Time flowed differently within the cavern's blanket of dark. There was no day or night here, only endless, biting gloom. Whenever I felt tired, I curled up in my blanket within some hidden crevice and rested; when hungry, I tore into my rations. Two or maybe three days? I wasn't sure how long I had wandered the underground halls. So far, there had only been one other encounter within the caves. A short scuffle with a lone ratman, but with heightened grasp of both fire and wind, I had made short work of the foul critter. Its ears now lay bundled up with the rest, awaiting to be turned in for silver.

I found myself testing my newfound prowess as I continued onwards. It turned out to not only be a heightened sense and control of the magic within the elements, but I found that the magnitude and shapes I could produce came in a wide variety that had previously only existed within my imagination. Just like when first discovering the wonders of conjuring flame, I played and explored. Time spent, just sitting in the solemn underground, testing the boundaries of what I could do.

I managed to compress an orb into a pearl of white that shone so brilliantly, it would have blinded me even in the clear of day. I spent a long time in hiding, waiting for my sight to return after that. I whispered for more and hotter, brighter and wider. The possibilities seemed endless. Though conjuring large amounts of fire still took its fair time, and I could feel a strange fatigue afterwards, the lone orb was lone no more. At most, I could now produce three floating balls at the same time without the need to stay concentrated on either of them. Even more thrilling was that whenever I sent one hurtling, with new and improved speed thereto, I would call another to take its place. I had tried it against the ratman, bombarding it with a volley of scorching balls that shone with the same vibrant yellow as their predecessors, but with a core shifting from white to soft blue. Beautifully swirling, but devastatingly destructive.

I must have been truly engrossed in discovery, because I didn't notice the nearing grunts and yelps until they were just around the bend. The chatter had begun to escalate the moment the light of my fire reached whatever creatures were coming my way, and hastily I threw off my backpack and jerked the sheath from my shacksa. It wasn't three or four sculks that warily hunched against the moist wall and stepped into sight—it was a full pack of more beasts than I had fingers. There wasn't even time to feel fear. In the very moment the first one hissed and cried out in that gibberish tongue of theirs, I let fire rain upon them.

Balls of scorching flame trailed through the darkness as explosions quaked the very walls around us. Chaos ensued. One or two reached close enough to take a swing with their primitive weapons, but the shacksa's bladed edge met them in swift return as I swung and stumbled. Something sharp grazed the side of my head as I tried to regain my balance, and I could hear the clinking of metal against the stone behind me. A stinging pain pulsed from just above the temple to my right ear, and I could feel something wet and warm running down the side of my face.

When I looked up, a lone sculk stood with its arm raised as if in anticipation, but seeing me composed and readying a new fiery barrage, it turned and fled, its fearful yelps echoing in the distance, drowned out by those still engulfed in flames. I turned around to see the rusted spear it had thrown at me, most likely taken from another mercenary less fortunate than I had just been.

While the waves of golden thread emerged from within the nearest sculks, I addressed the cut on my head with water from my bag and a ribbon torn from the blanket. The familiar warmth flowed through me, as I once again reached down to harvest the ears of my foes. It struck me that I no longer struggled or retched at the horrible sights and smells that filled the space. Part of the lesson, just as Yarelic had intended, I guess, I concluded, continuing the gruesome toil.

Perhaps it was time to return; I had survived something that would have made even Urax sweat, at least a little, I snickered to myself. And the rations were nearly halved as well. It felt like as good a time as any to return to the surface, back to my comrades and a warm bed.

Strangely, I found myself even missing the noise and hectic air of bustling streets. Maybe I had never been meant for the calm village life; maybe there was something bigger awaiting me within the sturdy walls of Karham. I gathered my belongings and tied the swelling pouch of ears to the backpack, along with the old spear. A few straggling threads of light flowed from a sculk that had made it quite far, back through the tunnel, before succumbing to fire. There were no ears left to be taken from its charred remains, and I continued on, back towards the sun.

It must have taken me a day or two to travel up the tunnel towards the exit. Apart from a smaller spider-like critter that had disappeared into one of the offshoots at the sight of fire, I had not seen or met with anything hostile. Near the large cavern where the first skirmish had taken place, I had, however, met a group of four mercenaries. I remembered to greet them in the mercenary way, my hand raised and my name stated. And while first taken by surprise when I emerged alone from within the dark, they had returned the favor. Their hands glowed violet in the dim light of their torches, just like mine.

The group had apparently been sent to track down a large pack of sculks that had been sighted in the surrounding hills, and they assumed the clash between creatures was part of a growing power struggle within the caves. I didn't care to correct them, but when they asked if I was the one who had taken the ears off of the beasts, I nodded.

"Blessed with luck, and fortunate bugger," they had called me, without knowing my struggles. I had made sure to put out my fire before I approached them, and so their visible confusion regarding blackened skins and fur, remained unresolved.

The early morning sun caressed my wary face as I stepped out into the cool morning breeze. I had entered the cave as a boy, and left—well, maybe not fully a man, but definitely something in between. The short trek back to Karham was refreshing. Clean air and birds singing—how I had missed all of it so very much. I gorged myself on what remained of my rations, mouthed the last few drops of the water, and reveled in the sight of smoke rising on the horizon.

The guild hall was just as chaotic as last time, the bulging space dizzying as I stepped through the doors. With a newfound confidence, I pushed past the rabble towards an unoccupied counter.

"Welcome to the mercenary guild of Karham, what can I help you with?" The monotone voice was all too familiar.

It was the same man who had handled my registration. He didn't seem to recognize me, but meticulously went through the pouch I handed to him, one blackened ear at a time.

"Next time, try to keep them whole," he complained before disappearing into the sideroom.

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When he returned, the glinting pile on his tray looked smaller than I had expected. Is this everything I gambled my life for? For a moment, I regretted returning so soon. What am I even thinking? I'm alive, I made it out!

The clerk looked at me, suspiciously squinting. "Your total comes up to thirty-and-two sculk ears, and another sixteen taken from rattar-ilk. Though some were so badly charred, it was hard to discern them from one another. I'll let it slide this time, but don't make it a habit."

He pushed the tray with the silver forward. "All in all, twenty-and-nine counts of silver, count them if you must."

I didn't; instead, I stared at the small pile with some embarrassment. "I don't have a clean pouch to put them in," I mumbled.

But the man was quick to reply, "I suspected that might be the case."

He removed a coin from the tray, and replaced it with four copper ones he took from a drawer behind the counter, along with a small, brown leather pouch. I thanked him and collected my riches within it, then headed for the door. Excited to greet my glum, nasal teacher, and return to him what I owed. There were no shouts of "fresh meat" as I passed; in fact, bloodspattered and worn, I had blended in just perfectly.

I pushed the heavy door aside and entered into the welcoming warmth of the tavern. Already loud with chatter, many still lingered around their midday meals. Among them, a towering duo sat, engrossed in loud discussion. Urax pounded his fist into the table so that the plates and mugs rattled and threatened to topple while his cousin continued the story of some past romance gone awry.

Brazenly, I sat down facing the two. I put the backpack on the floor by the bench and shouted for ale, doing my best to mimic my large friend's burly demeanor. Urax blinked. Both he and his sister looked at me with confused suspicion, before one of them finally addressed my behavior.

"Little man, I don't know what you want but the tables taken," Urax spoke, his brow furrowed with thought. And then, once he had gotten a proper look at my face, he stopped himself. I could see the candle light up inside his head, as he put one and one together, and he burst out, "Euran!"

"You tattered rascal, where have you been holed up?" he bellowed as he tumbled around the table to grab my shoulders, as if I wasn't really sitting there before him. "We thought you'd gone to the wolves, it's been almost a week!"

He twisted and turned my head with his hand, looked at dried blood and the sloppily covered gash on its side. "What the hell happened to you in there? I've been damn furious with Yarelic for throwing you into Wulagh so ill informed, and alone at that!"

I didn't feel the need to retell every detail of what had happened in the caves; after all, this had been just another one of Yarelic's lessons, a harsh one, but one that had clearly borne fruit.

"Seems like the boy has grown a thumber or two in there!" Harra laughed, once I had told them the final count of rattar and sculks I brought down in the past days.

Urax sat in silence, his mouth gaping. Harra shoved an elbow into his side, a wide smile across her broad face. "Din' you hear him ya' dunce, he'll be paying fer the drinks tonight that's fer sure!"

It took a moment for the big man to work it all out, but once the initial shock had waned, he called for the barmaid to pour me an ale.

"..and a bath!" Harra had added.

Triumphant and relieved, I tasted the bitter brew, fruity and lingering; it warmed me from the inside out. Once the flagon stood emptied, the maid led me up the stairs, just like she had a week before, but this time I was met with an already filled tub.

"You should clean that wound for now, but be sure to pay the temple a visit before nightfall," she instructed with her back turned before leaving.

I could feel the grime being drawn out from hidden crevices in my skin once I soaked in the steaming water. Though there was a sting of pain every time I scooped and poured water over my head, I almost fell asleep sitting in the embracing warmth, drowsy from the ale. But just as my eyes lost the struggle and shut close, the door opened and closed, the noise shaking me awake. I turned, expecting Urax or even Yarelic, but it was neither them nor the maid that had returned to the room; instead, I was greeted by Mali's mischievous smirk.

"You again?" I sighed, already feeling the heat rise to my ears.

She jumped onto the nearest bed with a curious look on her face. "I saw you from the kitchen. What did you do to get so dirty again.. worse even?" she asked.

Glad the maid took my clothes for washing, I thought, remembering just how torn and caked with blood they had been, before answering. "None of your business, just regular mercenary stuff."

She looked at me with doubt written all over her face, but as our eyes met, I noticed a slight swelling of green and yellow under her right eye.

"A mercenary…you?" Her tone carried with it an equal weight of disbelief and curiosity.

I gave her a cocky smile, one I had bet would annoy her, but she didn't react. I sighed, "How much for a 'tug'?" I asked with an idea forming, and for a moment, I saw her curiosity change. The hollow gaze I had first seen her with at the stairs, returned as her shoulders dropped ever so slightly.

"Two copper. A silver for all of me," the response had caught me off guard, but I had something in mind.

I reached for the chair on which my backpack rested. From within, I pulled my pouch, and from that, I took two silver. I returned the pouch and held out my hand with the coins hidden within.

"Come here, hold out your hand."

She did as told, movements stiff and eyes glazed dark, a smirk still forced from her lips. I dropped the silver onto her palm, and she looked at me confused.

"It's just one silver for the night," she said, as if ushering me to take back one of the coins.

Instead, I smiled. "That's not for the night, it's for you to stop bothering me when I bathe."

Her eyes grew wide with surprise, and much like Urax's earlier, her mouth gaped open. It's not too bad, seeing people dumbstruck like this, I noted while holding back a snicker. The resulting change of emotions on her face was like a summer rainbow. In the end, she looked at me almost shyly, a light red coloring her otherwise pale cheeks.

"Are you sure you don't want a 'tug', or you know something?"

I felt my composure falter with her question, and I felt the warmth of my face grow stronger. "Perhaps some other time," I mumbled.

Her eyes beamed with curiosity, as my attempt at returning some mischief had perhaps backfired. After a silence that seemed to go on forever, she finally retorted, but instead of some snide comment, she tilted her head and asked, "So.. what happened to your hair?"

"My wound?" I asked, unsure what else she could have meant.

"No, not that, that!" She pointed at my forehead, but no matter how much I tried to remember, I couldn't recall ever getting struck or cut on my face.

"Wait here!" She said, before rushing out through the door. Not much else I can do, is there? I thought to myself. Urax was right, maybe Yarelic was rubbing off on me a bit too much.

Moments later, the girl returned, this time with a small mirror of polished copper at hand. She held it up against my face with a curious eyebrow. First, I only saw myself looking back from within the glinting metal, then I noticed. Alone in the usual thicket of stubborn black, shone a single lock of golden blonde.