Freja was a few hours into making the new potions; something she’d done countless times, but in the comfort of her room or in a lab as part of her education. Freja found solace in the fact that she could rely on her skills despite the dire situation. Having Bjorn there definitely helped calm her nerves. If she’d been on her own, had that troll really killed him, she too would have died, whether it was by thirst, starvation or the shadow wolves.

She looked at the familiar as he dutifully guarded her from the entrance of the cave. His forked tongue tasted the air while his head swiveled, looking out into the darkness. She couldn’t help but smile at the fact that someone cared about her so much they would literally jump onto the back of a troll for her.

She then realized that Bjorn must be confused as to what was going on. He was intelligent, and she’d just mentioned a war and really only talked vaguely about herself and what was going on. She wanted to vent and for him to understand their situation and more about herself. While they waited it was the perfect time.

“I guess I should start with the obvious. I was a noble.” She glanced at him, and he tilted his head slightly, his tongue flicking again. Freja couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Not that it matters much anymore. You saw how that ended. I was considered a failure. A noble with barely any magical affinity to speak of. That kind of thing wasn’t tolerated in families like mine. Funnily enough, though, since we bonded, I think that’s starting to change. I’ve never had this much control over my magic before.”

She focused her mana again, letting it flow carefully into the swirling mixture, watching as it took on a faint glow. Her hands worked automatically as she spoke, adding ingredients to the simmering potion. The process was delicate, and for once, she was doing it without assistance. Just a few days ago, her magic had been too erratic for her to manage this kind of task alone. But ever since the familiar bond, something had changed. She was more in control now, even if it still felt strange.

“Anyway, being a noble in our society comes with expectations. Power. Responsibility. I didn’t live up to any of that. My older sister, Helga, was the perfect one. Strong, talented, kind—people even whispered she was more powerful than our father. Everyone loved her. She always looked out for me, even though I was the family disappointment. But my little brother, Ragnar… he never warmed to me. I guess he took after Father in that way.

“As for my little sister, Eira—well, you never met her. Neither did I, not really. Ulfar and Ingrid kept her away from me. Like I was some kind of disease. I heard she’s a Starlight mage too. Just like Helga and Ulfar, it must have skipped me and Ragnar.”

She paused, her hands moving to grind another set of ingredients. This next batch was for the last potion she needed, the one that would hopefully keep them alive long enough to figure out their next move. She poured crushed herbs into a second beaker, the mixture swirling as it began the distillation process. Her hands moved with practiced skill, but her thoughts drifted to the war, to the endless conflict that had shaped so much of her life.

“Anyway, the war. It’s been going on for three thousand years, give or take. Sometimes it’s quiet, just small skirmishes. Other times…other times, it’s chaos. Cities destroyed, forests torn apart. It changes in intensity from small skirmishes to battles with magics that can level mountains. Then there could be years of nothing in between. It’s mainly focused around the Diredian Forest. The druids and the wendigo share a common ancestral home. The druids claim it’s their land, but that’s a lie. It’s ours. The Forest Father, our True Father, descended there and created us, the wendigo, in his image. The druids stole that image with their twisted magics and claimed the land as theirs. And so, the war never ends. Helga believed she could make a difference. That’s why she went. She was the prodigy—the golden daughter of the Salstar house. Stronger than Ulfar himself, people said, but she never came back.”

Freja’s hands moved in a steady rhythm as she continued to refine the potion. The mana infusion was the most sensitive part, and she had always struggled with it—until now. She glanced down at her work, feeling a sense of pride despite the circumstances. She was actually doing it. The potions would be done after the arduous distilling process, which would require Freja to regulate mana in the brew every few minutes.

“I don’t know if you care about any of this but I am happy that I have you, baby,” She said. “You’re like my little knight in scaly armor.”

Bjorn squawked what Freja assumed was his approval, making Freja laugh. It felt good to laugh, even if just for a second.

Freja worked all throughout the night to refine the herbal health potion into a lesser health potion. The mana infusion process was the most sensitive to failure. Up until recently she would’ve had to have a professor or classmate assist her in this part because her magic was so unstable. If she’d had better ingredients she could have probably made a petty potion, but one could dream.

Freja guesstimated that they only had a few hours before sunrise. They’d need to rest soon if they were going to survive the next leg of their journey. Exhaustion and shadow wolves were a lethal combination, and Freja wasn’t eager to test her luck any further.

The potion simmered gently, its color shifting as she pushed more mana into it. Freja’s gaze drifted to Bjorn. Every now and then, he would turn to check on her, his bright eyes curious and alert. Freja smiled at him, still marveling at how such a small, strange creature had become her familiar and family.

“When we leave, we have to head northwest,” she said, her voice low but thoughtful as she focused on the brew. “I doubt we could climb the cliff face, and even if we did, we’d be heading straight into the Salstar domain. I don’t think either of us is up for that right now.” Bjorn squawked in response, his head bobbing slightly, Freja chuckled and continued, “Can you get us around the wolves’ territory?” Bjorn squawked again, louder this time. “Okay, then, Take a nap for a few hours. When I’m done with the potion, I’ll wake you up, and you can be my cute guard again.”

It took a few hours like she had expected but the potion was finally done and Freja had managed to make two doses of the now crimson liquid. The light of the morning sun only barely peeked into the cave as she corked the second vial. She’d been waiting until both were done before taking one just in case it knocked her out, which was possible with the level of injury she had. She called Bjorn a few times and the familiar roused from his sleep easily enough, yawning wide, showing off rows of teeth and large fangs. Freja thought it was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.

Now that he was awake she told him to wake her in three hours and took the potion. It didn’t have a taste, but the effects were immediate and painful. She felt her body heat up, her muscles tense and her bones force themselves to heal. The pain was numbed as the process continued, but it still sucked. As expected, she soon passed out.

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***

Bjorn stood up sniffing the unconscious girl to get a good sense of what the magic was doing to her body. He could taste the mana of the potion as it ran its course through her chest and radiated outward to each of her limbs. He noticed that it didn’t follow her digestive track but instead her mana pathways. He didn’t have the knowledge to tell what was going on beyond that so he turned his attention elsewhere.

“Wendigo, druids, the Forest Father? Do any of those sound familiar?” Bjorn asked mentally.

“No, but the races can’t be more than three thousand years old. After all this Forest Father guy is a True Wendigo that descended to this plane and created them, according to her,” Failsafe responded with a yawn that Bjorn heard in his mind. “But we don’t have enough information or your memories to come to anything conclusive.”

“D-did you just mentally yawn?” Bjorn said as he walked back up to his post at the mouth of the cave. “You're a magic construct, do you sleep? Never mind. You knew what shadow wolves were, which means we know this region but not the people that live here. I’m pretty sure that means I was alive before the Forest Father descended and created Freja’s race, right?”

“If that’s true then finding out more information about you will be difficult,” Failsafe agreed, then he thought for a second. “Well, we will get a little bit more answers after you level up.”

Bjorn looked at Freja for a long moment. “I hope so, but for now let's focus on getting out of here.”

***

Bjorn watched as Freja stirred from her rest. He had given her four hours instead of three knowing she would need to be as rested as possible. When she woke, she blinked groggily, but the signs of exhaustion and pain were gone, replaced by a renewed energy. The moment she realized it, her eyes lit up, and without warning, she scooped Bjorn up into a tight hug, spinning him around. He let out a small, approving squawk, though the moment couldn’t last long. They both knew they needed to pack up and leave.

The first thing Freja packed was her alchemy kit; it had already proven its worth and would be going wherever she would. The leatherbound case wasn’t too heavy, and she could easily carry it. In her backpack she put only her unsoiled clothing, as she would be leaving the bloody ones here. She also had a few toiletries, her notebooks on alchemy and one textbook. Everything else was to be left behind. As Freja packed, Bjorn stood nearby, his sharp eyes glancing toward the mouth of the cave to make sure they were still safe.

When Freja paused, Bjorn followed her gaze. She had noticed something: a small silk bag her father had left with the health potion. Bjorn could sense her hesitation, the way her eyes darkened at the sight of it. She had almost forgotten about it. The tension in her body made it clear that whatever was in that bag carried weight beyond its contents. She looked like she wanted to walk by it as if she didn’t notice it at all. However, her rational mind would not let her disregard a potentially helpful item, despite who it was from.

Freja knelt down and picked up the bag, the soft jingle from inside making her sigh. Bjorn moved closer, curious as to what was inside. The bag seemed small and inconspicuous, but it had history—and pain—attached to it.

“It’s probably just sixteen silver or bronze coins,” Freja muttered with a shrug, her tone dismissive. “When a Shai is kicked from a family, they’re supposed to give them a coin for every year of life they were with the family. It’s supposed to help them start over.”

Bjorn tilted his head, his sharp eyes fixating on the bag as Freja untied it and dumped a few coins into her hand. Her face shifted in an instant—surprise, confusion, and then something darker. It wasn’t silver or bronze. It was gold.

Bjorn squawked softly, sensing the change in Freja’s mood. Her hands trembled slightly as she counted the coins. Sixteen gold. Her expression paled, and she leaned against the cave wall, sliding down to sit on the cold stone floor, disbelief and nausea battling for control on her face.

“Why would they do this?” Freja’s voice trembled, her anger slowly building beneath the surface. She held one of the gold coins out for Bjorn to see. “One of these is worth three months' wages for most people, and Ulfar gave me a fucking lesser health potion. They knew, they expected me to die and instead of giving me something useful they prolonged my suffering! The lesser health potion was a trap. If you weren’t here I would have to starve to death or be eaten alive by scavengers instead of bleeding out.”

Her voice cracked, but she held back tears. “Their evil Bjorn, they were my family, they loved me once, but they're just evil. With this they spent more on me to rot in a field than they ever did when I was their daughter.” She clenched the coin, her knuckles white, before letting out a dark, bitter laugh. “I bet they wanted me to find this, to give me just enough hope before realizing that nothing had changed. That I was dead regardless.”

Freja shoved the coins back into the silk bag with more force than necessary, the jingle of gold sounding hollow. She threw it into her bookbag and sat there for a long moment, her breath shaky. Bjorn moved closer, nudging her gently with his snout, as if to remind her he was still there. She opened her arms and he leaned into as she sniffled.

“What an evil son of a bitch,” she muttered. Her breathing was staggered but she eventually calmed down. “Sorry you had to see me like this,” she said softly, her voice steadier now. She nuzzled him and stood up, brushing herself off. “You ready to go, baby?”

***

Outside the cave, Freja stretched for the first time in nearly a week, her body relishing the warmth of the sun. The light bathed her in its glow, and she inhaled deeply, grateful to be on her own two feet again. She enjoyed the pull of her muscles as she touched her toes without pain. More importantly, she had a plan for self-defense.

She spoke the words of power with careful precision, summoning the Mystic Wind Hands. Two translucent, shimmering hands appeared in front of her, their ethereal forms swaying slightly in the air. Freja looked around, spotting a few rocks scattered nearby. They weren't large but heavy enough to make an impact. She directed the wind hands to pick them up, and they obeyed immediately, lifting the stones with ease.

Freja swung the rocks experimentally, her improved control over magic allowed her to move the stones at a surprising speed. They whistled through the air as she focused on their trajectory. She let out a satisfied breath as the rocks collided with the nearby cliff face, sending small chunks of debris flying. The impact was strong, much stronger than she’d anticipated. It was crude but effective.

Without the rocks, the wind hands themselves were weak, barely capable of causing damage. But with the stones, they packed a real punch. The spell had limits—the wind hands would disappear if they struck something directly, leaving her temporarily defenseless. She needed to have it timed just right, letting go of the stones right before impact so she could avoid dispelling them. This way, she could resummon the rocks as long as they stayed within the spell’s ten-foot range.

It wasn’t perfect. She didn’t have any offensive spells in her repertoire, but it was the best she could do for now. She was hopeful that she wouldn’t need them at all and they could safely travel around the wolves’ territory. She glanced over at Bjorn, who stood watching her from the cave's entrance, his eyes following the stones' trajectory with keen interest. She liked to believe he was impressed by her makeshift attack magic. His only response was a soft squawk, but that was enough for her.

She took another deep breath as she looked at the dark forest they would be traveling through. The dense trees swayed in the wind. Bjorn by her side and a plan in mind, she wasn’t the same vulnerable girl she had been a week ago. She was going to survive and get out of this forest.

“Alright, lead the way,” Freja said, giving Bjorn a confident nod.