The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village. Aura sat on a worn wooden stool in front of her house, her hands idly twisting a piece of wire.
The rhythmic sounds of the smithy echoed faintly in the background, mingling with the distant laughter of children. The air was calm, but her thoughts were anything but.
The knights had become a fixture in Grainwick, their hunts for the predator unsuccessful for a whole month.
Their polished armor no longer drew gasps of awe, and the sight of them lounging near the tavern or patrolling the fields was as ordinary as the sunrise. They brought safety, of course—They had braved two long nights with not a single casualty.
The villagers, though uneasy at the resources the knights consumed, were grateful. Bert’s warnings felt almost paranoid in hindsight.
Aura sighed, her gaze drifting to the palisade in the distance, where Marco often played with other kids. Her sweet, little Marco.
By the time she finished showing him an exercise or a formula, he was almost done performing it. His mana control was improving at a dangerous rate for someone so young, and his determination often left her torn between pride and worry.
He reminded her of herself at his age: stubborn, driven, and far too reckless. Even If she stopped teaching him out of concern, he would probably try figuring things out by himself. That’s not something a child can survive, talent or not.
And then there was Bert. Her husband had been quieter lately, his usually steady presence tinged with a frustration he barely concealed.
He’d been right about so many things in the past, and she had always been grateful for his support… but this time? She wasn’t so sure. Aside from minor incidents, nothing bad happened to neither her nor Marco and the knights hadn’t done anything truly egregious.
Not yet, at least. Maybe Bert was letting old wounds cloud his judgment.
With a shake of her head, Aura stood and dusted off her skirt. Enough brooding. She had work to do.
She picked up an empty basket and headed for the square. She needed Sophie’s help.
Since Aura successfully created some frostfire, she needed to purify more earth dust to finish her project, and she would die of old age before she gathered that many herbs herself.
Grainwick was lively as she walked towards the square, the hum of daily life punctuated by bursts of laughter and conversation.
She nodded politely to a few familiar faces, her thoughts still half-formed as she planned the next steps for creating an artifact of her own. Every alchemist’s grand dream.
“Oh! Who are you, o lady fair?” A voice, smooth and overly loud, cut through the bustle. She froze, her stomach sinking. Turning slowly, she saw Sir Calland Kira approaching, his gaudy armor catching the sunlight.
His smile was wide, his stride confident as he closed the distance between them.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” Calland said, his tone dripping with forced charm. “Out and about on such a fine day? Surely you have someone to run errands for you.”
Aura forced a polite smile. “I am no lady, Sir Calland and I enjoy the walk. Thank you for your concern.” She tried to move past him, not letting worry show on her face, but he blocked the way.
“But surely,” he said, stepping even closer, “a beauty like yourself should be resting, not burdening herself with such trivial matters.” His gaze lingered in a way that made her skin crawl. What if he recognized her? She stared at her feet, trying to conceal her face.
“I’m quite capable, thank you, and my husband is waiting for me at home.” Aura replied, her tone firm. She took a step back, but Calland matched it, his grin unwavering.
“You misunderstand me, my lady,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s not about capability. It’s about what you deserve. And surely, you deserve better than this—better than...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the village around them.
Aura’s patience thinned. “I appreciate your concern, Sir Calland, but I have everything I need here.”
“Do you?” His tone was almost mocking now, his smile sharpening. His gauntleted hand lifted her chin against her will. “A woman of your... caliber could have so much more. Even your features – “
“That’s enough, Sir Calland.” The voice cut through the air like a blade. Aura turned to see Sir Viel approaching, his expression hard as stone. Was the captain following him like a watchdog? He grabbed Calland by the shoulder, his grip firm enough to make the younger knight flinch.
“Commander,” Calland began, his smile faltering. “I was merely—”
“Return to your post,” Viel said, his tone brooking no argument. He didn’t release Calland until the knight stepped back, his expression sour.
The man muttered something under his breath but complied, retreating toward the other knights with a swagger that failed to mask his frustration.
“I apologize for his behavior,” Viel said, turning to Aura. His tone was courteous, but there was a weariness in his eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
Aura nodded, her voice quiet. “Thank you, Commander.”
Viel inclined his head, staring at her face for a while, before following after Calland. He didn’t comment and his presence cast a long shadow as he walked away.Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Aura stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. As the sounds of the village returned, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
Bert’s warnings echoed in her mind, louder now, harder to dismiss. She turned and walked back toward her house, her basket still empty. She would focus on a different material for that day, she must have had something left to use at home.
She never noticed her child following her, observing the situation with a tense look.
From that day forward, she decided, Bert and Marco would handle the trips into the village proper, while she stayed near their house. Nothing happened still, nothing too egregious, but… It wasn’t worth the risk. Not anymore.

 
The sharp scent of crushed herbs mixed with smoke, filling the alchemical shed. David sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully grinding vibrant green leaves, watching them darken and crumble away softly.
Aura had taught him a purification method. He slowly imbued the crushed leaves, removing parts of the plant until only the base element remained. Done with the portion, he tumbled his mortar and a few grains of vivid green powder fell into a container.
Insanely expensive and tedious to make, green powder.
His hands were going numb from the constant pulse of mana and his small arms ached from the repetitive motion. He ground an abundant herb and still had a mountain of it to go through.
Aura hovered nearby, her focus entirely on the purification process of her own. Her hands moved deftly, measuring the ingredients with an alchemist’s instinct that David found mesmerizing.
She was doing basically the same thing, but the results were, oh so different. Not only was she doing all the more expensive, concentrated ingredients, but she also did it at least five times faster than him.
Yet, despite her mastery, her movements lacked the liveliness he’d grown used to seeing in her. They were deliberate but subdued, as though the weight of the past months had seeped into her very bones.
David paused, watching her for a moment. “Mom,” he said, breaking the silence. “This is the third batch today. Do we really need this much earth powder?”
Aura glanced over, her face softening at the sight of him. “Yes, Marco,” she said gently, her voice calm but tired. “It’s the foundation for what I’m working on. Without enough of it, nothing will hold together.”
David nodded, though he didn’t fully understand. He knew the powders were key alchemical ingredients of the highest order – out of the ones you could make in Grainwick, at least.
He’d seen her use similar ones during the beautiful ritual that created frostfire, the impossible substance that he loved to watch.
He couldn’t even imagine her doing all that purification by herself. It must have taken at least a year… All that to risk it on a single ritual? Her confidence boggled his mind.
And yet, it felt like this was more than just preparation. She was pouring all of herself into it, retreating deeper into the shed with each passing week.
He resumed grinding, the rhythmic scrape of stone against stone filling the silence. “You do a lot of work lately, mom.” he said, his tone casual but edged with concern.
Aura glanced at him again, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “I do, don’t I? But I have you to help me.” She added some roots to her mortar. “And your father helps with the supplies.”
David’s grip on the pestle tightened. His ‘father’. Bert was doing his best, but even he couldn’t fully protect Aura from the situation they were in. It had been months since the incident with the pompous knight, and Aura hadn’t stepped foot near the square ever since. Her once vibrant energy was dulled by isolation and loneliness.
David had seen the cause of it all.
He’d watched as Calland had approached her, his arrogance and entitlement spilling over in his forced charm.
He’d watched as Viel had intervened, his authority the only thing keeping the situation from escalating.
And he’d watched as Aura’s world gradually shrank in the aftermath. The village traded her freedom for safety. For the greater good.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered under his breath, his small hands trembling as he ground the powder harder than necessary.
“What’s not fair?” Aura asked, her tone light but curious.
David hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said quickly. He didn’t need her to know that he knew. That could only result in her hiding her pain better.
The knights had been in Grainwick for nearly half a year now, and the predator was no closer to being defeated.
Relations between the knights and the villagers were fraying at the edges, held together by the sheer force of will of Sir Viel—and occasionally Brenn and Darryl.
Tensions simmered beneath the surface, ready to boil over at any moment.
Aura’s voice broke his thoughts. “Marco, focus. If you keep melting the herbs, we’ll never have enough.”
David blinked, realizing he’d overloaded the contents of his mortar. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and moved to dispose of the hazardous waste.
Aura didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she waited for him to come back and hugged him gently. “You’re doing well,” she said softly, her voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. “Thank you for helping me.”
David looked up at her, his chest tightening. She was constantly tense and had dark bags under her eyes.
He wanted to say something—something that would fix everything—but the words wouldn’t come. So instead, he nodded and went back to grinding, his resolve hardening with each pass of the pestle.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. So what, if Grainwick was safer, when Aura had to pay the price for it? There must have been a better way, they just couldn’t find it yet.
Maybe he could find a way to fix it? All this time he’d been training to protect, but maybe what he needed to do was to get rid of the predator? With the monster gone, knights would leave.
It's an overwhelming force, but surely an Anti-Tank mine could take it out, right? Could he recreate such a weapon with alchemy?
He shook his head. Not at his current level, not even close.
He gripped the pestle harder, increasing his speed. Then somehow protect her from the knights.
But what sway could a 9-year-old hold... over a noble, no less.
No matter how hard he thought or how many perfect plans he concocted, no resolution was within his grasp. His whole new ‘childhood’ reminded him of when he was a poor student, scraping by before he met Marie.
Just like then, he would have to bide his time until the right moment.
He suddenly felt pressured to learn even faster.
“Mom, do you think we could go through ‘The Origin’ again as we work?” He asked her, pointing to the old book laying on the table. “I still can’t read ancient without your help and I love hearing you explain it.”
Aura brightened, even if only a little, at the unexpected compliment. She opened the book on the floor before them.
The afternoon wore on, the shed filled with the quiet sounds of their work and avid discussions of ancient grammar.
Within those walls, it was just the two of them— a lonely mother and a son who didn’t quite belong, holding onto each other in their own, silent ways.
This was all he could do. Learn and keep her company.
But David knew that outside, the world kept turning, and it was relentless.