I stretched my arms as the sun filtered through the small window in the Worn Hearth’s kitchen. I had already helped Bertha prepare for the breakfast crowd and cleaned up afterward, my movements now familiar and efficient. I was just finishing stacking the last of the washed plates when Bertha walked in.

“Harriet, come sit for a moment,” Bertha said, her voice calm but firm. She gestured to the wooden chair by the hearth. I set the plates down and wiped my hands on my apron, curiosity piqued as I joined Bertha by the fire. “You’ve done good work this past week, girl,” Bertha began, her tone light but purposeful. “I’ve been watching, and you’ve proven you’re not afraid of hard labor. But you’re wearing yourself out. It’s time we made some adjustments.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. “Adjustments?”

Bertha nodded. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll only need you to work the evening rush. The mornings and afternoons can be yours to do with as you please. You’ve earned that much. Meals and your room will still be provided, and if you want to help with odd jobs during the day, I’ll pay you a few coppers for your trouble.”

“Room?” I repeated, my voice catching. I had grown used to sleeping by the hearth, the warmth of the fire a comfort I hadn’t realised I needed.

“Aye,” Bertha replied with a faint smile. “We’ve cleared out my son’s old room upstairs. There’s a cot in there, and it’ll give you a bit of privacy. It’s time you had a proper place to sleep, girl. You’re not some slave to be worked into the ground.”

I shook my head, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “I… I don’t want to be a burden. The hearth is fine…”

Bertha cut me off with a raised hand. “Nonsense. You’ve already paid your way. And besides, you’ll work better if you’re rested. Now, no more arguing. The room’s yours.”

I hesitated, my throat tight with emotion. “Thank you, Bertha,” I said softly. “I… I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”

Bertha waved me off with a chuckle. “Just keep doing good work and don’t let Garret scare you off with his grumbling. That’ll be payment enough.”

The next morning, I awoke in my new room. The cot was small but comfortable, and the modest wooden desk and chair made the space feel almost homely. Glowbug perched on the windowsill, its tail softly illuminating the room as the first light of dawn crept in.

For the first time in days, I had no immediate obligations. I dressed in the sturdy clothes Bertha had given me and sat on the edge of the cot, considering how to spend my day. Glowbug chirped, fluttering to my shoulder as if sensing my indecision.

“You’re right,” I murmured, stroking Glowbug’s shimmering head. “I should go see more of Eldston.”

With that resolve, I stepped outside. The village was already stirring, its cobblestone paths bustling with activity. Farmers pushed carts laden with fresh produce, children darted between houses, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed from the forge.

My first stop was the market square. The air was rich with the scent of baked goods and spices, and vendors called out their wares from brightly coloured stalls. I stopped at the edge of the square, feeling both excited and overwhelmed.

“Morning, lass!” a cheerful voice called out. I turned to see a stout woman with a warm smile, standing behind a stall piled high with loaves of bread. “You’re the one working at The Worn Hearth, aren’t you? Bertha’s told me about you. Come, try a bit of my honeyed bread.”

I stepped closer, my stomach growling at the sight of the golden loaf. “Thank you,” I said shyly, accepting the small piece the woman handed me. The bread was soft and sweet, and my eyes widened at the flavor.

“It’s wonderful,” I said, my voice sincere.

The woman beamed. “You’re welcome anytime, lass. Name’s Greta. If you ever need a treat, just say so.”

I nodded, my confidence bolstered by the friendly exchange. I spent the morning wandering through the market, meeting more villagers, and learning about the goods they sold. By the time the sun reached its zenith, I felt more at ease among the bustling crowd.

In the early afternoon, I wandered toward the blacksmith’s forge, drawn by the rhythmic clang of metal on metal. The smith, a broad-shouldered man with soot-streaked skin, looked up as I approached.

“New face,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “You’re Bertha’s new help, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m Harriet.”

“Alden,” the smith replied, setting his hammer down. “Good to meet you. If you ever need tools or repairs, you know where to find me.”

I thanked him and lingered for a moment, watching as he worked. The heat of the forge and the strength in Alden’s movements were mesmerising. After watching him pull the glowing metal from the flames and strike it with the precision that could only be gained with years of experience, I turned, returning to my exploration of the small settlement. When the afternoon drew towards evening, I again had returned to work and was either flitting from table to table with trays of drinks or had my hands in the sink washing a never-ending stack of dishes.

As the days passed, my routine began to include more of these explorations. I met the miller, a jovial man who let me watch as he ground grain into flour, and the apothecary, a quiet woman who spoke in soft tones as she arranged jars of herbs and potions. Each interaction added to my growing sense of belonging.

I also began to recognise the regular patrons of The Worn Hearth outside of the tavern. One afternoon, I encountered Torrin near the edge of the village, examining the fletching on an arrow.

“You’re out and about,” Torrin remarked, glancing up as I approached.

I nodded. “Bertha gave me some time off. I… thought I’d explore a bit.”

Torrin grunted in acknowledgment. “Good. This place is small, but it’s got its charm. Just watch yourself if you go near the woods.”

I shivered at the thought of the forest and nodded. “I’ll be careful… and I don’t think I’ll be going back to that forest if I can avoid it.”

Torrin raised an eyebrow, “You really did come out of there, then?” he asked, “Not many can say they’ve been through those woods and lived to tell about it. I’ve only ever dared to explore the edges—never far from the standing stones. The further in you go, the more dangerous it gets.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let’s just say I had an interesting time. The forest didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.”

“I’d imagine not. How did you manage to stay alive out there?”

“I …guess I didn’t have enough meat on me to make a decent meal for the monsters,” I said.

Torrin laughed, a low, rumbling sound that seemed genuine. “Well, you must have done something right to make it here. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. If you ever feel like sharing what you saw in there, I’d be keen to listen. Knowledge about that forest is worth its weight in gold around here.”

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I gave him a faint smile, unsure if I wanted to relive my experience just yet. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Fair enough. Stay safe, lass. And remember—there’s more to surviving here than just keeping your head down.”

With that, he turned his attention back to his arrows, leaving me to ponder his words. As I walked back toward the market, Glowbug hummed softly on my shoulder, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t navigating this strange new world entirely alone.

As I made my way toward Greta’s stall to purchase a loaf of honeyed bread, a sudden commotion ahead caught my attention. A wagon, its wheel splintered, tilted precariously to the side. The sharp crack of wood splintering echoed through the market as it collapsed fully, sending its cargo tumbling onto the cobblestones. A child who had been playing nearby cried out as one of the wooden beams struck him, knocking him to the ground.

Glowbug zipped off my shoulder, its shimmering form darting through the air toward the injured boy. I froze in shock as Glowbug hovered over the child, its tail pulsing with light. The luminescence grew brighter, a soft hum filling the air as Glowbug’s Resonance ability activated. The child’s cries quieted, his soft breaths evening out as the healing light enveloped him.

The boy’s mother rushed forward, her face pale with fear. She knelt beside her son, her hands trembling as she checked him over. Her wide eyes darted to Glowbug, then to me. “What… what did it do?” she asked, her voice tight with both gratitude and unease.

“Glowbug… healed him,” I said softly, stepping closer. “He’ll be okay now.”

The woman’s gaze flicked between her son and my glowing friend. Relief softened her features, but it was quickly replaced by a guarded expression. She scooped her child into her arms, holding him tightly. “You should be careful,” she said in a hushed tone, her eyes narrowing. “Not everyone in Eldston would react kindly to seeing magic. There are those who… wouldn’t stay quiet about it.”

My stomach twisted. “I didn’t mean any harm,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Glowbug just wanted to help.”

The woman’s expression softened slightly. “I’m grateful my son is safe,” she said, her tone still cautious. “But people here… they’re afraid of what they don’t understand. And those who meddle with magic often go missing. Keep your creature under control, for your own sake.”

I nodded, my chest tight with anxiety. As the woman carried her son away, Glowbug returned to my shoulder, its light dim and uncertain. I reached up to stroke its shimmering head, murmuring, “Thank you for helping him. It was the right thing to do, little buddy. But… we’ll have to be more careful from now on.”

I continued on to the bakery, my earlier excitement at getting a sweet treat dulled by the encounter. As I handed over a few coppers for a small loaf of honeyed bread, I couldn’t help but glance around the market. The weight of the woman’s warning hung heavy in my mind. For now, I would need to tread lightly—and protect both Glowbug and myself from the dangers that fear and suspicion could bring.

That afternoon, sun poured through the Worn Hearth's small windows, streaking the wooden floors with warm gold. I sat cross legged in front of the hearth, tickling Glowbug’s belly as it purred loudly and rolled lazily on its back. From the kitchen, I could hear Bertha bustling about, the clang of pots and pans mingling with the soft crackle of the hearth.

"Hattie!" Bertha’s voice rang out, cutting through the quiet. "Can you run an errand? We’re low on meat, and it’s past time to pick up the order from Wilfrid."

I stepped into the kitchen. "Of course," I said, "Where’s the butcher?"

Bertha paused mid-stir, her spoon hovering over a bubbling pot. Her eyes flicked to me, not with surprise exactly, but with something close to curiosity. "You’ve not been to Wilfrid’s yet?"

"No, I haven’t. Could you give me directions?"

Bertha’s eyebrows twitched, but her tone was steady and kind. "Directions? Lass, why not let me share the location with you? You can mark it on your map."

I blinked at her, confused. "Mark it on my map? I don’t know how that works."

Bertha’s face softened. "Ah, I see. Well, there’s no shame in it. If no one taught you, how would you know? Everyone should learn these things, but not everyone has someone to show them. Come on, sit down. I’ll walk you through it."

Her assumption hit me squarely, but I said nothing to correct her. It was easier to let her think whatever she wanted—maybe that I was an orphan. The real reason for my ignorance was too strange to share, though perhaps her thinking that I had nobody in the world who cared about me was pretty accurate. I sat at the kitchen table, my curiosity mingling with a faint unease. Bertha settled in the chair across from me and leaned back. Her fingers moved deftly in the air, tapping invisible prompts. A soft chime echoed in my head, and a notification popped up in my vision.

Bertha Calloway wants to share a map location: Wilfrid’s Butcher Shop.

Accept? Yes/no

I hesitated, then focused on the word “Accept.” The faint sound of a bell followed, and a glowing marker appeared on the edge of my map interface, highlighting a spot labeled "Wilfrid’s."

"There you go," Bertha said with a small smile. "That marker will guide you straight to Wilfrid’s shop. Your map can be a handy tool if you know how to use it. Focus on that point of reference now; you’ll see an overlay of the direction you need to go while you walk about in the village. Helps you to not get lost."

I did as she suggested, and a flashing green arrow pointing out of the door was overlaid on the floor, like some kind of augmented reality GPS. "I see it," I said softly, marveling at how intuitive it felt to use this part of the Map function.

"Good. Now, there’s more you can do with the system than just maps," Bertha said, her tone turning practical. "Do you know how to join a party?"

I shook my head again. "No. Not really ever needed to do that."

"Let’s fix that. Say you and someone else needed to work together on something—like a hunt or a big job, harvesting in an orchard or something. You can form a party to keep track of each other’s locations and share certain system functions. Here, let’s give it a try."

Bertha Calloway has invited you to join a temporary party.

Accept? Yes/no

I accepted, and the edges of my vision glowed faintly. A small icon of Bertha appeared in the lower corner, showing her direction and distance from me.

"See?" Bertha said, gesturing. "Now we’re in a party. If I wandered off or got into trouble, you’d know where to find me. It’s simple but effective. You can press the icon for that person and it will send an alert requesting help. So if for instance you were picking apples and you fell out of a tree and broke your leg, they could come find you."

"That’s… a very specific example."

“I’ll tell you the whole story another time. Let’s just say Garret hasn’t climbed a tree since then. It was years ago, mind you.”

I chuckled at the mental image of Old Garret up a tree, but composed myself, “The party feature seems pretty useful!”

Bertha gave my shoulder a quick, reassuring pat. "It is. You’ve had it rough, haven’t you? Sounds like you’ve done a lot of learning the hard way without anyone to show you how stuff works. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters."

Her words tugged at something deep in me, but I pushed it aside. "What else should I know?"

"The inventory tracker," she said with a knowing smile. "This one’s a lifesaver, especially if you’re carrying a lot. Open your system menu and look for the inventory section. It will only track items you have with you right now, so if you put your bag down and move more than a meter away, it will not show you what is in there."

I followed her instructions, and a new interface unfolded. A list of my belongings appeared, neatly categorized. The few things in my pockets were highlighted, each tagged with weight and details. I let out a small, awed breath.

"See that?" Bertha said. "It tracks everything you’re carrying. Need to find something specific, or count how many of something are in your bag? Just search for it by writing the name of the item in the box at the top there. Saves you from rummaging through your pack like a squirrel after its last nut."

I laughed despite myself. "This is incredible. I can’t believe I’ve been fumbling around like this for so long."

Bertha’s smile widened. "Well, you won’t have to anymore. Most folk around here take the system for granted. When folks get full access at sixteen, usually it’s the parents who teach them, or an older sibling or other family member. But it’s good you’re learning now. You’ll catch on quick, I’m sure."

For the next few minutes, I explored the inventory tracker, marking items I used most often and testing its search function. It was seamless and intuitive, a tool that felt like it had been waiting for me to discover it.

Bertha eventually rose from her chair, stretching slightly. "You’re all set now. Just follow the marker to Wilfrid’s, and he’ll have the order ready. If you run into any trouble, let me know when you get back."

I stood too, grateful for her patient guidance. "Thanks, Bertha. For everything."

She waved a hand dismissively, though her smile was warm. "Go on now. Wilfrid won’t wait all afternoon."

Stepping out into the cool air, I adjusted my cloak and focused on the green arrow marker in my vision. The streets of Eldston stretched ahead, and I felt a little more confident in finding my way here.