Astraeus woke to afternoon sunlight streaming through his window, his body stiff and sore but rested. He'd slept for nearly six hours straight, the deepest sleep he'd had since his resurrection. His essence pool had fully regenerated, and the exhaustion that had weighed on him like a physical burden had lifted.
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 90/90]
[STAMINA: 100/100]
[HEALTH: 140/140]
He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders and feeling the protest of muscles pushed beyond their limits. The Voidborn nest felt like a distant memory already, though it had been less than a day. That was the strange thing about life-or-death situations—they were intensely vivid in the moment, then faded quickly once survival was assured.
You're getting used to danger, Kha'Zul observed. That's good. Fear is useful, but constant terror is exhausting.
"I'm not sure 'getting used to it' is the right phrase. More like... accepting it as normal.
"Same thing. You're adapting. That's what survivors do.
Astraeus stood and stretched, then examined his new Apprentice badge. It was similar to the Initiate badge but marked with a silver star, and when he focused on it, information appeared in his vision.
[GUILD RANK: APPRENTICE]
[PRIVILEGES UNLOCKED:]
•Advanced Training Facilities Access
•Intermediate Task Board Access
•Guild Library (Restricted Section)
•Equipment Requisition (Basic)
•Essence Chamber Access (2 hours per week)
The last one caught his attention. Essence Chamber. He'd heard other mages mention it but never understood what it was.
It's a room saturated with concentrated essence, Kha'Zul explained. Designed to accelerate training and recovery. Two hours in an essence chamber is equivalent to a full day of meditation for essence cultivation. It's a valuable resource.
"Why only two hours per week?"
Because it's expensive to maintain and there are limited chambers. Higher ranks get more time. Journeymen get five hours, Masters get unlimited access.
Something to work toward, then. Astraeus made a mental note to use his two hours wisely.
He cleaned up, changed into fresh robes, and headed downstairs. The common room of the Copper Bell was moderately busy with afternoon patrons, and he ordered a late lunch from the innkeeper—roasted chicken, fresh bread, and vegetables that actually tasted like something other than trail rations.
While he ate, he pulled out the skill book he'd received from the guild: "Intermediate Essence Constructs." He'd been too busy to read it before, but now seemed like a good time.
The book was dense with theory and practical exercises, explaining how to create complex essence structures that could exist independently of the caster. Things like autonomous barriers, essence-based scouts, and even simple golems. It was advanced material, probably meant for third or fourth-year academy students, but Astraeus found he could follow it with Kha'Zul's occasional commentary.
This is basic construct theory, the demon said as Astraeus read. Useful for a human mage, but limited. True construct mastery requires understanding essence as a living thing, not just a tool. The book treats it like building with blocks. That works, but it's inefficient.
"Can you teach me the better way?"
Eventually. But learn the basics first. You need to understand the rules before you can break them effectively.
Astraeus spent two hours reading and practicing simple constructs—small spheres of essence that could float independently, maintaining their shape without constant attention. It was harder than it looked, requiring a delicate balance of power and control. Too much power and the construct destabilized. Too little and it collapsed.
[SKILL LEARNED: BASIC ESSENCE CONSTRUCTS (1/100)]
By the time evening arrived, he could maintain three small constructs simultaneously for about thirty seconds before his concentration faltered. Progress, but nowhere near the level described in the book's advanced chapters.
Patience, Kha'Zul reminded him. You're learning in days what takes others months. Don't rush.
A knock on his door interrupted his practice. He opened it to find Lyra, dressed in casual clothes rather than her guild robes, grinning at him.
"Ready to celebrate not dying?"
"Absolutely. Where are we going?"
"The Brass Griffin. It's a tavern near the merchant district—good food, better drinks, and they don't mind if mages get a little rowdy. Darius and Thomas are already there."
They walked through the evening streets of Thornhaven, the city alive with activity as people finished their workdays and began their leisure time. Lanterns were being lit along the main roads, casting warm pools of light that pushed back the gathering darkness.
The Brass Griffin was exactly as advertised—a large, boisterous tavern filled with laughter and conversation. Darius and Thomas had claimed a corner table and already had drinks in front of them. They waved as Astraeus and Lyra approached.
"The heroes arrive!" Thomas called out, raising his mug. "Took you long enough."
"Some of us actually bathed before coming out in public," Lyra shot back, sliding into a seat.
"I bathed. I just didn't spend an hour doing it."
Astraeus sat down, and a server appeared almost immediately, taking their orders. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of the mission completely gone. These were people who'd survived something dangerous together and were now enjoying the simple fact of being alive.
"So," Darius said once drinks had arrived, "what are you all planning next? More missions? Training? Taking a break?"
"I'm thinking about the northern expedition," Thomas said. "The one the guild's been recruiting for. Apparently there's a cluster of rifts opening in the Northern Territories, and they need experienced teams to investigate."
"That's at least a month-long commitment," Lyra said. "Maybe longer. I'm not sure I'm ready for that."
"What about you, Astraeus?" Darius asked. "You've got options now. Apprentice rank opens a lot of doors."
"I want to train," Astraeus said. "Get stronger, learn more. The Voidborn nest was successful, but I was running on empty by the end. If there'd been one more creature, or if the rift had taken longer to seal, we'd have been in serious trouble."
"Smart," Darius approved. "Power is good, but control and endurance are better. A mage who can fight for hours is worth ten who burn out in minutes."
"I'm also curious about the restricted section of the library," Astraeus admitted. "I want to learn more about dimensional magic, Voidborn behavior, anything that might help with future encounters."
"The restricted section is fascinating," Lyra said. "I spent weeks there when I made Apprentice. Just be careful—some of that knowledge is restricted for good reasons. There are techniques in there that can kill you if you practice them wrong."
Or drive you insane, Kha'Zul added. Dimensional magic is dangerous even for experienced practitioners. One mistake and you could tear a hole in reality with yourself at the center.
"I'll be careful," Astraeus promised.
They talked for hours, the conversation flowing easily from mission stories to guild politics to personal histories. Astraeus learned that Darius had been a soldier before joining the guild, that Thomas came from a family of mages and felt constant pressure to excel, that Lyra had grown up in a mining town and developed her earth magic by helping her father in the tunnels.
In turn, he shared a carefully edited version of his own story—the academy, the bandit attack, the awakening of Shadow, his journey to Thornhaven. It was mostly true, just missing the parts about dying and binding a Demon King to his soul.
"Do you ever miss it?" Lyra asked. "Your old life, before Shadow?"
Astraeus considered the question. Did he miss being a frightened academy student who froze in combat? Did he miss the certainty of a planned future, the comfort of routine?
"No," he said honestly. "That person was weak. Afraid. I'm not saying I'm glad I was attacked, but... I'm not sorry about who I've become because of it."
"That's a healthy attitude," Darius said. "A lot of people get stuck mourning who they were instead of embracing who they are. You're young to have figured that out."
"Dying helps with perspective," Astraeus said, then caught himself. "I mean, almost dying."
But Thomas had caught the slip. "You said dying, not almost dying."
Astraeus's heart rate spiked, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Figure of speech. When that Voidborn was reaching for my face, I was certain I was dead. It felt like dying."
Thomas studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I've had a few moments like that myself."
The conversation moved on, but Astraeus felt Kha'Zul's attention sharpen.
You need to be more careful with your words. Slips like that could unravel everything.
"I know. I'll watch it."
The evening stretched on, drinks flowing, food arriving in waves, laughter echoing through the tavern. At some point, Garrett Thorne—Marcus's nephew—spotted them and came over, congratulating them on the successful mission and buying a round of drinks. Other guild members stopped by to offer their respect or ask questions about the Voidborn nest.
Astraeus realized he was becoming known. Not famous, but recognized. People knew his name, knew what he'd accomplished. It was strange and slightly uncomfortable, but also... satisfying. He'd earned this recognition through real achievement, not family connections or political maneuvering.
By the time they left the Brass Griffin, it was late, and Astraeus was pleasantly tired in a way that had nothing to do with combat or danger. This was the tiredness of good company and genuine connection, of being part of something larger than himself.
"Same time next week?" Lyra suggested as they parted ways. "Assuming we all survive whatever missions we take?"
"Assuming that," Darius agreed with a grin. "Try not to die, everyone."
"You too," Astraeus said.
He walked back to the Copper Bell alone, the night air cool and clear, the streets quiet. Above, stars shone bright and distant, indifferent to the struggles of the people below. Somewhere out there, dimensional barriers were failing. Voidborn were breaking through. Ethereal Lords waited in the spaces between realities.
But tonight, he was alive, he had friends, and he had purpose.
That was enough.
Back in his room, Astraeus pulled up his status screen, reviewing his progress.
[LEVEL: 6]
[HEALTH: 140/140]
[ETHEREAL ESSENCE: 90/90]
[STAMINA: 100/100][ATTRIBUTES:]
•Strength: 12
•Agility: 14
•Intelligence: 21
•Wisdom: 12
•Constitution: 13
[SKILLS:]
•Intermediate Ethereal Manipulation (45/200)
•Basic Dimensional Sealing (15/100)
•Basic Combat Techniques (35/100)
•Basic Essence Constructs (1/100)
[GUILD RANK: APPRENTICE]
[FUNDS: 100 gold, 23 silver]
He was stronger than he'd been two weeks ago. Faster, smarter, more capable. But the gap between where he was and where he needed to be was still enormous. The Voidborn nest had proven that—he'd barely survived, and that was against relatively weak creatures.
When he faced an Ethereal Lord, he'd need to be a hundred times stronger. A thousand times.
You will be, Kha'Zul said quietly. This is just the beginning of your journey. You have time, and you have me. We'll get there.
"How long did it take you to reach your full power?"
Three thousand years. But I was building from nothing, learning everything through trial and error. You have my knowledge to draw from, which accelerates the process considerably. If you push yourself, train relentlessly, face every challenge without hesitation... maybe fifty years.
"Fifty years," Astraeus repeated. "I'll be sixty-seven."
And you'll be a god. That's worth a few decades, isn't it?
"I suppose it is."
Astraeus lay down, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the path ahead. Fifty years of training, fighting, growing. Fifty years of facing Voidborn, sealing rifts, building power. Fifty years of keeping secrets, maintaining lies, walking the line between human and something more.
It should have been daunting. Overwhelming.
Instead, it felt like purpose.
He closed his eyes and let sleep take him, dreaming of silver-blue essence and crimson-black shadows, of rifts sealed and battles won, of a distant future where he stood as something more than human, facing threats that would make Voidborn look like children's nightmares.
And in that future, he wasn't alone.
He had Shadow.
He had friends.
He had time.
That would be enough.
It had to be.