Alph returned to the scaffolding. The supervisor lounged in his chair, unaware. The man devoured his bread, gulped, then belched loud enough to fill the tunnel.

  Alph assessed the situation. Drawing the supervisor deeper demanded subtlety—force wouldn’t work. The man needed a plausible reason to enter the hazardous tunnels. He studied the yawning, stretching figure, weighing his options.

  Then came the smell.

  A noxious wave rolled through the air, thick and putrid. Alph's eyes watered. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain motionless despite the urge to gag. The supervisor shifted in his seat, utterly unconcerned, and scratched his belly.

  The supervisor heaved himself upright, one hand braced against the armrest. He shuffled toward the mine's deeper passages, moving with the gait of a man whose bowels demanded immediate attention.

  Alph followed, maintaining distance, his footfalls masked by the supervisor’s labored breathing. The man descended into the lower tunnels, away from the main excavation, searching for privacy.

  The supervisor found a narrow alcove branching off the main shaft. He began to lower himself, grunting with effort.

  Alph dislodged a stone. It clattered across the cavern floor, sharp and deliberate.

  The supervisor froze mid-squat. His head whipped around, eyes darting into the darkness. He rose with surprising speed for his bulk, fumbling with his trousers. "Who's there?"

  Alph remained invisible, breathing shallow. The man waited, tension coiling through his frame. When nothing emerged from the shadows, the supervisor's urgency overcame his caution. He resumed his search, moving deeper into the warren of passages.

  He found another alcove. Again, he began to settle.

  Again, Alph struck—a deliberate scrape of boot against stone, unmistakable in the suffocating silence.

  The supervisor cursed, abandoning the spot. His discomfort warred with his fear. He pressed onward, driven by both desperation and dread, deeper into the mine's bowels where few ventured.

  Alph herded him like prey, each sound a prod, each interruption a redirect. The supervisor's breathing grew ragged. His movements became erratic, panicked. He needed to find a place soon or lose control entirely.

  The supervisor stumbled forward, desperation etched across his face. Alph finally led him into the spot he had identified earlier.

  The supervisor’s knees buckled as he squatted, his trousers pooled around his ankles. The stench hit Alph like a wall, thick and suffocating. He pressed his back against the cold stone, fingers digging into the cracks as he fought the urge to retch. His vision swam for a heartbeat, but he clenched his jaw and forced his focus inward.

  Life-Link flared to life.

  The roots above the mine ceiling pulsed in his awareness, a tangled web of dormant strength. He seized them, threading his will through their fibers, binding them into a single circuit. The surrounding vegetation's vitality surged into the thickest root, a gnarled one anchored to the boulder. Alph fed it everything, starving the others, letting them wither as the chosen root swelled, thickened, and stretched.

  A sharp crack echoed through the tunnel.

  "What was that?" the supervisor grunted, pausing mid-squat. He tilted his head back, eyes scanning the dark.

  Dust trickled from the ceiling, dusting his shoulders.

  "Damn unstable tunnels," he muttered, then resumed his business.

  Alph’s stomach lurched. The smell clawed at his throat, acidic and relentless. His grip on the spell faltered; the roots writhed in his mind, resisting the unnatural redistribution of their strength. He gagged, bile burning the back of his tongue, but he held. The root groaned, fibers snapping one by one as it expanded. The stone below it shifted, loosening.

  Another crack, louder this time.

  The supervisor froze. His breath hitched. He craned his neck upward just as the boulder broke free.

  The man’s scream tore through the tunnel, raw and choked off too soon. The ground trembled as the boulder struck, the wet thud of impact followed by the skittering cascade of smaller rocks. Dust billowed, thick and choking.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Alph was already moving, he put all of his effort into stealth as he made his way out of the mine, avoiding the miners and guards who were running towards the place where the collapse happened.

  He burst into the open, gasping. The crisp mountain air was a blessing, a slap of clarity after the suffocating reek of the tunnels. He veered left, away from the main path, scrambling up a narrow goat trail that hugged the cliffside. He needed to be far away now, before they lockdown the area.

  The mine erupted into chaos behind him. Voices bellowed orders, and boots thundered against stone. He crested the ridge, chest heaving, and dropped into a crouch behind a cluster of boulders. The wind howled across the mountainside, carrying with it the distant clamor of the mine.

  Alph caught his breath for a minute, then pushed to his feet and turned toward Val Karok, refusing to glance back at the mining colony. His mind focused on a single imperative: avoid predators, especially the griffin, and return to the city before the mine’s lockdown trapped him in the surrounding passes.

  The wind lashed his face as he walked. His legs moved along the winding path like a well-oiled machine, each step taken in silence. The city lay hours ahead, and he couldn’t afford to stumble or attract the attention of anything with claws and wings. He had already accomplished his goals. Once he reached the city, he would be safe.

  The second bell of afternoon tolled across Val Karok as Alph slipped through the city gates. The mountain air gave way to the lower district's familiar stench; coal smoke, stagnant water, and the press of unwashed bodies. He did not linger. He slipped through the darkest alleys, no step wasted.

  Alph arrived at the tunnel entrance to Rook’s hideout. He took the lantern hanging outside, opened the door, and entered. He moved through the tunnels until he reached the cavern opening. Rook sat in his usual spot, smiling as if he had known Alph was coming.

  "Little Raven! That was quick," Rook said, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his seat, the flickering light from the nearby lantern casting shadows across his unkempt beard. "You only took the mission yesterday. I thought you'd need a day or two to travel, if not, for your penchant for investigation." He smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. "I didn't expect you to finish it so soon."

  Alph's feet momentarily halted, the cool stone floor grounding him as he moved closer. Rook's hand pointed at the magic communication crystal resting on the table, the soft hum of its arcane energy filling the space with a faint warmth. "I just got the report from the contract issuer. They confirmed the 'death by accident.' Well done!"

  "Glad to hear. My payment?" Alph asked, his voice steady.

  Rook clicked his tongue, a sound like gravel underfoot. "Come on, take the compliment." He dug into the frayed pocket of his tunic, fingers brushing against worn hemp as he eventually pulled out a leather pouch. The metallic clink of coins echoed as he tossed it onto the table, a promise of reward. "Here, the contract was five silver, but the guild keeps two for services rendered. The rest are for you."

  Alph slipped the three silver coins into his pocket, the weight settling against his hip as he turned toward the door. Rook's voice cut through the tavern noise, sharp and commanding.

  "Hold on." The recruiter's chair scraped against stone as he leaned forward. "Why did Nylessa ask me to procure another spell scroll for you?"

  Alph paused, his hand already reaching for the doorframe. The question hung between them, loaded with implication. Rook continued before he could answer, his tone shifting into something almost paternal; speculative.

  "Did you find the first one too difficult to master? Wanted something less demanding instead?" He looked Alph over, his eyes taking in every single detail.

  The silence dragged on. Alph put the pieces together: Rook understood Nylessa's personality well enough, worked as a guild recruiter, and even provided extra care for her. The link snapped into place. They are likely from the same village.

  "Guilt," Alph said. "She didn't explain the guild's voluntary contracts. Offered the scroll as apology. Wants me working with her again, even just as backup."

  Rook burst into laughter, carefree and open, tilting his head back as his messy hair shifted. The motion revealed his ears—pointed and unmistakable, just like Nylessa's. But his skin had a brownish green hue.

  Not exactly related, I guess. Alph made a mental note to himself. Rook was also a half-elf but not the same heritage as Nylessa.

  Rook recovered, stifling the last of his laughter. "That's typical of her. She forgets details that matter, which is why nobody wants to work with her. Keeps her working alone all the time." He leaned back in his chair, genuine relief flooding his tone. "I'm grateful you're sticking with her."

  He gestured toward Alph with a calloused hand. "Come to me for advice on Guild functionality. Don't rely on Nylessa for that. She'll steer you wrong without meaning to."

  Alph nodded and stepped into the corridor. His footsteps echoed through the tunnel, sharp and solitary against the stone walls.

  The streets of Val Karok cooled as he walked, brass fixtures glinting in the fading light. His thoughts returned to Grimforge, to Varrick at the anvil, to unfinished work. Routine tugged at him, familiar and insistent. Returning early would raise questions. A laborer on his day off did not hurry back to the forge.

  Alph changed direction and headed toward the western district, moving at a steady, relaxed pace. He focused on what he needed to grasp. He had to discover ways to unlock opportunities, things he could learn in his spare time to ignite another Tier 0 profession and to combine it with his Apprentice Crafter to create a second constellation. He knew such a day remained distant, but early preparation was necessary.

  The library doors swung open under his touch; Alph stepped into the hushed expanse. Rows of shelves stretched before him, their spines hinting at knowledge. He now understood how to seek that knowledge, even if he did not yet know the right questions.