Shivering as she woke, Alyce blindly felt her sheets in search for the warming stone. She had been lulled to sleep by its comfort the night before and must have tossed enough that the talisman had rolled out of reach. She stretched her legs and pointed her toes, and breaking through the cloud of morning grogginess, Alyce perceived a hot spot near her feet. She instantly sat up, patting the covers there to discover the stone was teetering at the foot of her bed.

Upon its return to her hands, she relished the heat before beginning to rub the flattened underside of the talisman against her arms and calves. When thoroughly satisfied and decently warm, Alyce swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Upon contact with the wooden floor, she froze in place. Whatever warmth she gained, the mid autumn dawn sapped it out of her. Doing her best to suppress a whimper, Alyce reluctantly set her precious stone down.

As usual, she dressed quickly to avoid disturbing her roommates. It was a daily habit and the desire for a quieter start, which motivated Alyce to wake earlier than her friends.

Her apron tied securely at her waist, she retrieved her heat source and departed from the room. She only slipped on her pattens once outside and went about her usual routine of visiting the female servants’ privy and wash basin first, plucking breakfast from the manor's own apple trees, before departing for the kitchen and attending her tasks.

Even in the face of the brisk morning air, the heating stone continued to work its intended magick.

I never realized this little thing could be so wonderful, Alyce patted the apron pocket it was in. She had obtained an apple and was venturing from the trees to the kitchen. I suppose there is a difference between the ability of a local mage and a Sanctus one.

A pony's whining wicker brought her attention to the stables. Like most of the manor, the stablehands were still asleep. And knowing the ones who worked here, they would remain in deep slumber until the sun rose higher. Alyce waited a moment, and upon hearing nothing more, she began her traverse once more. Yet again, another pleading whinny bade her to halt.

Whoever that is, and I have a feeling I know who that is, wants attention. Alyce thought. But I have things to do—

The third forlorn call broke her steel.

It was easy to find the culprit within the stabled steeds. The few manor mares and mules looked properly miffed at the noisy visitor housed near the entrance.

Although having been raised at the manor, Alyce had little experience dealing with their animals. She skirted at the edge of the stalls and tried to peer about from where she stood. As far as she could tell, there was hay and water for the mount. The pony's back was bare, someone had removed the tack and hung it at the front of the stall. Sighting the visitor, the mare thrust her head forward in greeting, leading Alyce to recoil a step back.

“She wants the apple you're holding.”

Alyce yelped and whirled around to confront the source of the voice. The same mage she met yesterday, Kytes, was standing an arm's length away. His traveling garb had been replaced by a coat and cloak made of thinner wool blend. His collared shirt and trousers were fresh, his boots mostly removed of travel's mud.

“My apologies, Colleen Alyce.” His dark eyes alarmed from the pitch of her shriek. “You said to meet at dawn.”

A hand over her still racing heart, Alyce sputtered. “At the kitchens perhaps, not here. Why —.” She threw a cautionary glare. “Why are you here?”

Kytes jerked his head in the direction of the manor. “My room faces the stables and I am a light sleeper.” Leaning against the closest beam, he scowled at the gray pony. “Mouse, I could hear you from my room even with the window latched tight. I thought we agreed on not causing trouble?”

The pony slunk close to him then veered up to blow air into the mage's face. Kytes immediately twisted away to wipe his eyes and organize his mussed hair.

“And to think I was worried about you,” he snapped at the pony bobbing her head excitedly. “Were you whining for attention?”

Alyce giggled as she watched the exchange. Still mopping his face with a sleeve, Kytes smiled crookedly at her.

“The Blue Sanctus provided her as a traveling mount to carry our belongings. They failed to mention she’s quite the many needs.” He patted the pony's neck as she bumped into his side. “I can't wake up every morning for you. You'll have to find other means to entertain yourself, and quietly!”

Mouse leaned more of her weight into him, causing his feet to slide and threaten to lose footing.

“Do you understand her? And she, you?” Alyce asked, grinning at Kytes’ attempt to push back.

“Not at all,” he replied, ducking under the pony's neck and positioning himself on Mouse’s other side. “But she's been traveling with us for so long, nearly a year — I suppose suddenly not seeing us was an unusual change for her. Though I welcomed it. To finally not be rudely awoken by a pony breathing on your face— hey!”

In retort, Mouse tugged hard on his coat’s sleeve. Seeing Alyce shrink back in fear, Kytes gently scolded the pony to release him.

“Mouse doesn't bite, even now she was trying to be careful.” To the pony, he scowled. “You're frightening her, Mouse. You do remember she's the one who brought you water?”

The gray pony wickered softly, bowing low as if to express apology.

“Are you afraid of horses?” Kytes asked when the maid maintained her distance.

Alyce’s eyes flitted to the gray pony, who regarded her hopefully.

“I do not interact with my lord’s animals unless it has to do with fetching young lord Ryles after he plays near them,” Alyce reluctantly admitted.

Kytes nodded understandingly. “I haven’t either, until I started traveling outside of the city. Our ponies are generally well behaved, fairly intelligent because of their caretakers. This one too, except she’s a terrible glutton. Probably would wander off with our packs one day, following anyone with a snack in their hand.”

Alyce looked down at the forgotten fruit in her left hand. “You mentioned she wanted this. How do I — would you give this to her?”

Both pony and mage visibly brightened upon hearing her request. “Well, perhaps you would like to?” He reached into his side pouch and produced a closed folding knife. “In case she decides to inhale the entire apple.” He cut the apple into moderate slices and gave the fruit back. “Upon your flattened hand and Mouse, you will be polite.”

Mouse shook her head in response, seeming to question when she had ever not been polite. With a smaller sliver of the apple, Kytes showed an example by offering the fruit to the pony. In a blink, the piece vanished, but as promised, Mouse did not bite. Encouraged by this, Alyce followed suit. She gingerly presented an apple slice to Mouse, who lipped at the promised snack. Then, perhaps even more carefully than she did with Kytes, the pony took the apple from her hand.

Alyce gasped in delight and found herself moments later gleefully feeding the pony the rest of the fruit. When the apple was gone, Mouse even allowed pets on the head.

“You carry a knife?” she asked Kytes, while still transfixed by the new experience.

“We use it for setting up camp, preparing meals, and the Sanctus’ hostlers encourage occasional diced treats for Mouse,” Kytes explained, putting his knife safely back in the pouch, before teasing her. “Did you think I used it for magic?”

“I was — well.” Although she sounded indignant, she flushed in embarrassment. “Perhaps a little. I did see you mark yourself.”

“It was my own fire that grazed the skin. And though it could look frightening, it poses no danger to me. It was akin to the skin being under the sun for too long. Besides, blood. Most mages are disturbed by it. It's messy and unsanitary. Terribly difficult to remove from clothes.”

Alyce giggled at the frankness of his response. “That it is. You make mages seem so normal, Esphyr Kytes.”

“Oh but we are normal. With normal likes, dislikes, wants and needs.” His stomach grumbled loudly and Kytes’ ears turned red at the sound of his hunger's betrayal. “Ah, after watching Mouse, I suppose —”

She smiled and gave the pony a final pat. “Well, since Mouse ate my breakfast, perhaps we should visit the castle town before tending to the manor's runes?”

The short journey to Neburh's castle town was not the silent one she was used to. Nor did she mind it. Kytes was willing to answer any of her questions pertaining to Mouse. What other snacks did the pony like, her temperament, stories when things went awry. When he relayed the time Mouse huddled next to him when he fell ill, she noted the fond smile the young man wore.

“Perhaps that was the reason for her fussing,” Alyce mused. “She was missing her friend.”

He chuckled at first but it soon faded away, replaced by a thoughtful consideration. “I suppose that must be it. Say, is there a special occasion of some sort?”

Alyce followed his gaze to sight a large crowd at the center of the hamlet. The outer rim of the circle was mostly composed of mothers with their infants strapped to their backs or older daughters, wrangling a sibling or two. All the while, their arms held on to linen covered baskets or bowls.

“Baking day. A rune per family is expensive. So some mornings, many families gather to use the baker’s oven." Alyce pointed in the direction where several older women huddled. “House Is'et pays for the renewal of communal property the people use.”

Kytes was seemingly fascinated, drawing closer to the crowd to observe the waiting line in front of the bakehouse. Unbeknownst to him, the morning chatter began to turn into murmured inquiries about the strange man in their midst. Alyce followed closely behind, feeling their sharp gazes pass through her and upon her unsuspecting companion’s back instead.

“Does baking for so many take a long while then?” Kytes asked Alyce.

“We have been waiting since a few days ago, Féilim," one of the mothers closest to them called out. As the fashion among Neburh women, the woman had her copper hair bundled underneath a strip of linen. At her side were twins, who shared the same shade of locks as their mother. Since the woman had addressed Kytes in terms of a young man, she bore no awareness that he was a mage. “The baker was sure the oven would be in working order today. But he said the same two days ago. So we are waiting to see either if aught changed or to have choice words with him.”

“I thought the smith's lad could make fire,” Alyce said, remembering the scene she saw from yesterday.

The woman's gray eyes glinted. “He can, but it always produces a great amount of unpleasant smoke. My children complain about the taste of my bread because of it.” She looked the pair over with a scrutinizing eye. “The Colleen works for the baron, but who are you, Féilim?"

Several of the other waiting women had ambled closer to listen and admire the well dressed mage. Compared to the local men, Kytes’ garb and features were unusual. His posture and clean shaven face accentuated the look of a dashing noble. His fine coat and shoulder cape provided an attractive silhouette that he seemed unaware of.

Kytes placed a hand over his chest, where his heart laid under, and gave the young mother a bow. “I am answering Baron Connall's request. Colleen Alyce is showing me the castle town and manor's fire runes.”

A ripple of conversation flowed through the crowd . From whispers of potential dalliances to mutters about runes and esphyrs; none of this was spoken quietly.

“So much for breakfast, Esphyr Kytes,” Alyce said to him. “They know you are a mage now. With all the runes in the hamlet, we will be lucky to return to the manor by tonight.”

“Then I shall do my best to return us before supper,” Kytes answered before the pair was ushered forward.

The woman that informed them the condition of the bakehouse had spoken true. An acrid scent lingered in the air, making Alyce twitch her nose from side to side as she fought the desire to sneeze. Though supposedly built for ventilation, with its frameless wide arch entrance, the inner chamber was smothered in a gray haze. There were mounds of ashen residue on the floor, as if someone had only just swept the offending fuel from the oven.

“Here! You are the magician?” The baker stared at them with feverish eyes. His face and muscled arms were swollen with reddened burns and gray ash. The entirety of his garb was streaked in soot. “What took you so long?”

Kytes opened his mouth before snapping it firmly shut. He was uncertain and bewildered with the stranger’s casual accusation. It was Alyce, who stepped forward, crossing her arms at her chest. “Esphyr Kytes had only just arrived yesterday,” she told the exasperated baker sternly. "He learned about our predicament last night, woke early, and he hasn't even broke fast yet.”

“Nor have we, Colleen Alyce.” Someone complained behind the younger pair. “And soon it’ll be a forgotten pastime if that oven doesn’t get looked at.”

“Not that the oven was working fine to begin with. Ever since that last mage came, the bakes have been uneven,” another voice added. “This lad looks much younger. If he’s worse than the other they sent, what then?”

“Suppose we eat raw dough and see what happens.”

A din of worries and muttered agreements followed the utterance. Alyce cast a sideways glance at Kytes. In the way the muscles at his jaw tensed, she could see that he was suppressing whatever hurt he felt.

“Is that the oven?” Kytes asked the baker. His tone remained painfully polite.

The man showed the mage and maid the still smoking mess. Alyce had to fan the pungent air and wipe her watering eyes at the same time while they navigated through the smoldering baking chamber.

With the lower half of his face covered by an arm, Kytes scanned about the face of the oven, then crouched down to examine the bricks by the hearth. To Alyce’s surprise, the mage did not make a fuss about the grime. She had expected him to act even the part of a lower noble, complaining about cobwebs and dirt. Instead, he willingly brushed caked soot off a clay brick, revealing a rune underneath. He picked at the more stubborn spots with the back of his nails and skimmed the edges of the engraving with his fingertips. Then he cleared his throat before turning to the waiting baker.

“The rune has small cracks.” He rubbed a thumb over the top half of the circle’s ring.

“And what does that mean?” The baker was squinting at the rune from where he stood. “It's broken?”

“Not at all. But it explains the complaint about your bakes being uneven. The rune is old and has deteriorated over time. With its integrity mostly hidden by soot, it could not relay its hurts.”

Alyce knelt down to inspect his findings and spied several miniscule fractures webbing out of the original etching. “You speak as if it is alive,” she said, looking up at him.

The mage's face reddened from embarrassment. “No. But I do appreciate the artistry. It is a good rune, only disregarded. I can widen the engraving to fix the cracks and the blemishes will be no more, but I will need to draw along it.” His shoulders drooped. “If it frightens you —.”

Alyce looked at him in bewilderment before she realized his concern was directed at her. “Oh, this is fine. It is not your own flesh.”

A glimmer of hesitancy remained before Kytes answered. “I will do so quickly then.”

He brought his hand to the lower half of the engraving, his index finger following the narrow dashes and scores. He was particular with the order of marks to trace. As Kytes reached the top of the inner rune's engraving, his fourth finger joined the spell, mirroring the second to draw upon symmetrical lines and angular bars then to each pivot and swirl. In each stroke’s wake, threads of flickering ochre lined the old sigil.

Alyce couldn't help but admire Kytes’ focus, how unphased he was by even the baker's looming shadow at his back. The mage's umber eyes were half lidded, his blinks slow, his jaw relaxed. His attention to the rune and his work was so attentive that it was akin to the gaze upon a lover. Which was certainly not the case, she thought, blushing at a thought so foolish. But he loves what he does. He cares about this work, a mage's work.

Alyce’s hand subconsciously traveled to where her own heating stone laid. Even in the oven's sweltering heat, the stone remained delightfully comforting.

At last Kytes settled a thumb back at the base of the rune's outer ring. Lifting his other two fingers away, he ran the bend of the circle, rotating his hand slightly to close the magical bound. He exhaled softly through his nose and flattened his palm on top of the rune, covering it from sight.

There was no chanting or breathy utterance, no sparks that she sometimes saw materialize around a spellcasting mage. Yet from within the firebox, a mote of fire stirred, hovering above the hearth then bloomed into a radiant flame. The air that surrounded the newly birthed fire rippled, only providing heat, no longer acrid smoke.

Kytes withdrew his hand. Deep within the crevice of the rune, an orange glow pulsed from within the engraving.

The baker ambled forth and stared at the fire. Even Alyce, who had seen such renewals before, was entranced by the blaze. Other starting fires would sputter or throw sparks at the early stages of these enchantments, but this one burned steadily, only licking the air when the rune was informed to burn easy or hotter.

“Would you look at that?” The baker whispered when he finished testing the newly engraved rune. He directed his attention back to Kytes. “You're a real mage, for all that you are noble dressed.”

“He's from one of the holy cities, isn't he?” someone whispered from the onlookers. During the rune's renewal, several people have crowded into the bakehouse. “There was a well dressed older woman with him. I heard her mention the Sanctus.”

“The baron could afford him? Why didn't we get mages like him to start with?”

Kytes rose to his feet. His back remained to the crowding spectators, but Alyce saw the return of the conflicted grimace on the mage's face.

“Clothes are clothes. It's what the Sanctus provided me,” he proclaimed loudly, stepping away from his work. “I have done what the baron bade me. To renew it enough til contract end. If there are other fire runes that are considered communal property, I will see to them.”

Alyce could not blame Kytes for harboring the arrogant edge in his voice. Each mention of his outwardly features or about coin, seemed to draw forth a barrier between himself and the people. Still he was a stranger to the citizens, he did not know how openly they always shared their thoughts.

“This is of great help, Esphyr Kytes, you have seen the rune's hurts when none noticed prior,” she said, resting a hand on his arm. His stiff expression faltered at her praise and he gave her an appreciative smile. “The previous renewals were faulty and Esphyr Kytes willingly offered his aid. He accepted no extra payment because he truly wished to help. We are most fortunate that such a person happened to travel by.”

“No extra payment?” An incredulous townsperson asked.

Alyce frowned and squashed the sentiment before it lit. “None,” she said firmly.

“Perhaps we can share our hospitality in return then?” The mother of the redheaded twins had squeezed in. “I'm no mage but working on an empty belly makes everyone more cross than the norm. And we all heard they haven't had breakfast yet. Before we allow the lad to see more runes, we should feed him.” She marched in and wheeled the two out by the elbows. “The oven's working, let us hurry on with the bakes. I, for one, would like bread on the table before the morrow.”

While the baker began to resume his work and the townspeople to their queue, the woman guided them away from the crowd.

“I should introduce myself, Esphyr,” the woman said loudly, ignoring the muttering around them. “I go by Fanya, mother of Flore and Ivor. I am one of the many wives that married one of the many orchardists in Neburh.”

Her joke eased the tense corners at Kytes’ mouth. Taking notice of it, Fanya bumped Alyce’s shoulder playfully.

“Oh good. The lad knows how to smile. We needn't worry, Colleen Alyce. The terrible smoke hadn't permanently turned his face into a grimace."

The woman stopped them at a wooden bench that overlooked the orchards. Distant green hills encircled the groves, the wide expanse of carefully planted trees were their treasures. Above the greenery stretched a blue sky, turning milk white at the edges behind the hills. A thin layer of fog blanketed the scene, but as morning light grazed the top of the dew adorned trees, the mist turned a serene haze.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Once she made sure the pair was properly seated, Fanya beckoned her twins to come closer. The children had brought with them bowls and a covered stew pot.

“I've no bread, but apple pottage,” the woman said, revealing thickened porridge within the iron vessel. “Breadcrumbs boiled with apple, milk and honey. I always make plenty, being a family of four. My husband likes it just fine before we send him out to the orchards.”

It was a simple dish that even Alyce did not frequently partake in. When Haddie made sweet apple pottage, it was with grain, not mashed up days old bread. Still, Alyce did not mind its rustic nature, although —.

Alyce hazard a peek at Kytes who sat next to her.

The dark haired mage accepted an offered bowl, murmured his thanks and practiced a customary prayer that many religious sort did before meals. When he had finished his devotion, there was no tentativeness or scrutiny on his part. Without hesitation, he ate with great enthusiasm, so much that both women gaped at Kytes. Even Fanya’s twins waddled closer, taking great interest in watching Kytes polish the bowl of pottage.

“You had dinner with my lord last night?” Alyce inquired, unsure if her assumption was true.

Another spoonful halfway to his open mouth, Kytes quizzically looked up then glanced at his wide eyed spectators. Wearing a guilty expression, he straightened his posture, quickly setting the bowl and utensil down. “My apologies.”

Fanya was the first to recover. “Oh my, you were very hungry, weren't you, Esphyr?” She ladled more porridge into his bowl. “I suppose performing magicks is much like galloping with the sheep and hounds. I’ve brothers that act very much the same after herding flocks.”

“It is very good,” Kytes admitted sheepishly. He resumed eating, but with more manners. “I have found that food outside the holy cities is much more flavorful.”

“Well!” Fanya looked pleased and hummed. “I certainly did not know that. It is the apples. I doubt they have orchards like ours.”

“They do not,” Kytes said, pausing for a moment to look toward the view. “We have trees, but it is only for decoration and sparse in numbers, not groves like these.”

Alyce began to eat her own breakfast. The pleasant sweet taste of apples warmed her body. The texture was a bit more springy than she would have liked, but she recognized this mouthfeel was brought on by the rehydrated bits of bread. Alyce remained quiet as she listened to the kindly mother and mage resume their conversation about the orchards. Then the children, much encouraged after seeing Kytes wolf down his meal, wished to know if fire could hurt him; could it scorch and burn him like it did when they got too close.

“It most certainly does,” Kytes answered them. “There are fire mages who are more tied to the wild nature of fire. I’m not one of them. The fire nymphs, the lampades, only blessed me with enough to share and protect others with fire runes.”

“Like this one?” The boy showed off a necklace that hung at his neck. His twin sister had one in her pocket. Both bore a smaller but similar heating stone to that which Alyce carried.

“Just like it. May I?”

Kytes briefly held the pendants before returning them. It was for such a short moment, but Alyce swore the light on the runes brightened the moment the mage touched them.

When the meal was finished, Fanya and her children departed for their home and back to their place in line.

“Bread still needs to be baked, at least now we’ll have it on the table by the next,” Fanya had said, lifting the emptied stew pot to her hip. “Well then, Esphyr, and you as well, Colleen Alyce. I bid you a better day. Don't mind the assumptions and rumors. The people are not unkind, but they like to talk.”

“I suppose it comes with living in Neburh for too long,” Alyce mused more to herself after the small family departed. Likewise, the pair decided to walk back to the hamlet’s heart. “Not many visitors venture this far to visit and when we do receive travelers, they come in the form of merchants or traders. From that, any newcomer is worth gossiping and gawking at. Neburh is very dull.”

“I find it charming,” Kytes assured her. “The Blue Sanctus is located in the holy city of Thalhurst. We’ve so many visitors that the residents pay no mind to them or care for each other. I might have only greeted my neighbors a handful of times since I moved to my own dwellings.”

“Your own?”

“It is very small, a side shop. But I only have one connecting neighbor and the other side is a nice alley garden. I was able to save enough by completing Sanctus errands.” He became momentarily mesmerized by a stonemason and his journeymen working inside their shop. “It was either living in my own cramped quarters or sharing a large one with other male mages. And the latter option was getting much.”

Alyce tried envisioning the world he painted. “You do not enjoy their friendship?”

Kytes wrinkled his nose. “You mean, rivalry. They were the sort that enjoyed comparing strength and magicks. I'm not the bulky kind and I do not enjoy their exercise. What's worse was the horrible grooming habits.”

They visited the smithy next. The blacksmith and his son looked very much relieved with Kytes’ arrival and ushered them to their humble forge. The fire was banked, but it was not one birthed of magical quality.

The rune was in similar disrepair to that at the baker's, dusty and long neglected. Yet Kytes offered no complaints. He explained his spell’s workings to the craftsmen before he began the process of renewal.

Alyce could not deny her own fascination with his work. His tracing lined the rune with power and when the enchantment was done, the flames that flourished burned steadily and brighter than any incantation she had seen prior. The citizens of Neburh thought so too, and like the fire he drew forth, so did his magicking draw a warmer crowd.

At first, Alyce was heartened by their pleasant welcome. The contrast was in their words and thanks, expressed in the form of desserts and Neburh delicacies. Then she began to notice that several villagers had also brought candleholders, lanterns, and a variety of household objects that were in need of smaller spellings. Young children, a few years younger than Fanya's twins, thought it a great game to bring warming stones and regular ones to see if the mage could enchant the pebbles.

Kytes was not one to refuse the residents and seemed quite willing to renew everything thrust into his arms. It seemed effortless on his part. He would listen to their qualms and hold the object for a short while then return it to grateful hands. For the children, he would either choose to renew the fire runes or make a show of attempt before handing the stones back.

It was dusk when she finally stopped him, and when she finally noticed the slump in his shoulders. Despite the food he had consumed, Kytes was weary.

“This was not part of the agreement,” she scolded him, sitting him down at the side of a storage house. “My lord did not ask this of you. Nor could they normally pay you for those spells!”

He held up the handful of dried apples he was chewing on. It was the most recent treat he was given for renewing a rune on a kettle. “This is sufficient payment.”

“Esphyr, if food was sufficient payment then all mages would become beggars. You are far too charitable.” She watched him carefully select another slice. “Does food not provide you energy?”

“A very small amount.” He tried offering her some apples in which she shook her head to. “The spelled food which the Sanctus provides, on the other hand, does wonders.”

“Well we haven't that.” Alyce looked around them worriedly. “When last did you drink water?”

He raised a brow. “Dearest mother, surely you can tell I'm not Mouse.”

She bumped his shoulder playfully. “With how fascinated you were with apples, I wasn't sure.”

Kytes grinned and popped the remaining dried fruit into his mouth. After brushing his hands clean, he retrieved a wrapped package from his waist pouch.

“Toffee?” Alyce asked curiously when she saw the foodstuff within.

“Payn ragoun.” He let out a defeated sigh and slumped against the back wall he rested on. “The equivalent of trying to eat a rock. This is what traveling Sanctus mages are encouraged to partake when we've exhausted the elements hosted by our core. Despite the energy we gain back, we can't eat too much of it in one sitting. It'll be like filling an overflowing vessel to the brim, then more. And many of us, so many, have thought it wise to ingest an entire slab of it once in our lives.” He smiled crookedly. “The aftermath is not pleasant.”

Alyce did not dare ask what exactly the aftermath was. “Were you provided no warning?”

“I — was.” Kytes averted his eyes from Alyce’s disproving regard. “I only chose not to listen. Master Hollis gave me quite the earful after I awoke days later in the infirmary.”

“You do not listen often,” she remarked drily. “Given everything I've —”

Distant yells halted her in mid sentence and Alyce instantly leapt to her feet, dread knotting her stomach. It had been a while since she last heard such urgent calls, and these cries happened the most when the seasons turned cold.

Just like those times before, she felt increasingly hot as if her insides were boiling. Even though a fair distance away, sweat gathered at her forehead and stuck to her skin. Her mind screamed for her to find sanctuary behind solid walls, if only she was not being tied down to — she blinked. But there were no walls.

Breathing heavily, Alyce staggered a few steps away from the safety of the shed's shadow and searched the skies. In the direction where the residential district was located, she saw the glowing amber seeping into the indigo bruised night.

“I'm sorry, but I have to go,” Alyce heard herself say to Kytes, peeling his hands off her clammy ones. When did he grab hold of her, she wondered, but then shook away from the thought.

Without consulting further, she lifted her skirts to her knees and sprinted in the direction of the homes. In her pathing, she dodged several clusters of wary onlookers, all adamant about keeping their distance from the fire. She could hardly afford to be cross with them. Fire traveled quickly especially sparks on wayward breezes or winds. Should a spark turn blaze, a new threatening fire would be born. And aiding another's home could mean the burning of their unsupervised own.

Alyce stumbled toward the well at the edge of an alley and drew water from its depths. As she heaved and pulled on the rope, her jaw set tight. Several buckets remained neatly stacked against the well's exterior, evidence of how many residents had declined to come to aid.

A pair of hands came into view and hurriedly dismantled the pile.

“Fill the buckets, we’ll take them to the fire,” Fanya told the maid as she set several pails at Alyce’s feet. “The Esphyr is already there.”

“The Esphyr?” While Alyce flooded the buckets messily with water, several more townspeople ran toward them and hauled away the ones filled. “Can he extinguish the fire?”

“No,” Fanya replied firmly. “He said he cannot.”

“Then what is he doing?” With most of the buckets taken, she grasped for the handle of a remaining one and lulled it with her.

Upon approach, she saw the scarlet coils, wreathed in ashen clouds, curling outwards from the windows and door. The cavity which was the home was engulfed in dark garnet flames, devouring the blackened silhouettes of furniture and the residents’ belongings. The neighboring houses had their closest walls and roofing doused with water, but the people remained vigilant, watching the fire taste the sides of the burning walls.

Before the blaze, Kytes’ familiar profile stood, his head bowed over his clasped hands as if he was appealing to a deity.

Then his enclosed fingers opened, flinging the objects he prayed over into the narrow space between the burning house and its neighbors. Alyce approached him in time to observe him cast two crystals of polished black and blue by the outer perimeter of the walls.

Without turning, he held out a hand as a means to halt her; his other, he extended to the flames. She saw it then, embedded deep within the flesh of his offered palm, azure fire pulsed within a bodily engraving. They looked to be of two lines, conjoined at a point.

From the crystals, pillars of phthalo blue, lunged skyward, stretching and arching toward the center above the burning structure. Brilliant walls with sparkling sigils spilled from the pillars, containing the flames within its chamber.

Shaken by the spectacle, Alyce did not notice that the townspeople had all halted to watch.

“What magic is this?” someone moaned fearfully.

"Should we ask him to stop? That we can handle this?"

"And what if the fire burns down our homes?" A woman cried out. "Let the baron pay the mage. It's his responsibility anyways."

His? As in the Baron or Esphyr's?

Guilt locked at her throat when his shoulders slumped. Kytes most certainly heard those voices.

Alyce angrily stamped her foot and spun around, glaring at the onlookers. "Is this the time to be talking about coin right now?" She snapped, locking eyes with anyone who dared to meet them. "There's plenty a bucket at the well. Bring it here!"

She almost delighted with how quickly the crowd dispersed, before turning back to confront the mage.

“You, who still haven't drunk a sip of water all day!” She growled at him. "Is stopping a fire a part of your charity work?"

Despite his exhaustion, Kytes gave her a wavering grin. “I'm fulfilling my childhood dream to help the people. Is the bucket of water you brought for me?”

She was relieved he hadn't lost his sense of humor. “Unfortunately, it's for the burning fire.” Alyce watched as someone threw water at the embers closest to the wall, but it slid off the surface and pooled down the sides.

“The spell entraps the fire within, so that it won't travel to its neighbors,” Kytes called out hoarsely to the startled volunteers. “It also means outward elements cannot enter.”

“Then how do we extinguish it?” Alyce asked, flinching when a weakened post came crashing down. As promised, the debris and sparks that flew upwards from the impact did not penetrate through the magicked barrier.

“As long as there is no one in there, then I might be of aid?” A silky voice glided into the conversation. Hollis sauntered toward them, her spotless dress in sharp contrast to her soot covered student. “Which the civilians have assured me there are none and the only life left there was —. ” A vast bolk of fire roared out of the windows and collided against the translucent wall. “That of a potted plant.”

“Master, if you please!” Kytes growled through clenched teeth. “If you've time to play, you've time to end this swiftly!”

“Then an opening for me.” Hollis spun Alyce a few steps away from them and smiled. “You do not want to be caught in this, my dear.”

Alyce peered over the woman’s shoulder to see Kytes had brought a hand over his palm’s fire. Blue flames twined and wrapped around his fingers, then he twisted his hand away and grafted the air before him with the obtained blaze. The symbols he drew danced as flickering azure, only turning a glimmering saffron when he painted an enclosing ring about it.

The inner symbols of a new rune drawn, Kytes pushed it toward the barrier, where it bloomed and locked itself against the building.

Hollis leaned back and whispered to Alyce. “It never fails to amaze me what a runic mage can do.” She gave the maid a wink before emitting a low whistle from her lips. The air beneath the woman's feet stirred, lifting clouds of dust and sand.

She arrived at her student's side and it was then she changed her pitch, the fabrics of their cloaks lifting by an unseen gust. Wreathed by the lights of scarlet flames and azure magery, the pair wore a shawl of intimidating power; a vision oft sung through folkloric tales. Then the air about them rushed forward, Kytes’ rune wavering as Hollis’ powers surged through it.

The whistled notes spiraled into a dizzying song, which rose and twisted upon its utterance. The reeking clouds within the building began to fold inwards, sinking to the ground as Hollis’ bade it fall under her spell. The flames, in turn, shrank; fiery tendrils grasping for remaining straw or wood. The threatening illumination guttered as the blaze weakened, darkness reclaiming its footing as shadows slid down the higher beams and the remaining walls. The octave began its descent and when the trill turned into a whisper, and Hollis released her grip. The air within the chamber had froze. No fire remained, nor did any sound stir from inside the house.

“And this would be the time to douse any potential kindling,” Hollis announced before addressing Kytes. “You may release your spell.”

Her student made a beckoning motion, encouraging the magicked wall to dissipate into soft motes of azure and gold. While the wisps faded from view, Kytes sighed then suddenly dropped to his knees. Expecting his near faint, Hollis caught him before his body struck the ground.

“Whoever is not afeared, we need water on the house.” Baron Connall had been watching alongside his people. His own hands hauled a water filled pail. “Quickly, unless we want the mages' efforts to go to waste.”

Alyce lugged her bucket toward the house and dampened the sources of wood with its water. The fire had claimed much of the furniture, all had turned into a smoldering black. The family that resided here would need assistance in finding boarding and the house would need to be rebuilt.

While she and a few others did their lord's bidding, others have chosen to gather around Connall and the mages.

“It was the children, they were playing a game by the fireplace,” a man was explaining to the baron. At his side were two boys, looking properly ashamed and red in the face. “There was coal and it fell upon the thatching on the floor.”

“Was there no guarding before the fire?” Connall wanted to know.

“We used a stick and the rock was an edge piece,” one of the sons squabbled.

“We were going to let it cool before touching it.” the other one muttered. “Rolled it on the ground. We knew better than to touch it with our hands right then.”

Connall stopped the boy's father from scolding the latter’s sass, but his brows furrowed forward. “There are plenty of games to play. However, playing with fire is not one of them.”

“But he does it!” An accusatory finger pointed in the direction of the exhausted fire mage. “He was lighting fire by the fireplaces, touching candleholders and heating stones —”

His father gripped the outspoken boy’s ear. “He is different.” There was a firmness in his voice, but the man’s eyes showed something else.

The effect of the words caught. Alyce saw the distraught look on Kytes’ face then the slump of his shoulders. She could hear the rumblings, mouthing how the boys took influence by seeing the mage’s actions. How they made of a game of it. And how it led to the fire.

“Colleen Alyce, please take Esphyr Kytes back to the manor," Connall told his maid quietly. “And might I ask Esphyr Hollis to remain?”

Alyce set her emptied bucket down and went to relieve Hollis of her student. The older mage was whispering something to him then looked up at her.

“He truly has drained himself this time," Hollis murmured.

The younger mage allowed himself to be hauled up by a supporting arm. Alyce could feel his exhaustion echo down his trembling body, and as they walked, she peered at his face. Kytes’ eyes were shadowed by his lashes, his attention diligently focused on the ground. The terse lines forming at his mouth revealed his attempt to hold back his wavering emotions. The crowd gave way, skirting around them, in a fashion that made Alyce narrow her eyes and scowl.

Their trek back to the manor was one made of silence, no room for cheerful tales like the morn. And she missed it. Still, Alyce was thankful that for the moment, the manor’s surroundings were peaceful. No roar or crackling of fire, no alerting yells. The day spent in the castle town invited more realization that she much preferred the slower paced lifestyle than that of the citizens.

When they reached his room, she was surprised that Kytes’ room remained dark, only lit by the ghostly illumination that slipped through the curtain drawn window. For all he was about renewing runes, Kytes had not renewed his own room’s fireplace.

“Thank you for today, Colleen Alyce,” he said, slipping away from her and stepping into his quarters. “I’ll be fine now.”

“You are exhausted, Esphyr. What will be your source of light?” she asked.

“I will manage.”

It was a dismissal and she knew it. Yet she willed herself to touch his hand, an attempt to reason with him. His skin was hot to the touch, not burning but definitely not one a normal person could easily bear.

“Let me at least light a candle in your room,” she insisted. “If you stumble and hurt yourself, my lord will be most displeased that I did not try to look after you.”

The mage was despondent, seemingly not have noticed her touch. Then he meekly nodded and allowed her entry. Alyce acted quickly upon his consent, finding the case of candles with the metal tinder box in the desk. She knelt down and prepared the char cloth within the box before beginning to strike her flint and steel against it. When a spark lit, she set her tools down and nursed the cloth before lighting the candle.

“You make it look so simple.”

She looked up to see that Kytes had been watching her, a look of envy written on his face.

“Simple for me,” she said softly, her response coaxing an amused huff. Their shadows wavered as she set the candlestick down on the holder. “Esphyr, it is not your fault for the actions of oth—”

“I think I’ve heard too much of that as of late.” Kytes snapped.

Alyce instantly withdrew a step away from the table. The hurt in her eyes evident.

Kytes let in a stuttering inhale. “I— I am sorry. You are, and have been, especially understanding, despite everything.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “Are you disappointed about the people?”

He shook his head slowly, looking down at his hands. “I feel as if — all I'm trying to do right, had only making things worse. I was foolish to think I could win others by kindness. That doing things so easily in front of others might give the perception that there is no risk in what they should be wary of.” He rubbed where the engraved rune on his palm had been, long vanished from sight. “Runic fire is useless in taming real fire. Its only worth in providing wards to prevent, to contain, to provide protection for the people. And I… have done the opposite.”

“You have done nothing but aid people today!” Alyce cried out. “Even since…” She fumbled for the stone tucked in her pocket. “Since you've arrived.” She drew it out and showed him the charm. “The magic you stored here is much brighter than any I've held. And the people will see that for every rune on a hearth, a kettle, or a lantern, it is renewed all the brighter. Have faith that they will see it!” The young woman stepped closer and held her stone out to him. “I am grateful for this, Esphyr.”

He jerked his head to the side, attempting to hide his face. But she saw it, the tears he attempted to wipe away with a casual hand. Alyce’s expression softened.

It's more than just exhaustion, she realized. He truly does believe magic is for the people while we only speak on and on about coin. It-- Alyce sucked in a harsh breath. It must have been frustrating to llsten to.

"You need to drink water," she murmured, reaching for the lone cup on the table.

The pitcher was full, having been refilled during the day and its content cool. As she slid it across the table, a shock lanced up her arm. She winced and began to pull away, but what felt like dozens of sewing needles pricked into her soft palm, fastening her to the pitcher's iron surface. Then every muscle in her body stiffened, knots tensing at her back, her chest locked into an icy vice. Though she was reluctant, her second hand joined the first on the pitcher, then she whimpered. The needles had turn into blades drawing something, her blood, every bit of energy she possessed. Her vision swam before she could shut her eyes. The pitcher's condensation looked as if turned into ice and pierced her skin.

“Colleen!"

Something warm enveloped her hands and she jolted out of her thoughts. The pitcher was still in her grasp, the cup below empty. And clasped around her hands, were a larger pair with longer fingers and toughened calluses.

“Colleen Alyce.”

She looked up to meet steady umber eyes and in them she found concern and shock. Then the base of the vessel struck the table's top and Kytes released her.

“What --?” She inspected her hands. There was no marking on her palms or anywhere, only moisture left from the pitcher.

“You had -- frozen in place after pouring water,” Kytes answered, he spoke in a calming fashion. “It has been a long day, with an eventful end. You must be tired. Allow me to walk you to your room. “

“Oh!” Though she exclaimed, Alyce could not help but frown at the empty cup on the table. Had she poured water? " Lost in thought, I suppose. You needn't trouble yourself, I can walk back to my room."

She took one step forward and the room spun. Covering her face, Alyce tried to regain focus and composure.

"Colleen!"

“It's fine. Exhaustion, as you said." As she straightened out, Alyce perceived evident panic on his face, his arms and hands extended out as if intending to catch her. "And not enough water. We should rest, we've more manor's runes tomorrow.”

He scanned her face, looking very much in disbelief, then fetched something from his pocket. It was a blue stone that he held but when Kytes released it from his grip, a light bloomed from within the stone and turned it into a crystal with an ethereal sheen.

“A light, I do not trust you to go down the stairs in the dark and light a fire in your state. And I tire just thinking of fiery surprises.” He dropped the crystal into her hand. “Keep it close to you for the rest of the night. It will — provide better sleep and ensure your mind doesn't wander too far. You may return it to me in the morning.”

She marveled at its beauty, far prettier than a cheap flattened pebble with an engraved rune. It was warm too, perhaps even more than her own spelled one. But he was right. She would have to return such a lovely thing tomorrow.

“Until then.” Alyce looked up to see that Kytes had drawn closer, though he remained terribly anxious. His mouth moved as if he meant to speak more, but then buried it with a shake of his head.

"Good night Colleen."

She was gladden to have been provided a crystal to help her navigate through the manor's dark halls. But with each step, Alyce found herself becoming progressively tired. Her thoughts began to slow, giving no protest when she wondered about a bath or even potentially finding supper.

And the moment she returned to her own chambers, Alyce remembered little of it after, beside Bea leaping to her feet and catching her falling body into her arms.