Morning brought the five together again at The Jade Lamp, gathered around a rickety table in what Madam Segawa generously called a "dining room." It was more accurately a cleared space where several mismatched tables huddled together like frightened children, surrounded by chairs that appeared to have been salvaged from at least three different establishments.

  Pyra shoveled porridge into her mouth at a rate that suggested she feared it might escape if given the opportunity. "So! Adventurers' Guild! Today! Us!" she announced between enthusiastic bites.

  "Use complete sentences," Cinder muttered, poking at her own breakfast with the wariness of someone who suspected it might poke back. "And chew with your mouth closed."

  "I cannot express how much I don't miss sharing a mouth with you," Kindle said, winking at Pyra. "But she's right—we found an actual Adventurers' Guild! With contracts and everything! The guards said it's legitimate work that operates outside regular restrictions."

  Ember set down her spoon, considering. "Outside restrictions could be useful, especially given our... registration situation."

  "Speaking of which," Cinder interjected, "we should probably address that before pursuing alternative employment. Technically, we're illegal magical practitioners until we register."

  Ash stirred her porridge contemplatively, gray wisps curling around her spoon. "The Magisterium's requirements present a philosophical conundrum. To define is to limit, yet we exist beyond conventional categorization."

  "Yeah, that'll go over great with the bureaucrats," Cinder snorted. "'Sorry, we can't register because we're too philosophically complex.' I'm sure they hear that one all the time."

  A small cough interrupted their banter. Rose stood at the edge of their table, clutching a tray to her chest like a shield.

  "Beg pardon," she said softly, her eyes darting between them. "But I couldn't help overhearing. If you're looking to avoid Magisterium registration, the Guild's a good choice. They have special dispensation for their members."

  Five identical faces turned toward her with varying expressions of surprise.

  "You know about the Guild?" Ember asked.

  Rose nodded, a flash of something like pride crossing her face. "My older brother's a member. Mid-rank scout. Gets him out of the city and away from..." She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen where Madam Segawa could be heard berating someone about improperly chopped onions. "Well, away."

  "And Guild members don't have to register with the Magisterium?" Kindle leaned forward, eyes bright with interest.

  "They do, but differently. Something about an exemption clause in their charter. I think." She shrugged, adjusting her grip on the tray. "Anyway, I thought you'd want to know."

  "Thanks, Rose," Ember said with a gentle smile. "You've been really helpful."

  The girl flushed slightly and nodded. "I should get back to work. But if you're serious about the Guild, tell them Ellis sent you. My brother," she added, then hurried away before they could respond.

  "Well," Pyra declared, pushing away her empty bowl, "that settles it. Adventure awaits!"

  "It settles nothing," Cinder countered, though her voice lacked its usual edge. "But we should check it out."

  Ember nodded. "Agreed. We promised the captain we'd behave for the first couple days, so we're not technically breaking our word by doing a little recon."

  "The Adventure Guild!" Pyra squealed, clapping her hands excitedly. "Third tier, east quadrant, green dome with bronze fixtures. Let's go make our fortune and forge our legend!" She vaulted over the table and onto Ash, who nearly toppled backward in her chair.

  "Be careful," Ash muttered, gently disentangling herself from Pyra's octopus hug. "Personal space is a concept worth embracing."

  Finding the Adventurers' Guild proved simple enough, even without asking directions. The green dome with bronze fixtures stood out against Amaranth's sea of magical embellishments like a practical boot amid a collection of ornate slippers. No glowing facades, no floating components—just solid stonework with a patina of age and an air of no-nonsense functionality.

  "Bit underwhelming, isn't it?" Pyra observed, head tilted back to take in the structure. "I was expecting something more... adventurous."

  "It's making a statement," Ember replied, eyeing the heavy oak doors that bore the scars of weapons and weather. "Substance over spectacle."

  "Oh good, your aesthetic," Cinder said, nudging Ember with her elbow.

  They'd spent their morning navigating Amaranth's labyrinthine bureaucracy, obtaining temporary visitor extensions while dancing around questions about magical registration. The Guild offered a potential solution to their precarious status—legitimate cover while they pursued information about their condition.

  Assuming, of course, they could get in.

  "Remember," Ember cautioned as they approached the entrance, "we're skilled practitioners seeking honest work. Nothing unusual."

  "Just a group of identical-looking, fire-flinging foreigners," Cinder quipped. "What could possibly draw suspicion?"

  The interior of the Guild hall matched its exterior—practical stone floors worn smooth by decades of foot traffic, walls adorned with maps rather than artwork, and a pervasive scent of leather, metal, and something herbal that might have been medicinal salve. The vaulted ceiling rose to support the green dome they'd seen from outside, though the interior was surprisingly bright thanks to cleverly positioned skylights.

  A central desk dominated the entrance hall, currently occupied by a harried-looking man sorting through towering stacks of parchment. Beyond him, adventurers of various descriptions lounged on benches or clustered around bulletin boards covered in notices. Some bore obvious injuries—a bandaged arm here, a healing burn there—while others cleaned weapons or counted coins from recent jobs.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  "Dibs on the cute archer in the corner," Pyra whispered, waggling her eyebrows toward a blonde woman stringing a bow by one of the notice boards.

  Cinder pinched Pyra's side. "We're here to join, not flirt."

  "Who says I can't do both?"

  "Experience," Ember, Cinder, Kindle, and Ash replied in unison.

  The clerk at the desk glanced up at their approach, did a visible double-take at their identical appearances, then sighed with the resigned air of someone who'd seen stranger things before breakfast.

  "Yes?" he asked, not bothering to put down his quill.

  "We'd like to apply for Guild membership," Ember stated, stepping forward naturally as their spokesperson.

  The clerk's eyebrow lifted fractionally. "All of you?"

  "Is that a problem?" Cinder asked, her tone carrying an edge that made nearby adventurers glance their way.

  The clerk raised his hands placatingly. "No problem. Just... unusual." He pulled a form from a drawer and began scribbling. "Names?"

  "Ember, Cinder, Pyra, Kindle, and Ash."

  "Purpose for seeking membership?"

  "We have skills we believe would be valuable to the Guild," Ember replied smoothly. "And we're seeking legitimate work opportunities."

  "Skills?" The clerk paused, quill hovering.

  "Fire manipulation. Combat training. Enhanced speed and strength," Cinder listed tersely.

  "Unregistered practitioners?" The question carried no judgment, merely administrative curiosity.

  "We have temporary visitor permits," Ember clarified. "Our status is... pending."

  The clerk nodded, unsurprised. "Guild membership offers exemption from standard magical registration, provided your abilities are used exclusively for contracted work." He completed the form with a flourish and stamped it. "Kaelin Reed handles all new applicants. Second floor, end of the hall. Good luck—you'll need it."

  They found the indicated office easily enough. The door bore no name, just a simple bronze plaque etched with the Guild's emblem—a sword crossed with what might have been a merchant's scales.

  Ember knocked firmly.

  "Enter!" called a voice that managed to sound both bored and impatient.

  Kaelin Reed was not what they expected. She sat behind a desk piled with maps and contract scrolls, her armor more practical than decorative—well-worn leather reinforced at the joints with metal plates that gleamed from regular polishing. Her left arm bore an intricate mechanical brace that extended from elbow to fingertips, gears and springs visible beneath articulated plates that moved with surprising fluidity as she gestured.

  More striking was her face—a topography of battle scars surrounding eyes that missed nothing. Her gray-streaked hair was cropped short against her skull, practical rather than stylistic. She didn't rise as they entered, merely leaned back in her chair and studied them over steepled fingers.

  "Sisters," she said finally. The word wasn't a question, but it wasn't quite a statement either.

  "Yes," Ember confirmed.

  "Quintuplets," Pyra added helpfully.

  "Obviously." Kaelin's gaze lingered on each of their faces in turn, noting the minute differences in hair length, in posture, in demeanor. "And you want to join my Guild. Why?"

  "We have skills that—" Ember began.

  "Didn't ask what you're selling," Kaelin cut her off. "Asked why you're here. Most practitioners with your..." She gestured vaguely at their flame-colored hair and identical faces. "... unique qualities end up in research positions or entertainment. Adventuring is dirty, dangerous work with unpredictable rewards."

  "We're not most practitioners," Cinder replied, crossing her arms.

  "Clearly." Kaelin's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Guild membership requires demonstrated competence across multiple disciplines. Raw talent isn't enough—I need reliable operators who can complete contracts without causing diplomatic incidents or excessive property damage."

  "Unparalleled firepower, enhanced physical abilities, combat experience," Kindle recited, ticking each item off on her fingers. "I think we can meet your standards."

  Kaelin's gaze flicked to Kindle's face, and she held out her brace-covered arm. A tiny lens slid up to cover her left eye, gears whirring as she studied them through it.

  "Hmm. Five distinct magical signatures, all variant expressions of fire affinity. Tier one," she added, making Cinder bristle.

  "Care to test that assertion?" Cinder growled.

  "Easy," Ember murmured, laying a hand on Cinder's shoulder.

  Kaelin ignored the exchange. "Membership eligibility is determined by a standardized test. Complete that to my satisfaction, and we'll talk about what the Guild has to offer. Fail, and you're on your own."

  "Fine by us," Cinder replied, still glaring.

  Kaelin pushed herself to her feet with a slight groan, revealing a slight limp that didn't diminish her authoritative presence. "Follow me. We'll see what you're made of."

  The Guild's training facilities occupied a massive underground chamber beneath the main building. Unlike the practical simplicity above, this space hummed with complex enchantments. The stone walls gleamed with inlaid runic patterns that shifted colors as they passed, and the air carried a metallic tang of concentrated magic.

  "Welcome to the Crucible," Kaelin said as she led them into the cavernous space. "Here, we'll evaluate your capabilities."

  "Impressive," Kindle murmured, studying the glowing lines on the walls.

  Kaelin spared her a glance. "Don't be dazzled by the wrapping paper." She gestured to a series of doorways along the chamber's perimeter. "Five trials. You must pass at least four to qualify for membership."

  Pyra bounced on her toes. "Bring it on! We were born ready."

  Kaelin's weathered face remained impassive. "We'll see."

  The first trial space resembled an arena more than a training room—circular, stone-floored, with walls inscribed with protective runes that pulsed a gentle blue. The ceiling arched high overhead, supported by columns that doubled as observation points. Scorch marks and impact craters on various surfaces hinted at previous assessments that had gotten out of hand.

  "Individual combat assessment," Kaelin announced, limping to a raised platform at the edge of the arena. "Each of you will face three opponents simultaneously. Your objective is simple—neutralize all three without sustaining critical damage."

  In the center of the space stood fifteen wooden mannequins arranged in neat rows—humanoid constructs with blank, featureless faces and jointed limbs.

  They looked like standard training dummies—the kind novice mages might practice fireballs on. A few of the wooden heads sported scorches and a couple had lost fingers or noses to errant attacks, but otherwise, they seemed utterly mundane.

  Pyra poked the nearest one, setting it rocking gently on its base. "These guys? Seriously? I was hoping for, like, fire-breathing chimeras or at least some angry goblins." She gave the dummy a little pat on its wooden cheek. "No offense, buddy."

  Kaelin's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement—or anticipation. "The constructs adjust to match your demonstrated capabilities. Don't hold back; they certainly won't."

  She pressed her mechanical hand against a crystal embedded in the platform.

  Magic surged through the room—a ripple of energy that raised goosebumps on five identical sets of arms. The dummies shuddered as if struck by lightning. Their wooden joints creaked, limbs flexing with experimental movements.

  Most disturbing of all, their blank faces suddenly illuminated from within, blue-white light pouring from eye sockets that had been empty moments before.

  "Sweet mother of matches," Kindle whispered as the nearest dummy oriented toward her, its movements no longer stiff but fluid, lifelike.

  "Begin," Kaelin commanded, stepping back to observe.

  The constructs attacked at once.