Laurel Rafe was a red-haired firebrand with eyes as green as sea foam.

She was also completely insane. I would later come to realize that it might have been the amount of quicksilver she worked with. I knew it by the name mercury and understood that handling it was an especially dangerous thing to do.

"And so!" She said, "The first ingredient of any potion is a base! Are you writing this down?"

I nodded, scribbling quickly.

"Good," She said, "Diligence and hard work will get you far in this profession!"

I had never had a problem studying, so my first day with Laurel was not as exhausting as it could have been. By the end of the day, I had a notebook full of factoids and half-truths, which I would later find out were based on word-of-mouth recipes passed from alchemist to alchemist, without proper implementation of the scientific method.

My first task for tomorrow would be to travel outside of Vern and pick herbs from the forest. I was not especially worried about this, as Mike had already gotten me acquainted with the surrounding area, and I actually recognized some of the plants that my master was sending me out to find.

"Unconsecrated ground," She said, holding up a finger, "Is in fact nothing more than ground which has not had the magic completely sucked out of it. The church likes to proclaim their goodness is making the people safe through consecration, but the truth is, all they are doing is robbing it of its magical potential."

"But doesn't consecrated ground also allow people to live outside of fortified areas?" I asked, "To do things like, farming?"

Laurel snorted, "Life is adventure. The Sunrise Lands might be safe, but they are also terribly boring."

"You spend all day inside the walls of Vern." I pointed out.

She glared, "Don't backtalk your master!"

I sighed and bowed my head, "Yes master."

She grinned, "Excellent, now here is what I need you to get tomorrow. Remember, the farther you travel from Vern, the more potent the magic in these herbs will be."

I nodded, taking the list and heading back to The Rusty Bucket. I was paid up through the end of the month, so I would be staying there until I finished clearing out the cubby in the back of the shop that would be my living quarters.

When I arrived at The Rusty Bucket I was surprised to not find Mike at his usual spot. It was well past dark, and I had never known him to even contemplate staying out after the witching hour.

"Seen Mike?" I asked Falia.

She shook her head, "He's probably out on the town."

She tried to sound confident, but I could hear the worry in her voice. Mike's work as a prospector was dangerous. While the sun was out, monsters would stay away, that was just their nature. The light burned them. If Mike had stumbled into a nest of rathounds...

"It's probably nothing," I said, "Mike can take care of himself."

Falia nodded, absently stroking her stomach as she looked out the window. I felt a terrible sinking sensation in my own gut. My appetite failed to make an appearance, so I asked Falia to credit me for breakfast and went to bed.

The next day, I made sure to eat enough to keep me going past lunch, then headed out.

As an official apprentice to the guild alchemist, I was now exempt for entry or exit fees, and the guards waved casually to me. They had grown used to me as I had travelled with Mike, and some of them weren't bad fellows.

"Hey Bern," I said, addressing the man at the left gate, he stood a little straighter.

"Ethan?" He asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Mike didn't come through here last night did he?" I asked.

Bern shook his head, "He might have come in through the Northern gate, though that would be strange, as he left by the Southern yesterday."

I thanked him and we shared a look. Bern wasn't a bad sort, but he was also a realist. I really hoped that both of our intuitions were wrong.

I traveled to the forest nearby and began quickly gathering the herbs that Laurel had demanded. In little time, I had everything I needed, but I wasn't ready to head back just yet. I knew where Mike had been planning to prospect today, and I wasn't going to leave until I had at least seen the area. Grunting, I cinched my pack a little tighter, mentally telling myself to visit a leatherworker and get myself a backpack for work like this.

It was time to go looking for Mike.

I took up my quarterstaff and began the walk. The warm noon sun almost made me believe that everything was going to be alright. When I found Mike, that warmth became cold.

His body had been ravaged by something at the very entrance of the cave. He had been so close, yet now all that remained of his desperate struggle was a pile of torn clothing, a staff, and cracked bones, the marrow sucked completely dry from them.

I stared at the body for a long time. I was almost certain that it was rathounds. Mike had taught me to spot the signs of a nest. Based on the fact that they had devoured him here rather than drag him back to their lair, there were at least six of them.

Too many for me to kill by myself.

I didn't care.

Leaving my pack at the entrance, I strode into the cave, my weapon clutched in my hands as tears rolled down my face. I missed Mike, but it would be a cold day in hell before I let that stop me from killing the things that had torn apart the only friend I had in this damn world.

Whoever sent me here, I hate you.

The rathound nest was easy to find. For those of you not from Esturia, imagine a rat that measures a half meter in length and a quarter meter in height. That is literally a rathound. It is classified as one of the weakest monsters but is quite capable of taking down a human if they work in a pack. Fortunately for me, they were still sleeping off their last meal. That thought made bile fill my throat.

With ice running through my veins, I dispatched the first one by slitting its throat with a knife that Mike had given me. I got three more before the last two members of the pack smelled the blood. With squeaks of outrage, they jumped at me.

One thing that all people with great souls share in common is enhanced bodies. I might not be able to project my magic, but I was still faster, and stronger, than a normal human. I struck with my quarterstaff, cracking the skull of the first rathound. It squealed in outrage as it thrashed on the floor, one of its legs still trying to propel it forward while the other hung limp.

The second bore me to the ground, and I found my hands full of wet, coarse fur as slavering jaws snapped at the air directly in front of my face. I held on for dear life, pushing back with the strength of two men, though it was barely enough to keep the monster at bay.

With a roar, I twisted. I was suddenly atop the rathound. Without hesitating, I began raining blows on its head with my bare fists, cutting them on the creature's sharp teeth and whiskers. Each hit was a minor release for me, a catharsis that flowed with my own blood. I sunk into a haze.

When I finally came to, my hands were bloody with my own and the rathound's blood. There was little left of the skull, though the body twitched occasionally under me. I rolled off of it and groaned, the pain in my hands blazing through the cold of the cave around me.

Idiot.

I struggled up, then stumbled back out of the cave. I pulled on my pack, then gathered what little of Mike was left in my arms before beginning the trek home. Bern was there when I got to the gate. One look at my burden, and he silently gestured me towards the local chapel. I nodded and headed that way.

Father Lyoch was a young man. When he spotted me entering through the doors, he excused himself from his conversation and hurried over to me.

"Who is it?" He asked.

"Mike." I said, my voice as cold as my heart.

Father Lyoch nodded, relieving me of my burden, "I'll make sure he gets his last rites. I'm sorry Ethan. You'd better go home."

"Is there anything I can..." I began, but father Lyoch cut me off with a shake of his head.

"I'll make sure the remains are consecrated so that he doesn't Rise." He said.

What he meant was, he was going to burn Mike's remains. Even bones are susceptible to the Rising if left alone for too long in an unconsecrated land. I hate this world.

I somehow made it back to The Rusty Bucket and found myself sitting at Mike's regular table. Falia came over, but when she saw my state, drove me out back to the small area she used for bathing. With tender hands and small bit of ember magic, she cleaned and dressed my hands. I thanked her and stared into the red water she had used.

"It was Mike, wasn't it?" She asked quietly.

I nodded.

Falia grabbed her belly again, and a half-choked sob escaped her mouth. Not knowing was else to do, I leaned into her. When she finally wrapped her arms around me, my own tears started to flow.

XXXXXX

"Up you get!" Laurel yelled, yanking the covers from my body.

I groaned, my whole body felt like it was on fire.

"Did you get the herbs?" She asked.

I groaned again, pointing towards my bag.

She checked, then nodded before dragging me out of bed. I hadn't undressed the previous night, so at least I wasn't naked. I was still being dragged down the street in a half-comatose state. When we finally arrived at Laurel's shop, she sat me down at the alchemy bench and began dropping things in front of me.

"Wha..." I began, still muddling through exactly what was happening.

"You should have come back to the shop after being injured like that," Laurel addressed me sternly, "If you had come yesterday I could have whipped something up to counteract the rathound poison."

"I didn't know..." I muttered.

"Idiot," She said, "Hunting rathounds without backup! Did you at least get the essence?"

I shook my head, the world going fuzzy at the movement.

"You're the most hopeless apprentice ever." She said, "In any case, the potions that I make won't help you at this stage of the disease. However, because you're a gray mage, you should be able to make something that will keep you from dying."

"Oh." I said.

"Now listen closely!" She said, slapping a hand on the table, "Your life depends on this!"

I nodded.

Base: 5% alcohol wine

Two sprigs of Curall

Six Borcara leaves

One Helsblood

One drop rathound bile

As I worked the ingredients together, I felt something strange, something beyond the fever that was wracking my body. For the first time since I had arrived in this new world, I was practicing magic. The best way I can describe it is the feeling of drawing a splinter from the flesh. Mildly painful, at first, but a wave of relief following the extraction. The giddy feeling of magic flowing was like an intoxicant.

I could finally understand how people could get addicted to using magic.

The potion shone with an inner light that faded the moment I pulled it from the flames, the last step of cooking it together complete.

"Down the hatch!" Laurel declared.

I brought the potion to my lips and drained it. Strangely enough, even though it had been over open flames just moments before, the liquid was cool. Within moments of the liquid hitting my stomach, I began to feel a wave of relief washing through my body. Laurel dragged me to the cubby that was supposed to be my new room and dropped me unceremoniously on the floor.

"You'll be recovered in about an hour when the stuff finally permeates your system." She said, "I didn't really think you could do it. You've surprised me, well done."

True to her word, I was feeling more like myself within an hour. Sitting up, I groaned at the stiffness of my joints.

"Curatives don't heal," She noted from her bench, her hands moving at a feverish pace, "Since you'll probably heal on your own, we won't bother visiting Father Lyoch."

"Can't we just make a healing potion or something?" I asked.

Laurel laughed, "A what?"

"You know," I said, "A potion which can heal injuries."

Laurel laughed harder, "Oh you poor soul. There is no such thing as a healing potion! Even if there was, it would have to be made by a white mage. Even if it did exist, the essence cost of making such a thing would be astronomical!"

I rubbed my head, "But we didn't use essence in the potion I just made."

"I had a theory and it panned out, it looks like one of the perks of being a gray mage is that you can infuse your own essence into potions." She said, "I would keep that under wraps though. There are a lot of people who would take advantage of an ability like that."

She waved her hand and a flame danced to life beneath the potion she was making, "You'll never be as flashy as a spark such as myself, but you'll definitely end up as a better alchemist than me."

"Oh..." I said.

"In the meantime!" She said with a malicious grin, "I'm going to get all of the use out of you I can get. Start brewing my young apprentice, your master wants to make some money!"

I groaned, not in pain this time though.