Tyrian stalked the forest, meandering around the colossal shoots of bamboo, his eyes scanning the leafy floor intensely.

It was interesting to see the bamboo forest up-close for once, even more, so close to Frost. He dragged his hand across the side of one of the shoots, feeling the fuzz of ‘hair’ along its surface. It was damp to the touch, the hairs acting like little cilla capturing the moisture in the air.

He made his way over ferns and around bushes until he finally caught sight of what he believed to be Soothroot. At the base of a bamboo tree, a small black tendril had slithered out from under the earth.

Soothroot was apparently parasitic, or at least that’s what he came to conclude, as it was described as attaching itself and growing with the help of larger organisms and plants. It would generally only attach to the largest of plants, as doing so to smaller plants would kill the host before it was able to grow properly.

Tyrian knelt down, and carefully cut away only the above portion of the root, making sure to mentally mark the location in his mind for future harvests.

It had taken him over two hours to find just one, but hopefully it’d fetch a pretty price. The root was in high demand as a painkiller, for while magic could heal wounds, it couldn’t heal pain.

He tucked it away into his little rope bag carefully and continued his search.

After another hour of searching through the forest he came upon the third plant on the list, Fire Finger.

Which wasn’t a plant at all, but a fungus, or mushroom? He wasn’t too sure on the specifics. It looked like a small group of orangey-red fingers trying to claw their way out of the earth. Prized for their help against the effects of frostbite when made into a balm, and even heart-aches when taken as a tea.

Tyrian knelt down carefully using his knife to dig up a couple of stems, making sure to leave a couple to grow again for harvest next season. As Fire Finger had the capability to continually propagate on its own as long as it wasn't fully harvested. His time as a farmer helped him out quite well, as he got into the routine of digging and then storing the fingers.

“Tyrian, my boy?” A voice called out from behind him.

Tyrian jumped in surprise, accidentally slicing his hand open as he twisted around at the familiar voice.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw a figure standing only a few steps away from him, cloaked in furs stepping out from behind a bamboo trunk.

It was the herbalist, Mendel.

Fuck me… Tyrian sighed, wincing at the bleeding cut in his hand. For a moment there he thought his fathers ghost had returned to haunt him.

“Ah, hello Mendel, you scared me!” He said cheerfully. “What brings you here?”

Mendel was a wizened old man with white hair and muddied eyes. He was tall, far taller than any other villagers, even with his hunch gain from years of harvesting herbs.

“I was going to ask you the same my boy, what is a boy your age doing out here.” He said, not as a question, his voice croaking each syllable out. His old eyes scanned Tyrian until he caught sight of the wound on his hand.

“You’re bleeding boy, oh, divines, I apologize for scaring you. Come come, follow me and we’ll get you patched up.”

He said turning and motioning Tyrian to follow.

Tyrian sighed, there was no refusing an old man like him. At the very least he had collected a good amount of Fire Finger.

“Let me see your hand boy.” Mendel asked. Tyrian let him see the bleeding wound about a finger's length long. The old man clicked his withered tongue, “Ah—ah, merely a flesh wound, well have you patched in no time, I may not have hands of light but I have my ways. Were you out here foraging, my boy? I had sworn I heard whispers that you joined the Temple, no?”

Tyrian smiled, “I did join, but I got bored of all the sermons and wanted to make some money so picked up a foraging job.” He admitted.

Mendel chuckled, “Yes, those sermons must be quite bothersome for one your age.” His eyes glanced at the small rope bag around Tyrians shoulder. “I see you found some Fire Finger, quite the find there.” He said and Tyrian squinted his eyes, defensively shifting the bag to his other shoulder.

Mendel chuckled once more, “Don’t worry child, I wouldn’t steal from a little kid trying to make a living.” He sighed, “I heard about your father, a damn shame… that man never was the same since your mother passed.” The old man said solemnly.

Tyrian nodded, “Did you know her?” He asked, curious.

Mendel nodded. “Only for a short while, she was a bright young lady, an Initiate at a village to the east who was visiting our small town to help with a particularly bad Frost. That father of yours was immediately smitten the moment he laid eyes on her. You’d think she used an elixir on him with how lovestruck he was! He spent every waking moment courting her, which seemed to work quite well… alas, the world is a cruel place boy. A cruel, cruel place.” He said with another sad sigh.

“Thank you.” Tyrian said, it was the most he learned of his parents, a weird emptiness in his chest from the thought of his mother. He felt even worse for Lucas now, her death must’ve been terrible. The loss of a loved one like that… a terrible thing.

The two eventually made their way back to the farms, this part of the village was a whole lot more desolate now that harvest was complete. The purple and red Ouy fields brought a certain kind of warmth with their presence, if but a small drop of colour in a world of overcast greys.

Mendel’s home was the closest to the forest, a humble home much like his old house. Outside the simple bamboo and thatched structure was a small garden of various herbs, all nearing their final harvest.

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Tyrian followed Mendel into his home before being smacked in the face with the pungent smells of herbs.

It was like walking into a perfume store, except medicinally bitter with every breath. Every wall of his home was covered in shelves, pots of wood and clay filled the area, with even the occasional glassware here and there. The ceiling was turned into one massive drying rack as hundreds of herbs hung from the rafters. Mendel paid no heed to his cluttered environment, deftly stepping around the herbs with practised ease.

“Wash your hands with the water over there then sit down my boy.” He said, pointing to a small enclosed bucket next to a small table with two benches on either side. Tyrian quickly washes his hands, the stinging pain in his hand long forgotten as his eyes dart around the cluttered space. He couldn’t recognize any of the plants or herbs, save for the three he had been tasked to find.

He even spotted the final plant he was trying to find, Worray. A bundle of white flowers hanging upside down from a rope in the corner of the room. A blood-clotting agent when made into a powder and a potent laxative when ingested.

A small hearth burned away, bathing the home in a soft warm nostalgic light.

Mendel came over with a small bamboo jar, opening it with a pop! A dense minty scent wafted out of the jar, “Show me your hand boy.” Mendel said, dipping his old weathered finger into the balm.

Tyrian bared his bloodied palm, watching as Mendel slathered his wound in a thick layer of white-greyish paste.

“What is it?” Tyrian asks, feeling a stinging sensation spread across his hand.

“A simple mix of Worray and Elderwort.” He said closing the jar. “Good for small cuts, wont heal you like the Temple can, but staunches bleeding and stops your hand from getting infested with rot.”

Tyrian thanked the old man, standing back up. “I should be going, I promised Initiate Corina that’d I’d be back soon.” He said.

Mendel hummed, “Of course—of course, I guess I’ll be seeing you more now that you’ve butt your head into my neck of the forest.” He said jokingly.

Tyrian smiled, “I guess.”

Just as he was about to turn and leave Mendel spoke once more. Though his voice dropped in tone, and carried a much more serious cadence than it just did.

“I’ll take this chance to warn you boy. I’d stay clear of going any deeper into the forest than you did today…” He said, dragging his old voice, his eyes scowling at a distant memory.

“I’ve been foraging in these parts for many years, and as of late I’ve been — hearing things.” He said pausing, his old finger tapping the side of his head.

“Maybe it’s my age catching up to me, my ears are not what they used to be… but I swear to the divines, I’ve heard screams and even cursed laughter deep in its abyss.”

A shiver ran down Tyrian’s spine.

“Take what you will of my warnings boy, perhaps it’s just the ramblings of an old man. But we aren’t in the capital boy, do not forget for one moment, this is the North.”

—

After that thoroughly ominous warning from old man Mendel, Tyrian made for a brisk walk back to the temple.

Was he just trying to scare a child into staying close to the village? His version of the boogey-man? Seems a little fucking excessive.

Tyrian shook his head. He’d try and take the warning to heart, this was after all — no longer the world he once knew.

The clouds had begun to build, darkening in colour once more. Tyrian sighed as he maybe had one or two more chances to go out to forage before the weather got too harsh, he had started far too late in the season.

But once frost is over I’ll be able to make a pretty penny—er, orba. Doesn’t hurt to have an emergency fund.

Rain had just started to fall as Tyrian reached the steps of the Temple. He looked up to the large white columns to see Corina standing at the entrance waiting for him.

“Tyrian! Oh I was so worried, you’re late!” She said, knowing full well he wasn’t. Yet he could only smile, feeling the warmth of her words.

“Sorry big sister Corina, I met up with an old family friend on my way back, the herbalist Mendel.” He said, while trying to hide his injured hand behind his back.

Corina sensed his movements instantly, snatching his hand from behind him making him wince in pain.

“You’re injured! Tyrian!” She exclaimed, her golden eyes widening as she saw the small cut on his hand.

Tyrian smiled ruefully, it wasn’t even my fault. He thought, but could only sigh as Corina dragged him into the Temple’s Medicus wing. She quickly sat him down on one of the many beds, while she herself sat on a stool next to him.

“Oh you poor child, I knew it was too dangerous for you to wander around alone.” She scolded herself. Tyrian rolled his silver eyes.

“You are forbidden from leaving again until you are healed!” She ordered. Tyrian groaned, knowing full well that would be deep into Frost and he’d be unable to forage at all.

Whatever… I guess I’ll start next season.

“Okay.” He said, knowing that arguing with Corina was a fruitless endeavor.

Corina nodded, smiling at his obedience. “Now bask, sweet child, in the wonders of the Lumia’s light!” She said with exaggerated tenor, lifting her hands to the ceiling.

He chuckled, Corina was endearingly sweet to him, perhaps she felt bad for his circumstance, or perhaps she just had a soft spot for children?

Regardless, Corina clapped her hands together in a prayer motion, closing her eyes as she focused. Her brows creased in concentration as her hands began to glow in golden light.

She rested both of her palms on Tyrian’s and he felt a warm embrace wrap around his hand. The stinging from the Worray and Elderwort balm quickly subsided, and when Corina removed her hands, the lustrous glow fading away, his wound was no more.

Tyrian opened his eyes in surprise.

Corina smiled, wiping a small sweat from her brow. “Impressed?”

“Yes, was that [Hand of Light]?” He asked and Corina nodded.

Tyrian noticed that it took a lot of concentration and energy out of her. “Can I ask how much Capacity that cost you?” He said, trying to hide his curiosity.

Corina raised a brow, before softening her gaze. “Ah you’re worried for me are you? Oh you sweet little thing.” She said, pinching his cheek. “But worry not! After Coalescing your capacity regenerates much faster. That only cost me one Orb, which I’ll have back in an hour at most!”

Tyrian nodded, memorizing the valuable information. One Orb in an hour? Thats five fucking times faster!

“How do you increase your Capacity?” He took the chance to ask.

Corina smiled, “Getting ahead of yourself aren’t you now Tyrian, you’ve only just turned five, what's the rush?” She asked him.

Tyrian shook his shoulders “Just curious.”

Corina thought for a moment, debating whether it was okay to tell Tyrian but then shrug her own shoulders herself. “You’ll learn soon anyways, but it increases with age for most, but you can also increase your capacity through using hard techniques or practicing simple Orb manipulation.” She said,

“But don’t rush it Tyrian, take your time, as Orbs are not a toy you hear me?” She said sternly.

Tyrian inwardly laughed hearing the same words that Aunty Amun warned him with. “Yes, of course.” He said with a cheeky smile.