Narf had been called many things over his lifetime. Nutcase. Terror. Oddity. Narf chose not to answer to any of these titles. As far as he was concerned, he was one thing and one thing only: an alchemist. He had been dabbling in the magical arts from a young age, starting with potions and antidotes and moving onto complex spells and enchantments as he got older. People had cautioned him about those who abused magic and the terrible fates that would befall them when they took a step too far. And while most people would've quit once they’d grown a third eye or suddenly woken up with shocking white hair, Narf could do nothing but laugh when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

“You know,” he’d respond casually to the disgust and distaste of others, “I always thought people had too few eyes."

As Narf's magic grew, so did the distaste others had for him. But he didn’t mind. He had grown old, been exiled from his home, and then built his own. It was a quaint place on top of a hill, nestled in the middle of a forest, not too far from the many surrounding villages. He filled this new house with spell books and baubles, piling it high with every knickknack imaginable. Endless trinkets and toys created to grant great power, but that usually came with a price.

People used to visit the house, packing inside to purchase wares from Narf. He would awake from a dreamless sleep atop his bed of books and sell naive customers innocent seeming solutions to whatever simple problem life had thrown their way. A potion, for instance. One that would make the drinker smarter so they could impress their friends. Narf would graciously hand the item over, neglecting to inform the customer that a week after drinking the concoction, their head would turn blue. After a few such instances, people thought it best to leave Narf alone. Usually. And that was fine with him. After all, if people disliked his magic when he first began to practice it, then they did not deserve to enjoy it now that he had mastered it.

Still, there were those who couldn’t resist the pull of power, someone who wanted magic on their side. It was not uncommon for the odd brave soul, ignorant of the dangers, to dare venture to Narf’s home seeking his help. He had come to expect it. Lately, though, it had been quiet. So quiet that even Narf, who had thought he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, began to wonder if something had happened to the nearby villages. It had been three months since someone had arrived at his door, begging Narf for some sort of boon or miracle—three months that Narf got to live in peace. It was a peace that Narf usually enjoyed. He would now get to spend his days in quiet, blissful solitude like he’d always wanted.

Then one fateful day, a new visitor arrived. Narf could hardly believe his ears, but it was impossible to mistake the aggressive knocking on the door. Someone had finally come to see the mystical three-eyed alchemist once again! Narf rose from where he was perched atop his bed of books and opened the door. He was shocked to be greeted by nothing but the crisp air.

“Hey,” came a small voice. “Down here!”

Narf looked down to find the oddest thing. A small child with brown skin and curly, unkempt hair had, for some reason, chosen to visit the alchemist. Alone.

“Er, hello,” Narf responded hesitantly. “What brings you to my home, child? Are you lost?" His three eyes squinted down at the child.

"No sir! I am Nat,” came the chipper response, “and I want to be your apprentice."

Narf stared at the child called Nat for a while—a very long while. Many seconds passed, perhaps even minutes as Narf stood in the doorway, bewildered. Then, with a scoff, Narf slammed the door in the child's face.

This was far from the first time a child had come to Narf with ambitions of an apprenticeship, and it was far from the first time he had slammed the door in a child's face. As far as Narf was concerned, it would be wrong to take any children under his wing. He would only be setting them up to be ostracized and ridiculed, just as he was. No child deserved that.

"People oughta put a leash on their kids, I swear," Narf said to himself before whistling a happy little song as he walked away from the door. The whistling stopped when there was another knock at the door.

"Better not be who I think it is,” Narf grumbled, turning around and opening up the door again. Before he could snap at the child, it spoke.

"Mister Narf, you slammed the door,” Nat stated with a tilt of his head.

Narf rolled his eyes. "What an intelligent observation! I don’t take apprentices, kid. Where are your parents? Do they know you're here right now? Do they know you’re talking to me?"

Nat looked down at the ground and shook his head. "No, mister wizard Narf sir." Narf almost expected a salute to follow the child’s odd monikers.

"Then go home. And if you insist on coming back, make sure it's with an adult.” He started to shut the door, but held it open again to add, “And I'm not a wizard. I'm an alchemist."

The boy still hadn’t moved a muscle and Narf eyed him curiously. Nat just stared at the ground with his hands shaking slightly at his sides.

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"Are you deaf?" Narf asked, narrowing his eyes further. "Go home."

Nat shook his head and furrowed his brow. "Al-chem-miss. That's a big word."

"Another wildly intelligent observation,” he scoffed again and his voice drips with sarcasm as he adds, “Your dizzying intellect is not selling the whole ‘you being my apprentice’ thing very well.”

"If I don’t call you a wizard anymore, can I be your apprentice?" The boy asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"The answer is still no," the alchemist said as he grabbed the door, ready to slam it again.

"Well… can I buy something from you, then?" Nat’s face grew more tense with each passing moment.

Narf raised his eyebrows and then gave a defeated sigh. "Fine. Come in."

As the door swung wide open, Nat finally looked up, meeting Narf’s three eyes with his two. The child happily entered the house without hesitation and looked around, eyes wide with wonder and awe as he took in every detail.

Nat pointed to a small, golden sculpture of a bird. "What does that do?"

"None of your business."

"What about that?" He pointed to a scroll covered in runic writing, indecipherable to his simple mind.

"Once again, none of your business." Narf crossed his arms. "Let’s go over some rules. No touching, no running, no jumping, no screaming. If anything breaks, your parents are paying for it.” He silently watched the boy oggle his magical wares before speaking up again. “So. What do you want? A pair of shoes that will make you faster than all the other kids? A scroll that will let you do a backflip?"

Nat clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head. “I… I came because of a story my parents told me.”

Narf smiled menacingly. "People do like to tell stories about me. Best part of the job, if you ask me.”

"They told me not to come here because you sell bad stuff that could get me really hurt," said Nat.

"And yet here you are," Narf said, looking rather bemused.

Nat nodded slowly. "My papa said that one time he came here and you showed him a necklace. Whoever wore the necklace would die in seven days."

The alchemist chuckled and went to his towering pile of books. He reached his arm into a crevice to pull out a simple necklace. It appeared to be nothing more than some beads on a string. He held it with the tips of his fingers and wiggled it around as if it weren’t the very item supposedly capable of rendering the wearer dead.

"Your papa would be right,” Narf said with a mirthful smile. "Anyone who wears this necklace will die in seven days. There is no way around it—no cure, no exceptions. They get seven days, and then they die."

Nat looked at the necklace in awe. He unclasped his hands and they rested at his sides again, his fingers twitching slightly as if yearning to reach for it. "Can I have it?"

Narf was stupefied. After a shocked moment of silence, he blinked and said, “What?”

"I want to buy that," said Nat simply.

Narf's face paled, and he set the necklace down behind him, away from the boy. "Who are you planning on killing?"

"No one!” he exclaimed before hanging his head slightly. “It's for my dog."

"What did that dog ever do to you?" asked Narf, bewildered.

"Nothing!” he said incredulously, despite being the one who seemed intent on killing said dog. “I love my dog.”

Narf pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disbelief. "I do not think you understand me, child. This is not a toy or a game. Now go home. I’m not giving you this necklace.”

Tears started to fall down Nat's cheeks and he sniffled. "O-okay."

Narf sighed. "Do you know your way back home?"

"N-not really,” he whimpered. "I'm from Ersong. Can you help me get back home, mister alchemist?" He looked pleadingly up at Narf, who groaned and palmed his face in annoyance.

"I know the way,” the alchemist grumbled. “I will walk you there. You should be more careful when it comes to magic, Nat. You shouldn't have come here. When I take you home, you have to promise not to come back here."

"I promise," Nat said with a nod.

"Good.”

Narf quickly began to pack a bag. A few spell books and scrolls. His eyes fell on the necklace. After a moment of internal conflict, he decided to bring it with him. Better to keep it on his person than risk it being stolen, after all. He tucked it carefully into the bag and ushered Nat outside.

Luckily, the boy had chosen to visit during the day, so navigating north to Ersong wouldn’t be a challenge. The walk would only take a couple hours, quicker with a bit of focus and Narf's knowledge of the forest.

When the pair arrived in Ersong, it was completely empty, not a soul in sight. It seemed the stench of demon’s fire and death was all that remained, and it was strong. Yet after scouring the area intensely, Narf could only spot a single corpse: a woman dressed in the robes of a shaman, her body still burning brightly. Next to her lay a dog, barely clinging to life.

"What happened here?" asked the alchemist.

"The fire came," the boy answered simply. "I was exploring in the forest when my dog came and found me. The shaman had followed. She said they didn't have long. It would only be a day before the fire would take her. Once she started burning, my dog would start not long after."

"You survived,” said Narf slowly, “because you weren't here. And your dog has more than a day left. I see." Narf looked down at Nat with a sober expression. "If your dog wears that necklace, in seven days they will be dead. But they won’t die quite yet. I understand now.”

Reaching into his bag, Narf pulled out the necklace and handed it to the boy. Tears began to well up in the alchemist's eyes, and he couldn’t bear to look at Nat.

As the boy ran off to hug his dog, Narf looked back at the forest. He could not bring himself to leave just yet. "Nat, there is something I still don't understand. If you just needed the necklace, why did you ask to be my apprentice?"

Nat didn’t look at Narf either, his gaze was fixed on his dog. He sniffled a little as he spoke. “You’re the only grownup I know lives around here. The only one still alive. I thought… I thought maybe I could stay with you.”

Narf stayed where he stood for a moment, thinking to himself. Eventually, he walked over to Nat and kneeled beside the boy and his dog. "You know what? On second thought, I do need an apprentice. You will come live with me and work as my apprentice."

"For how long?" Nat asked with knitted brows.

"For seven days,” said Narf. He laid a hand gently on Nat’s shoulder. “And whatever comes after.”