Telgar Uthden had only one thing to be grateful for as rainfall poured down in the te summer afternoon, and he dodged through alleyways and under canopies. It wasn’t the promise of a roof over his head at night, or the education he was slowly building for himself, or the expectation he had a bright future.

  It was the simple things in life like the fact that despite the soaking rain, his boots were still nice and dry. Rain-den gloom couldn’t dampen his mood. Nor could it dim the gleam of the city of Varistok, in the nation of Hyrena.

  Every periodical he’d read painted a portrait of old-world buildings towering on high, built with the weave of magic and artistic creativity. Those towering buildings housed this city's elite and powerful, shining smiles and dedicated bor toward creating a greater society for all.

  Varistok was a pce where dreams could become reality, with the right pn and enough willpower--or, so they all cimed.

  Telgar gnced uptown, his longing sigh drowned out by the patter of rainfall around him, toward Hightown Varistok. It must be nice to live there on the other side of the gates. He turned his gaze toward the path home, toward lower, less shiny buildings a mere two blocks away from the wall that separated hightown from lowtown. His path took him into Tanner’s Corner, which had a single name-appropriate highlight: their expert leather work and tannery for the elite.

  The pce where he was currently residing. He didn’t have far to look for where he wanted to be: It was, after all, only one pane of gss and a city vista away.

  The moment of contemption passed as he hopped over a muddy puddle, the brickwork on the road crumbling with ck of maintenance. His cloak had a few small holes that allowed the water to pass, little trickles of surprisingly warm rain. He shook himself off lightly as he put in his communal key to the apartment, a rickety, two-story building of brick and moldering wood that was as dull as the rest of the area around him.

  Even a paint job couldn’t bring life to this pce. He wiped his feet on the wicker mat to clear any mud from his boots. He let out a calming breath and walked up the dark colored wood steps. The stairs creaked underneath his light step, and his hands slid over the rough-hewn banister out of caution, especially when the steps creaked ominously under even his light steps.

  He reached for his second key and stuck it into the lock of the pin brown door down and to the right, which should have been belled number four, but the paint had long worn away. Only the faint outline remained. He pushed the door open, and a waft of stale smoke wafted out, assaulting his sense of smell. No matter how often he aired out the apartment, it never dissipated. He tossed his bag onto the back of a simple chair while gently hanging his cloak on the peg rack on the wall.

  The lights were on, at least. He heard a female voice call out from the other room. “Telgar, is that you?”

  “No, just some other half-soaked clod with two keys to get into a rickety building!” he called out, and smiled when his sister parted the curtain. She stood as tall as him, even though she was two years younger than him. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she leaned casually on the door frame, her amber eyes seemingly catching all the light in the room. She was wearing a bck tunic and dark brown pants–the colors for the school uniforms.

  “So! You’re back. How was the shop?” she asked casually.

  He let out a soft sigh. “Hello to you too, Annie. Work was okay, but a little slow. The rain scares off a lot of customers, so it was kinda dead today. I just took the time to do some repair work and some studying when the shop was empty. How were csses?”

  She shrugged and wore a light smile. “The same. I learned that Varistok is the greatest city of all of Hyrena! We build cities that touch the sky, and we’ll finally solve the problems of poverty and hunger!” She rolled her eyes and her expression turned sour. “So you know, a bunch of crap. Then we got lessons on curing leather, and let me tell you, be gd that you got into Alberts shop as a glorified repairman!”

  “Arcane device tinkerer,” he corrected.

  “Glorified repairman! I got to work pying with dead animal hides and drying them. It was fun,” she added with a growl, before her expression turned bright again. “Just a day in the life, Telgar.”

  “Alright, alright, crap day, I get it. At least they're teaching you something useful,” he added. “There is always a need for more armor in the byrinth.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “Okay you're right, it's a joke. Mister Graves does his best, but he doesn't have much leeway in subjects.”

  “I know. I liked it when he gave real lessons, when talked about pces outside the city. About the elves and greenery of the forests. About vast pins of wheat and sweat-soaked farmers working hard to provide for so many. Those pces were brighter than here,” she commented.

  “Yeah. Learning how arcane circuits work is so much more invigorating,” he added with a wry smile. “Hey, where's Uncle? He hasn't gotten home yet?”

  “Odd job, he said, he was here for five minutes. I’m pretty sure he's out drinking or gambling. Or worse, drinking while gambling. The ndlord knocked on the door earlier before you got here, asking where he was,” she added with a curl of her lip.

  “Gods damn it,” Telgar sighed. “Rent was due yesterday. I don't get paid until tomorrow, and Uncle probably gambled his earnings again. I'm not using my savings. Does Uncle Yaroff succeed at anything besides being a mooch?”

  “He keeps a roof over two bright eyed teenagers. I mean he does one thing right.” Annie gnced at the stove, unlit and no pans resting on top. “He also didn't bother to make dinner, and the cupboard is bare bones with canned goods. Yuck. Got any pns for the night?”

  “Yep. First I'll get us dinner. Then, you and I are going to try something to change the calculus. I found something in my research that seemed…interesting.”

  “No. Tell me you and the old geezer didn't find something useful.” Her head shook no, but her energetic expression said otherwise.

  “Yep. A way to pull a summon without massive material wealth, or a giant blood sacrifice. Okay, maybe a tiny one. I want to try it out!”

  “Are you sure that's…safe?” she asked nervously.

  “Yes! The blood doesn't act as the power source, just a beacon!” he expined. “So, I haven't tested it yet. Albert said we should wait, he's excited too!”

  “Is this reted to your ability?” She asked.

  “Yep! I had to triple check, but [Arcane thread] makes it possible. I'm surprised no one else has attempted it yet. Otherwise I’d have to do it the hard way, and save unfathomable money for the materials. I just make a few adjustments in the binding circle and that's it! Should be easy!”

  He was truly excited about this. The practice circle had worked, but without the blood, all it had done was consume the circle successfully. But, Annie still wore that anxious smile. Like he was about to make a terrible mistake.

  The only terrible mistake was not bailing out of this dump sooner. He didn't dare think of how they ended up here, he just wanted to get out. “Okay, Telgar, I get it. You think this is your moment to get into Elysium academy. Great for you! But didn't you tell me a thousand times how you hate the idea of summoning and binding a creature of the byrinth to your will?”

  “W-well, it’s not exactly binding. That's why I wanted to try it."

  She raised an eyebrow at this. “What, exactly, does that mean?”

  “It means that, given my skills and level of arcane threading, it might have some differences from a normal summon,” he replied uneasily. “It's fine, though. I have a pn.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized what he hinted at. “Oh no, you're talking about inventing a whole new tier of disaster. An unbound summon?! Are you nuts?!”

  “More like a summon with a will independent of the summoner. Meaning they get to do as they want, and I might be able to maintain a connection to add to my magical abilities! Probably. The reading isn't conclusive.”

  If he were making a sales pitch, he just scared the customer out the door, and Annie animatedly shook her head. “This is a bad idea, Telgar. No, I’d rather walk naked into the Varistok Labyrinth, because I’d have better survival odds than that!”

  “Uh…that seems like an oddly specific comparative.” His sister might be tough and strong for her age, but–

  “Okay I wasn't being literal! But no! Do not do this without someone who knows what they're doing!” She emphasized. “The summons are dangerous! They kill people! The byrinth chews through adventurers faster than they can train them! You'd risk your life, and uncles, for a faint shot at an academy that sneers at the poor and downtrodden?”

  He gestured to uncle's chair at the table, currently empty. “Am I really risking that much?”

  She tousled his hair in response, and tapped on his forehead. She scowled at him, her voice set on exasperation. “For being so smart as to convince Albert to take you into the shop when he never brought in an apprentice for ten years, you sure come up with some pretty harebrained ideas! Let this one rest for a bit, please?”

  He’d have to give this one a little time, and sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. I'm still trying it eventually, though. I mean everyone with magic has some trace to the byrinth. Maybe a summon was in our family tree?”

  “Ugh. Knowing my luck, you’ll bring in a slime. They make such a mess and are so….clingy!” She shoved her hands as if imagining one climbing her. “Wait, how exactly does this technique work? You realize that high tier summons can only be pulled with high grade materials.”

  “Ah, but that's the thing! If we have any summons in the family, I’ll likely pull one with the same bloodline!” He stuck his finger in the air, grinning. “We could be reted to dragons!”

  “We’d be so dead if we had a trace of dragon lineage. No one tries to summon dragons, because they don’t like being summoned at all,” she added with her tongue stuck out in disgust. “My money is on slimes.”

  He let the thought sit in the air for a few seconds. “I still think it would be cool to climb to the ceiling, then drop on people as a prank–”

  “Oh for Fates’ sake!” she groaned, but couldn’t hold back a ugh. “Hey, we’re still burning daylight. Let's get dinner, then I will successfully talk you out of this dumb idea. Unfortunately, Uncle took your savings. And he grabbed it before I got here.”

  She pointed to the raided tin that should have been filled with coppers, a handful of silvers, and one gleaming gold coin. The tin was currently empty.

  He bnched at that, fists tightening. “Did he seriously take all my savings? How'd he find it–never mind,” he groaned, and ran his fingers through his messy, medium length hair. “Okay, I'll be back quickly. Barin owes me a favor, I’ll call it in.”

  “I can cook–” she started to say, but he gestured to the cupboard.

  “Nope. I am not eating salted beef again, and preserved vegetables that might be old enough to qualify as historical artifacts. When I am done bringing home food, I’ll talk you into this lovely pn!”

  “I prefer my siblings not to die from stupid ideas, thanks! Plus if you get yourself killed, then I have to deal with Uncle alone. He’s already insufferable with the two of us propping him up,” she fumed, and thrust her hand into her pockets, giving him a few copper coins. “Okay, this is about all I’ve got. Next time, don’t stash coins under the bed.”

  “Wait. You stole them?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

  “No. I borrowed them on the chance that Uncle would grab them. Might not be enough for a meal, though,” she added.

  “Barin's a softie. I’ll get us something quick.”

  “Telgar,” Annie called out as he was about to ease the door shut. He gnced her way, waiting patiently for the question. “When will Mom and Dad be back? When will this be over?”

  He bit his lip gently and tried to smile for her. “Soon.” He had to tell the lie so many times, he wanted to believe it, too. But he couldn’t.

  He didn’t think she could, either.

  He grabbed his cloak and bag on his way out the door, his footsteps quicker than when he’d left. He moved quickly past the threshold of the apartment and locked up. He wasn't looking forward to feeling rain soaking into his cloak, and maybe his soul, to an extent.

  Do I have the power to stop the rain? He gave a longing gnce at the apartment and reached into the depths of his mind for the answer. He received one in the form of a faint box overid on his vision, but not so intense that it blocked the view. Simple crisp text appeared.

  Source link partially established. Welcome, Telgar, [adept]

  Source access is currently partially unlocked. Only the features you have access to will dispy.

  He waited a moment under the canopy bearing a small hole on one side, torn by a weapon or the wind. More messages appeared.

  No. You don’t have the power to stop the rain. Inquiry details below:

  [Nature] - SSS tier requirement not met

  [Hydro] - SSS tier requirement not met

  [Power] - S tier requirement not met

  [Divine] - S tier requirement not met

  Wow. All that just to avoid getting wet. He let out a soft chuckle unironically–that was a lot of requirements to meet. He put the hood up and marched past the light foot traffic of men, dwarves, elves and beastkin, dodging the rainfall, muttering about a te summer soaking.

  At least his boots were still dry. That was a positive.

  A few minutes ter, he arrived at the inn on the far end of the row, a brighter wood and red brick establishment marginally less grimy than the buildings surrounding it. It wasn’t newer, so much as the owner fought hard to keep the rot around him at bay fervently. Telgar pushed the swinging door open, and a waft of woodsmoke, a scent of cider ale, and some savory meat simmering greeted him.

  His stomach rumbled at the reminder. He walked past the small tables of men and women bowed down around their drinks or meager meals, the ambience of sound low enough he could hear the crackle of fire on the hearth, on the other side of the room.

  He approached the bar and hopped onto a three-legged stool with a seat; the cushioning might have been comfortable…a few years ago.

  The barkeep noticed his arrival and slowly walked over. He was a tall, broad human male with a light-colored beard and only a few signs of grease on his apron. He wore a small smile when he got close, and wiped out a gss with a clean cloth. “What’ll it be, Telgar? A drink? Still a bit young, but you have a look about you that tells me you–”

  “No.” He cut the humor short. “Barin, I need two portions of stew for the evening. I did work for you two days ago.”

  The man frowned lightly, setting the gss back under the counter. “I paid you for that job.”

  “You and I both know that patch job on the arcane circuit would have cost triple if it were anyone else,” Telgar said in a low tone. The man thought about it for a moment and shook his head.

  “Yer young. That was plenty of money.”

  “Barin, come on, don’t be cheap,” Telgar pushed back, peering at him. Barin might be the size of a bear, but he was a softie. “Uncle Yaroff is out. Again.”

  The phrase had the intended effect, and Barin wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Where’s he gone this time? Did he at least feed you two, you and yer sister?”

  “What do you think?” Telgar asked icily. “I just need two portions. I’ve already paid up front for the splice job I did for you. You know I do a better job than anyone else around here.”

  Barin frowned. Telgar could read what he was thinking: he’d been swindled before. If not by Uncle, then others, and their many unpaid bar tabs. Barin leaned in, speaking low. “I can’t give it to you for free. Money’s tight. One oven won’t light. I think the arcane circuit shorted out, I can’t repair it on short notice.”

  “When can I get to work?” Telgar had his small bag of tools and small arcanist gadgets slung around his shoulder–likely the most expensive things he owned.

  The innkeeper thumbed behind him, where a cook was using a mixing pot nearby, stirring the simmering stew. A fresh scent of garlic and rich meat filled the air–premiums for around here. Barin must have good connections. “Fix it before the dinner rush, I’ll square you away. I’ll throw in a few coppers if the repair holds.” It was the best offer Telgar would get, and he thrust out his hand for a firm handshake.

  “You got a deal.” The innkeeper smiled and waved him through.

  Telgar wasted no time and removed the metal access panel of the stovetop. He immediately disconnected the small tube of faint red, textured material that fed through the wall, with a click of an adapter and a soft hiss of purging energy in the system. Source connection or not, if he completed a circuit with the arcane reserve still on, that amount of energy could hurt or kill him.

  It felt like muscle memory, working this. His current employer had trained him well, tinkering with repaired items and arcane curiosities. During slow times and nights, he studied. He had a gift that few others had. Or, had become aware of, at least.

  He’d gotten a partial source unlock three years ago.

  Nothing good should have come from that night, but at least the gods had the humor to give him something that empty seats and stonewalled answers couldn’t: a connection to the Source. Most people’s connections withered before they were even aware of it.

  Not his. Not after that awful day.

  Telgar refused to fade to nothing. He wanted to be something more than…this. Scurrying around, fixing broken stoves and other small arcane devices, barely making ends meet.

  He’d get into Elysium Academy of the Arcane.

  He’d find a summon. And he’d do it his way, if his reading was right. He’d build something better for himself and Annie.

  But first, he needed to [Arcane Thread] this oven back into shape.

  A thread to connect all the other threads. He thought of the Source, and the dialogue boxes read his intent. From his discussion with the shop owner he worked for, this was on-par for anyone with an ability to use source--from mages, to warriors, to all sorts of roles that the interface categorized and detailed.

  Partial source unlock restricts [adept] actions in preserving the health and well-being of yourself and others. [Arcane threading] is a cleared action.

  He allowed himself a knowing smirk. Then let’s get to work.