Year 3918 of the Almanac of Ages, Kingdom of Solstice capital Whirich.

Elynor Thorne

I rose from the table with an exasperated sigh, carefully navigating through the debris of the brawl. Glass shards crunched under my boots as I approached Drew, who was hunched over, collecting scattered coins that were still rolling across the uneven floor.

"I see you're still having fun like in the old days," I commented, crossing my arms.

Drew visibly startled at my voice, his pointed ears drooping like those of a cat caught in the act. He turned slowly, his usual confident smile faltering for a moment. "Elynor! What a... pleasant surprise."

"As pleasant as a kick in the teeth, I imagine," I replied, watching him frantically counting coins. "How much do you think this little show will cost you?"

"Oh, not much," he muttered, though his tone betrayed concern as he stacked the coins. "Just... half of tonight's winnings. Maybe two-thirds." He glanced at the furious innkeeper. "Possibly all of it."

"Let's go upstairs," I whispered, noticing the hostile glares still surrounding us. "You have a room, right?"

"Always prepared," he confirmed with a half-smile, gathering the last coins. He turned to the innkeeper with a theatrical bow and a jingling pouch of coins before leading me up the creaking stairs.

The room was small but clean, lit by a single candle. Drew collapsed into a chair, touching the bruise forming on his jaw.

"Thea is furious," I said without preamble, sitting on the edge of the bed.

His ears flattened even more. "How much?"

"She even hugged me when I told her I'd look for you."

Drew visibly paled. "Oh no."

"Oh yes. And you know that the kinder she is..."

"...the more we should worry," he finished, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. He remained silent for a long moment, staring at the candle flame. "Perhaps it's time to tell her I'm thinking of leaving the Arcanum."

I jumped up. "You WHAT?" In two steps, I was in front of him and, before he could react, I grabbed his pointed ear between thumb and forefinger.

"Ouch! Ouch! Elynor, by all the gods!" he squeaked, squirming in the chair.

"I recommended you for that position!" I hissed, tugging gently on the sensitive ear. "I put my reputation on the line for you!"

"I know, I know! But let go of my ear!"

"No, not until you explain what in the hells is going through your head! You haven't changed one bit since you were my professor, always looking for trouble, always causing chaos!"

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Drew raised his hands in surrender. "Alright! Alright! I'll explain everything, but please, the ear!"

I released my grip reluctantly, and he massaged his sore ear, giving me a wounded look that didn't move me in the slightest. "You know," he grumbled, "for someone who's known me since she was a terrifying little student, you've become surprisingly violent."

"And you, for someone who should have matured over the last twenty years, have remained surprisingly idiotic," I replied, but there was a note of affection in my voice that I couldn't hide. "Now, explain this Arcanum business, and you'd better have a good reason."

Drew stood from the chair and began pacing the room, a habit I remembered all too well from his days as a professor when he would lose himself in thought during lectures.

"I have... debts to settle," he finally admitted, avoiding my gaze. "Lately, I've been trying to scrape together what I owed my creditors before leaving."

"Leaving?" I stared at him incredulously. "Drew, you're dancing around the point. What's really going on?"

He stopped at the small window, looking at the street below. "My mother has summoned me."

"Your... mother?" The words came out in an incredulous whisper. "Are you talking about that mother?"

"That mother," he confirmed with a bitter smile. "The same one who hasn't made contact for decades. And in her last letter, she wasn't particularly... subtle with her demands."

I straightened on the bed. "But it makes no sense. You've been wandering the world for decades doing... well, whatever it is you do. Why now?"

Drew raised his hands in frustration. "Believe me, I wish I knew. Since my father died, she's practically withdrawn from family affairs. I've barely seen her, let alone heard from her." He passed a hand over his face, a gesture that betrayed his weariness. "And now, out of nowhere, she writes saying she needs me to 'repay an old favor.' Nothing else, no explanation."

"A favor?" I asked, feeling a shiver down my spine. Elves and their favors were notoriously... complicated.

"She wouldn't specify further," Drew murmured, returning to his seat. The candlelight danced across his face, making the shadows under his eyes seem more pronounced. "But I know my mother. If she's gone to the trouble of threatening me, it must be serious."

I observed him carefully. There was something in his tone, a note of worry I'd never heard before. Drew could be many things - irresponsible, provocative, sometimes even reckless - but I'd never seen him truly scared.

"So instead of talking to someone about it, you thought it best to spend your last weeks getting beaten up in taverns," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

"Hey, technically I was winning!" he protested, a flash of his usual humor returning to his face. "Besides, I had to scrape together some coin for the journey. Can't show up at home like a beggar."

"Home," I repeated the word as if it were foreign. In all these years, I'd never heard him use that term. "Is that really what you still call it?"

Drew remained silent for a long moment, his fingers fidgeting absently with a loose thread on his torn tunic. "No," he finally admitted. "But that's where I have to go."

I observed the elf sitting before me, with his Arcanum tunic reduced to tatters and bruises beginning to bloom on his fair skin, and for the first time since I'd known him, he seemed... old.

Not in the conventional sense - elves are infuriatingly known for maintaining that eternal youthful air that drives us common mortals mad, even him being half-elven. No, it was something in his eyes, a weariness I'd never seen in all these years, not even during his endless lectures on enchantment theory.

Perhaps all those nights spent emptying the pockets of angry drunks were nothing more than a pathetic attempt to delay what he knew was inevitable.

Oh, Drew. You might have run for decades, but it seems the past had finally decided to present you with the bill. And knowing you, you probably didn't even have the money to pay it.