“It looks like your father has come to take you to the celebration, boy.”

Jack nodded. “It does indeed. Thank you for all that you have shown me, Master, Eltier.”

The gnome grinned. “You’re quite welcome, lad. And don’t worry. These latter potions will be put to good use, should goblins or even worse dare to invade my home.” He winked. “Scout’s honor, and take this with you. Now go open the door.”

Jack laughed at that, pocketing the healing potions and the packets of envelopes the druid had handed him before quickly getting the door, surprised at how good it felt to see his father once more, somehow missing him already, too many childhood memories for him to resist calling him dad and giving him a quick hug, the man exchanging a quick murmured conversation with the druid before heading back out. “Are you ready to head to town, son?”

“You bet, dad,” Jack said, smiling back at the tiny gnome, so much understood with that single glance before he turned back around, somehow certain he would never get the chance to visit the druid’s wonderful little home again.

He and his father walked in companionable silence for a short time.

“How are you feeling, son?”

“Fantastic, dad. I’m really glad we stopped by Master Eltier’s home.”

His father smiled. “I’m glad to hear you’ve been making good use of your time.” His gaze hardened. “I spoke to my contact in the council. Unfortunately, for all that they were quick to heap praise upon the both of us, they blew off my concerns that any of our valued traders could possibly be at fault. Rare as they are, even one less per year would definitely be a blow to this town.”

“But if one of those bastards is corrupt, dad, we won’t even have a town!”

His father nodded. “I know, son. But at least we’ve stopped the scouts that got in, and Eltier’s taking it just as seriously as we are.”

“I know, dad. It’s because he’s a PC like me.”

His father frowned. “He’s a PC?”

Jack winced. “Never mind. Just… I know he won’t put anything past monsters or bad apples, any more than I would. He knows better than to take things for granted. For all we know, anything could happen. The entire world could dissolve into infinitely small particles flying apart faster than the eye could see before we know it."

His father chuckled. “Hardly likely, son. Hardly likely. I’d like to think reality’s a little bit more stable than that.

Jack smirked. “You’d be surprised, dad. So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is for you to enjoy a final afternoon with your mother and sister. Once the caravaneers leave tomorrow, that will be one threat gone for a season, at least. Eltier and I will keep an eagle eye open, ready for trouble, and it gives me an entire season to convince those damned fools to take this seriously!” He gave an angry shake of his head.

Jack patted his shoulder. Eltier’s gaze had made it damned clear the next step they had to take, assuming Jack had the sand for it. And when Jack took a quiet look at the contents within the second wax envelope, his hunch was confirmed.

But none of it required him wasting precious time at the town fair. And for all that he regretted not seeing his mother and sister at their stall, he knew the request he was going to make, had to make, before it was too late.

“Dad?” he said, as they rapidly approached the edge of the town.

“Yes, son?”

“It seems I might have a knack for magic.”

His father chuckled softly. “Making potions with Eltier, were we? I’ll have to admit, I am surprised by your diligence today. You showed little interest in anything save taking over the farm and losing yourself in your mother’s collection of stories back before, well...”

“Before this morning?” He gave his father’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, gut clenching at the sight of his melancholy expression. “It’s okay, dad. I’m still me, honest. It’s just, well, the stories are true. I’m a bit of something else as well.”

“Twice-Born.”

Jack sighed. “I’m still your kid, just as much as I was your son yesterday. I’ve come to accept that. And I’m grateful you're more than just an AI algorithm, dad, even if you have no idea what that means. And don’t worry, I won’t be bringing up that term again. Just know that I consider you my pa, even if I now have the memories of a boy who lost his entire family, no older than I am now.”

His father's gaze was filled with odd sympathy. “That’s a heavy burden to bear, son.”

Jack nodded. “It is. But the great thing is, I, we, both have you, now. You, Mother, my brothers and sister. You’re the family I’ve always loved, always had. A comfort to the part of me that thought we had lost everything.”

He stopped, gazing intently at his father. “But let’s not kid ourselves. I’m probably not coming back. Ever. The old ritual of having kids leave home on their 18th birthday, that’s not so much to have them spread their wings. I think it’s so twin-souled people like me are forced out of their starter zones. And somehow, I doubt I’ll ever be allowed back. Hell, when you think about it, it’s kind of crazy, demanding all young people leave home immediately upon reaching their majority, and we’re just thrown to the wiles of whatever manipulative assholes are aware of our towns customs.”

His father gave a sudden angry shake of his head. “No one’s doing that! Every caravan’s going to be accompanied by an elder, in addition to the trader and his men. That’s the deal every caravan’s known to follow since time immemorial. You’ll accompany our traders to new towns, and if you find the change of scenery agreeable and the town is looking for fresh blood, you’ll learn the ropes of a merchant, shopkeeper, craftsman, brewer, smith or carpenter, or study under a skilled practitioner of whatever other trade or craft you have a knack for. Even town guard or soldiery for those with a knack for weaponcraft and a taste for adventure, like myself. Your mentors will be paid with town markers arranged by the elders, and they're more valuable than you might think, especially those earned within the city of Greyspeak, should you actually travel that far. Then, after a season, or a year, or whenever you're ready to come home, you come home.”

Jack shook his head. “Dad, I don’t think I’m coming back. I get the feeling that once I leave, I won't ever be allowed to return.”

He took a deep breath, eyes instinctively glancing at the grand house off in the distance, unusual for being so fine yet so far from the heart of town. “But as much as I regret losing the time to say goodbye, I think this is my one chance to take advantage of all our town has to offer, to wake up whatever past memories I might have held that might give me an edge in the life waiting for me beyond this sanctuary."

He gazed intently up at his father. “You saw how quickly I was able to pick up those basic martial skills you showed me, this morning. You didn’t see it, but things were clicking just as fast for me at the Druid’s tree house. And If there’s even a chance I can waken a spark of elemental magic within my soul… I can think of no greater gift to give myself then to open every possibility of growth that I can before I’m forced to leave, perhaps forever. And wasn’t it you who used to tell us all how important it was to pursue whatever path through life we chose with heart and dedication? Get absolutely everything we could out of our apprenticeships, and unlock whatever gifts were trapped within our soul?”

At this his father gave a rueful chuckle. “Ah, to think I’m hearing this from you, Jack. My beloved youngest and laziest son, content to do his chores and spend his days reading from your mother’s collection of tales and dreaming of adventures that would never come, so different from all your older sisters. Content to inherit the farm, pursue your girl, and live a simple, happy life.”

Jack flashed a bittersweet smile, feeling a poignant ache at that gentle dream he knew had been his replaced by the realities of his situation, the fiercer dream to grow far beyond any limits others would set that had so fired up an earlier version of himself.

The last sentient gasp of a long dead universe, now very much at the fore.

“I remember, dad. Believe me, I remember. But that’s not to be my fate. I have to leave at first light tomorrow, and that truth alone I have no control over. But whether I’m going to spend the remainder of my last afternoon flirting with a beautiful girl I can never marry, or hoping to impress the town wizard to teach me the very fundamentals of his craft, that is very much within my control.”

His father sighed, favoring him with the strangest look before shrugging his shoulders as they made their way for the fine tudor-like home of the town mage. “And I can find no flaw with your logic, son, for all that I regret the hand you were dealt. And I know your mother will regret it something fierce.”

Jack winced, picturing his mother’s sad smile all too well. Knowing she was missing this final chance to bond with him, knowing as well that she had hoped this coming of age ritual would be, just as it was for nearly every other youth born to this village, a chance to journey a bit out of the province for a few seasons, or perhaps a few years at most, before coming back home with new skills and wisdom to share with the community.

He could only imagine the look on his mother’s face when she realized that this was the last day he would ever spend on these lands, and he had yet to even give her a proper goodbye.

To say nothing of the beautiful golden-haired girl he had done everything to push away from his mind’s eye that day, recalling all to well the oath of love a more innocent version of himself had sworn.

The love they had already shared, and never would again.

“It’s just as you’ve said. I have to play the hand I was dealt, as best I know how. Please don’t make me regret the choices I must make, any more than I already do.” He clenched his fists in momentary frustration as he approached the imposing manor. “My life could well depend upon it.”

He then did his best to wipe away all lingering regret, intentionally focusing only on the awe and wonder he felt at the thought of actually learning a magician’s arts. Not just a book to be savored with wistful fantasies of being a wizard soaring the heavens in his mind’s eye. But to actually, truly have the chance to learn how to harness and control the elements.

It only took a few minutes for his awe and hunger to be rekindled once more, lingering regrets firmly pushed away.

He pulled out the precious envelopes Eltier had passed him, one containing a wondrous gift he hadn’t expected, the other a carefully organized collection of all the seeds of all the plants he had grown. All he needed for a starter garden of his very own.

Heart racing, he placed his hand upon the great brass knocker mounted as the nose ring of a giant bronze gargoyle head in the center of a massive hardwood door.

A loud gong echoed through the stately manor, and Jack couldn’t help feeling a little bit intimidated by the imposing structure, a grand work of graceful lines and masterwork carpentry, fine filigree lining all the door and window frames, wisteria covered trellises and a bed of roses giving a homey feel to the grand structure.

And when the door was opened it was as quiet as a whisper, pivoting on a well-oiled hinges of bronze.

Jack looked up at the imposing figure of a man dressed in ermine robes, peering down at Jack with cold blue eyes, his well trimmed mustache and beard giving him the an air of a noble retired to his country estate, more than it did a wizard per se.

He raised a curious eyebrow at their presence. “Jack Evergreen, son of James Evergreen and Elonia Windridge, formerly of the Windridge Clan, content to spend her years running the farm her husband built. Four healthy children, yet not one of them admit to possessing the gifts her clan was once so famous for.”

He smiled coolly at Jack's nonplussed stare. “How may I help you two?”

Jack felt his cheeks flushing, somehow sensing this would not be nearly so easy as he had hoped. Nonetheless, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Good afternoon to you, master wizard.”

The man’s gaze hardened. “I’ve lived here nearly as long as you, lad. Can you not use my name?”

Jack’s cheeks flushed in sudden embarrassment before the memory came to him unbidden. “My apologies, Master Yohan Silvercrest.”

“Better. Now, why are you here?”

Jack cleared his throat, forcing himself to say the words. “I was hoping, Master Silvercrest, that you might, well, be willing to part with just a bit of your time.”

The man raised a curious eyebrow. “Part with a bit of my time? Whatever for, pray tell?”

Jack swallowed. “So you could teach me magic?”

The man’s eyes widened before he abruptly roared in laughter. “Teach you magic, boy? What, in the space a single afternoon, like mastering slight-of-hand with cards? So you can show off exotic tricks this evening for your naming day celebration to impress the girl the entire town knows you’ve been courting these past two years?”

Still chuckling, the man wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “My word. If you meant that as a jest, you might just have a future as a tavern bard. The sheer gall of your request is the grandest jest I've heard in years!" He sighed and shook his head. "Do you realize how many children are eager to apprentice themselves at the ripe age of twelve, hoping with all their hearts to find even a single spark of magic within their soul? And the very few that have found that spark, can you comprehend how many seasons it took them to nurture and feed that spark into an arcane fire capable of casting anything of significance? Of course you can’t! Even with your mother’s heritage, you didn’t think once to honor me with your presence, to even say hello, let alone beg for the testing of your potential!”

Jack couldn’t do anything but flush with shame and bow his head.

He wanted to do nothing more than turn away, realizing that every word the mage said was the truth. The Jack of just a day before had been comfortable and content with life, silly enough to pay heed to rumors that the mage was a diabolist or necromancer in disguise, and best avoided. And reading tall tales had been far easier than actually working for his dreams, his only dream being to marry the beautiful girl who had caught his heart, and that alone he had had masterful success at. Striving to fulfill the one dream he now must forever let go.

But Jack knew already the bitter cost, if he gave into his embarrassment now.

He had to press forward and eat the bitter rinds of his former self’s choices, for better or worse.

“You are correct, sir. And believe me, no one regrets those earlier choices more than I do. Though you may not believe me, the one before you now has a fierce love for magic and all its wondrous possibilities. Even if it was foolish for me to focus on nothing more than dreaming on the farm, I can do nothing to change that past. I can only move forward. And I’d be a fool not to at least convey to you how much I would dearly love the chance to learn even the faintest whisper of magic by your side, before the opportunity passes by me forever.”

The mage appeared unmoved, but his voice had eased from derision to one of gentle regret.

“Do you have any idea how much lords in the city would pay to secure their children the opportunity to learn under a master, all in the hopes of earning the right to attend a prestigious arcane academy one day?" He gave a genuinely sympathetic shake of his head. "Even if I did take pity on you and condescend to give you an hour of my time, or, saint's mercy, the entire afternoon... do you have any idea how many hundreds of hours it takes even the most gifted apprentice to master the faintest traces of power?"

Jack frowned thoughtfully at this, somehow sensing that he had to tread carefully. The man was arrogant, probably powerful, and certainly thought he was already in the right. Jack could sense already who he had probably butted heads with, and why certain things were best not shared. He found his gaze wandering futilely about, suddenly certain that lowering his head was the worst move he could make, before his eyes widened as he was struck by an idea.

“If you’ll forgive me saying so, Master Silvercrest, you have a beautiful garden. The colors compliment each other and the manor perfectly, and the wisteria smells divine.”

The man smirked, but his furrowed brows softened. “Once upon a time I was considered quite the horticulturist as well as master of my chosen fields. My resources are… limited in this backwoods area. But I have, through time and diligence, managed to acquire a number of cuttings worthy of care.” He gave a satisfied smile. “One does not have to be some primitive humanoid traipsing about the woods swearing his undying love to the natural spirits just for the sake of a fine garden. All it takes is a little bit of science, tender care, and judicious application of Earth and Water magics, and a fine garden can be anyone’s boon.”

Jack smiled. “I have no doubt, Master Silvercrest. Perhaps then we could make a trade? Maybe I have something that might be worthy of your garden. A few hours of your time in exchange for the seeds of your choice, and several month’s worth of growth.”

This earned a derisive snort. “I seriously doubt that you have access to anything that I might—”

His eyes widened as Jack slowly pulled out a wax paper envelope, displaying his collection of seeds, perhaps recognizing the minute fine handwriting upon each tiny envelope within the main one.

“May I?” He asked at last, and Jack solemnly nodded, handing the elegantly dressed mae the envelope before exchange a surreptitious smile with his father.

The man cleared his throat, pulling out 4 seeds. “For this I will give you fifteen minutes of my time. Should you prove to actually have some… potential, I will write you a letter vouching for your aptitude that you may bring to the arcane academy of your choice. Should you prove worthy, you might earn a spot as a prospective student. But I warn you, even should you actually prove to have some talent and earn a partial waver of their standard fees, it will be your own sweat and effort that proves your worth, and your own coin that will be needed to open certain doors. But at least I can open the first door between you and a future life as a mage. Is this acceptable?”

Jack smiled. “I am grateful for the offer. But what I’m really after is training.”

The mage’s gaze hardened. “I’m sorry, Jack. But when it comes to first awakening that spark of magic, I fear you have already passed your prime. Had you come to me at twelve… even if you were truly gifted, I fear it would take a hundred hours at least, to pick up the basics, and several years of dedicated study, before you were worth anything. This is time I’m not prepared to waste. Not for any flower, no matter how pretty.”

Jack swallowed, a bit breathless as he prepared to put everything on the line. “Not even if those seeds were already plants in their prime?”

The mage rumored to be a noble in exile frowned. “Explain yourself, Jack.”

Jack swallowed. “If those four seeds were not just four tiny specs of potential, but blooming flowers already, would that be worth a few hours of your time? Worth the effort of teaching me the very basics of magic, if by some miracle I did have a knack for the elemental arts? If I took to it like a man remembering a dream only half-forgotten, as opposed to wrapping my head around something entirely new?”

The mage took a deep breath, his ice-blue eyes locked upon Jack’s own.

His heart began to found with sudden tension, under the weight of those icy orbs.

After an endless moment the mage gave a thoughtful sniff, and Jack was surprised to see the tiniest of smiles.

“Follow me,” the mage said at last, proceeding to the back of his home, stopping before a tall fence and brushing his hands upon the gate, whereupon it sprung open revealing a riot of color and glorious fragrance as Jack beheld a carefully cultivated garden containing the grandest collection of flowers he had ever seen. Tulips, Peonys, orchids, and lilies of every color under the rainbow, the beds were divided by precisely trimmed rosebushes with pink, red, and white blossoms serving as the perfect contrast to the fragrant flower beds all around them.

“This way, Jack,” the mage said, leading him to the heart of the garden, pointing to just where he wanted Jack to plant the seeds. He then turned around, pinning Jack with his enigmatic stare once more. “Plant them here, then use the potion I surmise you’ve cooked up. Alchemical fertilizer, is it?” He smiled at Jack’s expression. “I am no fool, boy. I can smell the alchemical residue upon you. To find that you have actually devoted yourself to a worthy craft, and not even a rumor of it floats around town? That alone impresses me. Perhaps there is hope for you, yet. You’d be surprised how few mages actually have a knack for alchemy. Perhaps that letter I offered will open more doors to you than either of us suspected.”

But Jack only smiled.

Before closing his eyes and whispering the odd syllables that seemed to flow through him, gently caressing the seeds in his hand, allowing his mana to flow through them as gentle green energy, coaxing them to rich, fecund life. And within minutes, to the awe of wizard and father both, Jack held 4 blooming medicinal plants now in their prime.

He smile at the mage’s flummoxed expression. “If you’ll hand me your spade, Master Silvercrest, I’d be happy to plant them for you.” And in short order, he did just that.

“So your Eltier’s apprentice, then,” said the mage, his voice carefully neutral.

Jack chose his words carefully. “Say rather that he granted me the boon of a few hours of his time, after Father and I took out a handful of goblin scouts that had invaded our valley.”

The mage paled. “No. This Valley is protected! No one with malice in their hearts may enter. No one!”

“I’m afraid there’s at least one traveler or trade caravan that found a way to circumvent our sacred wards, smuggling in our worst nightmare while doing so,” Jack’s father said.

“How did they manage it?” the mage whispered, now looking more like a frightened man than the aloof wizard he had seemed, just minutes ago.

“With this,” Jack said, solemnly turning over his dagger scabbard.

The mage’s eyes widened with surprise. It had been hidden from his sight as well.

“The artifact in your hand… my eyes cannot even focus upon it.”

“That’s because there’s a rune of obscurement upon it.”

The mage frowned. “I fear I don’t understand. Are you saying you obtained this from the goblin scouts?”

“He’s saying he forged the rune himself,” Jack’s father said, earning a second nonplussed look from the mage. “Only minutes after discovering the markings on the belly of one of the scouts that had done their best to spear us to death from the trees.”

The mage stared at Jack. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable. So. Am I correct in assuming by your calm demeanor and the fact that no one has come to me yet in a panic that the scouts are, well, dealt with?”

Jack’s father nodded. “Three taken out by my son’s own arrows,” he said with pride.

The mage looked more confused than ever. “But I’ve heard no rumors of a strong knack for archery in your family, save for yourself, James.”

Jack’s father smiled. “there is now, though he’s a beginner still. For a novice, he’s damned talented. I couldn’t be prouder.”

The mage nodded slowly. “Alright, Jack. For your efforts on behalf of our town, to say nothing of the miracles now blossoming in my garden, you have certainly proven yourself worthy of my time.”

He turned to Jack, raising a cautionary finger. “But please don’t expect miracles. If we can actually find traces of elemental affinity within your blood, in addition to your odd knack for growing things, let’s count ourselves fortunate, no matter what else we may, or may not, be able to accomplish today.”

Jack bowed his head. “Of course, Master Silvercrest. And what better way to measure my potential than to see if I’m at all capable of casting any spells?”

The mage smirked. “And still, you press. Very well, lad. Come, follow me, past the garden, into my training area.”

Jack blinked at the abrupt change in his surroundings as he followed the mage to a second gate in his garden, walking down a slope that was effectively a massive pit cut into the earth. He gazed at the far end, seeing what looked like massive scortch-marks at the lip of the pit, as well as a numerous targets made of clay.

The mage smiled. "Fire is easiest to summon forth, if you have an affinity for the element. But air is safest. So lets start with that, shall we? Now I want you to close your eyes, and imagine yourself surrounded by a swirling currents. Imagine you’re a kite, buffeted by gusts of wind. Can you visualize that?”

Jack slowly nodded.

“Good. Good! Now imagine that you are the wind! That it flows to and from you. Just an extension of you. Can you feel that? Excellent. Now, lad, let’s pretend you’ve been training by my side for six months, not six minutes. Extend your hand and imagine that wind whistling through you. As if your hand was the opening to a massive tunnel, the wind whistling through. Imagine it building up from a cool breeze to a gust so powerful it could knock over a dozen men!”

Jack felt himself smile as he extended his hand and imagined all the howling winds in the sky above roaring through him, focusing with all his might, heart racing as just for a second, he thought he had felt…. Something.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, almost disappointed to find the kite-like target on chair rockers hadn’t moved an inch.

He could barely feel the slightest trickle of air blowing from his fingers.

“It’s only your first attempt, let’s try it again,” said the mage in a curiously quiet voice.

Jack sighed and shrugged, and did just that.

His fifth attempt was no better than his first, and Jack didn’t know what he was doing wrong, trying to visualize blowing the wind through his arm, as if he were a tunnel, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit discouraged.

“Perhaps I don’t have the knack, after all.”

Surprisingly, the mage chuckled. “Lad. Do you even understand the absurdity of your statement?”

Jack frowned in confusion.

“Think, Jack! We have been working together for less than an hour, let alone a full day! And unlike most apprentices where one is lucky to sense the barest trace of their power, you were actually generating a breeze from your fingertips. Do you understand what that means?”

Jack blinked. “I was doing it. I was controlling the wind.”

The mage nodded enthusiastically. “From your very first attempt. You have the gift, Jack. At least for wind. All that matters now is increasing your connection's intensity!

Jack couldn't help smiling in wonder, a curious sense of exultation and determination filling his heart. He had done it! Actually touched the elements. And now it was up to him to seize hold of this incredible opportunity to shape himself, to define himself, perhaps for a lifetime, by getting as much as he could from this precious last day, seizing ahold of that whisper of wind once more, eager to feel it roaring through his soul.

Time after time he recast his spell, feeling little more than a trickle, increasingly frustrated, for all that he was grateful just to have the gift.

But why was he having such a hard time? Master Yohan had effortlessly blown over the target with the slightest of gusts just as a reference point for him.

Why couldn’t Jack do the same?

He frowned, thinking back to his sense of the mage’s casting, the way his mentor’s spiritual fingerprint had been everywhere for the heartbeat he had unleashed a gust that had sent his targets flying.

Jack grinned in sudden comprehension, suddenly understanding what he was doing wrong.