“Let this be a lesson in how the world works, son.”

Jake’s heart twisted as his father’s hand squeezed her throat. “No!”

Crack!

Cara’s neck twisted sharply. Her emerald eyes met Jake’s gaze and demanded to know why he’d let this happen.

Jake ran toward her.

Where was she?

They were gone, both of them.

Jake looked up and down the street. His father couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t be.

Jake clutched the straps of his school backpack and ran down the street, his tiny little feet pattering against the sidewalk.

No matter where he looked, his father was nowhere to be found.

Crying came from his house. He rushed inside. Mom, crying her eyes out.

“I know what I saw!” Mom said. “He has to be out there somewhere!”

Jake looked down at her and shook his head. “He’s gone! He left us years ago!”

He yanked the bottle out of her hands and glared at her with all the disgust that she deserved.

She looked away, too pathetic or too drunk to meet his gaze. “You don’t believe me. No one does.”

“Because you’re crazy!” Jake slammed the door behind him. Outside, he looked up at the sky and screamed.

Jake bolted upright and gasped for air. Cold sweat dribbled down his brow.

A dream. Only a dream. He swallowed. If only…

He pulled himself out of bed and scowled out the window. Still only a dim glow outside, that strange dwarven version of nighttime.

How long had he wasted searching for his father? A father that he had never stood a chance of finding.

Jake bit his lip and clenched up. His mother…

She hadn’t been crazy after all. Not initially, anyway. Not before everyone refused to believe her. Before she’d started…

There was no way that he could have known. There was no way that anyone could have known.

No. That was nothing more than a hollow excuse.

Jake pulled himself up straight. There was work to be done. The wood elves needed saving. Cara needed saving, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time.

The Battlemage weapons were gone, but damned if that was going to be the end of it. Especially having just spent a perk on it.

Jake cast a Fire/Imbue/Ignite spell onto his sword. Flame sheathed the blade, but the spell continued to take up space in his mind. Not a promising sign. He cast a minor light spell, and the fire vanished from his sword. Clearly, this was not an appropriate weapon.

Not yet, anyway. Were there any enchanters in the city? Luther and Idonia would know, but they’d both be busy. What about the tavern keeper? He seemed to know everyone.

Jake set off. He pulled out the Zelnari data crystal and turned it over in his hand. What secrets did this hold? Without context, translating it was close to impossible. Little snippets were comprehensible—it definitely talked a lot about magic—but a proper translation would require much more vocabulary.

Even the words he understood were an enigma in places. Danger and magic made sense alone or together, but elsewhere they were linked by a symbol much smaller and more intricate than the others. Why the difference?

He arrived at the Plaza where the tavern was and shuddered to a halt. That blasted statue had been dumped to the side, and dirt had been dumped into the collapsed tunnel to level it.

A knot twisted in Jake’s gut. He had done this. With good reason, but still… Why did the world have to be like this?

The sound of chiseling finally registered in his brain. Was he really that used to it? He followed the sound and, sure enough, there was Idonia, working away to repair the runes that Luther had destroyed.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Jake asked.

She paused and gave him a wry smile. “I have to fix the damage someone did to 10,000-year-old runes. What’s your excuse?”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. I’ll let the dungeon spawn kill everyone next time.”

Idonia laughed. “No need to be sorry. Honestly…” She paused, looked around, and beckoned me closer. “I’m grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“I am honored to be able to work on these runes before I go.” Her face lit up. “My work, alongside that of ancient grandmasters! Thank you, again, for the book. I wouldn’t be able to fix the damage properly without it.”

Jake frowned. “You’re leaving?”

More laughter, though with a more somber note. “We all leave sometime, and I am closer than most.”

“Oh.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“I’ve had a good, long life.” She put down her tools and turned to face him. “Passion and love banish all regrets. I found mine. Find yours, and you’ll understand.”

Jakes’s fingernails bit into his palms and his nostrils flared. “I found my passion, alright.”

“Anger isn’t passion, no matter how much they feel alike.”

“It can’t be allowed to stand.”

“Perhaps. But anger is a poor guide.” She met his gaze and peered into his soul. “Why do you fight, Jake?”

He blinked. How could anyone ask a question like that? “I have to.”

Her unwavering stare continued, and she raised an eyebrow.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Jake said, turning away as heat rose in his chest. “No one should be abandoned to die.”

“That wouldn’t be enough, even if it was true.”

“You calling me a liar?”

She nodded, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

Idonia picked up her tools and got back to work.

The fire in his chest roared. Who did she think she was to call him a liar? “Why do you spend your entire life Runesmithing, then?”

The words came out harsher than intended, but she didn’t seem to care. “Because I’m old, and everyone I loved died years ago. Runes are my legacy.”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be sorry. My wife lived a long, happy life. I’m blessed to have lived as many years as I have.”

A lone butterfly fluttered in Jake’s chest. Cara was out there, risking death even as they spoke. Assuming she wasn’t already dead. “Was it worth it?”

Idonia paused and her face lit up again. “To have watched her live was, is, and always shall be my greatest joy.”

Even though she was gone? Jake tilted his head and remained silent. Some questions were better left unsaid. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and clumsily pulled the Zelnari data crystal back out. “Before I go, could you take a look at this again for me, please?”

She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. “Do you know what I usually do to those who interrupt my work repeatedly?”

“Ignore them until they go away? Besides, you owe me.”

Idonia grimaced and nodded. “Very well.” She took the data crystal and closed her eyes. “This really is an incredible find.”

“If only we could translate it. There’s a word near the top. It uses danger and magic, but then they’re joined somehow.”

Idonia nodded. “I see it. A conceptual conjunction. We use those in Runesmithing. They modify the connection. Sometimes, connections aren’t possible without them. Other times, they change the effect. This one indicates that the danger is an inherent part of the magic.”

“Interesting. Thank you.”

Idonia glanced back down at the rune Luther had mangled. “Anything else?”

“One last thing. Are there any enchanters in town?”

“None, but there are books in the archives. Good luck.”

Jake smiled and bowed his head. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

She bowed her head and returned to her work.

The archives were in the keep, weren’t they? Hopefully, dwarf-friends were allowed access.

Conceptual conjunction. Jake turned the idea over in his mind, studying the many examples in the book. The Zelnari in the vault must have been vastly simplified. Without more context, deciphering the data crystal might take a lifetime, if it was possible at all.

So why give it to him? It had been a personalized reward, after all. Was he expected to explore other Zelnari ruins? He frowned. There had to be something he could learn from it.

Magic. It was written in magic. How closely did the construction of the Zelnari language mirror that of spells? Jake pulled the Hold wand out of his pack. At least his father hadn’t taken that too. Was a conjunction how it crossed magic types?

He focused in on it, and there it was. Subtle, almost impossible to see even with level 5 Discern Magic, but definitely there. A thin abstraction layer joined the Telepathy aspect to the Hold effect. The possibilities this might open up…

He could test that later this. First, though, the archives. The guards greeted him warmly. After one checked with Ardic, they allowed Jake access on the condition a guard accompanied him. That was fine by Jake, especially as he couldn’t read Dwarvish.

The guard was more than happy to help. He raved about the combat prowess of the Battlemages as he led Jake down the wide-open staircase into the archives.

Jake shivered. It was like walking into a fridge. The air was dry and cool, no doubt kept that way by the runic magic permeating everything. The guard led down several more flights of stairs.

Each floor held a huge number of bookcases. How many levels were there? How many books? No wonder they were so proud of this place. Even the index sprawled across multiple rows of books.

A librarian approached, and offered—or, more accurately, insisted—upon providing aid. A huge tome, enchanted with a variety of preservation magics, provided the index for Enchanting. A search for spell-swords proved fruitless, however.

It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, except without knowing what a needle looked like. What would an Enchanter call it? The Spellcrafting book had called them conduits, hadn’t it?

The librarian searched under that and provided directions to Conduits, and the Enchanting Thereof.

The tome was heavy going, especially working through a translator with no magical knowledge. Much of the information slipped through Jake’s fingers like water through a sieve, constantly prodding at his mind to remove one of his two profession skills.

Jake sighed. Would he be able to make this work? Even a crude enchantment would be better than nothing. Everyone had to start somewhere, right? And Enchanting used a lot of the same basic ideas as casting and Spellcrafting.

After going over the section on spell-swords three times, Jake called it. That would have to do. He thanked the guard for his help and headed for the blacksmiths. The light outside was growing brighter, illuminating the soldiers gathering in the square before the keep.

Jake’s heart skipped a beat. Today, he would return to the Great Forest with an army in tow. There’d be actual sky, trees instead of stone, and Cara.

A warm, tingling glow filled his chest. Not long now. He hurried to the blacksmiths. Would they be willing to spare a gemstone and a little gold?

Heat and the stench of forging filled the room. In the corner, three young dwarves cast Transform spells upon metal, forming intricate pieces.

The master blacksmith turned. “What the hell do ye want—” He turned, and his eyes widened. The anger fled his face, replaced with a broad smile. “Jake! Whatever can I do for you?”

“A tiny bit of gold and a gemstone to hold magic, if you can spare them.”

“That all?” The dwarf gestured to an apprentice. “For you, consider it done. The gemstones we have here aren’t ideal for it, but you’re welcome to one.”

Jake bowed his head and thanked the blacksmith, who nodded and returned to work. A few minutes later, his apprentice returned with a tiny nugget of gold and an emerald the size of a gummy bear.

Hopefully, it would be enough. Jake headed back to the keep, past the growing host of troops, and down into the portal lobby. If this went wrong, best to contain the blast.

With a series of Transform spells, he set the emerald into the pommel of the sword and laid lines of gold up the sword, as per the book’s directions. With that done, he wove magical channels into the gold lines.

An Enchanting level up pressed against his mind, asking if he wanted to drop Spellcrafting or Archaeology. Neither. He dismissed the notification. At some point, he’d get a real Enchanter to do a better job, but this would have to do for now.

Assuming it worked. He cast a weak Fire/Imbue/Ignite spell upon the sword. The blade ignited, and the emerald glowed. Jake smiled. Maybe Cara’s woodcarving wasn’t so crazy after all.

He cast the Fire/Imbue-Projectile/Ignite from the day before upon the sword. The gem shone briefly, and the spell dissipated. Could it not accept such spells? Or was it too big?

A weaker version of the spell held. Jake hurled the firebolt at the wall, and smiled. A partial success, at least. Having a couple of spells up his sleeve made this all worthwhile, even if it was limited in power.

With a systematic series of tests, he narrowed the limits down. The sword could take around 60 MP worth of spells in total. Jake took in a deep, satisfied breath. Zero skill level. This success was his, and his alone.

Wasn’t he? He rubbed the back of his neck and pondered it. What counted as him, after he’d put all those points into Intelligence?

If he ever got home, would he lose that? What did home even mean anymore?

Jake shrugged. That was a question for long down the road, if ever. For now, Cara and the Great Forest needed him at his best.

Cross-type magic. It was possible—the wand proved that—but how to make it work? Jake focused inward and attempted to construct a weak Telepathy/Self/Hold spell.

Following the example of the wand and the Zelnari words, he created a thin abstraction layer that made the Telepathy aspect connect like it was a Force aspect. The first few attempts failed, but eventually, one held.

Jake bit back a smile. No celebrations yet, not until he’d tested it. He went to cast a powerful Absorb effect on himself, and his throat closed up. That wouldn’t help anymore, would it?

Damn Death. Jake took a long, deep breath and ignored the growing hardness in his stomach. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life second-guessing everything.

But how many times had Absorb saved him while testing new ideas? And this was more novel and unprecedented than any of those attempts. Just because it compiled didn’t mean it wouldn’t explode.

Jake double and triple-checked the spell. What did correct and incorrect even look like in this case?

Stabbing pain twisted in his gut. Not like he knew any other Spellcrafters to discuss it with. There was only one way to find out, and he needed every edge he could get his hands on.

It might even be possible to replicate the Absorb spell using other magic types and give Death’s bargain the middle finger.

Here goes nothing.

Jake cleared his mind and took a pinch of mana. He guided it into the low potency Telepathy/Self/Hold spell, carefully guiding it into the correct place.

The spell solidified and Jake whispered, “Firka.”

The Telepathy aspect ruptured.

Light flashed. Agony ripped up his arms and punched him in the face.

Stone smashed against the back of his head, and the world went dark.