The Warriors Four returned to the townhouse well past midnight, exhausted but triumphant. The Guild would process their contract completion in the morning, which meant payment by afternoon—125 silver each, minus Nolan's equipment debt.
"Get some sleep," Selene said as they trudged upstairs. "We'll debrief properly tomorrow."
Nolan collapsed into bed still wearing half his armor, too tired to bother removing it. Sleep claimed him almost instantly.
The nightmares came anyway.
Fire. Screaming. His mother's face, frozen in shock. Beatrix calling his name. Bryce's flames sputtering out. His father's dying words—find Kaelen, learn control, don't let it consume you.
And underneath it all, that voice. That terrible, seductive voice.
"You could have saved them."
Nolan jerked awake, gasping, his room dark except for the faint pre-dawn light creeping through the window. His hands were glowing blue, energy crackling around his fingers without his conscious intent.
Bad dreams? Diablo asked, tone almost sympathetic. I could take those away, you know. Block the memories. Make it all... easier.
"Get out of my head," Nolan whispered, forcing his hands to stop glowing through sheer willpower. It took longer than it should have.
I can't. We're bound, you and I. Two halves of one whole, sealed in the same flesh. A pause. But I could make the pain stop. The grief. The guilt. All of it. Just let me—
"No."
You're so stubborn. It's almost admirable.
Nolan gave up on sleep. He cleaned up, changed into fresh clothes, and made his way downstairs. To his surprise, Kaida was already there, sitting at the desk with several books spread around her and what looked like complex notes written in elegant elvish script.
She looked up as he entered. "Can't sleep either?"
"Nightmares," Nolan admitted, settling into a chair. "You?"
"I don't need as much sleep as humans. Elvish biology." She gestured at her work. "I usually use the quiet hours for research. Magical theory, historical texts, anything that might be useful."
Nolan glanced at the books. Most of the titles were in languages he couldn't read, but one caught his eye—Ancient Seal Craft and Containment Rituals.
"Interesting reading," he said carefully.
Kaida followed his gaze and smiled slightly. "Just curiosity. Yesterday during the fight, I noticed the energy pattern you use is... unusual. Not standard elemental magic. I wanted to understand it better."
Alarm bells rang in Nolan's head. Kaida was smart—too smart. If she started digging into his power's origins...
Careful, Diablo warned. The elf is dangerous. Not with strength, but with knowledge.
"It's probably just because I'm self-taught," Nolan said, trying to sound casual. "No formal training, so everything I do is instinctive."
"Perhaps." Kaida studied him for a moment, lavender eyes thoughtful. "Or perhaps there's more to it than that. But—" She closed the book. "Everyone's entitled to their secrets. I won't pry. Just... if you ever want to talk about it, I'm a good listener."
"Thanks. I'll remember that."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Kaida returning to her notes while Nolan simply watched the sun rise through the window. Slowly, the city began to wake—distant sounds of vendors setting up, early risers heading to work, the eternal background hum of Eldoria coming to life.
"Can I ask you something?" Nolan said eventually.
"Of course."
"How long have you three—four now—been working together?"
Kaida set down her pen, a small smile crossing her face. "The Warriors Three formed about two years ago. Selene and Darion knew each other first—they met during an adventurer training program the Guild runs. I joined about six months later when they needed a mage for a particularly difficult contract." She paused, remembering. "I was... not easy to work with initially."
"Really? You seem pretty easygoing now."
"Now, yes. Then?" She laughed softly. "I was arrogant. Fresh from prestigious elvish academies, certain I knew everything, convinced these 'mere adventurers' were beneath my talents. I lasted exactly three missions before Selene sat me down and gave me a very direct conversation about teamwork."
"What did she say?"
"That I could either learn to trust my teammates and work with them, or I could go back to my ivory tower and be brilliant alone. But brilliance without cooperation gets you killed in this line of work." Kaida's expression grew fond. "She was right, of course. And once I stopped trying to prove I was the smartest person in the room and started actually *listening*... everything changed. They became family."
Family. The word hit Nolan harder than he expected.
"I miss that," he said quietly. "Having family."
"I know. I'm sorry." Kaida reached across the table, briefly touching his hand. "But you're building something new here. It's not the same, but... it's something."
Before Nolan could respond, Darion thundered down the stairs, looking far too energetic for someone who'd gotten maybe four hours of sleep.
"Morning! Who's ready for breakfast? I'm making breakfast. Everyone else is terrible at breakfast except me."
"You made breakfast yesterday," Kaida pointed out.
"Because I'm the best at it. My point stands." The dwarf started pulling ingredients from cabinets with practiced efficiency. "Also, we need to talk about team dynamics. Specifically, our new member's complete lack of proper combat training."
Nolan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No offense, kid, but last night you had decent instincts and way too much power with zero technique. That's a recipe for disaster." Darion cracked eggs into a bowl. "So today, after we collect our payment, we're doing some proper training. Controlled environment, no life-or-death stakes, figure out what you can actually do."
"That's... actually a good idea," Nolan admitted.
Selene appeared shortly after, hair still damp from washing, looking more rested than she had any right to. "What's a good idea?"
"Training day," Darion said. "Get the kid some actual combat fundamentals before his next mission."
"Agreed. Though I'd add weapons practice to that. You've got an axe now—you should know how to use it properly." Selene accepted a plate from Darion. "There's a training ground in the Warrior's Quarter we can rent for a few hours."
They ate breakfast while planning the day. After collecting payment from the Adventurer's Guild, they'd spend the afternoon training. Then tomorrow, Nolan had his first mandatory control class at the Mage's Guild.
"Also," Selene said, "my father wanted to see you again, Nolan. Something about those books he mentioned? He said to stop by his study this evening if you have time."
"I will. Thank you."
The minister again, Diablo commented. He's certainly taking an interest in you.
"He's helping me find my grandfather. Of course he's taking an interest."
If you say so.
The Adventurer's Guild was already busy when they arrived mid-morning. They submitted their proof of completion—a tooth from the mana panther, large as Nolan's thumb—and received their payment. The clerk counted out 500 silver, which Selene divided immediately.
"125 each," she said, handing out portions. "Nolan, yours goes toward your equipment debt. You owe... let's see... 280 silver total. So you've got 155 to go."
"One more good contract and you're paid off," Darion said cheerfully. "Then you start actually making money. That's when it gets fun."
Nolan pocketed his remaining silver—nothing, since it all went to debt—and tried not to feel discouraged. This was how it worked. He'd known going in he'd be starting from nothing.
You could take what you need, Diablo suggested. Walk into any bank in this city, demonstrate sufficient power, and they'd give you anything you wanted. Fear is an excellent motivator.
"And then I'd be a criminal and everyone would hunt me. Brilliant plan."
Details.
They left the Guild and headed to the Warrior's Quarter—a district dedicated to martial training, weapon smiths, armor crafters, and everything else a professional fighter might need. The training ground Selene mentioned was a large, open space enclosed by high walls, with practice dummies, target ranges, and sparring circles marked on the ground.
"Rented for three hours," Selene said, paying the attendant. "That should be enough to get started."
Once inside, she turned to Nolan with an expression that made him nervous. "Alright. Show me what you've got. Use your power, but keep it controlled. We need to see what you're working with."
Nolan faced one of the practice dummies—a humanoid shape made of reinforced straw and leather. He raised his hand, calling up the blue energy. It came easily, crackling around his fingers.
Too easily, he thought. *It shouldn't be this easy.
Because I'm helping, Diablo confirmed. Without me, you'd still be powerless. Remember that.
Nolan pushed the energy forward, shaping it—sort of—into a blast. It hit the dummy dead center, scorching the leather and knocking it backward.
"Good power," Selene observed. "Terrible form. You're broadcasting your intent, your energy is wildly inefficient, and you're completely stationary. Any competent fighter would dodge that easily and strike while you're recovering."
"Okay, so... how do I fix it?"
What followed were three hours of the most intense training Nolan had ever experienced. Selene worked on his stance, his movement, his awareness of his surroundings. Darion taught him about reading an opponent's body language, predicting their moves. Kaida helped him understand energy efficiency—how to achieve the same effect with half the mana expenditure.
And through it all, his new axe became an extension of himself. Selene drilled him on basic strikes, blocks, footwork. Nothing fancy, just fundamentals repeated until his muscles remembered.
"Your axe isn't just a backup weapon," she explained during a water break. "It's a focus. Channel your energy through it—don't just swing steel, swing steel and power combined."
Nolan tried, pushing blue energy into the axe as he struck a dummy. The blade bit deep, burning where it cut, and the dummy's torso practically exploded from the combined force.
"Like that," Selene said with satisfaction. "That's what I'm talking about."
By the end of three hours, Nolan was exhausted, soaked in sweat, and covered in bruises from the few times Selene had actually sparred with him (which meant she'd hit him a lot while he failed to hit her even once). But he'd learned more in those three hours than he had in three days of stumbling through forests.
"You're a quick learner," Darion observed as they packed up. "Raw as hell, but quick. Keep this up and you'll be dangerous in a few months."
"Only dangerous?" Nolan asked with a tired grin.
"Kid, you're already dangerous. I meant controlled dangerous. Big difference."
They returned to the townhouse, where Nolan immediately wanted to collapse into bed. But he'd promised to see Varrick, and the minister had been nothing but helpful.
"Go," Selene said when he hesitated. "I'll let you know if anything comes up."
Nolan climbed to the third floor, knocking on the study door.
"Come in," Varrick's voice called.
The minister was at his desk as usual, surrounded by books and papers. But today there were more books than usual—old ones, their covers worn, their pages yellowed.
"Ah, Nolan. Good timing." Varrick gestured to a chair. "Sit, please. I've been doing more research into your grandfather."
Nolan's heart leaped. "You found something?"
"Possibly. The records are frustratingly vague, but I found references to Kaelen working on a project called 'the Containment Initiative' about twenty years ago. It was highly classified—most of the documents are sealed even from ministerial access. But I found this—" He pulled out a single sheet of paper, old and faded. "A requisition form. Kaelen requested materials for 'advanced seal-work, dual-component binding, long-term stability protocols.'"
Nolan leaned forward, studying the paper. The handwriting was precise, careful. His grandfather's handwriting, probably.
"What does that mean? Dual-component binding?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Seal-craft isn't my specialty." Varrick's expression was thoughtful. "But based on my limited understanding, it suggests he was creating a seal meant to be split between two vessels. Something too powerful or too dangerous to contain in one location."
He knows, Diablo said suddenly. Or he suspects. This is dangerous.
"Do you know what he was sealing?" Nolan asked carefully.
"No. The records don't say." Varrick met his eyes. "But whatever it was, it required the expertise of one of the best seal-crafters in Eldoria. It must have been significant."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"There's something else," Varrick said. "I've been thinking about your power. The way Selene described it—unstable, massive, unlike standard elemental magic. And you said you only awakened recently, after trauma." He leaned forward. "Nolan... is it possible you're connected to whatever your grandfather was working on? That perhaps he did something to you as a child?"
Nolan's mouth went dry. How was he supposed to answer that?
Lie, Diablo advised. Or deflect. But don't confirm anything.
"I don't know," Nolan said honestly. "My father never told me anything about my grandfather's work. He just said to find him, that he'd explain everything."
Varrick studied him for another moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I'm sorry—I don't mean to pry into painful subjects. I'm just trying to understand so I can help you better."
"I know. And I appreciate it. Really."
"I'll keep searching. If Kaelen is still in the capital, or if there's any trail to follow, I'll find it." Varrick's expression softened. "In the meantime, take these." He handed Nolan several books. "More reading on mana control and seal theory. The second one especially might be relevant—it discusses what happens when sealed power begins to leak or destabilize."
"Thank you."
As Nolan left the study, books in hand, his mind raced. Varrick was smart. Observant. He was putting pieces together, getting closer to the truth.
He's dangerous, Diablo said. The more he learns, the more dangerous he becomes.
"He's helping me."
Is he? Or is he gathering information? Learning everything he can about you, about what you carry?
"You're paranoid."
I'm experienced. There's a difference.
Nolan returned to his room and tried to focus on the books Varrick had given him. But his concentration was shot. The training had exhausted him physically, and the conversation with Varrick had exhausted him mentally.
He managed maybe an hour of reading before giving up and falling asleep, still in his training clothes.
The next morning brought Nolan's first mandatory control class at the Mage's Guild.
He arrived early, following the directions the registration clerk had given him. The classroom was in the Guild's educational wing—a large, open space with high ceilings and reinforced walls. About a dozen other mages were already there, ranging from teenagers to middle-aged adults. All presumably had control issues like him.
The instructor was a stern-looking elf woman who introduced herself as Master Lyra. "You're here because your power exceeds your control. Some of you awakened recently. Others have struggled for years. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you learn discipline before you hurt someone."
She walked among them, assessing each student. When she reached Nolan, she paused, eyes narrowing.
"Your energy signature is... unusual. Let me see your license."
Nolan handed it over. She studied it, eyebrows rising.
"Advanced Core classification, provisional status, awakened less than a week ago." She looked up at him. "That's an extremely rare progression curve. What's your name?"
"Nolan Thorne."
"Well, Nolan Thorne, you're going to be my special project this session. That much power with that little experience is a disaster waiting to happen." She handed back his license. "Stay after class. We need to discuss your training regimen."
The next two hours were grueling. Master Lyra had them perform what she called "basic exercises"—holding energy steady without releasing it, shaping power into specific forms, maintaining control under distraction. Simple tasks that Nolan found incredibly difficult.
Every time he tried to hold his power steady, it wanted to either explode outward or sink back into his chest. Shaping it into specific forms was like trying to sculpt water. And maintaining control while Master Lyra shouted questions at him or created loud noises? Nearly impossible.
You're fighting yourself, Diablo observed. Fighting me. That's why it's so hard.
"Then help me."
Let me out fully. Let me teach you. I know control better than any teacher in this place.
"No."
Then keep struggling.
By the end of class, Nolan was drenched in sweat and completely drained. Several other students looked similarly exhausted, though none seemed to have struggled quite as much as he had.
"Thorne, stay behind," Master Lyra called as others filed out.
When the room was empty except for them, she gestured for him to sit. "Tell me honestly—how much control do you have over your power?"
"Not much," Nolan admitted. "Sometimes it does what I want. Other times it just... reacts. Especially when I'm emotional or in danger."
"And the source of your power—do you understand it?"
Careful. "Not really. It awakened during trauma. I don't know why or how."
Master Lyra studied him for a long moment. "I've been teaching control classes for thirty years. I've seen hundreds of students with various issues. But you..." She shook her head. "Your power doesn't feel like typical awakened magic. It feels old. Ancient. Like something that's been sleeping and recently woke up."
She's perceptive, Diablo said. Dangerous.
"I don't know what to tell you," Nolan said. "This is all new to me."
"Then let me give you advice: find out. Quickly." Her expression was deadly serious. "Because power like yours, without understanding, without proper foundation? It will consume you. I've seen it happen. Young mages who thought they could control forces they didn't understand. It never ends well."
"I'm trying to learn. That's why I'm here."
"Good. Then here's what we're going to do." She pulled out a training schedule. "You'll attend my class twice weekly—mandatory. But you'll also meet with me privately once a week for specialized instruction. Your case requires more intensive work than group classes can provide."
"I can't really afford—"
"I'm not charging you. Consider it professional concern for public safety. If you lose control in the middle of the city..." She didn't finish the thought. "We'll start next week. In the meantime, practice the exercises I showed you today. Every day, at least an hour. Consistency is key."
Nolan left the Guild feeling both grateful and overwhelmed. Master Lyra was offering him crucial help, but her warnings echoed in his head. It will consume you.
She's not wrong, Diablo said. Without proper control, without understanding what you carry, eventually I'll break free. Not because I want to—well, I do want to—but because the seal will simply fail. Your father's work was never meant to last forever.
"Then I'll learn control before that happens."
We'll see.
Nolan returned to the townhouse to find his teammates gathered around the desk, studying a contract posting.
"There you are," Selene said. "How was class?"
"Exhausting. Apparently I'm a 'special project.'"
"That sounds ominous," Darion observed.
"The instructor wants me to do extra private training. She's concerned about my power level."
"As she should be," Kaida said, not unkindly. "But that's good—extra instruction will help."
"Speaking of help," Selene said, "we've got a new contract. C-rank, decent pay. Escort mission—taking a merchant caravan through contested territory. Three days there and back. You up for it?"
Three days away from the city. Away from Master Lyra's watchful eye, away from Varrick's well-meaning questions, away from everything pressing in on him.
"Yeah," Nolan said. "I'm in."
"Good. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Get some rest tonight—it's going to be a long trip."
As his teammates discussed logistics, Nolan felt something almost like normalcy settling over him. He had a team. He had training. He had purpose, however temporary.
Enjoy it while it lasts, Diablo whispered. Nothing good ever does.
But for once, Nolan didn't listen.