Stonehaven

The next morning, Ryder awoke to noise coming from the kitchen. As he opened his eyes, the familiarity of his surroundings confirmed what he already knew—he wasn’t home. He was still at Wayfarer’s Rest. Taking a deep breath, he caught the scent of freshly cooked food wafting into the room. The smell was intoxicating—pancakes, bacon, eggs. His stomach rumbled in response.

Ryder wasn’t used to indulging in such meals. Back home, his sustenance primarily came from the imagination of others and decaying matter that Reuben kept in the fridge specifically for him—his mushroom nature craving it. Yet here, in this fully humanesque form, something felt different. The prospect of a hearty breakfast actually excited him. For once, he felt like a normal person.

Sitting up with a stretch, Ryder felt remarkably rejuvenated. Despite the weight of the previous day’s events pressing at the edges of his thoughts, the solid night of rest had done wonders. He swung his legs out of bed and made his way to the living area, following the delicious aroma to find Eon busy at the stove.

“Mm, smells incredible,” Ryder said, inhaling deeply as he entered the room.

Eon jumped slightly, startled by the sudden voice. “Oh, you’re awake! Good morning! Hope you slept well,” he said, flipping the last pancake onto a plate. “Glad to see your nose works,” he added with a chuckle, moving to set the pancakes next to an already prepared spread of bacon and eggs. “Go ahead, help yourself.”

“Thanks, Eon. What do you call this meal?” Ryder asked, grabbing a plate and the fork already laid out on the counter.

“Well, we have bacon, eggs, and pancakes, of course,” Eon said, gesturing to each dish.

Ryder smirked as he served himself. “At least food names haven’t changed,” he teased, drizzling a generous amount of dark blue syrup onto his pancakes.

Eon furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “You say the strangest things, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Ryder quipped, his smirk widening as he took a seat at the dining table, his plate piled high with food.

Eon joined him a moment later, his own plate similarly stacked. “What do you think you’ll do today?” Eon asked between bites.

Ryder shrugged, his mouth full of eggs. “I haven’t thought about it, honestly. Any suggestions?”

Eon paused, considering. “Well, Stonehaven is a big city. You could explore a bit. Plenty of shops line the streets—you never know what you might find.”

“Fair point,” Ryder said, nodding as he took his first bite of the pancakes. The syrup immediately caught his attention. Its sweetness was unlike anything he’d tasted before, rich and layered, perfectly complementing the fluffy pancakes. He couldn’t help but let out pleasured moan, the taste of the syrup dancing on his tongue. “Eon, this is fantastic,” he said.

Eon chuckled at Ryder’s reaction. “Glad you like it. I mix nectria root syrup with mashed aeiabloom petals and cook them together. Gives it that deep, sweet flavor. Alchemy training comes in handy for more than just potions.”

The two finished their meal, and as Eon carried the plates to the sink, Ryder leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach contentedly. “Thanks for the meal, Eon. That was amazing.”

Eon smiled as he dried his hands. “Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure. Oh, and take this with you,” he added, summoning a leather pouch that clinked heavily as he set it on the table. “You’ll need some coin for the day. Use it to get anything you want—or anything we might need for the journey.”

Ryder’s eyes widened at the gesture. “Eon, I couldn’t…”

“You’ll need it, Ryder. Please,” Eon said with a dismissive wave. “It’s not like I’m giving you my life savings. Plus, think of it as helping me out—if you see something useful for the trip, you can grab it.”

Ryder hesitated before finally nodding. “Thank you, Eon. I’ll do my best to make it count,” he said, picking up the pouch and marveling at its weight before dispelling it into his vault.

“Good! I’ll head to the docks, get our ferry tickets, and meet you back here tonight,” Eon said, grabbing his coat. “Have a nice day, and be safe out there—not that I doubt you can handle yourself.”

Ryder smiled. “You too, Eon. See you tonight.”

With that, Eon left, and Ryder was left alone at the inn, feeling a curious blend of excitement and uncertainty about the day ahead. He decided to gather himself before venturing out into Stonehaven. 

After a quick shower, he stood before the bathroom mirror, the steam curling around him. He stared at his reflection, sighing deeply. The last time he’d looked at himself in a mirror was back home. Turning slightly, he examined his bare back—no wings, just his familiar rainbow-colored freckles scattered across his skin like constellations.

For the first time since meeting Eon, Ryder was truly alone with his thoughts. He gripped the edge of the sink, his head hanging low as his emotions surged. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. The weight of his situation pressed heavily on him, more than he had let himself feel until now. It hadn’t even been a full day since he had arrived in Aetherealm, and already, he was overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all. Would he ever see his family, friends, or muses again?

The thought of his muses sent a pang of longing through him. Alice had been his first, born of his nascent powers during the earliest moments of his life, her presence calm and composed, reading to him from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Though she shared the name of the book’s protagonist, Ryder’s Alice was entirely her own—a whimsical, otherworldly creation, as unique as his imagination.

Bastian was different. He had shown himself during one of Ryder’s darkest times, when fear threatened to consume him. Bastian wasn’t just a protector; he was a guide, a source of unshakable strength and wisdom. Ryder always felt a deep sense of safety with him, as though Bastian’s presence alone could shield him from any harm. Together, Alice and Bastian were more than imaginary companions—they were parts of Ryder’s essence, his very soul—manifestations of his creativity and resilience.

Ryder looked up at his tear-streaked reflection, his chest tightening as he thought of them. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his tears mixing with the lingering moisture from the shower. Staring himself down in the mirror, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath.

“I will get home… I will,” he said softly, but with a quiet, firm resolve.

With that, Ryder quickly got dressed, pulling himself together. He couldn’t let his emotions hold him back—not now. With his determination renewed, he stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed his things, and headed out the door, ready to explore the city. 

Just outside of the inn, the streets were alive with activity. People bustled about with an air of purpose: women and children moved in groups, their conversations blending into the hum of the city; men worked on rooftops, hammering and shouting instructions; and salesmen with mobile stalls wove through the crowds, calling out their wares. It reminded Ryder of home, yet everything had an unmistakable medieval charm that set it apart.

Ryder walked down the lively streets, passing shop after shop. He noticed a variety of storefronts—clothing stores, an accessory shop, a weapons shop, and even an alchemist’s shop. He also passed several homes where people worked on everyday chores—hanging laundry, tending to strange flora in their gardens, or chatting with neighbors. The city seemed vibrant and diverse, yet somehow, Ryder felt like he didn’t quite blend in.

As he moved further, he became acutely aware of the stares. Whispering groups of people turned their heads to watch him, their hushed words just out of earshot. He couldn’t understand why. Physically, he looked like most of the people here, and the city seemed diverse enough that no one should stand out too much. Yet the attention he drew was undeniable—like they could sense he didn’t belong.

A pair of women across the street pointed at him, whispering animatedly. Their stares made Ryder’s stomach tighten. Feeling the heat of their gazes, he ducked into the nearest open shop to escape the attention. The carved wooden sign above the door read Needle & Thread.

The gentle chime of a bell greeted him as he stepped inside. A cozy warmth filled the air, the faint scent of lavender mingling with the rich textures of fabric. From behind a beaded curtain emerged a petite elderly woman, her sharp eyes scanning Ryder from head to toe.

“Hello there, welcome to Needle & Thread. How may I help you?” she asked, her voice warm but curious.

Ryder gave a polite smile, moving toward the nearest rack of clothing. “Thank you, I’m just browsing,” he said, though in truth, he needed a moment to collect himself.

The woman nodded, her gaze lingering on him a moment longer. “Alright, let me know if you need anything,” she said, disappearing back through the curtain.

As Ryder browsed, he was impressed by the quality of the garments. The fabrics felt sturdy and rich, unlike anything he was used to back home. The designs ranged from elegant and understated to bold and vibrant, with earthy tones and intricate patterns dominating the racks. He could tell that these clothes were made to last a lifetime.

Before long, the woman reemerged from the back. “Excuse me,” she said, her tone careful.

Ryder turned to her. “Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but notice…” she began, walking closer and narrowing her eyes as she studied him. “You look so familiar.”

Ryder raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not from here,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “So I can assure you we’ve never met.”

She tilted her head, still scrutinizing him. “Curious. I can’t quite place it, but you definitely look like an adventurer,” she said, gesturing to his clothing. Her expression softened into a warm smile. “Would you mind doing an old woman a favor?”

Ryder hesitated, unsure of what to say. He decided to wait for her to explain before agreeing to anything.

Sensing his apprehension, she continued. “You see, my shipment of araxyd silk hasn’t arrived. Aeorik, the tradesman at The Merchant’s Mantle, should have it. His shop is on the other side of the city, but I’m so behind on orders that I simply can’t leave. I was hoping an adventurer like you could retrieve it for me. If you do, I’ll give you a hefty discount on anything in my shop.”

Ryder glanced around at the beautiful garments and smiled. “Your work is incredible—I can see the quality in every stitch. I’d be happy to help. I’m Ryder, by the way.”

The woman clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with gratitude. “Oh, thank you, dear! I’m Vivilyn—though most people call me Vivi. Seamstress of Stonehaven and owner of Needle & Thread,” she said, taking Ryder’s hand and patting it affectionately. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins and a folded parchment, handing them both to him. “This is the payment for Aeorik. Please, give it to him when you collect the silk.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ryder said, taking the items and dispelling them into his vault.

“Thank you. I look forward to your return. Arc guide you, dear,” Vivi said, her voice full of warmth as she retreated back through the beaded curtain.

Ryder took a deep breath, his resolve firm. He stepped back out into the bustling streets, ready to make his way to The Merchant’s Mantle.

As Ryder made his way down the street, curiosity took hold of him. He decided to consult his map again, summoning it with a flick of his hand. The familiar parchment-like display shimmered into view, now revealing everywhere he had previously explored. Nearby his mushroom token, two other icons caught his eye: a spool of thread and needle symbol near where he stood, and another marker of a bed—clearly marking Needle & Thread and Wayfarer’s Rest.

Something within compelled him to touch the spool of thread. As his finger tapped the token, it flickered, then expanded, revealing the shop’s name written elegantly on the map: Needle & Thread confirming his previous suspicion. 

Ryder’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t realized the map was interactive. Acting on instinct, he pinched his fingers together, much like he would on his cell phone’s screen, and to his astonishment, the map zoomed out. The entirety of Aetherealm that he had explored was now visible.

He saw the glowing marker of Stonehaven with its name hovering above it in that same elegant font, as well as markers for Evermyst Grove, Vaelaris Lake, Auravael Lake, and Eon’s Estate. His mushroom-shaped token bobbed above Stonehaven, indicating his current location. The map was truly like something out of a video game—dynamic and reactive.

Zooming back into Stonehaven, Ryder noticed a golden dot pulsating faintly in the unexplored area of his map. Intrigued, he got an idea. He quickly used the Seer Spell, drawing a thread of aether that stretched from his token toward the golden dot on the map. In reality, the glowing rope snaked ahead, weaving through unexplored streets and alleyways, creating a clear path to the marked location. Ryder’s face lit up. He instinctively knew that the golden dot marked Aeorik and that the Seer Spell would guide him straight to his destination.

“Just like a video game,” he muttered with a grin, pleased by the discovery. With a wave of his hand, the map dissolved into sparkling dust, vanishing into the air. Ryder eagerly followed the glowing rope of aether as it twisted and turned through the city streets.

The path led him through various neighborhoods, zigzagging through alleys and wide thoroughfares alike. He passed numerous Aethereans—some too busy to notice him, while others stopped in their tracks to stare or whisper amongst themselves. Ryder couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The attention wasn’t malicious, but it was constant, and it unnerved him. Why was he drawing so much notice? Even Vivi had said he looked familiar. There had to be more to it.

After about a half-hour of crossing Stonehaven, Ryder finally arrived at The Merchant’s Mantle, the end of the glowing aether rope guiding him to the door. With a deep breath, he stepped inside to find a shop brimming with an assortment of wares. The walls were lined with an eclectic mix of goods: weapons of various designs, bolts of fine fabrics, bottles filled with vibrantly colored liquids, and an array of other curious items that gave the shop an almost mystical air.

Ryder made his way to the counter, but there was no one in sight. He scanned the room before noticing a small brass bell on the desk. Tentatively, he pressed it. A high-pitched ting echoed through the shop, the sound slightly uncomfortable to his ears.

Moments later, a large barn-style door slid open, revealing a man who could only be described as striking. With quaffed white hair, a matching full beard, and a physique glistening with sweat, the shirtless merchant strode into the room with a confident smile.

“Aeorik, at your service. What can I do for ya?” he said, his voice deep and friendly.

Ryder froze for a second, realizing he had been staring. Heat crept into his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, trying to compose himself. “Uh, yes,” he stammered, summoning the parchment and coin purse Vivi had given him. He held them out awkwardly. “Vivi from Needle & Thread asked me to retrieve her—uh…” he faltered, trying to recall the name.

“Araxyd silk, right,” Aeorik said, his grin widening. “Perfect timing!” He grabbed the items and set the coin purse on the counter, unrolling and reading the parchment before nodding. “Be right back.”

Disappearing back through the door he had entered, Aeorik left Ryder alone to ponder his surroundings. A few moments later, he returned carrying several large bolts of luminous, white silky fabric that seemed to shimmer with its own light. The iridescence was mesmerizing, almost otherworldly, and Ryder couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty.

“These are the ones,” Aeorik said with a grunt, setting the bolts on the counter with a heavy thud. “Meant to get them out earlier this week, but time got away from me. Too many orders, not enough hours,” he said, wiping his brow.

“Thanks,” Ryder replied, stepping forward and attempting to lift one of the bolts. His arms strained as he barely managed to get it off the counter. “Oh wow, these are heavy,” he grunted, quickly setting it back down.

Aeorik let out a hearty laugh. “What’d you expect, boy? Araxyd silk is tough as it is beautiful. You’d better find yourself a cart unless you plan on dragging them back to Vivi.”

Ryder grinned sheepishly. “Oh, no need,” he said, holding out his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the bolts vanished into his vault, the shimmering fabric folding into the air as though it had been pulled into another dimension.

Aeorik’s laughter quieted, and his eyes narrowed slightly with intrigue. “Ah, a mage…” he said, his voice trailing as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “In that case, I’ve got a favor to ask of you too.”

Ryder blinked, caught off guard. “Another favor?” he asked, still blushing faintly. It seemed like everyone in Aetherealm treated him as some kind of errand boy, but he didn’t mind helping where he could.

Aeorik nodded, leaning on the counter. “It’s a simple one. I need you to deliver a special potion to one of my clients. They’ve been dealing with concerning symptoms, and this was supposed to go out today, but I’ve been swamped. I’ll make it worth your while—throw in an extra potion for you and a discount on anything you buy today. What do you say?”

Ryder hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Of course. That’s an offer I can’t pass up. What’s the potion used for?”

Aeorik’s face lit up with relief. “Thank you, lad. You’re a lifesaver. The potion is called Aethelixir. It’s for aether poisoning—rare stuff, and not easy to make. My client’s been experiencing some symptoms, so they’ll need this sooner rather than later.” He ducked under the counter, pulling out two small glass bottles, each filled with a shimmering green liquid that seemed to pulse faintly with life. Along with the potions, he handed Ryder a parchment with the client’s name and address scrawled on it.

“This one,” he said, holding up the first bottle, “is for my client. And this,” he said, holding up the second, “is for you. You might need it at some point, considering the way you mages throw around aether.”

Ryder accepted the bottles, dispelling them into his vault along with the parchment. “Thank you. I’ll make sure it gets there safely.”

“Good man,” Aeorik said, nodding approvingly. “Now, before you head out, take a look around. Let me know if you have questions or see anything that catches your eye.”

“Will do. Thanks again,” Ryder said with a smile, turning his attention to the rest of the shop’s treasures.

Upon scanning the shelves, Ryder was captivated by the array of curious and practical items that seemed essential for the journey ahead. After some deliberation, he selected a sturdy pair of traveling boots, a weatherproof cloak that claimed to repel rain and snow, a jar of Frostfyre Salve—an herbal ointment for burns and frostbite—along with a few empty bottles and a crafting kit that included alchemy tools and a compact wooden table. Satisfied with his choices, he levitated everything to the counter.

Aeorik greeted him with a chuckle. “Quite the selection of goods! Appreciate the business,” he said, ringing up the items. “That’ll be 424 zil—with your discount applied.”

“Zil—oh, right,” Ryder said, the term momentarily unfamiliar before it clicked. Summoning his coin pouch, he opened it and inspected its contents. To his surprise, there were three distinct types of coins: silver ones etched with a moon and stars, gold ones embossed with a radiant sun partially covered by clouds, and iridescent coins that shimmered with shifting colors, displaying a dovaa in flight. Unsure of their values, he scooped out a handful and placed them on the counter.

Aeorik’s eyes widened as the pile of coins tumbled onto the surface. After a brief pause, he carefully picked out four iridescent coins, two gold coins, and four silver ones, depositing them into a satchel behind the counter. “Thanks for your purchase,” he said, his voice tinged with astonishment.

“Oh, that’s all you needed?” Ryder asked, realizing he’d overpaid. Embarrassed, he quickly scooped the remaining coins back into his pouch. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, mentally noting the apparent denominations: Dovaa—100, Gold—10, Silver—1.

Aeorik leaned forward, his tone shifting to something more serious. “You aren’t from around these parts, are ya, boy?”

Ryder froze, feeling a lump form in his throat. “No, sir, I’m not.”

Aeorik let out a deep sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Look, I don’t know where you got that bag of coin, and I don’t care to know. But let me give you some advice: don’t go around dropping coin like that on anyone’s counter. If I were the unsavory type, you’d be dead, and that pouch of yours—gone.”

Ryder nodded, the weight of Aeorik’s words sinking in. “I’ll remember that. Thank you for your honesty—and for everything today,” he said, dispelling his purchases along with his coin pouch into his vault.

“No, thank you, kid. Dunno what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along today,” Aeorik replied with a faint smile, his tone lightening.

“My pleasure. Take care,” Ryder said, turning to leave.

Aeorik called after him as Ryder reached the door. “May Arcaenion light your way.”

Ryder nodded over his shoulder, stepping out into the bustling streets once more, determined to finish his errand and head back to Needle & Thread.

Outside, Ryder consulted his map once again, watching as a new golden dot appeared just a few buildings away from the Needle & Thread token. It seemed the delivery truly was on his way back.

Retracing his steps through the lively streets, Ryder found himself standing before a modest home, as indicated by the map. He approached the sturdy wooden door and knocked firmly. The sound echoed slightly before the door creaked open with a long groan.

A young woman appeared, her cautious gaze meeting Ryder’s. “Yes?”

Clearing his throat, Ryder fumbled slightly as he glanced at the parchment given to him. “Hello, I’m here to deliver a potion for… Loryn?” he said, lifting his eyes back to her.

Her expression softened as recognition dawned. “Ah, are you delivering for old Aeorik?” she asked, her tone brighter.

Ryder nodded.

“Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside to let him through. She quickly moved to a cabinet, pulling out a small pouch of coins.

Ryder entered, summoning the Aethelixir from his vault. “Here you go,” he said, holding the potion out toward her.

The woman took the potion carefully, relief and gratitude written across her face. “Thank you so much, sweetie. I’m Brynn, by the way,” she said, holding out four silver zil. “For your trouble.”

Ryder shook his head quickly, holding up a hand. “Oh, no, I couldn’t accept that. This is just a favor. Please, keep your coin.”

Brynn hesitated, then smiled softly, clutching the coins close to her chest. “Arcaenion bless you, adventurer. My husband… he’s been suffering for months. The headaches, the chest pains—they’ve only gotten worse. We can’t afford the magical healers’ rates anymore,” her voice strained, heavy with emotion. “Herbal remedies like this one help a little, but they don’t cure it. They just stave off the symptoms.”

Ryder frowned, concern etched on his face. “Maybe I could help further?” he offered.

Brynn blinked, taken aback. “Help? How?”

“I’ve recently learned a bit of hydromancy. It’s worth a try,” Ryder said, stepping closer. “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to attempt to heal him.”

Her eyes widened, disbelief flickering in her expression. “A mage? Y-you’d do that? But… we can’t possibly afford it.”

Ryder shook his head with a reassuring smile. “No charge. Let me try—no harm done if it doesn’t work.”

Brynn’s hope lit like a flame. “Yes! Please, anything. Follow me,” she said, hurrying toward a nearby room.

Ryder followed, his determination mounting as he entered a dimly lit bedroom. On the bed lay her husband, Loryn, pale and trembling. His hands clutched his chest and head as though trying to contain the unbearable pain, his breaths shallow and weak. The air was thick with a mix of herbs and desperation. Ryder steeled himself—this was his moment to help.

“It’s gotten worse and worse over the last few days. I can’t understand what’s happening. It’s been spreading through the town. I truly hope it’s not the Blue Bloom Plague returning,” Brynn said, her voice trembling as she stood in the doorway, helpless.

Blue Bloom Plague? Ryder thought as he sat down on the bed beside the man, carefully examining him. The symptoms mirrored what he himself had experienced—it was clearly debilitating. Gently, Ryder pulled back the covers to get a better look. The man was already shirtless, his labored breaths visible in the rise and fall of his chest.

Summoning one of the bottles of Auravael lake water from his vault, Ryder uncorked it and closed his eyes, focusing. He reached deep within himself, calling forth the familiar emotion of sorrow—his longing for home, his guardians, his muses. The feeling swelled, and he latched onto it, using it to connect to the aether within the water. As the connection formed, he felt its presence—warm, alive, and ready to respond.

Opening his eyes, Ryder drew the water from the bottle with a sweep of his hand. It followed his will effortlessly, wrapping around his palms like liquid gloves. He brought his hands together, steadying himself. Please work, he thought, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

Placing his right hand in the center of the man’s chest and his left on the man’s temple—just as Saeya had done—Ryder concentrated. He visualized the sickness, imagining it as a dark force clinging to the man’s body. His hands began to glow with a bright blue aura as he coaxed the poison to the surface. The sickness fought back, resisting him, clinging tightly. Ryder gritted his teeth, focusing harder, pulling at its edges, searching for its source.

It was a delicate game of push and pull. Finally, Ryder felt the sickness give way, like a string being unraveled. The water absorbed it, turning an inky black as the poison drained from the man. Relief visibly washed over him as his breathing steadied and his eyes fluttered open, meeting Ryder’s.

“W-wow,” the man rasped, his voice weak but filled with gratitude.

Satisfied, Ryder pulled his hands away, the inky water now floating as a dark orb above his palms. He carefully condensed it back into the bottle, corking it tightly before dispelling it into his vault for safe disposal. He exhaled deeply, a smile forming on his lips. “I think that’s everything,” he said softly.

“Br-Brynn,” the man said, his voice hoarse.

“You are Arc-sent! Thank you, thank you!” Brynn cried, rushing to her husband’s side, tears streaming down her face as she embraced him.

“I’m glad I could help,” Ryder said, his tone humble. After a pause, curiosity overtook him. “But… may I ask—what is the Blue Bloom Plague?”

Brynn turned to him, startled. “How do you not know of the plague?” she asked, her surprise evident, though she quickly shook her head as if to apologize for her reaction. “Well, legend says that in the beginning, Aetherealm was much more gold. It’s said that Mother Aeiaris saw the evils mages were committing and gifted the world the aeiabloom—to remind us that aether surrounds us, lives within us, and that we must care for Aetherealm and its people for it to thrive. But with the blooms came the sickness. Mages began to experience the symptoms—headaches, chest pains—which eventually progressed into debilitating pain. Some even went catatonic or died, unable to bear the toll it took on their bodies. Thankfully, alchemists perfected the Aethelixir, and magic has provided ways to heal it.”

Ryder listened intently, piecing it together. So, the aeiablooms weren’t just gifts—they were warnings from Aeiaris herself. A reminder of balance and respect for the magic that sustained Aetherealm.

“Thank you for healing me, sir,” the man said, his voice faint but earnest. “May I know the name of my savior?”

Ryder smirked, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I’m no savior,” he replied. “My name is Ryder.”

“Ryder,” Brynn repeated, smiling warmly. “A lovely name.”

“Well, thank you again, Ryder, for all your help today,” Loryn said, his eyelids heavy as exhaustion overtook him.

“You should rest,” Ryder said gently. “It was a pleasure to help. Be safe.”

Brynn kissed her husband’s forehead before escorting Ryder out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Wait,” Brynn called out as Ryder reached the front door. She hurried over to a desk, pulling open one of its drawers. After retrieving a small lockbox, she produced a key from her pocket. Within moments, the box was opened, its contents removed, and it was securely returned to its place.

She approached Ryder with a determined expression, holding out a small, translucent orange crystal etched with a delicate flame-like symbol. “It truly means so much to me that you were able to heal Loryn. Please, accept this as a token of our thanks. I won’t take no for an answer. I feel it could be of far greater use to you than to me.”

Ryder took the crystal, turning it over in his hands with curiosity. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a Hearthstone Charm,” Brynn explained with a warm smile. “When held, it protects the bearer from frostbite by keeping them warm—an invaluable tool during Aetherealm’s harsh winters. I rarely leave the house, so I’ve never had much need for it. It’s been sitting in that box for years. I hope it will serve you well on your journey.”

Ryder returned her smile. “Thank you, Brynn. I’m sure it will,” he said, slipping the charm into his vault with a quick gesture. “Please, take care.”

He opened the door to leave, but Brynn’s voice followed him one last time. “May Arcaenion light your way, Ryder,” she said with heartfelt gratitude before gently closing the door behind him.

Within a minute of leaving Brynn, Ryder stepped back into Needle & Thread. The soft chime of the bell announced his arrival, and, just as before, Vivi emerged through the beaded curtain with a bright smile.

“Ah, the adventurer returns!” she called cheerfully.

Ryder smiled, walking over to the counter. With a wave of his hand, the spools of araxyd silk materialized from his vault, neatly placed on the counter.

“Splendid, splendid! Oh, thank you, dear. You have no idea how much time and energy you’ve saved me. And I hope you were able to deliver Loryn’s potion as well?” she asked, her tone warm and curious.

Ryder raised a brow. “How did you—”

“My note, dear,” Vivi interjected with a knowing grin. “I’m glad you remembered to give him my note. I had a feeling Aeorik would have some Aethelixir on hand, and Brynn was just telling me about her husband’s condition the other day. I figured I’d help out with the coin to get them what they needed. Hopefully, the potion will buy Loryn a few good months to truly live again,” she said, her voice softening with concern.

Ryder’s smile widened. “No need to worry about Loryn. I healed him.”

“Healed him!?” Vivi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you a Hydromancer?”

Ryder chuckled. “I wouldn’t call myself one, no. But I’ve learned enough to draw the poison out of him successfully.”

“Incredible! Absolutely incredible!” Vivi exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She turned her attention back to the silk. With a flick of her wrist, the spools levitated and floated one by one through the beaded curtain into the backroom.

“You’re a mage!?” Ryder gasped, watching her effortless display of levitation magic.

“Oh, no, dear. Not a mage,” Vivi said with a chuckle. “Just a humble witch.”

Ryder furrowed his brow. “What’s the difference?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“What kind of mage are you, dear, that you don’t know the difference?” Vivi teased lightly, studying him again.

Ryder shrugged, feeling sheepish. “To be honest, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Vivi smiled, her expression softening. “Well, you’re a mighty good adventurer and trustworthy to boot, so I’ll give you a pass. The difference is quite simple, really. Witches and wizards use magic to assist in their daily lives, while mages use magic to protect themselves and others. Take me, for instance—I’ve no skills in combat, but I can use magic to make my work easier. Have you felt how heavy those spools are?”

Ryder chuckled. “Yeah, they’re pretty heavy.”

“Exactly. No one expects me to lift such a thing, so I use a bit of magic to levitate them instead. Makes life much easier, don’t you agree?” Vivi said with a wink.

“Agreed,” Ryder said with a nod, smiling.

“Oh! I have something for you—a little token of thanks for a job well done,” Vivi said, disappearing momentarily behind the curtain.

When she returned, she carried a small wooden chest and set it on the ground in front of Ryder. “Go on, open it,” she said with a gesture.

Ryder knelt and lifted the lid to reveal a collection of finely crafted shirts and pants in various colors, all featuring a similar elegant design to his current outfit. The fabric looked both durable and luxurious, shimmering faintly under the shop’s light. His mouth fell open. “These clothes—they’re beautiful.”

“Only the best for the best adventurers,” Vivi said with a grin. “These are made of the finest araxyd silk and thread. They’ve been with me for a while, and I figured it’s time they found a new home. I hope they fit.”

Ryder looked up at her, gratitude shining in his eyes. She had no way of knowing these would be the only extra clothes he’d own in Aetherealm, making this gift all the more meaningful. “Thank you, Vivi. This is more than generous.”

“My pleasure. And thank you for all your help today, Ryder. You don’t know how much it means to me. You’re welcome back here anytime, dear,” she said warmly.

With a smile and a nod, Ryder dispelled the chest into his vault, feeling both prepared and humbled by the day’s events.

As Ryder left the seamstress’s shop, night fell over Stonehaven, the cobblestone streets grew quieter, but the city still pulsed with life. Aethereans dressed in long red robes roamed the streets, lighting torches with a mere flick of their wrists, casting a warm glow over the bustling pathways. Ryder strolled along, taking in the sights of this strange yet fascinating city. His eyes caught a wooden sign swinging gently in the evening breeze, etched with the image of a large pitcher and the words The Iron Flagon. His throat was parched, and the thought of a drink after such an eventful day was far too tempting to ignore.

Pushing the door open, Ryder was greeted by the welcoming hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses. The bartender, a friendly-looking man polishing a glass behind the counter, waved him over.

“Welcome to The Iron Flagon, traveler. What can I get for you?” he asked politely.

Ryder approached the bar and slid onto a stool, glancing up at the large menu carved and painted into the enormous keg behind the counter. “I’ll just take water, thanks,” Ryder said with a small smile.

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice water.

While waiting, Ryder’s attention wandered to the lively scene in the pub. Multiple parties were scattered throughout, their laughter and conversations blending into the cozy atmosphere. Except one party stood out—a group of four rowdy drunkards laughing loudly, almost obnoxiously.

“Your water, sir,” the bartender said, setting the glass down in front of Ryder with a smile.

“Thanks,” Ryder replied, taking a sip and savoring the refreshing coolness.

As he drank, his ears caught a snippet of conversation from the rowdy table.

“Y’ear—hic—’bout da army?” slurred a large man with long red hair and a matching beard, his cheeks flushed from drink.

Ryder’s interest piqued immediately. Army? he thought.

The man sitting across from him, a wiry figure with light brown hair and a short beard, hushed him quickly. “Yah shouldn’t speak of it, Roux! Arc’s light, yah could get y’self killed talkin’ openly like that. Nox don’t mess around, y’know.”

“Nox doesn’t even exist!” scoffed another man at the table, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of mead. “He’s just a story to scare us, a way for the guard to keep us under control.”

The second man glared at him, his voice low and firm. “Korwen, yer mad if yah think Nox is a myth. Shut yer mouth b’fore some’n shuts it for yah.”

Curious, Ryder stood and casually moved to a table nearby, bringing his glass of water with him. He sat just within earshot, straining to catch every word.

The youngest of the group, a slender man who seemed more nervous than drunk, leaned in closer. “I didn’t hear about any army. Roux, what’d you hear?”

Roux leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I ‘eard Nox is out recruitin’ again. Buildin’ an army, offerin’ power to those who join his cause.”

“Recruiting?” the younger man echoed, his tone trembling. “What kind of power?”

The bartender suddenly approached their table and placed fresh flagons of ale in front of them, interrupting the conversation. Roux handed over a few coins, slurring a quick, “Thank ya, Laewyn,” before turning back to his companions.

“That’s foolish aetherot and you know it,” Korwen said, waving his hand dismissively. “Where’d you hear that? Your brother who works for the guard?”

Roux leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. “Yeah, actually.”

“See, that settles it!” Korwen said, his tone turning mocking as he wagged a finger in the air. “Stay inside, don’t leave the city, you’ll die out there—it’s just a way to keep us all under their thumbs and in fear.”

The youngest of the group, sitting with his hands folded nervously, leaned forward. “What do you think of it all, Pyre?” he asked, looking to the brown-haired man with an expectant gaze.

Pyre rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “I think it’s sage advice, and y’all needa shut up b’fore Nox and his Forgotten come’n kill yah in yer sleep!” He said, slamming the half-drunken mug onto the table before rising. “I’m headin’ home. It’s late, and I suggest you lot do the same.”

He waved briefly to the bartender before exiting the pub in hurried strides, leaving the table in an awkward silence.

“What a madman,” Korwen muttered, shaking his head as soon as Pyre was out of earshot. “But… he is right about one thing—it’s late.” He drained the rest of his drink, then unabashedly reached across to finish Pyre’s abandoned mug. With a loud burp, he staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks for the drinks, Roux,” he said, flinging his cloak over his shoulder before making his way out the door.

Roux chuckled. “Well, looks like that’s it for the night,” he said, finishing his drink in one long gulp. He slammed the flagon onto the table and let out a loud burp himself before beginning to rise. “Goodnight, Blaen.”

But before he could leave, Blaen grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back down with surprising urgency. “Roux, what were you talking about? What power?” Blaen’s voice was low but desperate.

Roux shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the now-quiet tavern. “W-well,” he stammered, hiccuping. “From what I hear—hic—he’s givin’ out the power of umbra—hic—mancy’.”

“Umbramancy!?” Blaen whispered harshly, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and intrigue. “How?”

“Dunno,” Roux replied, shrugging lazily. “But my brother said—hic—the guard’s lookin’ for ‘em in Evermyst Grove. That’s where they think the umbramancers are meeting in secret.”

Blaen leaned back, his expression clouded with thought, his eyes fixed on the table as if piecing together a puzzle.

Roux suddenly stood again, this time more steady on his feet. “Well, Blaen, be safe out there. Goodnight,” he said, patting Blaen on the shoulder before wobbling his way to the door. “Farewell, Laewyn!” he called out with a grin. “Until tomorrow!”

The bartender gave a polite nod in return. “Goodnight, sir. May Arcaenion light your way.”

Ryder glanced at Blaen, who sat alone, staring intently at the table. His expression was distant, but the weight of his earlier questions lingered heavily in Ryder’s mind. What was he thinking? The desperation in Blaen’s voice had been unmistakable, and his withdrawn demeanor now only heightened Ryder’s concern. As Ryder sipped his water, he kept a watchful eye on him through his peripherals.

The conversation replayed in Ryder’s head. The guard was looking for umbramancers and possibly Nox—if he even existed—who was clearly planning to build an army called the Forgotten. But why? What was the purpose behind it all? Who was Nox?

Ryder’s thoughts spiraled until he suddenly snapped back to reality. He blinked and looked over at the table—empty. Blaen was gone. A wave of urgency swept over him. Something wasn’t right. His gut told him he needed to follow.

Without wasting another moment, Ryder summoned his coin pouch. Unfamiliar with the customary tip for the establishment, he hastily left a couple gold coins on the table before dispelling the pouch back into his vault. Rising from his seat, he hurried out of the pub, scanning the streets for any sign of Blaen.

The cobblestone street was illuminated by torchlight, but Blaen was nowhere in sight. Ryder jogged down the road, his boots echoing against the stone, rounding the nearest corner in pursuit—only to collide headlong into a large figure.

“Oh, apologies, I—Bastian!?” Ryder exclaimed as soon as he registered the massive figure before him. Standing tall in his protector form, Bastian’s oversized frame was crowned with the familiar blaze of his multi-colored flame-like head.

Bastian’s eyes, ever expressive despite his beastly form, widened in surprise.

“Ryder!?” a familiar voice chimed in. Eon stepped out from behind Bastian, his scholarly demeanor softened by the concern etched into his face. “I thought you’d be back at the inn by now,” he said, tilting his head as he studied Ryder.

Ryder’s gaze darted between Eon and Bastian, confusion swirling in his mind. Questions flooded his thoughts, but before he could voice them, his emotions took over. Without hesitation, he threw himself into Bastian’s arms, wrapping his own tightly around the large beast’s waist.

Bastian responded with a gentle yet firm embrace, his massive arm draping over Ryder protectively.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Ryder said, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He pressed closer, the soft texture of Bastian’s fur grounding him in the moment.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bastian rumbled, his deep voice radiating warmth and reassurance.

Ryder pulled back slightly, wiping his tears on his sleeve. The soft glow of Bastian’s flame illuminated his tear-streaked face, casting a faint shimmer of hope. “What are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

Bastian’s eyes softened, his joy evident as he began to speak. “I arrived here yesterday. I—”

“I think we should move this conversation somewhere more private,” Eon interrupted, his tone cautious as he tugged on Bastian’s cape. He gestured toward the warm light spilling from The Iron Flagon. “In there.”

Bastian and Ryder exchanged a look before nodding, following Eon back into the pub. The trio settled at the table Ryder had vacated moments ago.

Ryder leaned forward, barely able to contain himself. “Bastian, what are you doing here? What are you two doing together? What is going on? Have you seen Alice?” The questions tumbled out in a rush, his voice full with hope and urgency.

Bastian’s eyes glimmered with quiet ease as he began to explain. “Yesterday, I found myself at the gates of Stonehaven. Commander Saeya was the first to greet me. She saw my arrival as a sign of hope for the city, given the ongoing umbramancer threat, and she asked me to assist her in protecting Stonehaven.” He paused, his voice softening. “But no, Ryder, I haven’t seen Alice.”

“To answer your second question,” Eon interjected, adjusting his glasses, “we only met recently. After purchasing our ferry tickets, I returned to the guardhouse to check in with Saeya. She introduced me to Bastian, thinking my prior experience with umbramancers might prove useful in offering guidance.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “But unfortunately, I couldn’t provide much. They remain as elusive as ever.”

Ryder rubbed his chin thoughtfully, piecing together the snippets of conversations he’d overheard earlier. He lowered his voice. “Just before I ran into you, there were men sitting at that table over there, talking about someone named Nox. They said he was recruiting people, offering them the power of umbramancy, calling them his Forgotten. Apparently, Saeya was out in Evermyst Grove because that’s where these meetings supposedly take place.”

Eon’s eyes widened, his expression a mixture of alarm and intrigue. “Nox… and his Forgotten?” His gaze darted to Bastian, then back to Ryder, before dropping to the floor as he rubbed his chin in thought.

“Yeah,” Ryder continued, his voice steady but tinged with unease. “One of the men thought Nox was just a scary story to keep people in line, but another was so paranoid he didn’t even want the name mentioned. They were all drunk—except one I think.”

“Which one? Did you catch any of their names?” Eon pressed, his tone urgent.

”The paranoid one was called Blaen, I think?” Ryder began, the name feeling heavy on his tongue. “He seemed… different from the others. More serious—nervous maybe? I also heard the names Pyre, Korwen, and Roux, if I’m not mistaken.”

Eon nodded slowly. “That is very insightful. Much of it aligns with what Saeya told me today. But what exactly this Nox’s goals are, we still don’t know. If he’s the one behind the rise of umbramancy… he has to be stopped.”

“Agreed,” Bastian said firmly, his deep voice carrying an air of finality.

Ryder glanced at Bastian, resolve sparking in his eyes. “Bastian, you have to come with us. We’re going to see the Grand Luminary. We think he can help us figure out what’s going on—and hopefully, help us find a way back home.”

Bastian hesitated, his fiery eyes reflecting both warmth and reluctance. “That is the right course of action, Ryder. Seeking Oberon’s guidance should be your top priority. However…” He paused, his gaze steady. “I cannot, in good conscience, leave Stonehaven. The people here are depending on me now. You must understand—I have to protect them.”

Ryder’s heart ached, a heavy sense of loss settling in his chest. He understood Bastian’s duty—of course, he did. Stonehaven needed him, Saeya needed him. But the thought of continuing this journey without his muse, his protector, left him feeling more vulnerable than he wanted to admit.

“I… understand,” Ryder said softly, his voice carrying the weight of disappointment. He forced himself to look at Eon, his resolve flickering but still present. “We’ll be back as soon as we reach Oberon—uh, the Grand Luminary.”

Eon smirked faintly at Ryder’s slip before straightening. “The next ship from Tidefall is due in three days,” he explained reluctantly. “After it arrives, they’ll need at least a day to unload cargo, refuel, and prepare for departure. That means we’ll leave in four days and reach Tidefall within five.”

“Five days?” Ryder echoed, his frustration evident. He clenched his fists but quickly released them, knowing there was no use arguing with the timeline. “Well, at least that gives us time to figure out what to do about Nox and the Forgotten.”

Bastian shook his head firmly. “Leave Nox to us, Ryder. Your focus should be on safely reaching Oberon as quickly as possible. He’s the one who can help you.”

“He’s the Grand Luminary,” Eon corrected, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

Bastian chuckled, his deep voice rumbling with warmth. “Yes, of course. The Grand Luminary,” he said with mock reverence.

“Nobody ever takes his title seriously,” Eon muttered under his breath.

Ryder leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice. “I want to help. There has to be something I can do—”

“You can help,” Bastian interrupted gently, “by staying alive.”

“I second that,” Eon added, raising his hand before crossing his arms.

Ryder sighed heavily, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He wasn’t a child, and he was tired of being treated like one. Both Saeya and Eon had already told him he was a powerful mage, and he had proven himself by fending off umbramancers just a day ago and healing Loryn today. Yet, here they were, coddling him as if he hadn’t earned his place.

Before Ryder could argue, Eon cut in. “It’s late. We should head back to the inn for some rest.”

Ryder hesitated, glancing back at Bastian. His exhaustion was undeniable, but he wasn’t ready to part ways just yet. “Bastian, come with us? Just for tonight? If the guards need you, you can leave, but… I’d feel better if you were there,” he pleaded.

Bastian’s glowing eyes softened, and his joyful expression returned. “It would be my pleasure.”

The trio left the pub and made their way to the inn under the soft glow of torch lit streets. As they entered, Bastian transformed into his smaller, familiar form—a cat-like creature with the same vibrant, flaming head. With a graceful leap, he perched on Ryder’s shoulder, his warm presence reassuring as they used the elevation platform to reach room 404.

Once inside, Ryder changed into some new silky sleepwear he had received from Vivi and settled into bed. Bastian curled up around his head, his small frame radiating a comforting heat. It had been an incredibly long and emotional day, but with Bastian nearby, Ryder felt a flicker of hope that things would somehow be okay. 

Ryder closed his eyes, feeling at peace for the first time since his arrival in Aetherealm. Exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted off almost instantly.