Another day had passed for Freja and she felt as though progress on restoration had slowed considerably. Her potions worked, but their effects dulled by the severity of her injuries. She was still in constant pain which she thought would have subsided by then but the herbal health potions weren’t made to heal the kind of injuries she had. The inefficiency of the potions would mean the scars on her side and arm would be permanent even if she could fully heal herself.

Sitting with her back against the cold stone wall, she ran her fingers aimlessly over the rough floor. Her thoughts began to wander into the darker corners of her mind, lingering on something she had considered before—poison. She could end it all, stop the constant agony and the slow, torturous decline. It wasn’t like she had anything to live for so thought flickered to life. If anything she was holding Bjorn back, and the past few days proved to her he would be just fine without her. It would be so easy, a simple vial and a few ingredients she had in her kit.

She picked up a small rock that her hand brushed against and examined it briefly before hurling it into the dark recesses of the cave. She watched the flickering campfire, its dying embers casting long shadows on the walls. It was her only source of warmth, the only thing keeping her tethered to the present. It was the only reprieve she had from the dark thoughts that danced around her mind.

Bjorn had gone out again—patrolling or hunting, she wasn't sure anymore. He had become far more vigilant, barely sleeping at all in his constant watch over the cave. Her hand trembled as she scooted toward her alchemy setup. If she had time to contemplate the darkness, she had time to brew another potion. Maybe this one would work better, maybe this one would dull the pain just a little more. As she reached for the ingredients, carefully laid out in her limited space, Bjorn returned from his patrol. He dropped a bundle of sticks by the fire with a soft thud and quietly sat beside her, his presence grounding her in a way nothing else could.

Freja’s fingers hesitated over the herbs as she cast a glance at him. Bjorn’s eyes were watchful but weary, his large form coiled with tension, as if ready to spring into action at any moment. She wondered what he had seen out there, what had him so unsettled. He watched her now, quietly observing as she prepared to brew yet another potion.

The thought of poison returned, nagging at the back of her mind. She could stop this all so easily—but then what? Leave Bjorn alone to fend for himself? After she brought him here with her familiar summoning ritual. She didn’t have the right to give up now. She wouldn’t let her evil family have the satisfaction of finding her bones. She wouldn’t let the shadows win. No. Not today. Not yet. With a deep breath, she shoved the thought back into the darkest part of her mind where it belonged. She wasn’t done.

“Okay-okay, focus.” She said to herself. “It is just another potion, you’ve made plenty by this point.”

To her it wasn’t just another potion though. She wasn’t in a safe lab with her professors and peers. She was in the damp cave of the very creature that just four days ago tried to kill and eat her. She still ached which was a constant reminder of just how close she had come to breathing her last breath. The thought of her side being split open, the visceral image of the creature stepping on her leg and breaking every bone so she couldn’t escape flashed in her mind.

Freja shook the thought from her head and focused on her stopping her quivering hands. She closed her eyes to focus on her inhale and exhale then she felt warmth on her thigh. When she opened her eyes Bjorn’s paws were resting on her lap and the edges of a smile crossed her lips as she reached over and petted the lizard. She needed this next batch to work better, or she wasn’t sure how much longer she could endure, but as long as she had Bjorn she would try.

Freja picked up the flaron root. She rolled the dark and twisted root in her hand, its form rough beneath her fingers. It was bitter and tough, a stubborn ingredient, but essential for binding the potion’s healing magic. She placed it on a cutting board and began to chop it into the finest pieces she could. Her knife, dulled from overuse, made the task slower and less refined than she liked.

As she worked, she murmured a simple incantation under her breath, her fingers glowed faintly as magic was channeled into the knife. As she worked, the root softened, its bitter scent mixed with the musk of the cave. The magic coaxed the root to release its properties, infusing it with an aura.

“It looks good.” Freja assured herself as she moved the cutting board to the side.

Next was the dorma bulbs, another rooty ingredient but this one looked more like a green onion. In the next process she would have to use them carefully or they would be less effective and lose potency. She cut the stems from the bulbs and placed three in her mortar. She whispered another spell and the runes on the mortar glowed with a gentle light in response to her magic. She crushed them carefully, watching as the light transferred into the paste that formed beneath her pestle.

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As she finished Bjorn leaned in closer to her to get a better look.

“You want to know what I am doing, baby?” Freja asked, and wasn’t surprised when he nodded. “In order to bring out the compounds needed in the healing potions each ingredient needs to be prepared in a different way. The tool takes my mana and uses it to enhance the natural qualities of the plants.”

She moved on to the shade caps which she had already prepared. They were dried near the fire the day Bjorn brought them to her and crushed into a powder. Still she hesitated over the fungus powder as prepared the measuring equipment. Shade caps were tricky—too much, and the potion could turn toxic; too little, and it would lose its potency altogether. She bit her lip, carefully measuring out a small amount.

She filled a beaker with the appropriate amount of water and placed it over the bunsen burner. Carefully she mix each ingredient in. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she leaned closer, her magic guiding the blend, coaxing the ingredients to harmonize. The flare crystal’s heat was just enough to keep the mixture stable, but she had to be careful—too much heat, and the potion would scorch, too little, and it would spoil.

When she was at the academy this was the part of her study that was the most difficult. Her magic was too chaotic to do it without supervision, yet now thanks to her bond with Bjorn, it felt almost instinctual. It just clicked for her how to manipulate the mana in a way that she could only dream of before. She smiled despite the pain that flared in her side with each breath and let her mana gently infuse into each ingredient.

Freja continued with heating, straining out the plant matter. Then distilling the concoction until she had a perfect herbal health potion.

“It’ll have to do,” She said, examining the cooling brew. “I’ve survived this long. I’ll survive this, too.” She slowly leaned until she lay flat on her back looking up at the cave’s ceiling. She turned to Bjorn who was still watching her curiously. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

Bjorn squawked affirmatively and Freja held out her hands for him to come closer. She smiled a little more confidently this time as he leaned closer.

“Let me show you something, baby. Wendigo have a thing they do to show that they really care about someone.” Freja said as she cupped Bjorns face with her hands. “Honestly, I was afraid you’d leave. I wouldn’t even have blamed you for abandoning a broken and sad excuse for a master like me. Despite everything you are still here. You are still my adorable baby. It is just you and me, Bjorn. You’re my family now, not just a familiar but my family, all I have left.” She leaned forward and nuzzled him. “This is how family shows affection.”

***

Her leg and ribs still felt raw, but her arm had healed almost completely, save for the stiffness in her shoulder.

It was progress—slow, but steady—and yet, the stench of the rotting troll carcass was becoming unbearable. The nauseating smell clung to the air, invading every breath. Freja wrinkled her nose, gagging as she leaned over her makeshift alchemy station, where another healing potion bubbled on her small bunsen burner. She had tweaked the formula enough times now that the potions not only sped up her healing but also helped numb the pain. She had to take one every few hours, but at least they worked.

“I should be able to walk without assistance by this time tomorrow,” she muttered to herself, her voice strained as she swallowed back the rising bile. “For the Forest Father’s sake, that smell. I can't wait until we leave this cursed place.”

While she waited for the potion to brew she took another look at the changes made to her magic by the familiar contract. As she thought about it, the strange mental projection screen materialized in her vision again. It was strange, unfamiliar magic, yet she found it almost natural to conjure now. Mental projection magic was rare, certainly not something she’d expected from a familiar bond—especially one still so early in its development.

Mental projection magic was unusual, but not unheard of. This type of magic was usually the domain of starlight casters like her father, same with illusion and even holy magic casters. She'd only ever heard rumors of cultivators having similar abilities, though it was nothing she'd ever seen firsthand. Yet, there she was, tapping into it as if it had always been there, lying dormant within her. It made her wonder if it was a trait she got from Ulfar, perhaps she was a starlight wizard.

Familiar bonds did sometimes impart some of the magic of their companions on each other, but she’d never heard of such a complex magic being imparted before the familiar reached the Iota stage. At most their bond was a Delta, but even that was questionable. More than likely they still had a proto-bond which is one that can be easily broken and is the reason that she wasn’t supposed to take him out of the containment field as it stabilized proto-bonds.

She shrugged the thought away, her attention returning to the mental projection. It acted like some sort of self-diagnostic tool, showing her a readout of her abilities and the changes the bond had wrought. Interesting, but not particularly useful. She already had a good grasp of what she could do—seeing it projected in front of her didn’t change that. If anything, it only left her with more questions.

What fascinated her most was that this magic wasn’t drawing from her core. Instead, it seemed to be powered by ambient mana in the environment around her. External mana. That alone was unusual, a skill that typically took years to master. Yet here, it was happening automatically, without her even trying.

She couldn’t help but wonder: if this was the kind of power she could access now, with their bond still in its infancy, what would she gain once Bjorn became a Delta-class familiar? Or even an Iota-class in a few years?

“Then things would be really interesting.” Freja said out loud. “I wonder if I will get venefikinesis? That will be amazing.”