live outside the town’s barrier? Doesn’t your guild have lodging?”

  Something about the way she said it—the genuine concern in her voice—made his chest tighten.

  No one worried about him.

  Not in this way.

  “Let’s just say that the guild members and I both prefer this arrangement.” When he met her eyes again he swore he saw a flash of something far less kind cross her features, before he could fully process she regained a neutral expression.

  “I see,” just two words dripped with so much venom, which took Rowan a moment to process.

  Perhaps it was because she was on the older side to become unveiled, and she knew what it was like to be considered nothing in this kingdom.

  Rowan forced a careless smile, patting the sword at his hip. “Don’t worry, Miss. I don’t need magic to use a magic weapon. I can wield this blade better than most novice adventurers.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Then why not become one?”

  The words shouldn’t have hurt. But they did.

  Once, when he was a boy, he dreamed of becoming an adventurer. A warrior. A hero.

  Then the truth came. He was born without magic. Without even a sliver of mana.

  And with that, the dream died.

  So instead, he lied. “I never wanted to be one.”

  Elowen didn’t look convinced. Her lips curved just slightly, a flicker of humor in her gaze.

  “Mmhm.”

  Rowan felt something unsettling settle in his gut.

  Fujimura cleared his throat. “Let’s get your lodging sorted, Miss Aurelia.”

  Rowan froze.

  Aurelia?

  He knew that name.

  He didn’t know how—but he did.

  His mind flipped through the endless pages of information stored away in his memory. Somewhere, buried in old texts and forgotten notes, was that name.

  Where?

  Where had he heard it before?

  Fujimura’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Get some rest, Rowan.”

  Rowan exhaled, shoulders slumping.

  One by one, he switched off the softly glowing lanterns, their light dimming like stars vanishing from the sky. They had been gifts from one of the best artificers in the business, Juniper Kessler, for his work helping her identify enchantments that were cashing against one another on one of her gadgets. A soft smile crossed his face at the memory as he headed out for the night. Before stepping into the night, he glanced up.

  And there, framed in the vast darkness, the full moon shone brighter than he had ever seen it before. A feeling of unease settled over him, while it was beautiful, he knew the dangers it signified.