The rain had been falling for some time. In Rolbart, Vierna watched the downpour from the meeting hall. From what Aila had told her, Lina was out gathering herbs for the apothecary. And yet, it had been hours since she’d left. By now, she should’ve returned.

  Maybe it was the rain, Vierna thought. She must be taking cover somewhere.

  She turned back toward their shared room, but something caught her eye—the cylindrical object she had taken from Leopold’s agent was gone. It seemed Lina had taken it with her for some reason.

  Vierna tried to distract her mind. Finding a broom, she decided to sweep the hall where they had been staying. She started in the corners, brushing away the fine layer of dust that had settled there. The steady, repetitive motion almost soothed her—until a crack of thunder rolled through the distance.

  She froze, her gaze lifting toward the sound. The rumble echoed through the walls like a distant warning. Her grip on the broom tightened, knuckles paling. Lina was out there, hearing that same thunder, crouched somewhere in the storm while she stood here doing nothing.

  The thought hit her like a hammer to the chest. Even if Fenric had said the forest was safe, the worry wouldn’t leave her. It pressed in from every direction—cold, sharp, and merciless—until she could no longer tell if it was the rain outside or her own guilt making her shiver.

  She knew Lina was actually quite skilled in magic and could defend herself if something came her way, yet that did little to ease her worry. Albrecht had repeated it time and again during their training: no matter how good a mage was, they could still die. A single, well-placed stab to a vital spot—or even something stupid, like tripping and hitting their head—could end a life.

  That was why he always insisted they be cautious in everything they did. Never grow overconfident just because you can use magic, he’d said, because when you least expect it, a simple blow to the head can kill you—even if you’re an Archmage.

  At last, she gave in. Grabbing a hooded cloak, she stepped outside into the rain. Earlier that day, after speaking with Aila, Vierna had also talked to Livia to ask about Lina’s route. She had intended to go after her then—maybe even help—but when the rain started, she abandoned the plan, a decision she now regretted.

  The trail from the cylindrical object couldn’t be seen from within the village—it appeared to have a limited range.

  Moony had been unusually quiet today, which only made her more uneasy about using magic. Besides the mana problem, the weather was also bad for guns; the rain could soak the gunpowder and cause it to misfire. Not wanting to head out unprepared—especially with the chance of running into wild animals like boars or aggressive stags—Vierna decided to stop by Fenric’s home first to borrow some hunting spears.

  She stepped out of the town hall. The rain had worsened, no longer a drizzle but a storm in full rage. The wind howled between the wooden houses, bending signs and rattling shutters. Water lashed against the cobblestones in silver sheets, turning the streets into narrow rivers.

  Shadow colored leaves—Rolbart’s ever-falling curse—swirled through the air, carried by the gusts like a flock of dark birds. Some clung to her cloak and hair, slick and cold, others plastered against the walls as if the storm itself tried to paint the town in shadow. The sky above was a rolling bruise, lightning flashing through its depths, illuminating the rain in brief, violent bursts.

  She pulled her hood tighter and pressed on through the storm. Each step splashed through shallow pools, the water biting at her boots. The streets were nearly empty now, save for the distant flicker of lanterns trembling in the wind. Her breath came out in mist as she rounded the last corner.

  At last, she reached Fenric’s home.

  “Fenric…. Fenric!” She called.

  “Uhhhm… coming…” His voice trailed off into a yawn.

  A moment later, the half-deer hunter appeared at the door, hair tousled and eyes half-lidded from sleep. He still wore his loose undershirt, one sleeve slipping off his shoulder, and his antlers caught a few stray drops of rain as he rubbed his eyes. It was clear he had just woken up.

  Yet as he looked on his friend completely drenched in her coat, his drowsiness was gone.

  “Why are you coming here during a storm? Come in quickly.”

  Vierna didn’t waste a second. She stepped in, water pooling beneath her boots as she pushed the door shut behind her. Fenric watched her quietly. The usual brightness that colored her face—the teasing smirk she always wore when speaking to him—was nowhere to be found. Her eyes darted once toward the window, then down to the floor, as if afraid of what waited beyond the storm.

  “Fenric, I need to borrow a hunting spear—the large one, and a few of the throwing ones.”

  “Uhmm… sure, they’re in the backroom,” he said, blinking sleep from his eyes. “But would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “Ah, nothing.” Vierna forced a smile. “I just want to practice throwing it in the hall. It’s been a while since I’ve hunted with spears, and I don’t want to get rusty when the time comes.”

  It was an undercooked lie, and she knew it. Her voice wavered slightly, eyes darting toward the rain outside as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. The thought of Lina still out there gnawed at her.

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  What if she was trapped somewhere? What if an animal had cornered her? What if she was hurt and alone?

  The questions rang in her head like a bell that refused to fall silent.

  Fenric studied her quietly from where he stood, his sharp eyes scanning her face. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her shoulders were tense, one hand gripping the edge of the table a little too tightly.

  “Vierna…” he said at last, voice calm but firm. “That kind of lie won’t work on me, you know? Now tell me the truth, or I won’t lend you anything.”

  She sighed while rubbing her temple. “Hehe… since when did you become so sharp, Fenric?”

  “Since I befriended a certain troublesome girl from town,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Now don’t deflect the question. Tell me everything.”

  Vierna hesitated, then relented. She told him about Lina—how she’d gone out earlier, how long it had been, how the storm made her worry more with every passing minute. Her voice trembled in parts, her words stumbling over themselves, but Fenric didn’t interrupt. He just listened, leaning against the doorframe, his brow furrowed in quiet concern as rain pattered faintly against the roof.

  “Wow, you really are a worrywart, aren’t you?” he said softly, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  Vierna didn’t answer, only nodded, her hands gripping the edge of her cloak.

  “But what do you think you’ll accomplish going out in this storm?” Fenric continued. “Best case, you find her and you both end up trapped. Worst case, you lose your way or get yourself seriously hurt.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I just can’t stay still.”

  Fenric sighed, the sound heavy but resigned. “All right,” he said after a pause. “I’ll lend you the gear—but I’m coming with you.”

  Vierna shook her head immediately. “No way, Fenric. You’re still recovering from the tea. Besides, I don’t want to—”

  “Look,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You can waste your time trying to convince me, which won’t work no matter what you say… or we can start looking for Aline right now. Your choice.”

  “Fenric, you don’t have to go that far for me,” she said, her tone soft but pleading. “You’ve done enough. I won’t leak your secret, no matter what.”

  Fenric stared at her for a moment, then let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. Even when you’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, you can still be unbelievably dumb, can’t you?” His smile softened as he rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’re friends, Vierna. This is what friends do for each other.”

  Vierna looked up at him, guilt and gratitude mixing in her eyes. She just hoped when everything was done, at least Fenric could be left unharmed.

  Meanwhile, deep in the Schattwald Forest.

  “What the hell are you trying to make?” the boy asked, trying to sit up. His whole body trembled from the effort, every muscle straining against pain. Even though his breathing had steadied, the tremors in his limbs showed the wound still ran deep.

  Lina quickly moved toward him. “Don’t move around so much—you’ll reopen your wound.”

  “No… I’m sure I stitched it right.”

  “Yeah, and your genius intellect is exactly why that wound turned into a mess in the first place. Honestly, why didn’t you clean it before stitching it shut?”

  “There wasn’t any time… I needed to get out there as soon as I could.”

  Lina sighed and placed her palm against his forehead. His skin was burning, the heat pulsing through her touch. His fever hadn’t dropped—it seemed her medicine had only kept him stable, not cured. As she looked closer, she noticed how his chest rose unevenly, how his shoulders shivered with each breath. Even beneath the blanket, his ribs showed the strain of long travel and hunger.

  “Yeah,” she muttered, her voice soft but edged with irritation. “You’re going to die from this fever if you go.”

  “But there’s no time!” he snapped, trying again to sit up.

  The movement tore a sharp breath from him. His face twisted in pain, one hand clutching his side as sweat broke across his forehead. Lina caught his shoulder before he could fall forward, her grip firm.

  “Look,” she said sharply, meeting his eyes. “Whatever you need to do out there—it can wait. It has to wait. What’s the point of rushing if you die before getting there?”

  But the boy ignored her. Gritting his teeth, he braced his trembling arms and forced himself upright inch by inch, defiance burning through the fever’s haze. His body betrayed him, though—the strength in his arms gave out, and he slumped back, panting, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the cave.

  Lina, having none of it, placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder and pressed him back down into a sitting position.

  “What the hell—get out of my way!” the boy protested.

  “I’m tired of repeating myself. Look outside! Even at your best, we couldn’t leave in this storm—and now, when you’re barely recovering, you’re trying to kill yourself again?”

  “But—”

  Lina finally lost her patience. “Sit down!” she shouted, hoping the storm outside would drown out her voice so the mana beasts wouldn’t hear.

  The boy still tried to rise, his expression tight with defiance. Then, suddenly, he froze—his gaze turning distant, unfocused, as if listening to something Lina couldn’t hear. For a heartbeat, he seemed to argue with the air itself, lips moving soundlessly, eyes flicking with faint irritation.

  Lina’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t fear or exhaustion that made him stop—it was as if someone had scolded him, someone she couldn’t see. The shift in his demeanor was too sudden, too practiced, like a child caught misbehaving and then chastised by a voice only he could hear.

  A faint shiver crept up her spine. She didn’t know what that was, and the mystery only makes her wonder who exactly she saved.

  After a moment, the boy’s shoulders relaxed, and he sat back down quietly, gaze lowered.

  “Finally coming to sense?” she said as she observed the boy.

  “Yeah nee-san I’am sorry, I wasn’t in my right mind. The fever is taking a toll and still it wasn’t an excuse to be rude to you. You did save my life and my attitude wasn’t justifiedable in any way, I’am sorry.”

  The sudden changes in the boy’s behavior shock Lina, it was as if he was a different guy.

  “Glad you finally see reason.” Lina smiled. “My name is Aline. What’s yours?”

  “My name is… Axel. Yeah.”

  The hesitation was small, but Lina caught it. His voice dipped just slightly at the pause, his gaze shifting for the briefest moment—too deliberate, too careful. He was lying, yet Lina couldn’t determine the reason. Was he simply being cautious, or was it something else? She didn’t know. Since she planned to ask him about Hairon root, it didn’t seem wise to start the conversation by probing into what he wanted to hide. So, she chose to continue with normal questions, just as she usually did when meeting someone new.

  “So, Axel,” she continued casually, “where did you come from?”

  The boy scratched his neck, glancing aside as if choosing his words. “Uhmm… western province. How about you, nee—miss? Did you come from the village?”

  “Yup, but I’m new there. Got punished for something I did, so I was banished to that village.”

  “I see.” The boy’s voice wavered slightly, quieter now—like someone testing the waters before saying too much.

  Lina caught it—the faint shift in his shoulders, the way his breath eased just a little. Relief. It was small, almost invisible, but it was there. He seemed more at ease now that he knew she wasn’t a long-time resident. Whatever he was hiding, it probably had something to do with that.

  “Anyway, miss, when I said I need to go, that doesn’t mean just me. We actually have to get out of here.”

  “You’re still trying to get yourself killed?”

  “No, miss. The mana beast would notice our mana sooner or later so we have to move.”