It really did take Micah half an hour to find the address in Nistar. And then some, because he took the long way over South Street, got lost about three times, and when he did finally find the building, he thought he had the wrong place and looked around for other ones.

Less large ones.

It was the only one around with a gate.

Garen had said, Just let yourself in through the gate.

It was solid and green, and the building made Micah rethink his thoughts on the receptionist. It didn’t look as fancy or as tidy as the places in the ‘rich’ districts, but it still looked spacious, which was usually a sign of wealth. Either that, or it was one of those properties that got passed down from generation to generation. Like Neil’s bathhouse.

Micah knocked.

He didn’t know what else to do but nobody answered so he just … kind of … let himself in through the gate.

There were small lawns left and right. The walkway took up most of the space. It led underneath the building into another yard beyond. The second floor went over the walkway, too, and it had an all-around balcony. Micah immediately wondered what it was like inside. Did they have a glass floor so they could look down? Of course, they didn’t, but Micah thought, if he owned a house like that, he’d build in a glass panel in the second floor so he could stand on it and look down.

Just for the alternate point of view.

There was a door to the right. Micah went up and knocked again. This time, a man opened it and Micah just hoped he was at the right place.

He had a washcloth in his one hand and stood sideways as if he didn’t really want to talk to whoever was there. As if he wanted to shut the door again as soon as he could.

I’m not here to sell a vacuum cleaner, Micah thought.

His eyes looked a little busy, too. And for some reason, a cloud of essence surrounded him. It looked like soap bubbles and flower petals. The inside of the house smelled nice. Micah thought that might have something to do with it.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Uhm, I’m here to see, uhh … ” Micah suddenly realized he’d never asked Garen for his granddaughter’s name. “Garen?”

“Sir Garen isn’t here. Come again later,” the man said and shut the door.

After a moment of surprise, Micah immediately knocked again, panicking a little. He didn’t want to have come all this way for nothing. He was at the right place, though. The man had said Sir Garen just like the receptionist, after all.

Did that mean he had a title?

The man opened it up again, asking, “Yes?” as if the last minute hadn’t just happened. He looked at Micah as if he didn’t remember him.

“Garen told me to be here at noon,” he said. It was probably a little after noon — Micah didn’t have a watch to check — but he was still on time, he thought. “I was supposed to meet his granddaughter?”

“Lady Lisa is still sleeping. Come again-”

“Please?” Micah said before he could shut the door again. “Can’t you just tell her I’m here?”

The man sighed, and with a much less curt voice asked, “Name?”

“Micah Stranya.”

“Alright. Wait here while I go ask her. Okay?”

“O-” He shut the door again. “-kay.”

Lady? Micah thought. Then, Still sleeping? It was past noon!

He came back a few minutes later and reluctantly let Micah in.

He had to take his shoes off in the entrance area and was led to a sitting room a little larger than their own at home. There, he was supposed to wait while Lisa got ready.

“Don’t touch anything,” the man said before he left.

Micah immediately touched the nearest thing he could find — a cupboard handle — and grinned to himself.

Most of the clean scent left, too, and Micah didn’t know if it was a Skill or just soap water that clung to the man’s clothes. It was near a person, so Micah assumed it must have been something more. He could only see essence when it was in large amounts near people, after all. Like Ryan’s heat essence when it wasn’t Winter.

Thinking of Ryan, he would probably like the man. He liked people who smelled good, after all. Micah would never have guessed that if he hadn’t known him. But he also liked all the alleyball kids, so Micah wasn’t sure what he defined as ‘good’. Flowers and sweat?

Maybe he should become a Gardener, he thought.

Of course, people could also be stained by essence in front of them, like looking through colored glass, but Micah didn’t think it was that.

The sitting room had two large couches facing each other over a table and the fireplace. There were cupboards and a sideboard along the walls, two doors, and a massive window that pointed towards the inner yard.

Micah noticed the frames decorating the wall above the fireplace. There were a bunch of papers, drawings, and even photographs. In the middle of it all, a slim gold chain with a single metal leaf hung around a headless bust.

Micah’s family only had three photographs in their house, of their family. You had to hire a weird [Photographer] person to take them with an overseas contraption. Aaron was only in two of them. Micah, too. Maya was only in one. She looked a lot like Prisha did, but taller. More … more.

She had muscled arms, Micah remembered.

Here, the photographs were of people Micah didn’t recognize. But he was surprised to see that the framed papers were certificates, or maybe awards. They described lent and donated relics from one Garen Chandler to the Hoplites of Ostfeld. There were easily a dozen framed papers decorating the wall. A dozen relics found by Garen alone?

Micah eagerly started reading them all.

The first and largest described “an enchanted sword, named ‘Tooth of Seven’” with the date and a bunch of other legal terms lent to the Armory of the Hoplites. It didn’t describe the weapon too much, nor what it did beyond being “enchanted”. It had to be something powerful though because it was a relic. Those were unique items found in the Tower that had truly powerful enchantments and often belonged to the cities as a whole. You heard all about them in stories, even in Westhill.

Although, he suspected they probably heard fewer than others. Or maybe only the bad stuff.

He remembered the story of the Blood Banners. There were six of them, and they were supposed to heal any wound received in an area they encompassed. The story hadn’t been taught out loud, of course, but the older kids were supposed to read about it in their textbooks. Micah peeked ahead to see for himself. They had belonged to a noble during the reign of the Third, who used them to torture ‘peasants’ for his personal satisfaction. He was one of the first to get his head chopped off afterward.

Ironically, outside of his Banners.

Micah had dreamt about tumbling heads for a week afterward.

Now, he wondered if the relic could have healed that. Then he wondered about what alchemical uses the Banners must have. A limitless supply of blood, safe experimentation, the perfect work environment?

What were they used for today? Surgery? He hoped surgery. He hoped it wasn’t torture, but who knew what the cities got up to nowadays.

The next certificate described an “enchanted teapot, renamed ‘Springwell’ donated.”

Micah noticed the re-named and wondered what its original name was.

Then there were, “enchanted gloves, named ‘Pacifist’ donated”, an “enchanted necklace, named ‘Northblood’ donated”, and even one from a person other than Garen. It was from one Alyson Reed, an “enchanted armor, named ‘Marionette’ donated”.

Who was Alyson Reed?

Micah would have spent all of noon reading about relics and looking at the photographs, but then someone stepped into the room behind him and he turned around to find Lisa there.

Lisa as in, Lisa who had saved him from the Tower. Lisa whom he had given the mana ring. Ryan’s friend. That Lisa.

Micah’s first thought was to bow and thank her. His second was of Ryan telling him to stop bowing and thanking people. His third was his own mind sputtering at him because he had no idea what to do.

“H-hey, Lisa,” he tried. “Are you Garen’s granddaughter?”

She didn’t look even half as surprised as he was. Micah supposed that man must have told her who he was, so she shouldn’t be.

“And I thought you were an [Alchemist],” she said, not really answering. “Why do I have to teach you the basics of climbing?”

She seemed surprisingly grumpy about that.

“I have a warrior Path,” Micah explained. “I want to get my ingredients myself.”

She just looked at him like she wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t. Somehow, that was even worse. If she had rolled her eyes, at least she would have been talking to him. This way, she was keeping him out. A lot like an adult would.

How much older than him was she? Two years? Three? Was teaching him a chore to her? Micah had thought she might be happy to see him. They were acquaintances, after all. They both knew Ryan and she’d even saved him.

“Yay, another warrior,” Lisa said instead and dropped down on a couch. “Let’s get this over with. Did you bring your Beginner’s Guide?”

“Uhm, no.”

Micah cringed inside when he said it. Of course bringing the guide would have been a good idea!

“Why not?” she asked.

“I forgot?”

“Great.”

Micah didn’t know what to say, except sorry. Or maybe what’s your problem? Either seemed like a bad idea.

This wasn’t at all the Lisa that he remembered. The one with the soft voice, who stopped herself from running into him and only wanted a mana ring in exchange for saving his life.

Just this, she’d said.

Did something happen?

“So, uhm, how is this going to work?” Micah asked. He’d never had a tutor before, so he didn’t know.

Her asking about the guide meant she wanted to teach him more theoretical stuff? He could use some of that.

She didn’t answer for a while. When she did, it sounded reluctant, almost with another sigh in her voice.

“Do you know any forms?”

Micah quickly nodded. “Ryan taught me two.”

“Ryan?” she asked. “Why did he teach you forms?”

“Uhm, because we both wanted to?” Micah asked back. “We wanted to go into the Tower again, together.”

She looked at him. Just looked. She was surprisingly expressive in her simplicity. She didn’t move all that much when she spoke. She didn’t use her hands to express herself or add extra sounds to aid in her description. She was the total opposite of Garen. It was hard to believe that they were even related.

Someone else might have just seen a blank face. Micah could see a thousand unhappy things in her stare.

“Well, you can go walk those for a warm-up,” she dismissed him. “There’s practice swords in the shed.”

Micah didn’t know where the shed was.

“Uhm, and you?” he asked.

“I’m going to take a short nap,” she said and threw her legs up on the couch. “I’ll come out in a minute.”

It was clear that she didn’t want to teach him, and Micah didn’t know what he could do to convince her otherwise. Impress her somehow? Make a joke to lighten the mood? Ask her if she wanted him to bring Ryan along next time?

She seemed to like Ryan, but not him. Micah wondered what he would have done in this situation.

“Uhm, can I finish reading these?” he asked, shrugging at the wall to buy himself some time.

“Sure,” Lisa mumbled. “Whatever.”

Micah turned back to the wall and started reading the certificates, but the words didn’t really find any purchase in his mind. His thoughts were on Garen. What was he supposed to tell Garen if Lisa didn’t want to teach him?

Thanks, but no thanks? I’ll make due without an instructor?

He had a sudden thought following “instructor”, something Ryan had told him a while ago, and after a short pause, he turned back.

“Exams that bad, huh?”

Lisa peeked up at him. Micah knew it was a scowl.

“How do you know about that?”

Micah shrugged and tried to look casual. Cool. Not at all a kid who was two to three years younger than her.

“Ryan told me.”

Lisa seemed to consider.

“Who would’ve thought? Ryan’s a gossip.”

Micah almost chuckled at that. It wasn’t true, though. Not really. Ryan didn’t really talk about other people at all, unless he had to. Which, admittedly, was kind of a pain.

Micah wondered if he could brew a talkative potion someday, just to get him to tell Micah everything. He was pretty sure that potion already existed and was called ‘beer’ though. He wondered what it was like to get drunk. He wondered if Ryan had ever drunk beer before.

To Lisa, he said, “Apparently he is.”

He meant it as a joke, but Lisa went back to sulking anyways. Great. Now what was Micah supposed to do? Should he complain about his exams, too? They were weeks away. He was studying the Beginner’s Guide right now anyway, and that was kind of fun. Complaining would probably sound hollow to her.

Micah just sighed and simply asked, “So, are you not going to teach me at all?”

Best to be direct.

“I thought you wanted to read the wall?” Lisa asked.

Micah shrugged again.

“It’s just a bunch of names,” he said. “I don’t know what they do. Like, what’s ‘Springwell’ supposed to be?”

“It’s this teapot made of the same magic crystalline substance found from monsters,” Lisa explained. She sounded neutral at best.

Micah blinked in surprise. More importantly, he listened.

“When you put things into it,” she went on, “it filters what is and isn’t edible to its owner by melting its outer shell and sort of … drooping the nonedible things out. If you put water inside of it, it will brew hot green tea without the need for leaves. If you keep the lid off, it’ll slowly condense green tea on its own. You need to put the lid on for it to heat, though. Good for an unlimited, limited supply of non-poisoned beverages. I think the guy who owns it is actually paranoid about that kind of stuff, so he drinks directly from the teapot’s neck. Isn’t that funny?”

She asked it without any real mirth.

Funny? Micah thought, his mind still reeling from her sudden explanation. ‘Funny’ was a gross understatement.

“That. Is. Awesome,” he said instead, caution about sounding childish thrown to the wind. A swirl of wind essence actually passed by just then — apparently, this room had a draft — so Micah imagined letting it be carried away. He didn’t bother asking how the teapot worked. Nobody knew how relics worked. Instead, he was about to ask about the others when he remembered the bit about ‘renamed’.

“What was its original name, though?”

Lisa even chuckled this time, but her eyes were still distant.

“Funnier story. Garen wanted to name it ‘Green Tea Sucks’, but nobody would let him.”

Micah grinned at that. He could totally see Garen doing that.

“What about ‘Tooth of Seven’?” he asked next.

“It’s an enchanted single-edged blade that empowers its user and enrages enemies. Nearly unbreakable, but not permanently sharp like most other magic swords. So it’s still not all that much better against armor. When someone other than its owner or without the owner’s permission picks it up, brings forth all of that person’s self-hate. It’s usually enough to make them want to stab themselves. Kind of useless in the Tower, actually.”

“That’s terrible,” Micah commented, and immediately moved on. “What about ‘Northblood’?”

“It’s a necklace that makes you look like a Northerner. The Guild wanted to destroy it when they found it, disgusted that the Tower would give them such a thing until the [Rogue] of their group pointed out that it could be used for reconnaissance.”

Micah frowned. “What’s that?”

Now Lisa looked at him.

“Spying,” she said.

“Oh.” He nodded along, then asked, “What type of Northerner?”

That gave Lisa pause. She cocked her head and looked up in the typical thinkers’ fashion.

“Huh, I don’t know. I think tattoos? But I’m not sure.”

Micah nodded again. A lot of Northerners were supposed to have frightening glowing tattoos on their bodies. In all sorts of colors and patterns, even since birth. Micah wasn’t sure, but he thought, the more tattoos they had or the larger they were, the more powerful they were supposed to be.

He wondered if that was their version of levels.

Of course, that was just one of four types of Northerners. Then there were the Vats, the people who looked pale white, the Beasts, which were talking animals, and the common folk who lived off to the North-West and didn’t want anything to do with anything. Micah thought they even traded with them sometimes, but he wasn’t sure why he thought that. Had Aaron told him that once, before?

Of course, the North had different languages and countries of their own, five or six of them, Micah thought, but nobody in the five cities cared about that. Northerners were Northerners. They could all go to hell for all they cared.

“What about ‘Marionette’?” he asked next.

“It’s an armor that always puts itself back together. You can also move it with your mind. The parts are sort of linked, like, by invisible strings? So you can throw a glove up into the air and let the rest of the armor hang from it to fly.”

Micah’s eyebrows went up. He wanted that. He wanted anything like that. How could people possibly hate the Tower when wonders like this came from its heights?

Because people do horrible things with them, his parents would probably say. Case in point: the Blood Banners.

These relics, though, the ones Garen had donated … they were used by Hoplites, people who defended their county. They were honorable people. Heroes.

Climbing the Tower for the sake of equipping them was just as honorable a profession in Micah’s mind. Even if you just found something by accident.

He wished his parents could see that.

Lisa sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“Exams sucked,” she admitted angrily. “You were right.”

Micah tried not to gloat. It was hard, though, because she still sounded a little grumpy at him.

“Maybe some training will help take off some steam?” he offered.

She took a deep breath and said, “Sure. Whatever.”

Not gloating was a very hard thing to do.

“Get your shoes!” LIsa called as she led the way out of the room, so Micah ran back to the entrance to get them.

Outside, Lisa stepped out of two barn doors that were part of the building proper holding a wooden sword in each hand. Micah would have never have guessed that to be the ‘shed’. Didn’t Lisa know what a shed was?

He walked up to her and asked, “So, what exactly went wrong? During exams, I mean.”

Lisa immediately groaned and planted the swords in the ground. They stuck there. Only now did Micah notice that most of the ground around him was loose dirt. It switched over to stones a few steps away from the building, but here it seemed almost soft.

Was it meant to be a training field?

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Lisa said.

“Please?” he begged.

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Do you know how many classes I have?” Micah didn’t answer. It didn’t sound like a question. “Fourteen, and I got perfect grades on all of them except one. I failed Physical Education because I can’t do a simple hand-to-hand combat drill. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Screw you, too, Mr. Bates.”

Micah was impressed in so many ways.

“So know you have thirteen As and an F?” he asked. It did sound kind of frustrating, though. She was so close to a perfect report card. Something Micah could only dream of. Not that he did. He dreamt of other things nowadays.

“What? No,” Lisa said. “We don’t have alphabetical grades. I got twelve 18s, a 20, and a 4, which is a failing grade. Do you know how insulting that is?”

This time, she didn’t go on, so Micah felt like he was supposed to answer.

“Pretty?” he tried. He was still a little lost on how the grades worked.

Lisa looked at him. “You lack pride.”

Micah begged to differ.

She reached for the swords again, and Micah frowned.

“Can you show me?” he asked before she could pull them back out of the ground. “The … hand-to-hand combat drill?”

She frowned back at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I don’t?” he asked back. Obviously.

That seemed to give her pause. She said, “Sure,” somewhat hesitantly and rolled her sleeves up before moving the swords away. Micah was wearing his work clothes again, so he didn’t have to.

“Okay, take a basic stance.”

Micah did.

Lisa shook her head and looked at him funny as if she was making fun of him in her mind. Not that she would share it with him if she did.

“Isn’t that a sword-fighting stance? You look stupid without a sword. I’m talking unarmed here. Arms up. Keep your guard up. Legs are a little bit closer together. You want a stable stance against an enemy right in front of you. Good, now throw a right hook at me. Slowly.”

Micah did as he was told. He had to lean his fist up a bit to reach her—she was a little bit taller than Ryan—and he sped his punch up a little out of spite, but she seemed to take it in stride. She held her left arm up to block his hook, moved her right hand under it and used both to push the arm on, keeping the momentum of Micah’s then turtle-paced hook going on in front of her.

Then she moved her right arm back and threw one at him.

“And now you.”

Micah just kind of copied what she’d done. It was a bit different because her strike was coming from above, but it was simple enough.

Block, add a second hand for control, push away, strike back. He thought he could skip a step or two if he needed. Why not just block, then punch them in the throat? But he supposed this drill would have its own, situational uses.

Like, if his enemy had their guard up. Then he’d try to punch them, fail, and his enemy’s right hand would still be in a position to threaten him. Plus, if they were stronger than him, he couldn’t just block. They’d push on through. Knowing how to push the momentum of an enemy’s strike elsewhere seemed like a good thing to learn.

He still thought he could skip adding the second hand, though. Control was relative.

All the while he thought about that, Lisa and he traded snail’s punches back and forth.

Micah upped the pace a little again and Lisa kept up easily.

Why had she failed this?

“Good,” she said eventually. “Now we’ll add a different type of strike. Someone’s trying to hit you with a baseball bat from above.”

She demonstrated, but Micah didn’t buy it.

“Why would someone attack like that from up close?”

She smiled.

“They wouldn’t. The enemy attacked from ideal range, but you stepped closer in order to block.”

“Ah.” Micah nodded. That sounded like something he would do. Just, he wouldn’t do a slow-as-A-word block. He’d probably just stab them and get on with it.

“Just imagine they’re trying to hit you with something else if you don’t believe it,” Lisa said.

“I do, I do.”

“Alright, now move your arm up like you’re shielding your eyes from the sunlight. Angle it a bit so an enemy strike can kind of … slip off to the side. Then do the same as before.”

She showed him. Micah copied, and it worked just as well as before.

“What else?” he asked.

“There’s blocking a straight punch.” Lisa demonstrated. “Blocking a sucker punch, blocking a knee to the stomach, blocking a knife slash, which almost the same as a hook, and blocking a stab. The point of the drill is to be able to do any of them at random quickly. You keep on doing it until someone gets a hit in. Then you start over or switch partners. You’re supposed to switch up attacks as often as possible and do it right rather than quickly. Or else you’ll just fall into a sloppy, muscle-memory mess.”

“Huh,” Micah said while she showed him each one of the blocks. He could see the appeal, even if it did sound like it’d quickly devolve into a sloppy mess of gestures. “Do you train with real weapons?”

Lisa frowned at him with amusement in her eyes.

“No,” she said. “You can’t have your students getting hurt, after all. It’s practice.”

“Ah. Right,” Micah went along for a bit. Then he asked, “Want to train with a real weapon?”

Lisa chuckled. He thought that she might agree, but then she shook her head and simply said, “No.”

“What? Why?”

“Cause we’d end up stabbing each other. We have wooden knives, too. We can train with those when you have the basics down. Maybe another day, Apples.”

“Apples?”

“Ryan calls you Flower Boy because you smell like flowers,” she said and shrugged. “Now you smell like apples.”

Micah almost groaned and sped up his next punch a little.

“Do not call me that. I do not want another stupid nickname.”

“I was thinking more of a pet name,” she teased him. “Why? Which other one do you have? Ooh, is it Dead Kid?”

Micah did groan in response then.

Lisa laughed at him.

“Alright,” she said and stepped back. “That’s enough of that. It’s giving me a headache already.”

“What? Really?” Micah asked in disbelief. “But it’s so simple.”

She picked up one of the training swords with her left hand and looked at him. “Easy for you to say,” she said. “You have your Path doing half the work for you.”

Micah frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you know? Skills are half skill, half Skill, kiddo.”

“No, they aren’t,” Micah immediately said, balking at the idea. Skills were … they were all you. What you could do. They weren’t … You didn’t have something else helping you.

It was just you.

“Did you learn that in class or what?” he asked.

Lisa grinned at him. “It’s true.”

“You’re just making excuses,” Micah said bitterly. “Because you can’t do an easy fighting drill. I bet you’re just jealous because you don’t have a warrior Path.”

Lisa took a single step forward. This time, her face looked truly angry. Micah must have stepped on a toe somewhere there, but he didn’t know which of the four things he’d said was the one. [Savagery] wasn’t giving him any help either.

“You know what’s easy for me?” Lisa said and splayed her hand in front of him. “This.”

A ball of flames burst into life. No essence. No preamble. No nothing. Whatever it was that took the Kobold an eternity and a room full of essence to do, Lisa did in an instant. The flames roared in the open air, and suddenly, flames were all that Micah could see. A hazy storm of red light that drowned out everything. Even sound.

He remembered teeth, stripes of heat, and waves of flame. He remembered the pain in his arm and his wounds burning.

He took a step back in fear, grit his teeth, then he took one forward and shoved her.

Everything seemed slow in that moment. At first, it felt like shoving a wall. Micah could see himself pressing forward. He wanted to tell himself to stop, but more than that, he wanted to tell Lisa to stop. Stop the fire. Stop being so mean. Just stop.

Her eyes moved down to see what he was doing. She didn’t even seem shocked at first.

Then she did, and Micah felt a shameful sense of satisfaction. He pushed her and she stumbled back. She fell.

“What the hell?” she yelled at him.

Her angry voice shook the pride out of Micah’s head. All that was left was a sudden intense sense of shame.

What if he’d hurt her like he hurt Billy?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “I’m— I didn’t—”

Lisa’s eyes suddenly went wide. Micah didn’t know why, but her rage disappeared. And the last of her flames disappeared with them.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was soft then, just like he remembered it. “I didn’t think … I forgot that you are afraid of fire.”

There it was.

She must have seen it.

“I’m not afraid of fire!” Micah yelled, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Even though he knew nobody would ever believe him.

It wasn’t like Micah wanted to lie anymore, but the fire had taken that from him. Being able to lie about it.

He sagged to the ground and hugged his knees, then fistfuls of his hair.

He wasn’t afraid of fire, he told himself. He wasn’t. It was just … It had an unfair advantage. It was in his dreams every night. Not the Salamanders, or the Kobolds, or Wolves, or the Tower, or any other sort of monster or thing in there.

Fire and stone. That was what Micah dreamt about.

He was trapped in the rubble again, in a tunnel so narrow it pressed his shoulders together. He couldn’t move his arms. It hurt. He was like a worm in the earth. There was barely enough space to wiggle forwards, barely enough air to breathe. But the only way out, the end of the tunnel, it was red.

Be crushed or be burnt. Those were his options.

Of course killing some stupid rats in the Sewers hadn’t helped.

“Hey, look at me,” Lisa was saying. Micah didn’t know how long she’d been talking. “It’s alright. Here, look at this.”

Micah took a moment to breathe, then slowly looked up.

This time, Lisa had an orb of light in her hand. She was sitting much closer to him, mirroring how he sat there with his knees up. The orb was yellow and barely visible in the sunlight, but then she turned it purple, and blue, and orange, and green. She went through all sorts of colors and forms, even mixed them together and made tiny fireworks. It was amazing. It was the type of thing you normally only saw during festivals in the sky.

All sorts of colors, all except red.

It’s just red, Micah wanted to say but didn’t.

Lisa was just sitting there, he noticed.

“How are you doing that?” Micah asked. “Are you bending light essence?”

Light essence was rarely visible, but it existed. It only showed up in special places, like behind old windows or next to shadows.

Lisa cocked her head.

“You know what light essence is?” she asked.

Micah nodded. “I can see it. I have the [Essence Path].”

That got a breathy laugh out of her that lasted surprisingly long. “And here I thought you lacked pride,” she said by the end of it. “Though I guess it’s arrogance that gives you the [Essence Path], is it not?”

Micah barely understood what she was talking about, but he felt like she was telling the truth. Arrogance, he thought. Was it arrogant to want to know things? Micah assumed it depended on what those things were.

… how about everything?

“Do all [Mages] use essence?” he asked.

She weighed her head a little.

“More or less. Most mages don’t, or they don’t know that they’re using it.”

“They don’t?”

She shook her head.

“They just use mana for everything.”

Micah opened his mouth, another question on his lips, but then he shut it again. He didn’t want to know everything after all, did he? No.

He didn’t want to ask, because asking would mean knowing and knowing might lead to understanding, which would lead to doing, which would lead to getting the [Mage] Class. Micah shook the thought from his head. He could always ask again later.

He hadn’t given up on [Fighter] yet.

And he had other questions he wanted to ask. A million of them.

“You’re a [Mage], right?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a question about a Skill, [Lesser Vibrancy]? Ryan told me it’s like magical strength, but ... I don’t have any spells?”

Lisa frowned at him and let her orb of light vanish. She pretzled her legs and leaned forward a bit as she spoke.

“What do you mean you don’t have any spells?” she asked. “Don’t you have those potion brewing Skills?”

“Only [Infusion].”

“That’s a spell,” she said.

“Is it?” Micah wondered. “I mean, it makes sense, but I never … I never thought of it as being a spell. I don’t have to say [Infusion] to use it, and it doesn’t use mana. It needs heat or kinetic energy ...”

Lisa smiled a little.

“You’re using mana. You just can’t feel it. Most people can’t. Skill use is based on comprehension, too, so if you understand how the spell works, you don’t have to say the Skill’s name out loud in order to use it. It’s a good way to spot an amateur, or maybe someone posing as one. Although, [Spellcasters] and ritual users like to use incantations ...” she trailed off, thinking about something. Micah didn’t interrupt. He heart was beating in shame. “And heat and kinetic energy are just ingredients,” she said. “Lots of spells have ingredients. Mostly rituals, but you can’t use [Shape Water] without water, right?”

Micah nodded slowly. That still didn’t answer his question, though. He told Lisa as much.

“What’s the problem?” she asked. “Have your potions not been stronger?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Micah said honestly. “I’ve only made potions with new ingredients since then. I got it on Wednesday. It’s just … [Infusion] works a lot like making tea, right?”

Lisa nodded. Micah was a little surprised by her apparent knowledge of alchemy, but he didn’t question it.

Maybe Lisa was just that smart.

“Well, pouring hotter or stronger water on the tea leaves won’t make the tea all that much stronger. A little bit, yeah, but mostly it’ll just go faster. I think it’s the same for [Infusion]. And a lot of potions need a long time to brew—you wanna let tea stand, too, after all—so ...”

“It feels like a useless Skill?” Lisa summarized.

"A little, yeah.”

At least, Micah had gotten two ‘useless’ Skills at the same time. Knowing how a potion might better suit a person was nice, and having them be a little stronger was nice, too. He guessed he’d just been hoping something more with each level up. His next one probably wasn’t going to give him anything, though, right? Each even level — two, four, six, they hadn’t given him anything at all.

Lisa, as if reading his thoughts, asked, “Did you get anything else during your level up?”

He told her.

She nodded a little then, and said, “It’s for [Personalized Alchemy], then.”

Micah needed a moment to catch up. When he did, he felt like he’d missed something.

“I thought [Lesser Vibrancy] is for spells?”

Lisa nodded again.

“It is.”

“And [Personalized Alchemy] is, uhm … a Guidance Skill? Not a spell?”

“That is also true.”

“Then how is it supposed to be for [Personalized Alchemy]?”

Lisa smiled at him. “Believe me, I’m actually trying to help you here. I can’t just hand you the answers, Apples. That way you’ll never advance your Path. Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘Your Class provides’?”

Micah had, but he didn’t get what this had to do with his Path. He didn’t think having alchemy answers spoonfed to him would be that bad.

“Can’t you give me some tips?” he asked.

“I just did.” Lisa laughed. “Just put one, and one, and one, and, uhm … one? Together and you’ll have it.”

“Four?” Micah asked.

Lisa nodded wisely.

Micah was beginning to doubt that she was actually trying to help him. Maybe she was still grumpy at him, after all?

“So what? When I personalize potions they’ll be better, then?”

“Yes,” she said.

Aha! Micah thought, thinking he’d caught her in a trap. Because the potion he’d made for Ryan hadn’t worked better. Ryan had complained that it was too weak. He told Lisa as much, explaining what he’d wanted to create and what the result was, but she just smiled at him again.

“You made the potion before your level up, right?”

Micah nodded. It felt a lot like walking past spider webs in the basement.

“Skills are half skill and half Skill, kiddo,” she said.

Micah thought it over for a minute.

He could test her claim, right? If he just made another exact same breeze potion and compared it to the one Ryan had, he’d know whether or not she was right. All he would need was rainwater. The barrel in their garden was more than half full, but it was a few days old by now. Was that bad? How much of an influence would it have on the comparison?

All the sudden, Micah felt the need to experiment. But he only had three mist crystals left. And he’d wanted to try making a breeze potion using two of them, too. That meant he would have to go kill some wolves again for more.

Strangely enough, he didn’t mind. If Micah closed his eyes, he could still see himself straddling one of the wolves and stabbing it. The action that represented [Savagery]. If he had to kill some wolves to make cologne for his friend—as Ryan liked to call it—then Micah would simply kill some wolves to make cologne for his friend.

It was as simple as that.

“Thank you,” he said to Lisa then. “For teaching me.”

She cringed a little. “Ugh, and I was trying so hard not to. So what, that’s it?” she asked happily. “Same time next week? Half an hour?”

Micah almost laughed until he realized that she wasn’t joking.

He was not walking an hour to Nistar every Sunday to get half an hour of Lisa not actually wanting to teach him. He was about to tell her as much when Lisa suddenly perked up a bit and smiled at a spot above Micah.

She raised her arm and did a little wave.

Micah turned around and saw Garen there on the all-around balcony of the second floor. And with her, a girl about Micah’s age. Well, she looked about Ryan’s age, but since girls grew up quicker … Micah just assumed.

She had dark skin, darker than his, and even darker hair that was tied back a bit so it wouldn’t get in the way. For some reason, that hair was shimmering. It had a moving sheen of floral patterns that unfurled and fell into one another. Some moved where Micah couldn't see them. Others just appeared. Was that a Skill? Or maybe alchemy? It reminded him of Janet and her glowing skin.

She also carried a sword, did a little wave and smiled back at Lisa. Then she noticed Micah and did the same for him. Even though she didn’t know him.

Micah didn’t even notice himself returning the gesture until was too late. He was too busy staring at her dimples.

For a moment, he forgot about all about "everything".

Following a drifting flower, he saw something else behind her. Not of her hair, it was … a thin cloud of essence. The thinnest Micah had ever seen. It rose like the end of a hot street in the summer, like wiggling light. Or maybe like mist in the morning.

It was gold. That much he was sure of.

And then suddenly, it wasn’t thin at all. It was as real as the red eyes of Ms. Denner and Micah stared at it.

A ring of gold around her head. It grew slowly, like a ripple in the pond. Then it started rotating. Lines upon lines like the dark of her hair rose out to support the nearest ring, like spokes on a wheel. They looked like the lines of words in their law books. Then another golden ring rose, and there were flower petals in all sorts of rustic colors growing, and folding, and multiplying. The lines between them had words written there. Micah couldn’t see what they read. Some circles looked like manacles. Some like artistic knots. There were patterns like sunbeams and teardrops. And hot scales like Salamanders.

It was all so real, but it wasn’t just something. It wasn’t just a color to be shrugged at. It wasn’t just red.

No. The petals there. The first potion Micah had ever made. The only reason Ryan was even his friend.

The black lines. Lines upon lines of ink writing books of laws, and books of history, and journals full of crossed out notes.

Salamander scales …

The next circle was full of red patterns that Micah tried not to look at, but it wasn’t just red. It was truth. It grew and grew, with new patterns within each ring. Micah quickly pushed on from the red to the next. It was a pattern about his parents. An eternal mandala of patterned truths.

And that was also the time Micah could have spent describing it, never comprehending. Eternity.