Aelric’s sleep was restless, his body still weary from the events of the past few days. The warmth of his magic had dulled, leaving behind a gnawing exhaustion that seemed to seep into his bones. The faint light of dawn was just beginning to creep through the infirmary’s window when Aelric felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

“Wake up,” a familiar voice whispered urgently.

Aelric blinked, his eyes heavy as he looked up to see Elda standing over him, her face tight with concern. She was already gathering her things, her movements quick and precise, as if she didn’t want to linger longer than necessary.

“What’s going on?” Aelric muttered, sitting up slowly. His body ached, but the pain was duller than before, though his magic had clearly taken a toll on him.

“I need to finish treating you,” Elda said hastily, avoiding his gaze as she began to reapply the ointments and check his bandages. Her touch was efficient, almost mechanical, but there was an air of urgency about her that set Aelric on edge.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, frowning.

Elda nodded, her movements quick. “I’ve done what I can. You’ll be fine, but I need to go.”

Aelric watched her, his unease growing. She had been calm and composed the day before, but now, something was different. She was avoiding his eyes, her hands moving too quickly as if she were in a hurry to leave.

“What happened?” Aelric asked, his voice low.

Elda hesitated, then sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “The town’s in an uproar, Aelric. The council has set a date for a meeting in two days’ time. Calder’s been spreading his suspicions about you to anyone who will listen. He’s going to present his case to the council, but he’s being careful not to show all his cards too soon. He wants to make sure they believe him.”

Aelric felt a chill run down his spine. Calder’s suspicions had been growing for weeks, but now, it seemed they were about to come to a head. “And the town?”

Elda’s face darkened. “They’re openly talking about the possibility of you being a witch. Calder’s words have stirred them up, and now, everyone’s on edge. People are afraid, and fear makes them dangerous. You need to be careful, Aelric. The council meeting… it might decide your fate.”

Aelric clenched his fists, his mind racing. The rumors, the whispers—it was all spiraling out of control, and now, he was at the center of it. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended. “Why do you care so much?”

Elda paused, her expression softening for a brief moment. She looked down at her hands, as if gathering her thoughts, then spoke quietly. “I’m a healer, Aelric. It’s my duty to help people, whether they deserve it or not. But there’s more to it than that.”

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Aelric frowned, waiting for her to continue.

“My grandmother… she had magic, just like you,” Elda said, her voice soft but sure. “She was the kindest soul I ever knew, always helping people, healing them in ways they didn’t even understand. But when the church gained power—when the royal family gave them the authority to hunt down magic users—everything changed. They burned her alive as a witch, even though she’d never harmed anyone. She died because of their fear.”

Aelric’s heart skipped a beat. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. “I’m not… I don’t have magic,” he stammered weakly, though even as the words left his mouth, they sounded hollow. His eyes darted away from hers, unable to maintain the lie under the weight of her steady gaze.

Elda didn’t flinch. She simply shook her head, her expression one of quiet certainty. “You do, Aelric. I know you do,” she said softly. “I’ve seen it before. My grandmother—she could heal the same way you do. Wounds that should have taken days, weeks even, to recover from, gone in a fraction of the time. You may try to hide it, but I can see it. Magic flows through you, just like it did through her.”

Aelric clenched his fists, his throat tightening as he tried to hold on to his denial. But the truth was there, hanging in the air between them, undeniable. He had been careful, so careful, but Elda had seen through him, just as she had seen through the rest of the town’s suspicions.

His shoulders slumped, the tension draining from him. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly. “I do have magic. But I’ve done everything I can to hide it. I don’t want it… I never did.”

Elda’s expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes. “I know, Aelric. But magic isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s a part of you, and if you don’t learn to control it… it will control you.”

Aelric stared at her for a long moment, the weight of his secret finally lifted, yet replaced with something heavier—the realization that he couldn’t outrun this truth. His magic was no longer something he could hide from, and now that Elda knew, he felt the stakes rising even higher.

“And Rurik?” he asked, suddenly remembering the blacksmith.

Elda’s expression tightened. “He’s angry. Word of the fight reached him, and he’s not happy about you getting into trouble near the tavern. He told me to tell you that he warned you about staying out of trouble near the drinks, and now you’ve made a fool of yourself.”

Aelric winced, guilt tightening in his chest. Rurik had been good to him, had given him work and a place to belong, and now he had jeopardized that trust. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he muttered, though he knew it was a weak excuse.

“I know,” Elda said gently. “But you’re in a difficult spot. You can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”

Aelric sat back against the pillows, his mind heavy with everything she had told him. Calder’s accusations, the council meeting, the town’s suspicions—it was all closing in on him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep his secret hidden.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said, though the words felt hollow.

Elda stood, gathering her things and giving him a brief, reassuring smile. “Just be careful, Aelric. You’re not alone, but you need to tread carefully. I’ll keep my ears open for anything else.”

With that, she left the infirmary, the door closing softly behind her. Aelric lay in silence, his thoughts churning.

Two days. In two days, the council would meet, and Calder would make his move. The town was already talking, already suspecting, and now, it seemed like everything was spiraling out of his control. And with the church looming in the background, ready to send an inquisitor at the first sign of magic, Aelric knew he had little time left.

He needed to be ready. Ready to defend himself, to fight if it came to that.

But most of all, he needed to control his magic.