I return to Zaenith's house. As expected, it’s empty. The hearth undisturbed, probably since I last used it weeks ago. I wonder why she even bought this place if she spends all her nights at the apothecary.

  I hesitate by the door, I could go there now, tell her I’ve recovered, maybe even get some answers. But the thought of speaking to her... or anyone for that matter, feels exhausting.

  Instead, I close the door behind me and move to light the fireplace.

  I toss a piece of wood onto the cold hearth and reach for the flint. My hands feel unsteady, but amazingly the moment the stone strikes, a shower of sparks erupts, the cold log catching fire almost instantly.

  "Huh... lucky."

  I sink down beside the flames, wrapping myself in the familiar blanket. Silence settles around me, and for the first time in some time, I can be alone with my thoughts.

  It’s ridiculous how much has changed in so little time. In just a few days, my world has flipped on its head.

  That fight with Vael..... the sight of him twisting, warping, becoming a demon before my very eyes.

  Terror coils in my gut as I replay the moment, the sharp, searing agony of his claws raking through my flesh, the sheer desperation as he chased me, as I fled. Even now, the wound aches, a physical reminder of what happened. My breath shudders as I press a hand against my ribs, feeling the pain, the fear, and hold them close to my heart.

  While they’re still mine.

  More memories cross my mind. More changes to the world I thought I lived in. I see my own hands, ablaze with fire.

  I used magic. Real magic.

  If only my neighbours in Mistvale could have seen me. I can't help but chuckle to myself, imagining their faces.

  I wonder.... what would Emily think?

  I do miss her....

  At least, I think I do.

  .......

  I shrug off the thought, turning my attention to the future.

  What will I do now?

  Vael may come for me again. In fact, Luna’s words only make it feel inevitable. And then... there's Lucien and his offer too.

  I had hoped Ren and Luna would have more answers, some kind of knowledge that could change my circumstances, but nothing they told me will help if Vael comes again. Nor does it help me decide what to do about Lucien.

  Can I rely on them to protect me?

  I think back to Luna’s cold gaze and Ren’s sinister smile.

  No. Definitely not.

  I weigh my options, trying to parse through the mess that is now my world.

  And it strikes me....

  How powerless I really am.

  It never felt that way. I've lived my life just assuming that I'd get by, one way or another. For the most part I've always been able to get myself out of any situation. Even as a boy, it was my choice to run away, and I did it. I survived.

  I always do.

  But now.....

  No. I discard the thought.

  Things are different, but that just means I have to be different too. And if powerlessness is the obstacle I have to overcome, then the solution should be obvious.

  What I need....

  Is strength.

  Strength as protection against Vael, if he comes for me.

  Strength for leverage against Lucien, in case he's tempted to try anything.

  Strength to crush bandits and earn a name for myself in this town even, assuming I survive the first two.

  Strength.....

  It's not something I've spent my life pursuing. After all, strength brings danger, both pursuing it and possessing it. I always figured I’d get by with my wits, make my coin, buy a shop, settle down. Maybe even have a family.

  That’s what I promised Rose I’d do.

  But now, it seems danger has come for me.

  I need to be stronger, mightier. To a point where I need not fear that monster showing up to devour me.

  The question remains, how can I do it?

  Well....

  Though it sickens me to admit it, the answer is obvious.

  Zaenith.

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  If she had a mind to, she could kill Vael. I’m certain of it. Probably Lucien, too, along with Ren, Luna, and anyone else in her way, like she always has. But she won’t fight my battles. She’d make me do it myself.

  Which means, after all these years, I’ll have to give her what she wants.

  I’ll have to finish my training. Take my place among my brothers. Sacrifice my fertility, my chance at love and happiness, my hope for a family… all of it.

  I came to take back what is mine, to be whole again. But instead... I'll be giving it all away...

  Everything.

  “…Fuck.”

  I curl up into the thin blanket, my hands tightening around the fabric.

  But I’d rather surrender everything than die.

  At least, Zaenith’s training won’t be my only path. I’ll accept Lucien’s offer too. I’ll learn magic. Maybe even enough to avoid taking the final plunge with Zaenith. And if Lucien tries anything? Well… she won’t take kindly to him interfering.

  As pathetic as it may be to rely on her for assurances... it's the smartest move. Vael coming after me while I’m still under her training might even be ideal.

  A deep sigh escapes me. “I better think about how I’m going to approach the two of them. My ‘masters’.”

  I yawn, exhaustion from today's events and my injuries, draining my strength.

  "Tomorrow is going to be a humiliating day."

  “A demon,” Zaenith repeats, her brow furrowing with suspicion, the word spoken as if it were a foul taste in her mouth.

  "Yes. He lives in a house in the woods west of here. You could see him yourself," I say, carefully choosing my words. Though I can't help but glance to my left, at the huge lance resting against the wall by a rack of potions.

  Her eyes narrow into icy slits. "And why are you telling me this?"

  I try to keep my tone neutral. "I thought you’d be interested in seeing it for yourself. A specimen like that doesn’t come around every day."

  Her stare hardens. She crosses her arms, her voice low. "Your intentions are transparent, boy. I will not rid you of your fears."

  She steps closer, her presence overwhelming. "If you want it dead, this beast, demon or not... you’ll have to kill it yourself. With your own hands."

  I sigh inwardly. It's what I expected. If only I could somehow bring them into contact...

  "You know what must be done," she says, voice calm, absolute. "It is time. Time to be complete. To cast off weakness, to shed sentiment, to stand as your brothers do. Are you ready?"

  I scowl, despite understanding my purpose here. "And if I’m not ready? What then?"

  She says nothing.

  I don’t know why I’m arguing. I’ve already made my decision.

  "Why do you even want this? All of them left you in the end. As I did. As One did. So why?"

  Her gaze is unmoving, inscrutable as stone. "They have taken their own paths," she says at last. "But all paths lead back to me. As will yours."

  I can feel the conviction in her words, the faith she invests so completely.

  "I will wait," she says softly. "For as long as it takes."

  Then again, her voice sharpens. "Now, I'll ask again. Are you ready?"

  I hesitate, if I'm going to do this, I need to be sure. "Will I be strong enough? To kill a demon?"

  "Yes," she answers without pause. "There is no doubt."

  I narrow my eyes. "And how do you know that?"

  She doesn't respond immediately. The silence stretches, until she turns without a word and disappears into the back of the apothecary. When she returns, she carries something in her arms, something large and wrapped in a worn cloth. She sets it down before me and pulls the cloth away.

  A skull. At first, I think it’s the head of a bull, massive, curved horns, heavy bone. But then I see the face. Not quite human, but close enough to it, I've robbed enough corpses to recognize the shape. Though it has twisted features, ridged brows, sharp teeth and of course... the horns.

  I look up at her. "Where did you get this?"

  She gazes down at it, then at me. "All things are possible with the breadth of my knowledge."

  I’m silent, but still... one other question weighs on me, heavier than anything else. I draw a strained breath, then ask, my voice low, "Do you still have it? My heart?"

  Her face shows no emotion.

  But, after a moment, she nods. "Perhaps. But you no longer have a need for such a thing. What I have given you is far superior."

  The silence between us stretches on. But I knew what I came here for, from the beginning. And who knows... maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe.... I'll gain new opportunities, to see all my dreams come true...

  "Fine. I'll do it."

  Her face breaks into a broad grin, one of the few times I’ve ever seen her smile. "Good," she says, clapping her hands on my shoulders. "My son. We begin immediately."

  She seizes my hand in a grip that could shatter bone and drags me down the narrow staircase into the basement. At the foot of the stairs, she thrusts a vial into my palm. The liquid inside glows with a pulsing orange light. "Drink."

  Potions… my old friends.

  I hesitate for only a moment, then tip it back.

  It hits my throat like molten rock. I choke, gag, my hands trembling as the liquid burns a path down to my gut. And then the fire burns outward. It floods my veins, crawls beneath my skin, eats at my nerves like acid.

  My muscles twist and bulge unnaturally, bones creaking beneath the pressure. My fingers claw at the stone floor, trying to ground myself as my back arches in agony. The wounds Vael left me... close, swallowed up by the growing muscle. My vision pulses black, red, black again. I bite down hard, refusing to scream as my body reshapes itself, sculpted by a will that is not my own.

  And in that moment, I feel something else awaken inside me. Something vast. Cold. Not a presence, but an absence, a void beneath my skin....

  Zaenith's voice cuts through the haze. "Draw your weapon."

  I obey. My arm feels heavy, but ablaze with strength. My fingers close around the hilt of my club.

  Zaenith picks up a broken chair leg from the corner of the room, the wood splintered and jagged.

  She points it at me. And immediately I take her meaning.

  It's time to fight.

  I dash forward with speed I've never known.

  It feels incredible. Nothing like when I was a boy. My limbs move faster than thought, swinging with rock-shattering force. Zaenith, of course bats each blow aside, her eyes fixed on my movements, taking in every inefficiency.

  Still, I come at her again and again, a whirlwind of aggression and muscle.

  "Too weak." she says coldly, blocking a downward swing and twisting to jab the wood into my ribs. I grunt, stumbling back. "Use your hips. Drive your weight."

  I adjust. Come again. The air hums around me, the sound of my swings tearing through space. She meets them head on each time.

  "Control your center. Do not let momentum drag your body. Mastery is in restraint, not fury."

  I grit my teeth, pushing harder, shifting my stance. But she steps inside my guard and slams her weapon into my arm with a sickening crack.

  Pain explodes through me. My right arm goes slack, the bone broken. I scream out furiously.

  "Pain will teach you."

  Enraged, I swing with my left. She spins, planting a heel into my gut. I hit the ground. She doesn’t wait, her weapon crashes into my face, shattering teeth and cracking bone.

  I gasp, blood pouring from my mouth, vision swimming. I try to rise, she kicks my legs out again.

  "You will fight until your body is ruined, and when it is, you will rebuild it into something new."

  She circles me like a wolf. "Your training resumes in full. Combat every morning. You will master body, reflex, strategy. In the evenings, alchemy. You will learn our family's craft and gain knowledge of the highest order. Before retiring each night, you will consume the Elixir of the Giant, to recover your wounds and reshape your flesh."

  I crawl to my knees, spitting blood. "I need the afternoons to myself."

  She narrows her eyes as I struggle to stand. "I'll have work for you. Herbs to gather and such."

  I shake my head. "If I have time. But I need several hours to myself."

  She glares, suspicious. "Why?"

  I return her glare, pain and anger clouding my vision. "That's my business. If you won't slay Vael for me, I need to make preparations of my own."

  She holds my gaze for several long moments... before finally nodding.

  "Very well. But do not disappoint me."

  She rests the wooden stump of a weapon in her palm.

  "I have high hopes for you. My son."