Cyrus and Lyda made their way downstairs and into the section of the lodge hidden under the hill, where the spa was located. After checking in, they made their way into the showers just past the reception for the spa, where they each took a shower, as required by the business.

After the shower, they pulled on the provided bath robes, which Cyrus noted were soft and fluffy. From what his brothers had told them, most of the spas they had been to used robes and towels that had been laundered so many times, they were rough and scratchy. Chances were, they simply didn't care for their laundry, as there were detergents which allowed them to retain their fluffiness.

As Cyrus marveled at the fluffiness of the bath robes, they made their way to the massage room, the next stage of the place. He opted not to have a mask put on, while Lyda agreed to it, the masseuse putting a red face mask made up of a thick gunk on Lyda.

Seeing that, Cyrus was glad he didn't accept it, even if it was said to refresh the skin. Being a god, he had no need for such things anyway.

The two of them shed their robes to lie on the massage tables, where they received their massages. They each were served by a masseuse of the opposite sex from them, and Cyrus noticed as he tried not to push his away with his magic that her hands were firm and strong.

The young god closed his eyes and tried to do what his mother told him, thinking about fruit parfaits and focusing his thoughts on them. Doing that reminded him that it had been several months since he had last taken the time to sit down and enjoy them, and he began wondering if Lyda would care to enjoy one with him.

Initially, he thought about separate parfaits, but for reasons unknown to him, his mind kept wandering to sharing a single parfait with him. As Cyrus wasn't one for sharing his food, that confused him even further, so he decided to put that out of his mind as he thought over his issues with her prostituting herself for money while on their trip.

Even though he knew she did what she wanted, he found himself wishing she didn't use sex to get money. He had no issue with prostitutes in and of themselves, which led to him being confused as to why he cared about how she earned her money.

His thoughts wandered to curiosity regarding how much she made. If she was as popular as she had been made out to be, either she was cheap or she was very good at what she did. Thinking back to their night together, Cyrus admitted to himself that she seemed to know what she was doing, even if not much happened.

The thought of their night together led to Cyrus wondering what it would be like if she gave him a massage rather than the masseuse, and like that, his attempt at focusing on other things broke, just in time to hear the masseuse say something as she worked his back.

"Your muscles are really knotted," she said. "And you are extremely tense. Are you stressed out a lot?"

"Am I really that bad?" He asked.

"The worst I've ever seen," she told him. "It's almost like trying to massage a statue. We might have to use up most of your session just loosen everything up again."

"It's that bad?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered. "If you're that stressed all the time, I'd recommend getting a massage every few months, to help you wind down."

That didn't sound appealing to him.

"I'll think about it."

They returned to their respective tasks, the masseuse massaging him, Cyrus doing his best to keep his mind off of the physical contact. He could sense Lyda on the other table, detect the pleasure she felt at the massage, both platonic and sexual.

After paying attention to her feelings, watching her massage through his senses for several moments, Cyrus realized that doing so made it easier to keep his mind off the hands working his back. Deciding to focus on her for the rest of his massage, he did just that, not even noticing until after he had been flipped over so his front could be loosened up that his own masseuse had begun using touches of fire and water magic to assist her.

Even that barely held his attention for a moment as he quickly returned to watching Lyda's massage and the way her masseuse expertly kneaded her muscles. He noted that there was no magic involved in her massage, just the light application of massage oils standard for the spa.

Her massage ended before his, so she pulled on her robe and left, leaving Cyrus to his massage. When that happened, he found himself struggling to deal with the touch of the masseuse once more. He began trying to think of anything and everything he could to take his mind off of it, and when he found something that seemed to work for the most part, he kept focusing on that.

The end of his massage couldn't come any sooner, and when it finally finished, Cyrus pulled on the robe and left, making his way to the pool of hot water intended for soaking and relaxing as well. There were a few others in the pool already, including Lyda, who had washed off the face mask after leaving the massage.

He shed the robe, dropping it into the bin intended for them, then stepped into the pool, sitting close to Lyda, but not close enough they would touch by accident. Closing his eyes, he pulled in his senses as he relaxed.

Conversations were spoken with soft voices, the sound of waterfalls and birds filling the air from the speaker system, enabling a more relaxing atmosphere. With the gentle noises, the heat of the water soaking into him, and the general calm feeling of the air, Cyrus found himself relaxing.

Though they had the option of taking advantage of other amenities the spa offered, Lyda and Cyrus chose to remain in the hot pool for the rest of their booked session.

When their session ended, Cyrus and Lyda stepped out of the pool and jumped into the pool of cold water, then stepped out and dried off, took a shower on their way out, and pulled their clothes back on before finally leaving the spa.

"Thanks for the spa," Lyda told Cyrus. "I know your mother was the one who booked it, but you didn't have to take me."

"It would have gone to waste if I didn't," he told her. "She also booked us reservations at the restaurant. Do you want to come with me? I'm paying."

"Cyrus-" she began to protest.

"I offered to cover your trip," Cyrus told her. "I don't want you using whore money just to eat."

Lyda stared at him, and he could sense that she was offended by something. He wasn't sure what he'd said to upset her, though, even though he knew it was something he had said.

"Cyrus," she said. "This isn't 'just to eat'. It's an expensive restaurant. And I'd rather pay for stuff with money I worked for myself than let some rich god constantly pay for everything."

"I invited you to the restaurant," he shook his head. "It's only fair I pay for the food."

"Alright," Lyda decided not to push the matter of who paid. "When is the reservation for?"

"In a few minutes," he answered. "We should be going if we're to make it."

They walked to the restaurant, Cyrus checking in at the hostess station, then the pair were led to a table in a corner of the restaurant. Their meal was eaten in silence as each thought over different things, and when it came time to pay, Cyrus covered the bill and the tip. He didn't protest when Lyda put down a few notes for a tip, either, though he wasn't happy about it. While he understood wanting to tip good service, he had told her he would cover the meal.

Their meal finished and paid for, Cyrus and Lyda returned to the suite, where Cyrus handed her a potion, then stepped out of his shoes and lay on the couch to read some more. Lyda, meanwhile, began practicing, using the tray of candles which had been left out from her previous session.

Splitting his focus, Cyrus watched as Lyda trained. She had shown improvement over her ability to use fire magics over the past two weeks, and he knew she had begun to sense her fire magics even without the potion.

As she hadn't asked to switch potions yet, he would continue to supply her with them, though he did need to make more before her next training session. He'd purchased a few to last until his next batch was made, as his supply was used up already, but they weren't as potent as the ones he made himself.

"Lyda," Cyrus closed his book and sat up once her training session ended. "I'm making the next batch of the potions if you want to help me."

"Sure," she moved the tray back onto the table, then followed Cyrus into the kitchen, pulling on the apron he handed her as he pulled on his own. "What am I doing?"

Due to her inexperience with potions making, Lyda wouldn't be able to do any of the finer things, but she did develop some useful skills for it over the past two weeks of practice. Cyrus set her to grinding herbs, nuts, and berries, while he dealt with everything else.

"What are those the hearts of?" Lyda asked when Cyrus opened the glass jar and began pulling out small hearts using air magic.

Each was crimson, bloody, and little larger than a shooter marble. Lyda wasn't comfortable seeing the blood, but did her best not to let it affect her as she continued to grind her reagents to dust.

"Fire salamanders," Cyrus answered after pulling out the tenth and final heart, setting it on the metal tray with the others. "Young ones, not full-grown ones. I could use an older salamander's heart, but the effect isn't as strong. The normal recipe calls for a smaller one as well."

"A smaller one?" Lyda asked. "How many are we making?"

"Ten potions, one batch," Cyrus answered. "We can do up to thirteen safely, but I prefer to do an even ten, just in case. I'll probably do a second batch after this one so that we have about a week's worth."

"You have… more hearts?" She asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I bought them from a seller this morning so that I could make more."

Cyrus began chopping the hearts, then added them to the mixing pot, resuming his work and speaking only when it was necessary to give Lyda the next instruction or make a correction. They spent a little more than an hour to prepare and finish the potions, which Cyrus then began pouring into ten clear potion bottles using a drinks ladle.

After finishing, he used water magic to quickly scour everything they used to prepare the potions clean, then sent the dirty water into the sink to drain. An application of heat through fire magic later, and everything was dry and sterilized.

"Second batch," Cyrus told Lyda as he began pulling ingredients out.

"Okay," she said.

Their second round of making the potions passed with even less speech than their first. When all of the potions were finished, Cyrus put them away and cleaned everything used, before putting those away as well.

"There we go," Cyrus nodded, then pulled off his apron and sent it back to the warehouse as well.

"And that will last us a week?" Lyda asked.

"Yes," Cyrus answered. "If they're the potion you use for each and continue doing three per day, then we have the next twenty sessions' worth of them, so we'll be one shy of an exact week's worth. But we can always make more before then."

"Okay," she said. "And you said you'll take me to go into a Dungeon with you to harvest more ingredients. Are you just buying them instead?"

"Only for this batch and the next," he told her. "In two weeks, I'm heading into the Dungeon. You don't actually need combat spells, and you'd be largely useless as a fighter considering you have to use any fire present to actually attack. I just didn't want to take you into a Dungeon when you're still so green when it comes to magic, because you might need to use it."

"I can understand that," she told him. "Why not just buy the stuff yourself?"

"It's more expensive than collecting it myself," he explained. "And I don't mind spending a day or two in a Dungeon to collect ingredients. It's time well-spent, in my opinion."

"Another question," she told Cyrus, who moved to the couch and pulled out his book. She joined him on the couch. "Were those fire crystals you were crushing into dust?"

"Yes," he answered. "They're a necessary component for the potions. I'll only use ones I harvest myself, it's hard to find a seller who has good ones."

"Aren't they almost impossible to damage?" She asked. "I know manalirate allows you to cut magic crystals, but you were crushing them like they were nothing!"

"That was because of the pestle I used," he told her. "It's made of a special type of stone which can only be found in the deepest Dungeons. You have to go at least two thousand feet down to find them. When using them, magic crystals are rather easy to crush."

He thought over the idea of crushing magic crystals, then shrugged.

"Though I probably don't need it," he told her. "Everything will break under enough pressure, and I'm able to exert the amount necessary by enhancing my strength with magic. As I'm a god, my body can handle the extreme force without issue. But that's bothersome, so I just use the pestle."

"Okay," Lyda decided not to think about just how much force breaking a magic crystal would take without a special tool. "One more question regarding the potions, Cyrus."

"Go ahead."

"Where is the Dungeon we'll be traveling to, and how long will we be in that area?" She asked. "I guess that's two questions."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"We'll have to travel to it," she said. "I doubt we'd fly out to wherever it is just for a day or two for the trip. Then again, from what I know of you, you would do that."

"There's one a thirty-minute drive away from here."

"I didn't know there was a Dungeon nearby," she said. "But isn't that going to be a water, ice, or earth Dungeon? It's on a freezing mountain."

"It's earth and fire," he told her. "With some magma, though there are no toxic fumes due to the magical nature of the stuff there. If you want to go to an ice Dungeon, that's about an hour and a half away."

"Oh," she said. "Why is there a fire-based Dungeon on a freezing mountain?"

"There are fire elementals here, too," he shrugged. "It's just the way things are. Do you have any other questions? I was wanting to read a bit before bed."

"One more," she told him. "What's that book about?"

Cyrus looked at the book, then back at Lyda. He was never good at describing books to people, and ended up staring at her as he tried to figure out how to explain it without simply telling her the whole story.

As he attempted to figure that out, Cyrus felt a strange impulse rising up in him, acting on it before even realizing it, surprising both Lyda and himself.

He kissed her.