It was by habit that Cyg immediately mapped the interior of the house. The front door led to a hallway, where directly left was a staircase that went to the second floor. Two doorways to the right, one at each end of the hall, revealed what appeared to be a study, filled with shelves, ingredients and miscellaneous objects strewn over two wide desks, some cabinets, tons of books, and a few chairs. He checked out the old wooden walls and the pale gold-red rug he walked over, and as he staggered forward, someone came and took Griff off him.

When the hallway reached the other side of the house, it opened into a living area and kitchen of sorts, and he was placed down on a chair in the corner he arrived at. Two more doors were here, one leading outside and one opposite of that connecting to another room he could not see. The fireplace was unlit, but in the soft flickering lantern light—with the little dining table in the middle of the room, its little chairs, and the trinkets on shelves surrounding—it all felt quite cozy. It’s no wonder the temptation of sleep was pulling at him so strongly.

Cyg’s senses were failing, but he never stopped being alert. Even with his body unwinding, his eyes watched the witch carefully as she checked him over. He managed to utter, “...I can pay with the gems on me.”

“And what need would I have for those?” she replied. The witch had an ordinary, entirely unremarkable face, appearing as a young woman in her early twenties. If anyone had met her anywhere else, they wouldn't have believed her to be anyone special. Rather, they'd have to see her in action: she grabbed his wrist and he saw that where she made contact color was returning, the pain slowly fading with it. The witch knew some healing magic after all, to his great relief.

“Oh, erm...” But to her question, Cyg failed to find a reply. He sat there, as if waiting for an answer to miraculously appear in his head.

The stranger who relieved him of Griff reappeared behind the witch, watching Cyg with a piercing expression he found unbearable. She had pointed ears, blond hair that reached her waist, and blue eyes on a weary face, all accompanied by a long brown dress and white apron. What set her apart from the half-elves common around town were her deathly pale complexion and her thin wrists and neck betraying the signature unnervingly weak physique of a full-blood. She spoke, in a quiet voice entirely devoid of curiosity, “What happened to you?”

“Poisoned,” Cyg replied.

Her follow-up was immediate. “How?”

“...I broke into the baron’s manor.”

She then looked at the witch, waiting for her to speak as if watching an actor play their part—and the witch did as expected. “Oh? I assume you stumbled into some trap; I doubt any of Vressin’s people would use poison as a weapon.”

Before he could confirm, the elf cut in. “How did you manage to in and out of there? Wouldn't the baron to keep his place well-guarded?”

Cyg gritted his teeth. Somehow, this girl was digging into him where he liked the least. It's always wise to keep some things secret, but she was having none of it. Though in his current state he wasn't sure how convincing he could be, fearing he'd sour his relationship with his future saviors. “I’ve checked out the place before so I knew what I was getting into. There weren’t that many guards.”

“Just the two of you? I don’t believe it.” There was no outrage in her voice, only expectancy. Almost as if she knew his answer before he spoke it.

“...I have an Aspect too.” He was in no shape for showmanship, but he retrieved two different gems of similar sizes from his pockets, bringing to his attention that the walk over had cost him a small chunk of his loot. All the while hoping he'd left no real trail, Cyg performed a simple demonstration of swapping the objects in his hands. The elf raised her eyebrows half-heartedly, a matching performative show for Cyg, whereas the witch clasped her hands together.

“Spatial magic, how rare!” The witch smiled. “Then, how’s this? I’ll get you back to full health, and in exchange, you’ll work for me for a full year. I’ll ask you to listen carefully and follow through with what I demand of you during this time.”

“...Wait, just me?” Cyg’s mind scrambled to catch the detail. “What about Griff, the one I brought with me?”

The witch’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid your friend didn’t make the trip. He already had passed by the time you arrived.”

Chest heaving, Cyg asked, “You can’t do anything?”

“If I could bring people back from the dead, things would be a lot simpler,” she replied, “But no, I’m asking you now, and only you.”

He breathed out roughly. This wasn’t a choice at all given the alternative. “An oath?” As tradition, he accompanied it with his right hand touching his left shoulder, palm facing down. “I, Cyg...” he began, halting as he thought better of something, “...on my honor, pledge my service to the witch of Murkwell.”

She laughed. “My, I wasn’t expecting any formalities. No, no need for anything like lady or master; just Merry will do.” The witch raised a hand, motioning to the aide to come closer. “And this is Alicia, my apprentice. Make nice with her, will you?” And to her, Merry said before entering the study, “I’ve never seen anything quite like what he’s going through. Set him at ease for now while I go fetch a few things.”

Without affirming, the elf knelt down and performed the same sort of magic done to him earlier.

“Make nice, huh?” Cyg muttered, “Pleased to meet you.”

To that, Alicia nodded. “Likewise.”

* * *

For the next few hours, Cyg drifted in and out of consciousness. His body was exhausted and needed rest, but the pain kept him awake. After being brought through the door in the living area and into what turned out to be a guest room, Cyg laid down and found it impossible to get back up. The room itself was furnished with a desk by the bed and a half-empty bookshelf, resulting in it appearing somewhat empty. There was a little closet too, one that was filled with clothes of varying fits, now decorated with a small pile of gems.

After Merry gave him a proper examination, she mused, “They mixed a nasty concoction. If nothing else, we can keep him alive until it all passes.”

At first it was Alicia who took a chair next to the bed and watched over Cyg, preventing him from suffocating in his sleep, and it was only with a strong sedative that he could actually get some rest. When he woke again, he found Merry checking out the bruises on his ribs from a scuffle weeks ago. She asked no questions, vanishing them effortlessly when she saw he was up. The days that followed were a complete haze, and his attempts to track the passage of time by sunlight were just that: attempts. During that time, he heard mutterings about his condition, none of which was welcoming to hear.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Has he passed any urine?” Merry asked.

“No, looks like his organs are shutting down.”

“Hmph. You better leave his innards to me then. I’ll check on him every six hours—tell me if something happens.”

Cyg’s natural reaction, like anyone else, was to wonder how easy life would be if he had a healing Aspect. For them to be hardly concerned with total body failure was a testament to magic’s greatness. To add on, just a little while later was another exchange that was almost equally terrible.

“We should’ve replaced all of his blood by now but it’s not getting any better,” Alicia said.

“Unfortunately, it looks like it went into his fat deposits. The baron must’ve really wanted a dead body, hm? Looks like we have little choice but to ride this out, unless the man himself decides to tell us what he mixed up.”

Cyg, half awake, did not remember the words he uttered. “That swine mixed nothing. If it was anyone, it was the apothecary in town.”

Merry spun around to chime, “If you can still spit out venom like that, you’ll be just fine.”

Not bothering with a reply, Cyg left it as so.

* * *

Time passed, and when he was asleep he rarely dreamed, a fact he was thankful for; the only thing he had now were nightmares, replaying the same scene with the glass case over and over. No matter how much he tried, he was never fast enough to get away, never prudent enough to stop before it was too late, never aware enough to pull Griff away. It was the only time he dwelled on what happened as he tried his best to banish any and all conscious thought regarding it.

Eventually, Cyg was finally allowed to consume something other than water. That day, Alicia went into his room with a stew of some sort, adamantly refusing to let him hold and eat it on his own.

“I’m not going to make a mess. I’m sure I can feed myself,” he argued.

“And I’m sure that you are moments away from making a huge mess that I’ll have to clean up,” she replied, holding up a spoonful of brown goop. “Now hush and open your mouth.”

“If you’re so worried about that, I can just eat on the desk instead of the bed.”

“What are you so prideful over? If I were the one deathly ill, I would be graciously accepting it.” She brought it over to him once more, and he reluctantly accepted, finding it surprisingly delicious.

“...Point made.”

* * *

When he was well enough that he could stand by himself and no longer required constant care, Cyg took the opportunity to explore the room further. He wasn’t looking for anything, mostly driven out of boredom. He found two curiosities, the first being how far the walk was from here to the front of the house. It snaked around needlessly and would’ve been better off if there was another door that led directly to the staircase and entrance, he thought.

The second was that the closet and desk were now cleared of most items—there were fewer clothes left in the room than when he last noticed. In the former, a raincoat and a few basic articles were left, all in better condition than anything he was currently wearing. As for the latter, the only thing in or on it was a little puzzle box, as if it was enough to serve as decoration for this whole space. If he had to pinpoint the last time he ever saw a toy like this, he would guess when he was four, when House Scelwyn was more than just buried corpses. In one hand hand Cyg spun it around, checking all its sides. Little mechanical bits here and there made each face a distinct puzzle while a single squiggling split ran down its center, meaning the complete solution would result in opening it into two halves. It was particularly Cyg’s type of game, but he wasn’t in the mood for it, not now anyway.

Soon, he was put back together well enough to actually help around. He learned the upper floor was smaller than the lower one and only consisted of the bedrooms of the other two, though he didn’t enter either. Cyg had also predicted he’d have to do menial chores like cleaning the outhouse and bath, but Merry was quite the runesmith, and most functions of daily life were trivialized by magical devices and solid planning. Time passed with him mostly sitting around the study, observing Alicia instructing him on building ignition strips for the lanterns. Given that he knew nothing about runes, none of it absorbed into his head properly. Strangely enough, Alicia hardly cared about that, content with Cyg just being there. Well, she would’ve been fine if he wasn’t there watching at all, but he didn’t know that.

The day after, Merry delivered Cyg a bill of clean health. She had offered, “Do you want to visit friends and family?”

Cyg pondered for quite a while before answering. “No, I don’t know how I would explain what happened to Griff. I think I need some time.” He had been avoiding any and all wandering thoughts regarding his friend, and the idea of being the one to deliver the news was crushing. No, staying and hiding here was a far more appealing idea.

So, he spent yet another evening watching Alicia waste her time with him. While Cyg was sure many would gladly take the room and board, he knew nothing in this world was truly free. The toll will come sooner or later.

“Why hasn’t Merry asked me anything about my Aspect?”

“She will.” Alicia didn’t look away from her work—in front of her was a block of wood that was being carved by precise, invisible knives, the work of earth magic. Typically only one in three would ever be able to use any kind of magic, and this specific type of magic was highly sought after, for a seasoned mage was steadier and more accurate than any physical hand. “Maybe give it a few more days.”

“Riiight.” He placed an elbow on the desk and a cheek on his fist. “Not sure if you know, but I’m not really learning anything.”

“I do know that.”

Naturally, his eyes narrowed. “What? Why aren’t you saying anything then?”

She finally paused what she was doing. “Was there anything I can say to change that?”

“Uh,” Cyg pulled back, rubbing his nose, “Maybe you can slow down?”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with speed,” she replied, “You’re distracted anyway. She’s just giving you time.”

For a few seconds the thief sat in uncomfortable silence before clasping his hands on his knees, sitting upright. “I’m entirely focused now. Please, teach me.”

Then, appearing very exhausted, Alicia judged him for a while before sighing and taking out the ignition strip pattern from yesterday. Tracing along the lines with a finger, she started, “Let’s start from the beginning. All spell circles consist of combinations of runes, and all of them require a mana source to function. Here you can see the typical layout...” Slowly, she expanded from common knowledge into practical standards. While actual, tightly woven circles were still the safest and sturdiest, rectangular segments of runes tend to be the way to go in modern times for flexibility, maintainability, and readability. At some point, she started delving into such minute, pointless details that he almost started drifting away again.

“Do I really need to know this?” he asked.

“Of course! I mean, you don’t have to replicate the patterns, but what if you need to improvise on the fly? You’d be out there standing around like a dolt! You need a strong, expansive foundation so you can have the freedom to do what you want later on.”

“...It’s a lantern.”

She shook her head. “And you’d never know.”

Trying his very best, which wasn’t much, Cyg eventually got the very basics down, which was that all circles have three elements: a power source, an activation trigger, and an action. It was easy, and it was all he could manage that night.

When he finally retreated to his room, he was almost instantly interrupted by two knocks at the door. Fully expecting Merry as he was only just talking with Alicia, he opened the door only to be proven wrong. The apprentice seemed to be troubled over something given her knitted brow. Cyg waited awkwardly, waiting for her to say something.

“...Hello?”

Snapped out of it, Alicia asked, “Can you give me your arm? I need a bit of your blood to do one last health check.” Curious, Cyg thought; she had never asked for nor taken such a thing before, but finding no reason to deny her he obliged. She cut his wrist open just a little, collected his blood into a small vial, and closed him right back up. “Thank you,” Alicia whispered, and before leaving, she added, “and good night.”

“...Good night,” Cyg replied, watching her walk away before closing the door.

It was obvious she was up to something, but he doubted he could’ve gotten the truth out of her. Like that, he slipped into bed, confused and hoping it wasn’t anything sinister, believing that all would reveal itself in due time.

All he had to do was wait.