The next morning, the Pangean envoy sends word that they will arrive within a few short days. The announcement is carried through town by a town crier and everyone is asked to prepare for their visit. That means locking up everything valuable, possibly arming yourself, and gaining extra security if you can afford to.

But it also means that vital medicines and food supplies will make their way into town.

The North and Pangea have been at war for longer than I can remember, but ever since the death of the two Northern princes, and the responding demolishing of a Pangean stronghold, a tentative ceasefire was formed. No one knew why both sides agreed to one, but the reigning theory in Accacia is that King Drogo found some weakness of the Emperor and dealt a fatal blow that showed him the North's true might. The second, less favorable, theory is that Pangea simply grew tired of destroying the North and wanted to establish a trade agreement instead, as war continuously depleted their coffers. Most people though didn’t know exactly what brought about the truce and most didn’t care.

It was secretly a welcome change because even though most wouldn't admit it, we were tired of the war.

So every year around this time, after the truce, trade occurs between the North and Pangea through a series of envoys from the connecting villages. But no Pangean ever came to Accacia of their own volition.

Until now.

There's somewhat of a combination of curiosity and apprehension in the air, and everyone seems to be on edge about the coming visit. Everyone except perhaps Wolf.

He carries on as normal, leaving in the afternoon and returning in the evening, a few minutes before Jace wakes up.

Jace's awakening is far more anticlimactic than I expected. He simply lets out a loud groan, sits up on the pallet, and announces, “I feel like I’ve been hit with a hundred battering bulls and then dragged across a field by an angry steed and they all danced on my skull once it was done."

“I suppose something like that happened,” I say as I approach him with a bowl of Wolf’s soup that I kept simmering all afternoon. “Drink this. It’s going to make you feel better.”

He takes the bowl and downs it in one sitting. “Tastes like dishwater.”

I glance back to find Wolf frowning in offense.

“I don’t think it’s bad," I tell Jace. "It’s delicious meat soup.”

“Ah, that’s why I hate it. I’m not a meat guy. Prefer fish.” He sighs. “Back in my hometown, there was a woman named Silja who made the best salty fish stew you've ever had. Much better than this crap. I wish I had it right now.”

I can practically feel Wolf radiating his displeasure behind me so I cough pointedly. “Um, Jace. I think you’re offending our cook a tad.”

"Cook? Who?” His head swivels and finally lands on a glowering Wolf

He instantly pales.

“Oh, Wolf." His voice is unusually high-pitched and stringy. "I didn’t know you – you know, I take back everything I said. The soup is delicious. Divine. Best soup I’ve ever had actually and not dishwateresque at all–"

The door slams because Wolf walked out of the cottage mid-sentence.

Jace's shoulders sag.

“Great,” he mutters. “Now, he hates me even more than before.”

“He doesn't hate you,” I assure him. “He’s just getting ready for our lesson.”

I already trained earlier this afternoon, working my tender feet into the tree again. I also practiced my jumps, leaping onto higher and higher branches, and building the strength in my legs.

But I didn't tell Wolf that, because I wanted us to train together still. Training with Wolf is a whole different thing than training on my own, and I don't want him to take it easier on me, which he may do if he knows how sore I am.

Wolf already warned me that today’s lesson is going to be somewhat different from the rest. I know it will likely be harder and I welcome the challenge. The third trial is coming up soon and I need to be ready for whatever is thrown my way.

Jace sighs and says, “Well at least I’m glad he saved us. I should at least thank him for saving our life."

“He didn’t save us,” I say.

“Who saved us then?”

I think about it. “I’m not entirely sure. But Wolf did bring us back home so I guess that counts for something."

“It does. And..the feathers?” He asks carefully like he's afraid to hope.

Relief flashes on his face when I nod. "They’re safely in my room. Managed to get three so that should make enough potion for your mother."

Jace exhales raggedly, his eyes sliding shut. “Thank you." When his eyes open again, there's a sheen of moisture that makes me uncomfortable.

“It's not a big deal.”

“Yes it is,” he says firmly. “You have no idea– I can’t even tell you what this means to me. And I wouldn’t have got those feathers without you. Don’t even bother to deny it." He holds up a hand to still my protest. “I don’t know what it is about you and I don't have to know, but I do know you’re special. The forest, it listened to you. It let us in because of you and I got the bird feathers because of you. You saved my mother’s life. And my life too." He says that last part in a shaky voice. "And for the rest of my days, I shall be indebted to you. Thank you, Adria."

"Oh." I find myself getting emotional too, because I’ve never had anyone say such earnest words to me. They hit me in the deep insecure part of myself, where the sad girl still resides. The one who’d survived on little validation for most of her life.

“Thank you,” I say. "It’s very kind of you to say that."

“It's not kind, it's the truth." His eyes shift to the doorway where Wolf just vanished through. Jace suddenly wears a solemn expression. “You know I thought I knew what I was getting myself into coming here and signing up for the trials. I wanted to become an Elite Soldier, not just to save my mom, but also to protect the last standing bastion of independence, the small but mighty Accacia. I believed it would be worth it to lose my life for a great nation.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so anymore. Seeing the way this 'great nation' treats you, and me sometimes, it turned my stomach. I no longer want to be an Elite Soldier.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

That shocks me into gaping. "Are you serious?"

He hesitates, then sighs. "There's a man in my village, who craft swords. My mother wanted to apprentice under him. I'm thinking that might be best."

"So you don’t want to continue to trials?” A little sadness trickles through at the possibility. I'll miss Jace if he's gone, my one ally on the team, but I would rather he do what's best for him.

But Jace doesn't appear sure about his decision either. Then he asks me, "Are you continuing the trials?"

I nod.

“Why?” he asks. “The King makes no secret of his hatred of you and your kind. Most agree with him. Why would you work so hard and risk your life to save them?”

I think about it. And then sigh. “Because I don't think I have a choice."

Jace's eyes spark with curiosity as they track my face, but then he nods without asking for an explanation. "Fine. Then I suppose I’m continuing with the trials too.”

I piece together the thread of conversation and ask, “Wait, it’s not because of me is it?”

He smiles secretively. “You saved my mother’s life. The least I can do is protect you.”

“No, don’t do that,” I say. "I don't need protection."

"We'll see about that."

I sigh. "Jace, I appreciate the offer, but don't you think it would be better for you to go on with the apprenticeship? Safer too. The Elite Trials will only get more dangerous as time goes on."

"Well yes, but it still seems more interesting than knocking metal into different shapes." He shrugs weakly. "Plus the Sword maker, Arnon, constantly smells like the inside of a wet shoe. I think I'd rather die in the Dark Forest than subject myself to that."

The statement is so quintessentially Jace-like that I can't help it. I throw my head back and laugh.

***

There's nothing funny though about Wolf’s lesson and it quickly dissipates any humor from my mind.

After a series of increasingly complicated circuits through a makeshift obstacle course Wolf set up all afternoon, Wolf challenges me to a sparring session.

And just like in the past, he doesn't take it easy on me.

He parries every hit with an even harder one, knocking me off my feet without shame. I've gotten better at avoiding him and landing strikes, but I'm still not good enough to keep up.

He anticipates all my tactics and blocks them immediately. When I execute one of Savannah’s deadliest moves, and execute it perfectly might I add, he catches me in mid-air and throws me to the ground.

And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is the mocking accompanying the fight.

“Did you think you were a butterfly? What were you doing up there?”

“Is that a pinch or are you trying to tickle me?"

"How did you manage to get weaker in all this time?"

“Give me a break,” I cry out after that last one. "I’m trying my best."

“Try harder,” he says and attempts to punch me. I duck and feign to the left, and when he follows, I quickly spike right driving my knee into his rib cage. The blow lands, a little lower than my intended destination, but at least it lands and has Wolf pausing for a second.

"Not bad," he says which is the kindest things he has said to me all day.

“Ok, I’m done," I gasp out a breath bending over to grab my knees as darkness dots my vision. "I need a break."

"I can spar with you, Wolf," Jace says. He's been sitting in the doorway watching the fight, and now he bounces to his feet eagerly. "Let’s do it."

Wolf and I both look at him like he's crazy.

And to our credit, Jace is grinning like a maniac.

"Shall we?" he says, getting into a fighting pose.

"Don’t do it," I caution. "He can and will hurt you. And trust me, he won't take it easy on you just because you're recovering."

"I don’t need easy," Jace says. "Do you know how long I dreamt about dancing with Wolf?"

Wolf snarls. "You should find better dreams."

Jace winks at him and Wolf sighs in resignation before getting into position.

Jace and Wolf are far more evenly matched than me and Wolf, but that isn't saying much. Jace lasts a little longer than me and lands a few more blows though. At a point, Jace executes a move twisting Wolf's arm behind his knee, and grabbing his leg in an attempt to wrestle him to the floor.

It's an impressive move and it's even more impressive that he gets close enough to manage it.

But in the end, it doesn't matter.

Wolf counters it by grabbing Jace around the neck and flipping him over instead, before laying a punch into his face. The punch makes even me wince.

“That was amazing," Jace says, with a bleeding smile, looking every bit the lunatic he is. He wipes his face. "I can't wait to do that again."

***

Shortly after the fight, Jace goes back home to his mother. I convinced him not to tell the healer that he had the Shrewk feathers yet. It was obtained illegally and I don't trust this healer to keep the secret from the King. I especially don't trust him because he's the one who put the idea in Jace's head in the first place.

I tell Jace to give me one more day to find another healer.

He reluctantly agrees. "My mother's potion should last today, and perhaps tomorrow if we're careful."

"I'll have more by tomorrow," I tell him. I plan on buying more healing potions from the apothecary and finding someone to create a Black Shrewk Elixir for me.

Luckily, tonight is the night I'm meeting Seir in the library. And now I have a huge favor to ask him. Perhaps it's dangerous to be asking him a favor so early, when we barely know each other but I can't avoid it. Jace needs his help.

And at the very least, I trust Seir to at least keep the secret even if he refuses to help me.

When I get to the library, walking past the sleeping attendant, I spot Seir instantly. He's bent over a book but my footsteps alert him to my presence and he glances up. Then, he smiles, pushes up his glasses.

"What are you reading?" I ask him.

"Lexin's Thematurgy."

"Ah. What's it about?"

"It's about Lexin's Theory of Magic and Alchemy. Both magic and alchemy operate on the basic belief of change, although alchemy goes much deeper in that belief, to state that things are never created or destroyed they only change."

"I see. So why do we die?"

"Do we die?" Seir smiles secretively. "Or do we simply transcend into a different plane, to be reborn again? And again. And again."

That strikes a certain chord inside me but I table that thought for another time, focusing on a major question first.

"Do alchemy and medicine have a link?" I ask. "My friend seemed to think so. He seemed to think that, in alchemy, one can find a cure to every disease."

"I suppose it can,” he says. "In most alchemy textbooks, you can get some variation of Merkel's Cure for All Ills, although each person's ingredients for such a cure differ. Each one also uses a different symbology to represent each ingredient, and there are no universally accepted definitions for each symbol. It's popularly thought that you would likely need some kind of magic stone and the blood of a magical creature. But of course, the other ingredients are either impossible to comprehend or too difficult to find. That's why till this day there has been no Cure for All Ills made."

"I thought one person found it," I mention. "My friend told me that a mage once made such a cure."

"Who? Merkel? He came close, but the most he could do was make a potion that delayed internal aging, by a few years. And because he was a mage, it was hard for him to even continue his experiments especially since he had to conduct a lot of them on himself."

"I don't understand. Why did that make it difficult?"

"Well, because magic and alchemy are often directly at odds. Despite similar beliefs, their rules are completely different. Magic follows what we know as the natural law, and Alchemy follows only the law of equal exchange. In magic, there is life and death. In alchemy, there is not. Magic can be used to heal ailments but can never bring someone back from the dead. Alchemy, at least in theory, can. Magic can transform a strong man into a stronger man. Alchemy can transform a man into a sword. A body that operates by the law of magic will find it difficult to wield alchemy and vice versa."

"But what happens if someone can do both?"

"If one can somehow combine magic and alchemy, then they must become something powerful and terrible indeed," he says. "In any case, that’s just supposition. Most likely though, most of what we know as alchemy is drunken reflections of men who were crazy from making and testing potions all day."

"Right. "

I sigh and then finally take a breath. I've laid down the building blocks. Now comes the hard part. "I want to tell you something and I want you to retain an open mind."

He glances at me and I once again doubt myself, but I continue.

"I’m a Seer," I say.

"Oh." He nods thoughtfully. "Yes, I think I heard a guard saying something like that."

"Yes. And um...well, there's no easy way to say this, but I saw a future that was truly terrible indeed. A future that meant the death of the North and Northern surrounding states where everything is razed to the ground and every single Northerner hunted down and exterminated. A future of vast, and irrevocable war. A future that can only be stopped with a mixture of magic and alchemy." I meet his eyes and deliver the last blow.

"And I need you to help me stop it."