The cellar door creaked open with a low, grinding groan, hinges straining under what felt like more than just rust.

  His boots scuffed against warped floorboards as he crossed the threshold back into the Horde’s common room. The place was dim, mostly empty. Just a few regulars hunched over their drinks in the far corners, a sleepy barback wiping down tables, and a half-burned fire still trying to pretend it mattered.

  Then the air shifted.

  It didn’t hit like a sudden blast of cold, or a loud crash. No. It was slower — more subtle. Like something invisible had walked in alongside him. The change rolled through the room like fog, unnoticed for the first few seconds, until people started to feel it. The Inn was pretty much empty except for some of the staff and a few passed-out drunks, and Wade’s group.

  However, almost instantly, all eyes, even those that were asleep, turned to him. The bar-back paused mid-wipe, arm stiff in the air. Someone near the hearth frowned at their drink like it had soured in their hands.

  Kael didn’t notice at first. He was too focused on keeping his balance — his legs still unsteady, his head still buzzing from the pull of the ritual. He felt full, like mana had pooled in his bones and wasn’t sure where to go yet. Then he noticed the looks.

  Every head turned toward him — not in recognition, not in greeting, but in response. Faces drawn tight, shoulders stiff, like they were all bracing for something that hadn’t arrived yet.

  Kael blinked.

  What the hell—a hand gripped his coat and pulled.

  “Get your mana under control! Your leaking like a motherfucker,” Wade hissed.

  Kael turned. Wade had crossed the room faster than Kael could track. His expression was tight, his words clipped.

  Kael blinked again, slower this time. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “No, you idiot — you’re existing. You just came off a Third Ring ritual, and your Spiral isn’t under control yet.”

  Kael's stomach twisted. He hadn’t even thought about it — hadn’t even felt it. His magic was just… there. Sitting just under his skin, curled in his breath, humming low and steady. It didn’t feel violent, and it certainly didn’t feel dangerous.

  But now he saw it — how people shifted away from him, how glasses trembled slightly when he passed, how the flame in the hearth burned slower, more reluctant.

  Wade leaned in. “You’re not hurting anyone. But it feels like something’s about to snap, the air feels…off. ”

  Kael drew in a slow breath and looked inward — toward the Spiral rooted deep in his soul. He found the pulse of his mana, and it resisted. Not violently — more like a limb that had fallen asleep. But slowly, the pressure faded. Kael let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  Wade gave him a once-over, then nodded. “Better.”

  Kael glanced back toward the bar. Anabel was watching him, arms crossed, one brow raised. She mouthed something at him.

  What the fuck was that?

  He didn’t answer.

  Wade gestured to an empty booth in the corner. “Come on. Let’s talk before you make the furniture rot.”

  Wade slid into the booth first, knocking aside a few old tankards with the back of his hand. Kael followed, still nursing the hollowed-out sensation in his chest — like forcing a door closed on a room that didn’t want to stay empty. He knew that it would come as easily as breathing to control soon, but right now he needed to actually think about it.

  The silence between them lingered for a moment, then Wade leaned forward, arms on the table, his voice lower now. Serious.

  “I got offers,” he said. “Work for after graduation.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “That fast?”

  Wade smirked. “Third Ring mages don’t get time to breathe, Kael. Especially the ones who came up from nothing. They see raw magic and no real family name and think they can mold you into a loyal little bomb.”

  He took a sip, then continued.

  “The first offer was from the Mage Corps, same as all graduates. Officer commission. Captain's seal waiting. Uniform, unit, and grave all included.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Kael gave a dry chuckle. “Tempting.”

  “I told them I’m allergic to noble wars,” Wade said. “Also allergic to getting melted by siegecasters over a trade dispute.”

  Kael nodded. “What else?”

  “Second was airships.” Wade tilted his glass in a lazy circle. “With my Affinity? They said I could be an engineering lead in five years. Flight tech. Storm navigation. Decent pay, relatively safe from what I’ve heard. Those flying mammoths have a whole platoon on board when they fly.”

  “And?”

  He hesitated.

  Then he looked up — and this time, it was something real behind his eyes. Not the charming deflection Kael had seen a hundred times. This was want. Hunger.

  “I want more,” Wade said. “I don’t want a post. I don’t want a salary. I want something alive.”

  Wade leaned in, voice low. “I want to fight. Make coin. Burn everything they handed me and see what I can take for myself. I want to join the Guild.”

  That made Kael pause.

  The Guild. The Adventurer’s Guild was an interesting choice, to say the least. Guild mages were usually rogue casters, hedge-trained or apprenticed to wandering masters. He knew the Guild was an essential part of a civilized society and dealt with problems no one else wanted to. The Guild spanned across the entire continent and was probably the single most powerful entity on the continent. But Guild mages were rarely academy-trained.

  “Pretty rare path for someone with your opportunities,” Kael said.

  “I know,” Wade replied. “They called me a fool. Said I’d be throwing away my future.”

  “Are you?”

  Wade shrugged. “Maybe. But I’d rather be a rich corpse than a loyal dog.”

  Kael looked down at his drink.

  Something about this whole thing itched at the edge of his mind. Something angled.

  He glanced back up. “Feels like there’s a proposition buried in there.”

  Wade smiled and didn’t deny it.

  Just sat back in the booth and said, “There are two kinds of people who make it in the Guild. Wild ones — the half-trained lunatics who tear through monsters with raw talent — and people like us: planners, survivors, people who see the angles.”

  “And?”

  “And you just hit Third Ring with a rare Affinity. I figure if anyone’s going to walk into a ruin and make it out richer than the gods… It’s you.”

  Kael stared at him for a long beat.

  Then picked up his glass, he didn’t drink it, just held it between his fingers and asked, “You’re actually serious. How much?”

  Wade grinned. “In the beginning, probably not much, but you’re magic is special, man. Once you get a few spells under your belt, we’ll make more than either of us can make playing fetch for your noble buddies.”

  Kael didn’t answer right away.

  He watched the way Wade’s fingers tapped against the rim of his glass — casual rhythm, steady, calculated. Always reading the room, even when it was just the two of them.

  “I can’t lie,” Kael said finally. “I’m tempted.”

  Wade arched an eyebrow.

  Kael leaned back, arms crossed. “I don’t have the options like you do, but still, Guild life, freedom, and coin. All of it sounds… good. Maybe too good. But with my Affinity now?” He shook his head. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do. I was able to piece together three spells, only one of which is even remotely combat-oriented. Decay isn’t exactly built for storming dungeons with a sword in my teeth.”

  Wade tilted his glass toward him. “You’d be surprised what you can do with the right partner.”

  They both fell silent again. Not tense — just heavy. The weight of too many paths yawning open at once.

  Wade stood.

  He reached for his coat, slid it on with that smooth, careless grace Kael had always envied. “I’ll be on campus until graduation. Three weeks. Then I’m gone, one way or another.”

  He paused, one hand on the table, eyes steady. “I’ll find you before then. We’ll talk again.”

  Kael gave a small nod. “Yeah. We will.”

  Kael was halfway up the stairs when he heard it — the distinct click of a glass set too hard on wood.

  “Hold it.”

  Anabel stood at the far end of the bar, arms crossed, a rag slung over one shoulder. Her expression wasn’t angry — just tired, like she’d seen this kind of mess a hundred times and expected better from him.

  “You planning to melt my floorboards next time, or was tonight just a warm-up?”

  Kael rubbed his temple. “Wasn’t on purpose.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said.

  Kael opened his mouth, closed it.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked, voice low.

  Kael blinked. “Hmm? What are you talking about?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Just leaned her hip against the bar and gave him a look — the kind that could strip varnish off wood.

  “You’re a Third-Ring mage now, oh Lord Kael. You could walk into any Ministry job, apprentice with a guildmaster, or even freelance in the outer provinces. Coast the rest of your life on light spellwork and noble scraps.”

  Kael shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

  “No,” she said. “It doesn’t. But Red Clover?” She paused. “That’s not the kind of current you wade into for fun. You don’t just ‘help Dren with errands’ and think you’re safe. You either work for them, or they work through you.”

  Her gaze hardened.

  “Either way, you don’t get to play in the light and think the darkness won't catch up.”

  Kael opened his mouth — then shut it.

  “Just be careful. Now go to bed, Decay boy. You look like shit.”

  Kael left without another word, walking to the desk in his room, lit a candle, and pulled out the scraps Wade had given him — the early spell notes, diagrams, and fraying parchment that made up the incantations for Decay magic. Some of it was barely legible, scribbled in the margins of stolen scrolls or scrawled like confessions.

  He stared down at the faded lines.

  Rustmark. Fraybind. Spiral Fade.

  Spells that didn’t explode or flash. Spells that weakened and compromised. Powerful in ways that weren’t meant for a battlefield, but for the cracks in armor, the seams of locked doors, the foundations of buildings.

  No, it wasn’t combat magic in the traditional sense. They weren’t flashy like a lightning mage’s spells. But the utility?

  Kael could already see the angles without ever even casting one. The possibilities were incredible: demolition, sabotage, infiltration, and manipulation.

  He lit another candle and then rolled out a few strips of clean paper. Drew a spiral in ink, slow and deliberate, letting the tip of the quill trace the same motion his mana had taken hours earlier.

  “Let’s see what I can really do.”