I found Trendil in the kitchen, a lavish spread already laid out on the long wooden table—more food than I had seen in months. Plates of meats, cheeses, fresh bread, and bowls overflowing with fruit were arranged as if meant to feed an entire battalion. The rich, savory smells filled the room, making my stomach growl and my mouth water before I even sat down.

"Come in, lad. Take a seat," Trendil called with a welcoming grin. "There’s plenty to go around. Tuck in—better than what we’ve had on the road, eh?"

Trendil had bathed and trimmed his beard, which now appeared darker, more black than grey. His plain light orange tunic flowed loosely over his frame, erasing the sharp, battle-worn edge that had clung to him since we’d met. Gone was the hardened traveler; in front of me sat a man who could have easily been mistaken for a noble gentleman, his lines of worry and hard work washed away along with the dirt from his face.

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I sat across from him and immediately reached for a piece of meat on the bone. The warm juices flooded my mouth as I bit into the seasoned flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I couldn’t suppress a sigh of contentment. Ros had always been a decent cook, but her meals, hearty as they were, lacked the refinement and spices I had known in Allensmore, in my previous life. I suspected spices weren’t common around here—at least, not until now. And at the farm, there was never enough to go around; it was always first come, first served. If you were late, you missed out. But here, this... this was pure indulgence.

Between bites of tender meat and rich cheese, I scanned the room. I neglected the fruit—it wasn’t filling enough for the pit in my stomach that felt bottomless. The kitchen was enormous, more suited to a keep or a stately manor than a hidden mountain sanctuary. It was easily big enough for a team of cooks and servants to bustle about, yet only Trendil and I occupied the space. No used pots or pans cluttered the stove or wash area either, and everything was spotless. How could he have bathed, cooked, and cleaned all this? Unless I had slept far longer than I thought, there simply hadn’t been enough time for him to prepare all this on his own.

We ate mostly in silence, the sounds of tearing meat and the occasional pouring of wine the only noise between us. Oh, how I had missed wine. There was none at the farm, not even for Ged. The wine here was rich, with a sweetness I hadn’t tasted in years. It flowed down my throat smoothly, warming my chest. I belched loudly, so much so that I half-expected to startle deer at the base of the mountain.

“You might want to take it easy on the wine, lad,” Trendil chuckled, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It takes some getting used to. Can be the downfall of many a man.”

I smirked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’ve had my fair share of drink, more than most. If it’s cold and wet, I’ll drink until the bottle’s dry and still be fit for work the next day.”

Trendil raised an eyebrow and gave me a quizzical look, tilting his head as though surprised by the boast. I suppose it did sound ridiculous, coming from someone who looked like a lad barely sixteen, claiming the tolerance of a seasoned drunkard. The wine had loosened my tongue, but I let the thought drift away. I wasn’t ready to reveal the truth to Trendil—not yet.

He’d saved my life, and he’d been kind enough, but that didn’t mean I could be careless. They had killed and burned the farm just because they suspected magic. Until I learned more, I had to be careful.

Taking a slice of darker meat seasoned with exotic purple and green spices, and a sizable chunk of cheese, I leaned back in my chair and fixed my gaze on Trendil. “You mentioned before... or, rather, you asked if I was a Bloodburn, Windgeist, or something else. What exactly do you mean by that? What are these things?”

Trendil finished gnawing the last scraps of meat from the bone, dropped it onto the plate in front of him, and sucked at his teeth, cleaning them with his tongue. He took his time, as if savoring the moment, before finally answering.

“Magic, lad,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate. “Magic. There are many forces in this world, more than even I know, and they all rely on one thing. Without it, they’re nothing... they die.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, as if expecting me to finish his thought. When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head slightly and continued, his tone soft but purposeful.

“Elithria,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue with a reverence I hadn’t expected. “That’s what we call it. It’s the essence of life itself—it’s what makes your heart beat, what makes the seeds sprout and push their roots into the earth, what keeps your lungs expanding and contracting with every breath. Elithria is everywhere, in everything. Without it, there is only death.”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes catching the light of the lanterns hanging on the walls. “Elithria comes in many forms. In its purest, most unfiltered state, it flows from the soul itself—raw, untamed, and with the right soul, limitless. With enough of it, you could create or destroy entire worlds. But don’t worry,” he added with a wry smile. “No one can tap into that kind of power. It’s too pure. We need it weakened, filtered, to harness it—and there are many ways to do that.”

I sat up straighter, intrigued despite myself, as Trendil gestured vaguely with his hand.

“Through blood, air, water... all of them work in similar ways, each one filtering the Elithria in a form we can handle,” he explained. “A Bloodburn, for example, extracts Elithria directly from their own blood, infusing it into the world. The power they wield is raw and intense, creating heat that can be turned into devastating force. But it comes at a price. The more they use it, the more blood they burn away. If used correctly, the body regenerates the blood. But push it too far... and the user burns themselves out. They die.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I chewed thoughtfully on my meat, the rich flavor now forgotten as I absorbed Trendil’s words.

“Then you’ve got Windgeists, like myself,” he said, tapping his chest. “We feel the Elithria in our lungs, in every breath we take. We call upon it, manipulating the air around us. But the cost is our breath itself. Too much, and we’re left gasping, our very life force drained away.”

He paused, glancing at me to gauge my reaction before continuing. “Waterworkers... well, they tap into the water within their bodies, and believe me, there’s a lot of water in a person. But overuse shrivels them up like a dry husk. It’s not a pretty sight.”

His voice grew quieter, almost somber, as he added, “And then there are the Bonebreakers. They can feel the Elithria in their bones, unlocking incredible strength. They’re rare, though. The Ministry—those bastards—have... tests. Unspeakable ones, to find them. If they suspect someone’s a Bonebreaker, they’ll trap them under a heavy cart, set it on fire, and wait. Either they burn, or they reveal their secret.”

Trendil fell silent, his words softening with the weight of loss. I could sense there was more to that story than he was letting on. He had lost people—people he cared about—to this ruthless pursuit of magic users. For a moment, we both sat in the heavy quiet, only the crackling fire breaking the stillness.

Finally, I spoke, breaking the tension. “So... what does that make me? I know I can light weave. I can create a kind of shield, tendrils of light I can shape and control. It’s like I... I will part of myself into the beams. But then there’s the other thing... that darker thing.”

I didn’t want to give too much away, not yet. I’d already said more than I should have, but when you’re sitting across from a man wielding magic, and you're still recovering from a near-death experience, your mind doesn’t always stay sharp. I hinted that I knew a little light weaving, downplaying what I could really do.

“That’s what we’ll figure out, lad,” Trendil said, his voice thoughtful. “The light weaving you mentioned... could you show me? Not that I doubt you. I sensed something about you from the moment I pulled you off that road, but I’d like to get a measure of it. We can go to the courtyard—it’s a clear sky tonight.”

I hesitated. He had shared so much, and it seemed only fair to share something in return. But I wasn’t ready to reveal everything. Not yet.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Grab that knife, no wait, the ladle, just in case.”

We stepped into the courtyard, the crisp night air enveloping us. The sky was clear, as still and unbroken as a mirror, with the moon hanging low over the western horizon. Its pale glow bathed the courtyard in a soft light, while the stars scattered across the rest of the sky like glistening diamonds. The elements outside were harsh, but here, within this hidden sanctuary, they felt distant, muted by the magic protecting this place.

“Alright,” I said, taking a breath and positioning myself a few feet away from Trendil. “Stand over there. I’ll create a shield, and when I tell you, throw the ladle at me. You might not be able to see the shield at first, but you’ll see its effect.”

I stared up at the sky, my heart quickening. It had been a long time since I had drawn on the light, since I had flexed these muscles. Could I still do it? A thread of doubt curled through my mind, but I pushed it aside. No room for hesitation now.

I reached out, feeling for the tendrils of light in the air around me. It wasn’t as easy as it had been in the Lunarum Vaults. The energy here was different—heavier, more elusive—but I managed to weave it together without too much strain, drawing the light down and shaping it into a protective lattice in front of me. The shield shimmered faintly, barely visible, but I could feel its strength, its resistance as I pushed it a foot away from my body. I willed that other part of me, the deeper power, into my fingers. It surged within me, a dark heat, and with a searing burn through my hands, I snapped the lattice into place.

I was panting by the time I finished, beads of sweat already forming on my forehead despite the cool air. The effort had taken more out of me than I had expected. Good, I thought to myself. It’ll look more believable that I’m new to this.

Through labored breaths, I spoke. “Alright, go ahead... try and hit me with the ladle. Throw it as hard as you—”

Before I could finish, the ladle shot from Trendil’s hand with unnatural speed, hurtling toward me. I barely had time to straighten up when it slammed into the invisible wall of my shield, just a foot in front of me. The force of the impact sent it ricocheting off, clanging against the stone wall of the courtyard before tumbling down the corridor.

“Oops, too hard,” Trendil chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good thing you had that protection in place. Would’ve hurt otherwise.” He giggled, though I could sense the calculation behind his words. “So, you really can light weave... hmmm. Interesting.”

He stepped closer, his tone shifting from playful to inquisitive. “Who was your father, lad? And your mother?”

I hesitated, not expecting the question. “I doubt you’d know them. They died a long time ago.”

“You’d be surprised,” Trendil said, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly, as if searching for something in my expression. There was something unspoken there, a subtle change in his demeanor. He wasn’t telling me everything, but then again, I wasn’t either.

I decided not to push. Neither did he.

“Well, that’s enough excitement for one night,” he said suddenly, his voice returning to its usual lightness. “Help yourself to more food if you’re hungry. Don’t worry about cleaning up.” He turned and started walking toward the library, his pace brisk, his mood seemingly shifting in an instant. “I’ll meet you here at first light. We’ll get to work then.”

I stood there for a moment, slightly taken aback by his sudden change. His mood had shifted like the wind, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. But he clearly wanted to be alone, so I let him go.

I made my way back to the kitchen, filling a plate with more meat and cheese and grabbing a full bottle of wine. I took them back to my room, my mind still reeling from everything that had happened tonight. Trendil’s probing questions, the strength of his magic, the ease with which he seemed to command this place—it was all too much to process at once.

I settled into bed, the warmth of the blankets wrapping around me as I took a long swig of wine. Tomorrow, I’d meet him again. Tomorrow, we’d begin whatever it was he had planned for me.