“Do not remain in that cage, son... A vast realm lies ahead, eager for you to take flight.”

  Eddie barely slowed as he shoved his bedroom door open, the hinges groaning in protest. His pulse pounded in his ears as he bolted down the narrow passageway, the floorboards creaking beneath his hurried steps.

  His arms clutched a haphazard stack of papers and notebooks, some pages slipping loose in his rush.

  He was late.

  The scent of dried lavender and rosemary clung to the air, undercut by the sharp, metallic tang wafting from the tower above—his father was already deep in his alchemical work.

  Markus had warned him, and yet he had still lost track of time.

  Eddie skidded to a stop at the base of the spiral staircase, his breath quick and uneven. His gaze flicked to the rune glowing faintly near the stairwell, a familiar aqua shimmer against the stone floor. Alfred’s spellwork. It would cut the thousand-step climb into mere moments.

  For a brief second, he hesitated. The rune was convenient. Useful. But magic never quite worked right in his hands, and he didn’t have time for a mishap now.

  No choice. He gritted his teeth and lunged up the first step, taking the stairs two at a time.

  His boots struck the wood with heavy thuds, the polished steps groaning under his frantic ascent. The wind howled through the narrow side windows, whipping against his cheeks as he climbed higher, the stone walls tightening around him like a winding tunnel.

  His lungs burned, his legs ached, but he didn’t slow.

  The tower stretched above him, seemingly endless, but Eddie pushed on, gripping the rail with one hand while keeping his papers pressed against his side with the other.

  He was late. He had to move faster.

  -o-

  Eddie finally reached the top of the tower, his lungs burning and breath hitching in quick, ragged bursts as he crossed the threshold into the alchemist’s lab on top of the tower.

  Soft light from the open window cast amusing shadows on the craggy stone walls. He was surrounded by the odours of crushed plants and boiling concoctions and the saline air from big windows with delicate wooden beams. This vantage position revealed the Hamlet of Weshaven, a seaside hamlet full with merchants and fishermen ready for their voyages.

  “Hey there, Eddie!” Mr. Welton said, looking up from his meticulous work with a casual air.

  Mr. Welton looked up from his desk, relaxed. Ageing grey hair neatly brushed back, giving him a quirky genius look. On his nasal bridge, round glasses framed his bright blue eyes that gleamed with warmth and mischief. He looked like someone who had spent his life studying and working, wearing a basic collared shirt with rolled sleeves. Despite his age, his slender frame was nimble.

  Mr. Welton looked up from his desk the moment Eddie burst into the tower, his lips twitching into a smirk.

  "Well, well," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, "Where in the world could my son’s brilliant backache potion formula be? Surely it hasn’t been lost to time and space?"

  Eddie let out a breath, half-exasperated, half-relieved, as he rushed to the desk and dropped his bundle of notes and notebooks with a satisfying thud.

  "Right here," Eddie said, smoothing out the topmost page. "And I didn’t lose it—I just… took Torrie to her first day at Aella Academy."

  Mr. Welton, who had been preparing for another playful jab, paused. His teasing smirk softened into something warmer.

  "Ah," he said, nodding as he adjusted his glasses. "Now that is a worthy excuse."

  Eddie ignored the jab, quickly straightening his notes before launching into an explanation. "So, I was thinking—the base potion we use for muscle relief has a long absorption time, right? What if we swap out the oak bark infusion for something more reactive, like willow extract? It has natural pain-relieving properties, and it should cut the absorption time in half."

  Mr. Welton hummed as he followed along, his fingers tapping against the parchment while he skimmed Eddie’s work. His expression, usually lighthearted, turned serious with concentration. He nodded occasionally, making quiet sounds of approval.

  After a long moment, he let out a low whistle. "This is brilliant," he said, setting the page down. "I might actually use this."

  Eddie sat back, his chest swelling with pride. He had expected constructive criticism, maybe even a few amused remarks about overcomplicating things, but praise? That was rare.

  Finally, Eddie asked, "So, what’s on the agenda today?"

  “Alright, we will need to get these raw materials processed,” Mr. Welton said, slipping on a pair of protective goggles as he approached the array of ingredients strewn across the workbench. “We’ve got to get them ready for brewing in the apothecary. Your mom's a bit understaffed today, and I could really use another set of hands around here.”

  Eddie nodded, shaking off his lengthy sleep's fog. He joined his dad and used a wicked-looking knife to slice through the twisted roots. The boiling concoctions, clinking glass devices, and scent of plants and chemicals comforted him as he worked.

  The Lab was busy. On another table, glass jars bubbled and steamed, their twisting tubes blazing like ancient monster veins in the faint light. Some bubbled with vibrant hues, while others lay in little glass vials with ethereal light. Eddie saw jars of dried dragon's blood, sparkling scales from mythological fish, and powdered gems on the walls and recalled his childhood ambitions of becoming a famous alchemist, which he had long abandoned.

  -o-

  As Eddie and Mr. Welton toiled together, the harmonious symphony of slicing and grinding resonated through the lab, mingling with the bubbling and hissing of potions brewing in their cauldrons. The air was thick with the rich scents of crushed herbs, mineral powders, and simmering extracts.

  “You know,” Mr. Welton began, his tone casual as he measured out a vibrant powder, “your mother found something this morning.”

  Eddie paused mid-chop, glancing up from the herbs he was dicing. “Found something?” He furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

  His father didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for a folded parchment on the workbench and smoothed it out with deliberate care. The thick, cream-colored paper bore an emblem Eddie didn’t recognize at first—but then, his stomach lurched.

  Mr. Welton turned the letter toward him, tapping a finger against the wax seal. “This,” he said, “is no ordinary letter, son. Especially not one that just happens to turn up in a mountain of parchments.”

  Eddie swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The words on the front of the letter gleamed in elegant, embossed script.

  Sage Institute Scholarship Referral for University Program.

  Recipient: Edward Welton of Weshaven.

  Mr. Welton tapped the letter again, his voice steady but firm. “This isn’t just any invitation, Eddie. Look here.”

  Eddie leaned in, his eyes following his father’s finger as it traced a line of text near the bottom of the parchment.

  Referral valid until the 29th of December, 1927.

  His stomach twisted. “That’s barely a month from now,” he murmured.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Exactly.” Mr. Welton folded his arms, watching Eddie’s reaction carefully. “If you don’t make a decision before then, the opportunity vanishes. You won’t get another chance.”

  Eddie exhaled slowly, setting his knife down on the wooden cutting board. “I just… I haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for something like that. It’s been tough to think about anything beyond today.”

  His father nodded, but there was something searching in his gaze, as if he saw past Eddie’s words. “I know it’s a lot,” he said, his tone gentler. “But this isn’t just about potential—it’s about timing. If you let this slip by, you might regret it down the line.”

  “I get it, Dad. But I—”

  Mr. Welton set down the vial he had been handling and leaned slightly against the workbench. “Do you remember Aunt Catherine, Edward?”

  “Aunt Catherine?” Eddie blinked, caught off guard. “I… kind of? I mean, I haven’t seen her in decades.”

  His father chuckled, shaking his head. “Figures. You were young. But you certainly remember that old alchemy book you’ve practically memorized, don’t you?”

  “That was from her?”

  “She gave it to you when you were just starting to experiment with transmutations.” Mr. Welton continued, “You spent hours poring over that thing, scrawling notes, testing theories. And back then, you wrote to her constantly, asking questions, exchanging discoveries. She was the one who pushed you to enter that competition.”

  Eddie stared down at the referral letter, his mind flickering back to the late nights he’d spent scribbling formulas, the excitement of testing a new method—how much of it had been shaped by that book?

  “She practically helped you won those referral, Eddie,” his father continued. “Without her, you might not have even known half the techniques that set you apart. Imagine how she felt if you didn’t consider this.”

  Eddie swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. Catherine had believed in him long before he’d even considered believing in himself.

  “It’s been ages since Catherine crossed my mind. So, how’s she holding up?” Eddie asked.

  “Your aunt is a real piece of work for sure!” Mr. Welton grinned, a spark of nostalgia dancing in his eyes, “She’s a pretty impressive Alchemist all on her own.”

  “Yeah, I remember her being amazing at that,” Eddie said, his mind wandering as he chopped the herbs with a casual flick of his wrist. “But I totally blanked on how much time has passed since we last met.”

  Mr. Welton let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s because time doesn’t pass for her the way it does for us.”

  “Catherine isn’t just anyone, Eddie.” He picked up the referral letter, his gaze lingering on it. “She’s an Elf. The last remaining ones, that is. For all we know, she’s lived through the rise and fall of kingdoms, seen the Solivian Empire in its prime. She’s a living piece of history.”

  Eddie paused mid-slice, glancing up. “Huh.” He hadn’t really thought about it that way. Catherine had always just been… Catherine—brilliant, eccentric, and endlessly knowledgeable. But now that he thought about it, there was something timeless about her, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, as if she had seen far more than she ever let on.

  Mr. Welton smirked. “And yet, despite all that, she still took the time to mentor some scrawny kid with a head full of ambition. Catherine was my Master before she set off on her own epic adventure. She taught me much of what I know today.”

  “Hold on, you were her apprentice?” Eddie enquired, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. “You?” The legendary Mr. Welton?”

  “Absolutely!” Mr. Welton laughed “Before I became the legendary Mr. Welton,” his father continued, waving his hand as if brushing away a pesky fly. “I was just a kid, and Catherine was already stirring up quite the storm in the alchemical world. It’s incredible to consider just how gifted she truly is.”

  Eddie felt a twist in his gut, a sharp reminder of how much he craved those wild connections and epic adventures. “I totally need to get in touch with her, write a letter or something.”

  “Absolutely,” his dad cheered on. “Catherine would totally be stoked to hear from you. She’s always seen the greatness in you, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.”

  -o-

  Eddie took a step back from the solid workbench, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat. With a flourish, he stuffed the final ingredients into robust wooden crates, ready for their journey down to the bustling apothecary below.

  He paused for a second, taking in the impressive organisation he had pulled off, a wave of pride swelling within him

  “Okay, Dad, I’m heading down,” he shouted, striding towards the door that opened to the twisting staircase. The doorframe creaked like it was just as eager to escape as he was.

  But just as he was about to swing the door open, Mr. Welton’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Eddie, hold up for a second. could you hang around for just a little while longer? I've got one more favour to ask of you."

  Eddie spun around, his curiosity ignited like a spark in a dark room. “Another favor?” What is it?”

  Mr. Welton propped himself against the workbench, the morning light streaming in and painting warm shadows across his face.

  “So, there’s this thing that popped up in my head, and I could really use your help with it.”

  “What sort of thing are we talking about here?” Eddie asked, a twist of anxiety churning in his gut.

  “It’s nothing too complicated, I swear,” his dad said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t do much to ease Eddie’s nerves. “Just a little tidbit I think you’ll find interesting.”

  Mr. Welton’s smile dimmed just a touch as he bent down beneath the workbench, retrieving a small, intricately designed cage. Within the confines of the cage itself, a lovely songbird flitted about, its radiant feathers shimmering in the soft glow of the light.

  “Let this songbird go free,” Mr. Welton said, his voice a mix of kindness and authority. “It’s time for it to spread its wings and soar.”

  Eddie paused, a surge of protectiveness washing over him for the tiny creature.

  “But… it’s a songbird.” It could totally go missing or end up in a bit of trouble.”

  “Songbirds are meant to sing and soar, not be caged,” his father said, the warmth in his voice clashing with the unease bubbling up inside Eddie. “Seriously, just let it slide.”

  With a heavy sigh, Eddie stepped forward, gently accepting the cage from his father's grasp. As he opened the cage’s door, the songbird paused for a heartbeat, then erupted into the air, its wings a flurry of motion as it ascended into the vastness of the sky, a vibrant splash of colour against the endless blue. Eddie observed its departure, a bittersweet sensation unfurling within his heart.

  “And just like that, she is free,” Mr. Welton declared, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze.

  Eddie spun around to face his dad, the heavy cloak of uncertainty still draped over his shoulders.

  “Alright, but what’s the deal with that?”

  Mr. Welton's face transformed into a mask of mischievous gravity.

  “Alright, I've got another task for you.”

  Mr. Welton then went on digging under the workbench again, he found a bigger, more elaborate cage. The morning light illuminated a gorgeous Fire Falcon in its cage, its plumage shimmering like liquid gold. The bird's ferocious glance fell on Eddie, and he suddenly saw its magnificent majesty.

  “Let this one go, too,” Mr. Welton said, his voice playful.

  Eddie's eyes went as wide as saucers. “You want me to release the Fire Falcon?” But it’s worth a fortune! You can’t just let it go!"

  Mr. Welton leaned in closer, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “How about I wager you a hundred gold coins?”

  “A hundred gold coins?” Eddie found himself caught in a whirlwind of temptation, the thrill of the wager tugging at him while his instincts screamed to safeguard the awe-inspiring beast before him. “But it’s a Fire Falcon!”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Welton said, a grin spreading across his face like he’d just uncovered a hidden treasure. “This isn’t merely about the wager; it’s about daring to leap into the unknown.” Consider it a crash course in bravery.”

  Eddie paused, a storm of thoughts battling it out in his mind. “But what if it just doesn’t return?”

  “Well, I guess that’s how the universe works,” Mr. Welton said, his eyes unwavering. “Sometimes, you’ve got to release your grip to discover what treasures await you.”

  Eddie let out a reluctant sigh, his head bobbing in agreement as he fought to push down the knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

  As he drew near the cage, Eddie inhaled deeply, his heart pounds. He opened the cage’s door and with a gentle push, urged the Fire Falcon onwards, anticipating its swift ascent into the sky.

  Yet, to his astonishment, the falcon stayed resolutely perched within the confines of the cage, its golden eyes locked onto him, as though contemplating the choices before it.

  “Come on!” Eddie urged, his heart racing like a runaway chariot on a quest. “You’re meant to soar off into the sky!”

  But the Fire Falcon just cocked its head to the side, refusing to budge. Eddie felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach as the truth dawned on him. “No way… this is not happening.”

  Mr. Welton let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, well, well, it seems I’ve come out on top, son.”

  Eddie was hit by a wave of disappointment, swirling with anger and confusion like a storm brewing in his chest. “Why not?” Why didn’t it just take off into the sky?

  Mr. Welton's expression turned warm as he moved in closer. “Sometimes, Eddie, just like that falcon, we get a little too cosy in our cages. We hesitate to take that leap, even when the chance to escape is staring us in the face.”

  Eddie lingered, the disappointment brushing against him like a cool breeze, as he reached for the meticulously arranged ingredients resting on the workbench. The vivid hues of the herbs and raw materials drew his gaze, yet his thoughts wandered, circling back to that moment when the Fire Falcon had stubbornly remained in its cage.

  “Thanks for the lesson, Dad,” he said, managing a tight smile as he turned to face his father.

  He sensed the words dripped with sweetness, yet beneath the surface, frustration bubbled like a volcano ready to erupt. He wasn’t looking for some fancy metaphor about comfort zones and soaring through the skies—he just needed to find his own way forward.

  As he approached the door, Eddie wore a mask of calm, resolute in his mission to keep the irritation simmering just below the surface a secret. “I’ll just take these to the Apothecary,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful, even though a storm of irritation brewed inside him. “Appreciate the, um, ‘lesson’.”

  Mr. Welton observed his son's silhouette,worry reflected in his eyes. He could perceive the strain in Eddie’s shoulders, the manner in which his jaw clenched tightly. “Eddie,” he called after him, but the young man had already vanished through the door, descending the twisting staircase that spiralled down from the tower.

  The lab door creaked shut behind Eddie as Mr. Welton leaned against the workbench, arms folded, watching his boy descend the stairs. His quiet sigh blended with the rich, aromatic alchemical concoctions around him.

  “Ah, Edward,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly. “If only you could see what I see.”

  Mr. Welton felt a deep ache in his chest, aware that Eddie was ensnared in a tangle of fear and reluctance. His heart ached for his son, longing to share the wisdom he had known through the years. He grasped, with a profound clarity, the anxieties that tethered souls to the ground, preventing them from taking flight.

  “At times, one must allow them to navigate their own path,” he murmured, observing the final sight of Eddie as he faded from sight.

  “Do not remain in that cage, son,” he breathed softly, his voice a mere flutter in the air. “A vast realm lies ahead, eager for you to take flight.”