A light knock drew Stephen’s gaze toward the door. Fresh light streamed through the solitary window, signaling the start of a new day. Elizabeth had attempted to check on him throughout the week, but he had remained quiet and subdued, processing the emotions that coursed through him. The door creaked open, and once again, Elizabeth slowly peered inside to see if any changes had occurred in Stephen’s demeanor. He was sitting upright now, no longer lying down facing the wall—that was a good sign, she thought to herself. The air in the room seemed lighter, and she spoke in a soft tone.

“I brought you some breakfast. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, and you really should.” Her voice was meek and timid, a far cry from her usual chipper personality—a clear sign she was testing the waters to gauge Stephen’s reaction. “I’ll just leave it here for you. Please, you need to eat.”

Hearing no response from Stephen, she hung her head and began to close the door, but stopped when she finally heard his voice.

“Thank you,” Stephen said, getting out of bed and walking toward the door. Elizabeth’s gaze lifted, tears building in her eyes.

“I apologize for causing you to worry,” Stephen said, fully aware that Elizabeth had stayed near his room, ensuring he was okay. He now stood before her, a half-smile forming on his face, showing his understanding and appreciation.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Stephen. It was a lot to have dumped on you,” she replied, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away again. “I just… I know how it feels to—" Stephen gently took the tray of food from her hands, stopping her mid-sentence.

“I know. And thank you for giving me the space to process. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around everything, and I don’t know if I’ll ever truly grasp it all.” He walked over to the small desk, sat down with his food, and began picking at a slice of bread. Elizabeth, tentatively, entered the room and sat on the bed.

“So, I’ve informed Corin about the horde quest. He’s been gathering people and sending out scouts into the Whispering Woods to collect intel,” Elizabeth said, trying to change the subject. Her voice carried a note of hope, as if steering his thoughts away from the recent traumatic revelations might help cheer him up. “If you’re feeling up to it, we can go downstairs and get you registered.” Her voice grew more upbeat, ending on a hopeful note.

“I think we can do that. But before we do, Elizabeth—why are you helping me? You found out I’ve been lying to you,” Stephen asked, his eyes locking onto hers. His gaze made her blush, and she quickly looked away.

“You needed help,” she replied. “To be honest, I suspected you were hiding something from me, but your family wasn’t one of the things I expected. And I’m a woman of my word. I won’t rest until we reunite you with them. We’re a party, after all, right?” She stood up, beaming down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Right, that we are,” Stephen said with a smile, though he sensed there was more to it than she was letting on. But he had lied to her first, so it was only fair not to pry into her reasons. Besides, he didn’t feel any malice from her and suspected her motivations were more wholesome than anything else. After taking a few final bites of food, he rose to his feet. “Okay, let’s get me registered.”

Stephen and Elizabeth walked downstairs into the lobby of the guild. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the stone floor. As they rounded the corner, they spotted Amelia sitting by the quest board, her usual confidence diminished. She sat with her shoulders hunched, sipping a cup of tea, her eyes distant. The once playful glint in her gaze was replaced with a shadow of guilt.

"How is he?" Amelia asked quietly, barely looking up. Her voice was soft, but the weight of her question hung heavily in the air. When she saw Stephen emerge from behind Elizabeth, she quickly averted her gaze, shrinking into herself as if bracing for some unspoken judgment. Her hand nervously gripped the brim of her oversized hat, tugging it down to obscure her face.

Stephen paused, noticing the change in her demeanor. She wasn’t the brash, excitable witch who had once barraged him with rapid-fire questions. Now, she looked fragile, almost broken, as though the weight of the past week had pressed down on her more than he realized.

With slow, deliberate steps, Stephen walked over and sat down across from her. Elizabeth hovered nearby, unsure of what might happen next. The tension was palpable. Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His mind still buzzed with the weight of everything he had learned, but he pushed it aside for now.

Amelia's hand trembled as she set down her teacup, her posture rigid. Stephen could see how uncomfortable she was, how her usual bravado had crumbled.

"Thank you," he said softly, breaking the silence. Amelia blinked in surprise, her eyes finally meeting his. She seemed confused, her lips parting slightly as if she didn’t understand.

"For what?" she stammered, glancing at Elizabeth, then back at Stephen. “After what I said… I was so caught up in my excitement, I didn’t realize how much it hurt you.”

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Stephen gave her a small, understanding smile. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. I was overwhelmed, and I know you were just trying to help in your own way.” He leaned forward, his voice gentle. “I never even got your name.”

For a moment, Amelia stared at him in disbelief, then blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the emotions swirling in her chest. “Amelia... Amelia the Flame,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her hands still trembling.

Her normally vibrant eyes were dim, and Stephen could sense her shame. She looked like someone who had been scolded but more than that, someone who had been truly shaken by her actions. It was clear now that someone—likely Corin—had spoken to her about how she’d handled things, but Stephen didn’t want to pile on more guilt.

“I’ll admit,” Stephen said after a pause, his voice low, “what you told me... it shattered my world. I didn’t know how to process it. But I also know it wasn’t your intention to make me feel that way. You were just... curious. Maybe too curious.” His lips curled into a faint smile, trying to bridge the gap between them.

Amelia looked down, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup as if searching for the right words. "I just... I’ve studied glitches for so long. You have to understand, I never thought I'd meet one in person. I didn’t mean to treat you like... like some kind of specimen." Her voice cracked, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes again.

Stephen nodded, his expression softening. "I get it. You got caught up in the moment. I can’t blame you for that."

Amelia’s gaze flickered up, relief washing over her face as if a great weight had been lifted. She hadn’t expected forgiveness, but now that it was offered, she clung to it. "Thank you... I’m sorry for what I did."

Stephen stood, preparing to walk away. “We’re all just trying to figure things out, aren’t we?” He gave her a small, almost wistful smile. “If you’re ever free, I’d like to talk about... everything. I think there’s a lot we can learn from each other.”

Amelia's eyes brightened slightly, and a tentative smile crept onto her lips. “I’d like that,” she said softly, nodding. “Anytime.”

As Stephen turned to leave, Elizabeth gave Amelia a reassuring nod before following him. They made their way to the front desk, and Elizabeth, sensing the shift in the mood, spoke up.

“That was kind of you,” Elizabeth remarked as Stephen filled out the registration form. “She’s been feeling horrible about everything all week.”

Elizabeth noticed the hesitation in Stephen as he hovered over the line that asked for his hometown. She gently placed her hand on his. “It’s okay, you can leave that blank.”

Stephen set the pen down and handed the sheet to the male elf behind the counter, who nodded and smiled. “Thank you, sir,” the elf said with a slight bow. After disappearing behind the desk briefly, he returned with a guild badge and a large, dusty box. Placing the badge on top of the box, the elf added, “Guildmaster Corin asked me to give this to you.”

“Corin left me something?” Stephen asked, glancing at Elizabeth, who shrugged, equally puzzled. Stephen removed the badge, setting it on the counter, and slowly opened the box.

The box itself was simple, made of weathered wood with iron hinges that creaked as Stephen lifted the lid. But what lay inside stole his breath. Nestled against black velvet were two axes, their craftsmanship far beyond anything he had ever seen. The metal gleamed with an otherworldly shimmer, reflecting the soft glow of the magically powered lamps overhead, making the axes seem almost alive.

The twin blades were identical in form yet distinct in aura. Each blade was flawlessly forged, the edges so sharp they looked as though they could split the air itself. The steel caught the light in a way that made the polished surface ripple like water, and the shape of the blades was elegant yet brutal. The beards of the axes extended far down, almost like crescent moons, curving with deadly grace. Along the upper edge of the axe heads, deadly spikes jutted out, wickedly sharp, ready to pierce armor or bone with equal ease.

As Stephen’s fingers traced along the edges, he noticed intricate runes carved into the steel, their patterns swirling in delicate spirals. These weren't merely decorative—the runes were ancient, glowing faintly with the power lying dormant in the weapon. The engravings shimmered with inlays of what appeared to be liquefied gemstones, the aquamarine of one axe glowing softly like captured starlight, while the other axe blazed with fiery red, as if molten rubies had been poured into its grooves.

The handles, carved from dark, sturdy wood, had a gentle curve, widening slightly at the base for better grip. Each handle was wrapped in supple black leather, the kind that would soften with use while providing a firm grip. A faint pulse of magic thrummed beneath the surface, the axes seeming to hum with untapped potential.

Stephen’s hand lingered over one of the axes, brushing over the name etched into the metal in the same shimmering gemstone material—**Corin McGregor**. The name, almost glowing against the cold steel, spoke of lineage, legacy, and mastery. These were no ordinary weapons; they were a gift of trust and expectation.

The weight of the axes was perfect—balanced yet heavy with purpose. Holding them felt like wielding the power of a storm, as if lightning itself had been captured in their form, waiting to be unleashed.

“Why would he give me these?” Stephen whispered, his fingers tracing the engravings, brushing over Corin’s name—Corin McGregor. He glanced over at Elizabeth, searching for any sign that she knew more about this.

“I don’t know. He never mentioned it to me,” Elizabeth replied softly, still in awe of the beauty of the axes. She reached out and let her fingers slide over the cold metal, sensing a dormant magical energy within, waiting to be awakened.

“I see Talmin gave you my gift,” a hearty voice boomed from behind them. They turned to see Corin approaching, a smile on his face. The man seemed larger than life, even more imposing than the first time Stephen had met him. His gaze shifted from the box to Stephen.

“You have a lot to learn and not much time to learn it,” Corin said, stopping directly in front of Stephen and grinning. “So come with me, for the hardest training of your life.” Without waiting for a response, Corin turned and began walking away, clearly expecting Stephen to follow.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Elizabeth, shooting her a stern glance that made her freeze. “Not you. If he’s going to catch up, I need to push him hard. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back in one piece... more or less.”