Chapter 1.2: Foraging, Fangs, and Chaos
Morning in Velmira began with sunlight threading through misted windows, the scent of tea herbs in the air, and a soft thud as a book slammed shut on the kitchen table.
“Eliah,” Thorne said, rubbing the back of his head, “if I chop one more sprig of Gravemint wrong, my fingers are going to unionize.”
“Moonlace for fever,” Eliah recited, slicing a silver-veined leaf with surgical precision. Her braid was pinned tight, apron spotless, and gaze sharper than any kitchen knife. “Emberroot for pain. Thistlethorn for—”
“—making Old Man Gerrick dance naked in the square,” Thorne chimed from the doorway, arms crossed and eyes twinkling.
“We do not speak of the Incident,” Eliah snapped, snatching a blue-glass vial from the counter and giving it a pointed shake. The liquid inside burbled like it remembered the trauma.
Aether, seated at the table and cautiously poking at a bowl of greenish stew, squinted at a spiral-shaped leaf. “What’s this one?”
“That’s Wraith Ivy,” Eliah said, lifting it delicately from his hand with tongs. “One pinch helps memory. Two pinches erase it.”
Thorne leaned closer, voice low. “Three pinches and you wake up married to a birch tree.”
Aether blinked. “…Is that a metaphor or—”
“No further questions,” Eliah said briskly. “Now, I need Frostbloom and Luminous Bark for the midwinter tonic. You”—she shoved a woven basket into Aether’s hands—“are going into the Gloomrest.”
Thorne winced theatrically. “You sure? After the Spinefruit incident?”
Eliah’s eye twitched. “No one speaks of the Spinefruit Incident.”
Thorne cracking his knuckles. “Hunting with my boy. Just like old times.”
“The last time we went,” Aether muttered, “we got chased by glow-toads and you brought home a live venom squirrel in your coat.”
“Still the softest scarf I’ve ever worn,” Thorne said fondly.
Aether stood, already regretting his entire bloodline. “Right. Gloomrest. No disasters. Got it.”
Eliah pointed at him, basket shaking slightly. “I mean it, Aether. If you come back glowing again, I will bathe you in vinegar.”
Into the Gloomrest Again
The Gloomrest Jungle was its usual lovely self—mossy paths, crooked trees, and enough magical ambiance to warrant a government warning. Mana drifted in faint wisps through the branches, occasionally coalescing into floating will-o’-the-wisps or glowing puffballs.
Thorne led the way, long knife at his hip, shoulders taut beneath his worn leather coat.
Aether carried the basket, because “hunters carry baskets” was apparently a family rule. Thorne stalked ahead with a short spear and a gleam in his eye.
“Stay close,” he murmured. “This place doesn’t forgive fools.”
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Aether promptly tripped over a Glimmer Squirrel.
It hissed, its bioluminescent tail flickering like a living lantern, then zipped up a tree and chattered something that might’ve been rude in Squirrel.
“Forgive me, Mister Squeak,” Aether muttered.
They pressed on. The jungle thickened, air spiced with the unmistakable tang of Phoenix Pollen—sweet and smoky, it tickled the back of Aether’s throat.
“Smells like Eliah’s angry tea,” Thorne muttered.
“Wait, is that what she gave me before the winter exams?”
“She said it’d ignite your potential.”
“It ignited my pants.”
They found a patch of Whisperweed nestled between two fallen logs. Thorne crouched beside it, brushing a leaf. It let out a soft, flute-like note.
“Good for anxiety. Terrible in pillows.”
Aether arched a brow. “You did that to Uncle Brax, didn’t you?”
“I regret nothing.”
A bush rustled nearby. Thorne froze.
“...What was that?” Aether whispered.
The answer came in the form of a Horned Rabbit leaping directly at Thorne’s face.
“Perfect,” Thorne whispered.
It turned. Blinked. Bolted.
“Less perfect.”
Thorne dashed. Aether jogged after, barely keeping up as his father leapt a log and slid down a mossy incline with the elegance of a man half his age and twice his confidence.
There was a rustle, a snap, and a triumphant shout.
Aether caught up to find Thorne holding the rabbit by its stubby hind legs. It kicked indignantly, antlered head flopping from side to side like a furry mythological nightmare.
“Dinner,” Thorne declared.
Aether stared.
It was small. Tan-furred. Its tiny horns gleamed like polished ivory, and its nose twitched.
“…Can I keep it?” he asked.
Thorne blinked. “You want to keep the meat?”
“No. I mean—as a pet.”
Thorne stared at the rabbit, which sneezed and tried to bite his glove. “You want to keep this?”
“It’s got character!”
“It’s got teeth!”
“It’s cute!”
“It’s delicious!”
Aether folded his arms.
Thorne sighed like a man surrendering a steak. “Fine. But you clean up after it if it chews the curtains.”
Meanwhile, Aether spotted a shimmering patch of Dazzlepetals, their translucent petals shifting through the color spectrum. Curious, he leaned in—
POOF.
A burst of glittering pollen hit him square in the face. Instantly, his skin turned neon pink, hair blazing gold.
Thorne stared.
Aether blinked.
“...I’m allergic to fabulous.”
Home Again, with Baggage
Aether was still sparkling. His hair glowed like lantern oil. Nibbles sat smugly on Thorne’s shoulder, nibbling a string of his shirt. The basket was... technically full, but not with anything Eliah had requested.
When they arrived home, Eliah took one look at the wriggling bundle in Aether’s arms and sighed the sigh of a woman slowly losing control of her household.
The front door creaked open. Eliah took one look and inhaled sharply.
“I said no disasters.”
Thorne raised a hand. “Technically—”
She pointed at Aether. “Dazzlepetals?”
“…Maybe.”
She pointed at the rabbit. “Horned Rabbit?”
“His name is Nibbles,” Aether said proudly.
Thorne muttered, “Should’ve been Stew.”
Nibbles sneezed on Eliah’s boot.
She closed her eyes. “I’m going to pretend this is a magical omen and not another creature destined to live under my stove.”
Aether grinned. “Thank you, Mother.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no.”
“…Fine. But if it breeds with anything in the house, it goes to the alchemists.”
Later That Night…
Nibbles had made a nest in the corner, torn from old rags and a discarded herb pouch. Aether sat cross-legged beside him, scribbling notes.
Horned Rabbit – Ambush herbivore. May attack ankles. Territorial, intelligent, snorts when annoyed. Possible affinity for wild magic. Suspected vendetta against Thorne.
Luminous Mushrooms – Glow in low mana environments. Attract glow-toads. Potential for mild hallucinations if brewed improperly.
Dazzlepetals – Color-shifting flowers that release magical glitter. Caution: May cause spontaneous fabulousness.
Phoenix Pollen – Smells amazing. Sets off allergies. May ignite inner potential or your underpants.
Wraith Ivy – Memory-altering herb. Handle with gloves and zero curiosity.
Spinefruit – Technically edible. More accurately: armed and dangerous.
Outside, rain whispered over the roof. Inside, the house glowed with quiet warmth and the occasional, suspicious chomp from Nibbles's corner.
Thorne passed by with a mug of something pungent, paused to eye the rabbit, then muttered, “Still think we should’ve eaten it.”
Nibbles stared back with glassy defiance.
Eliah’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “If that thing eats my spellbooks, I’m feeding it to Mira’s cat.”
Aether just smiled.
For now, Nibbles was safe.
Tomorrow, maybe he'd chew through a broom or discover a hidden magical trait. But tonight, he was just another odd part of a family where weird was the baseline.
And Aether liked it that way.
