Aura set down her alchemical notebook with a sigh, rubbing her temple as Marco clung to her arm, his eyes wide with relentless determination. "Please, just a little bit! Just teach me the letters!"

  She had lost count of how many times he had asked since his fever relented. Every hour, the same pleading, the same stubborn look—one she knew too well. She had seen it in the mirror as a child.

  "Marco, you're too young to—"

  "I’m not! I can already count, and I remember everything you say! I swear, just try me!"

  Aura pressed her lips together. That was the essence of the problem. Her son was... too curious. He would take a nugget of explanation and run with it, possibly right into harm's way. Spirits, she loved him, but the child was exhausting. And persistent. Exactly like she had been.

  Her parents’ voices echoed in her mind. Why waste time in the academy? Your goal is marriage to a larger house.

  She had hated them for it. Hated how they dismissed her ambition, her talent. Hated how they had mapped her future without her consent. And most of all, hated how they never understood how she could dream to be anything more than a tool.

  She had run from all of it. And now, here was Marco, her son, staring up at her with that same burning desperation, the same hunger for knowledge.

  “Please?” Marco pleaded.

  She was about to refuse him again but paused. What would happen if she denied him now? Would he resent her as she had resented her parents?

  Her mind was made up. What was there to even think about?

  She exhaled, shaking her head with a chuckle. "Alright, alright. I suppose it won’t kill me to teach you a few letters. But you’d best not make me regret this."

  Marco grinned so wide his cheeks looked ready to split. He scrambled into place at the table before she could change her mind, eyes bright with victory.

  Aura rolled her eyes, but she was already reaching for a stack of purified parchment. If he was going to be this insistent, she would make sure he learned properly, starting with things of less... consequence. She scribbled down some letters in front of him.

  His eyes immediately lit up. "What sound is this one?" He pointed.

  To her surprise, as soon as she voiced the letter, Marco gripped the thin rod of reinforced charcoal and immediately started replicating the symbols while repeating the sound. Did he learn how to hold it just from watching her? Aura mused.

  She got up to start preparing dinner, but not even a few minutes later, a small hand tucked at her dress.

  "Please write all the letters!" a voice rang from the side.

  Aura lifted her elbow to look under and there he was. Staring at her. Waiting.

  "You're already done? Give me a minute." She turned back to the cutting board. If she at least started to boil the boraks, that would save time later. Marco relented and sat back down.

  Soon she was done with the red, bulbous vegetables and returned to writing out the letters for him. "Alright, those are all the letters of the common language."

  "Common?" Marco tilted his head.

  "Yeah, that's the one we speak." Aura raised a brow.

  "Are there other languages?" Marco asked.

  Aura took a long look at him. For all his talent at learning, his memory failed in the weirdest places. "Of course there are, don't you remember the story of elves i told you?"

  Marco grew perplexed, but didn't respond. He stared at the wall as if to bore a hole in it. They stood like that, in silence, for a short while, until realization dawned on Marco's face.

  "Yeah, I remember! There are 7 languages, right? He started counting on his fingers exactly the same way she did for him when she told him the story. "One for each race, one for runes and the cursed one."

  "That's... right." Aura, seeing beads of sweat rolling down his face, brought a hand to his forehead to find it hot. "Are you okay? Is your fever flaring back up?"

  "I'm f-fine." He said. His face grew red, and he shifted in his seat.

  Fevers don’t usually come and go like this. Maybe her son had a magic-borne condition? She moved her face closer to his, getting a good look. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to impact Marco as much as before.

  "How did you learn alchemy?" Marco asked, pulling his face away and to the side. Was he trying to change the topic? Well, she was done anyway.

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  “I studied in a far away city, in the arcane towers of Ki-Elico.” Aura responded, with a hint of pride.

  “Woah! Can I do that too?” The earnest plea caught her by surprise.

  No. She had just realized - Marco would never be able to get the education she did… But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “Maybe one day? When you’re older?” She said.

  “Oh… okay.” Marco seemed to see through her. His sad tone threatened to break her heart. “I’ll just sit there and learn the letters, then.”

  She nodded.

  As Marco became more and more engrossed in learning, Aura stood there in silence. Her actions stripped him of at least one future path. Maybe she could teach him all that herself?

  In the meantime, the boraks were almost done boiling. She decided to add some invigorating herbs to the food. A hearty meal and a good night's rest were indispensable - Even if they didn’t lack for healing draughts.

  The day after his first reading lesson – and a newly unlocked memory – David found himself sandwiched between Aura and Bert as they walked down the road towards the village square. Previous experiences taught him that he could facilitate the memories coming back, but it always brought along a fever and a headache. As a result, Aura and Bert were getting increasingly worried about his health. He looked up at them.

  Aura, ever the optimist, hummed softly to herself, her reinforced satchel swinging at her side. Bert, on the other hand, wore a grim expression. His calloused hands rested on his belt, fingers drumming lightly against the hilt of a simple knife.

  “We should’ve stocked up on iron and steel last season, prices had been climbing” Bert muttered under his breath.

  Aura waved off his concern. “It’ll be fine, love. We’ll manage, as we always do. Let’s see what he has first before you start fretting.”

  Probably materials for the smithy. David looked around - There were no mountains on the horizon. If he had to ‘stock up’, were there no nearby swamps either? What kind of steel did he mean? He filed the thought away, but his curiosity was piqued.

  As they approached the square, David noticed the traveling merchant’s wagon—a weathered, bulky contraption brimming with goods.

  He expected brightly colored fabrics or polished trinkets, but he saw tools, weapons, and armor. The merchant himself stood beside the wagon, a burly man with a graying beard and a sharp glint in his eyes.

  Bert approached first, nodding in greeting. “Morning, Ivert. What have you got for us?”

  Ivert returned the nod, his smile widening as he leaned against the wagon. “Morning, Bert. Usual mix, though I’ll warn you—prices have shifted again.

  Bert’s brows furrowed. “Shifted how much?”

  Ivert shrugged, pointing towards a crate already unloaded from the wagon.

  He gestured toward them with a knowing look. “Mountain towns are dealing with a new troll tribe, so their work had some delays. Supply’s tighter, demand’s higher.”

  The word “troll” echoed in David’s mind, his small hand instinctively gripping Aura’s sleeve. Monsters exist outside the fairytales? The very thought sent a chill through him. Of course they do.

  He glanced up at Aura, searching for reassurance, but her attention was elsewhere.

  Bert sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Still need to replenish. What’s the change?”

  “A quarter up, this time” Ivert replied, his tone almost apologetic.

  “That’s robbery,” Bert grumbled.

  “If you got a better source, I’m all ears.” Ivert countered, his voice low but firm.

  As the two men stood off, David brushed his fingers across a small ingot of steel.

  Dark color with splotches of red suggested a high carbon content and no anti-rust alloy additions. Probably good for a sword’s core, but too hard for the outer layer.

  Aura stepped between her husband and the trader, breaking the tension. “Do you have my order?” She asked.

  Ivert’s expression softened as he reached into a separate compartment of the wagon. He pulled out a small metal-reinforced vial, its sleek design catching the light.

  He handed it to Aura with care, as though it were a precious artifact.

  “Brass-reinforced, enchanted for stabilization” Ivert said. “Not an easy thing to source, mind you. I had to order it all the way from Ki-elico”

  Aura examined the vial closely, her fingers tracing the reinforced bands. Her expression was unreadable, but David caught the slight tightening of her jaw. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  Ivert smiled faintly. “What’s it for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Aura hesitated, her gaze flickering to Bert before she replied. “Just… something experimental. You know how it is.”

  David narrowed his eyes at her, sensing the subtle unease in her tone. Experimental? He’d heard that part before. Was something brewing?

  Before the conversation could continue, another figure approached. It was an old man dressed in armor, a worn but elegant sword at his belt and a shiny shield at his back. His armor clinked softly as he walked, a rolled-up letter in hand.

  “Morning, Ivert” the guard greeted, handing over the letter. “For the usual route.”

  The trader took the letter with a reverent bow and tucked it into a pouch. “Sir Brenn! Got it. Are you expecting a reply?”

  “Not this time,” He glanced at the wagon. “You’ll be around again after the Goddess’s Rest?”

  Ivert nodded. “That’s the plan, provided the roads stay clear.”

  “Good. Travel safe,” Brenn said, patting the merchant on the shoulder before walking off.

  David watched the exchange, but he didn’t understand much – he knew the words, like “Trolls” and “the Goddess’s Rest” … But what did they signify? The adults spoke in coded layers, leaving him to piece together fragments of a puzzle he didn’t yet know the shape of.

  Not that he cared for religious rambling anyway.

  Aura crouched beside him, her warm hand brushing his hair. “Let’s get you something sweet, Marco,” she said, her voice light and soothing.

  David nodded, but his thoughts lingered on the conversation.

  Special vials, special days.

  The tightness in Aura’s smile.

  There was a lot happening around him simultaneously, and so far, he didn’t like the most of it.

  As they turned to browse the merchant’s other wares, David’s grip on Aura’s hand tightened.

  Suddenly, he could feel the time slipping away from him—and the more he learned, the more he realized how little he actually knew.