The winter begins in truth the next day. The temperature seems to have dropped several degrees during the night and this morning, so much so that I feel the chill in my bones.

I hate the cold.

But at least this time, I'm not suffering it in threadbare fabric. Wolf's clothes are thick and his coat even more so, stuffed with feathers and material that further insulates me.

Even with all those layers, the cold forces its way in regardless.

Still, early that morning I head out of my temporary abode, to start my training.

Wolf isn't home.

He held me through most of the night, running his hand through my hair as I fell asleep.

I suppose he deemed me mentally stable enough this morning because when I woke up, a draft at the side of the mattress where he lay.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for his comfort and ready to face the day.

As I stare out at the frosty air, I give it a single thought and then start taking off layers of clothes, starting with my coat. Then I take off my outer tunic. Immediately I regret it, the icy wind stinging and frosting over my skin. The snow has not started yet, but I can see my breath in the air, and feel the tang on the tongue.

My teeth start to chatter. As I take off my boots, a part of me thinks I'm crazy for doing this. The last thing I need is to get sick and be unable to participate in the next trials.

But one of the best ways to overcome a limitation is to intentionally put yourself through it. It's one of the life lessons Savannah's teacher told her and she passed it on to me.

A lot of your strength lies inwards. So do your limits.

Amazing things happen when you wield the inner strength to defeat the pain of the outer flesh.

So I stand there, trembling in my inner clothes, the skin of my legs, arms, and mid-rif bare. Then I close my eyes, breathing in painfully thin air.

And I start to run.

It's difficult because the frost creeps up on my lungs fast, making them stiffer and tiring me out aster. I feel every breath I draw into my chest, inducing a tickling sensation that makes me want to cough. Still, I push through breathlessness, the stiff joints, the stinging and frostbitten fingers and toes.

Down the hill. Back up. Down and up again.

I'm determined to run at least half my best distance. When I reach that milestone, I decide to keep going. Eventually, the heat in my body starts to warm me up, not enough that I actually feel comfortable, just enough that I don't feel so much like dying anymore. I complete eighteen laps, ending not at Wolf's cottage, but a little farther out at a lone tree in the middle of a field.

I feel the strength and energy in my body, the vitality that lets me know I'm alive.

Which means it's time I start practicing my kicks.

I think back to the first time I did this, when Savannah made me drive my knee into a log of wood.

I nearly dislocated my knee doing so , and dropped to the floor, howling with pain as she laughed.

I swore I would never do it again, but she shook her head.

"If you give up now you'll never get better," she said. "Don't be afraid of pain. On the contrary, you must chase the pain. The minute it stops hurting, you've stopped growing."

Chase the pain. I let the thought echo as I hop onto one leg, find my center, and snap my feet out to strike the tree bark. Pain explodes from my foot radiating up to my ankle. The rough bark scratches my skin, enough to bleed, but I smile when I see that I made a dent in the tree.

Good. I'm getting my strength back.

I do it and again, even as bits of my blood stains the bark. I couldn't do this without Savannah before, not just because I needed her encouragement to continue, but also because I didn't know my limits. On several occasions, I broke a foot bone and needed a healer, because I was too focused on chasing the pain and forgot proper technique.

"Don't try to slay all your demons at once," Savannah told me as I got my foot healed. "Live to fight another day."

I remember that now and reel back in the force I use.

On the bark, I practice my sidekick, switch kick, jump kick, hook kick, and several other twisting combinations. By the time it's done, my feet are red and pink, and puckered lines decorate my calf, some of which have become popped open to bleed. Most of them will bruise tomorrow, and I will practice on top of those bruises.

Still, I leave happy with my returning strength and eager to do more tomorrow.

By all means, I must become stronger.

At Wolf's cottage, I clean myself, wear boots to hide the damage, and get ready for the day. According to my calculations, the visitors from the Pangean Empire will be here in about a week. I need to get started with my preparations for their arrival.

That means going into town for a particularly important book.

I may not know how to read the book, but I need to have the book in my possession by the time the Pangeans get here.

I get dressed and go out into the living area, not even surprised to find Wolf standing in the kitchen boiling meat.

"You're here," I announce.

“Yes,” he responds. “It’s my home.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I mean that you’re usually gone around this time to do …whatever it is you do when you leave.”

His lips kick up at the side. “I’m not doing that today. Today, I will guard you.”

Guard me? Oh no, bad idea. I don't need Wolf accompanying me today of all days.

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“I don’t need a guard,” I tell him. “What happened yesterday was rough and I appreciate your concern but I don’t think they’ll attack me again.”

“They definitely won’t,” he responds with a cock of the eyebrow. “But I don’t guarantee whoever sent them won't send more.”

“They won’t. The thugs were sent by Brute to scare me.”

“How do you know?”

“The Prince told me." Wolf’s body stiffens at the mention of Caster. “He also assured me he would rein him in from now on.”

Wolf’s face holds doubt and the next words have bite. “What if it’s the King who ordered Brute to send those men after you?”

I already thought about that but quickly dismissed the idea. “If King Drogo wanted me dead, I would be dead. He would likely send one of his Elite Guards after me and ensure they finished the job. Besides the King won’t get rid of me right now. I’m not important enough yet to get rid of me. At the same time, I might become the most important person to him if my prophecy comes through. Either way, he has no reason to kill me.”

Wolf dances the words around in his head, but he still shakes it at the end. “I’m following you.”

Drat.

“Wolf, I’m just going to the library and back. And I don’t want to have to do it keeping up with your speed.”

“I’ll walk slower."

“I’m not sure you can.”

“I can,” he says.

“But you hate going into town,” I remind him. It must be why he spent all his time in the forest because he prefers the foreboding solitude to socializing with other humans.

“I can tolerate it,” he shrugs. “I’ll follow you but I'll stay in the shadows, watch from the hidden. You won’t know I’m there.”

I'll feel you're there, Wolf.

I open my mouth to utter another protest but from his expression, I can tell that he won't be budging. In which case I'm just wasting my time.

So I just sigh in resignation. “Alright. But don’t go around scaring people just for the sake of it.”

He grins. "I'll try.”

I shake my head.

Wolf for his part does attempt to walk slower as we make our way to town, but I can tell it's painfully forced on his end. He has to take tiny bird steps to match with my stride and it's so comical I snort.

He shoots me a sour look and I wink at him, although I do pick up my pace to accommodate him.

At some point, around the edge of the Village Square, I turn around and Wolf is no longer beside or behind me. I glance all over but he's nowhere to be found.

How does he do that?

One day I'll ask him and maybe I'll get a straight answer, I think amused. I walk through the Village Square, taking the path leading away from the Black Castle. And though I don't see Wolf, I note that if I concentrate well enough, I can feel his eyes on me watching me intensely.

It makes me shiver, but it's oddly comforting as well.

Being in town also reminds me of my meeting with Genya, and what she told me about Wolf. My mood significantly dims when I think about it.

I decided not to ask Wolf because it's not my business to begin with and I'm no one to judge him. So what if he had a few couplings with Genya, that loathsome witch? I was the mistress of Prince Caster and he's just as loathsome. Even worse, I fell in love with him. At least Wolf wasn't stupid enough to make the same mistake.

I hope.

He’s not yours.

“Adria?”

I'm near the edge of the busy marketplace when I hear my name. I peek around and spot a grinning Jace, emerging from the general apothecary.

“Jace,” I say smiling warmly. “Nice to see you again.”

"Nice to see you too,” he responds and then glances around. “Eh…Wolf wouldn’t happen to be with you would he?”

"No,” I say, mostly because I don't want to explain the entire thing of Wolf staying in the shadows.

“Oh,” Jace responds, and I can't tell if he looks relieved or disappointed by that. Perhaps a little bit of both. “What are you doing here then?”

“Just heading to the library,” I say. “You?”

He lifts a small vial filled with a blue potion. “Getting some medicine for my mother.”

I don't know what medicine it is but by the color, it appears to be a pain reliever. And the amount of liquid in the bottle is so pathetically diminutive that it can only last for a day or two at most.

Jace's smile turns tight as he notices my eyes lingering on the bottle.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know it’s not much but at least it should help a little with the pain.”

“Oh,” I say. An awkward silence stretches between us, mostly because I'm not sure what to say next. I don't want to pry but I feel a growing lament for Jace's mother's pain. The woman was kind to me giving me a handkerchief when I was wounded. I at least want to try and help her if I can.

Maybe I can give Jace some of my winnings to buy more medicine. I was supposed to drop them off with my mother, but luckily, I've been too distracted with everything going on.

“What sickness is it?” I ask Jace.

“I don’t know,” he says, face appearing even more strained as he massages his temple. “The healer says it might be chronic and may eventually become life-threatening but he's not sure what is causing the pain in her spine. He says it's expensive to diagnose the exact cause of the disease, much less craft a medication."

"It's that rare?" I ask.

He nods. "Looks like it." There's another stretch of silence where he looks off into the distance, deep in thought. I can tell there's something on the tip of his tongue so I wait for him to vocalize it.

“Back in the forest,” he finally says. “Do you think…” His words trail off without completion.

"Do I think what?" I ask.

“Never mind,” he responds with a sigh. "But I should get going. I'll see you soon."

"See you. And I'm very sorry about your mother. I hope she recovers soon." I'll get some medicine for her too, but I don't tell Jace that knowing he'll turn me down.

Jace's face tightens. "Yeah. Me too."

I watch him leave with sorrow weighing heavy in my chest. His shoulders are wide and seem to cut through the crowd without effort, but there's something so vulnerable and deflated about him now. During that conversation, he lacked his usual optimism and cheer, oozing a weary sadness instead. It makes me wonder if his earlier cheeriness is just a mask he uses to deal with his reality.

And the reality is that even after he makes it through these trials until he graduates from the Elite Soldier Academy and becomes an Elite Soldier, he likely won't be able to do much to help his mother.

If she lasts that long, a dark voice whispers in my head.

Suddenly, I'm filled with a rush of anger.

I hate that this is happening. Hate that someone seeking to serve this nation so fervently can't even afford medicine for his mother.

The welfare state of the Kingdom of Accacia is pitiful. It's a society that does very little for their old, weak, and vulnerable. At least the Pangeans has them beaten in that regard, with various policies that helped the poor. In Accacia, you're either strong or you die.

I continue my journey with a heavy heart, thinking about Jace.

If Jace had not been born a Northerner and was born in Pangea or the Western colonies, his mother may already have the medicine she needs, subsidized.

His mother seemed to have some Western heritage, so I wonder why she can't go there.

The thought troubles me as I continue on my journey.

It's only when I reach the library that I think more deeply about Jace's words.

What was he going to ask me about the forest?

The sight of the library appearing in the distance distracts me from that musing.

Positioned on a narrow alley, between a butchery and bakery, sits the squat grey stone building with small windows, blocked by piles of books. A stray cat strolls across the walkway, not even sparing me a glance, as it smoothly pounces and climbs up the chimney of the bakery, slipping onto the roof. A single bird calls, echoing on the quiet streets.

This place feels deserted.

Apparently, there used to be a larger library in Accacia before I was born, a tall exquisite building that extended into the skies. But it was burned during the first siege.

Now we just have this.

Scholars from the outlying villages would come to Accacia to study ancient scripts and art.

But not anymore.

Now our library only holds that which made it out of the fire, mostly children's books used to trigger magical ability. Outside of magic, most people in the North have no value for books, the same way they didn’t value dance or singing or art.

Those things are not directly productive to them or destructive to their enemies, so they're deemed useless.

The inside of the library is crowded, the shelves over stacked and the atmosphere stuffy. The smell of dust and mold makes me want to cough but I hold it in. The place appears to be managed by one old man at the front who is fast asleep when I walk in.

I decide to search for the book myself, by the look of it more than the name.

I know it's here. I've seen it before back on this day in my first life. It's a tome of a book, with a lot of confusing figures and letters that made no sense to me. But that's not just a 'me' problem, it makes little sense to almost anyone who reads it.

I skim my hands along the column as I search and find two that look like it, but aren't it.

And suddenly my finger stops.

There it is.

A scarlet leather-bound book chuck full of the ramblings of a madman.

Or, in other words, Klaus' Book of Alchemy.