Five days passed. The morning light in the kitchen highlighted the dark bruises beneath Paley's eyes.

  He was sitting in the wooden chair by the window, ostensibly watching birds, but his gaze was unfocused and dreary, drifting. He looked fragile. It was a strange word to apply to the boy who had ripped a Fulguron apart just six days ago, but there it was. He was pale, his shoulders slumped under the weight of fatigue both physical and emotional.

  Bacha tightened the strap of her satchel. Inside, glass jars clinked against a heavy stone mortar.

  'He does everything,' she thought, the realization settling in her stomach like a cold stone. Paley hunted meat now. He helped cook. He built bed after bed with Teerom. He cleaned the cottage with his magic. And he even hunted monsters for coin.

  She looked at her own small hands, stained green from crushing magical clovers earlier that morning.

  'I can't let him keep doing everything on his own'.

  "Bacha? You ready?" Teerom whispered from the doorway, trying not to disturb the quiet.

  Bacha nodded. She walked over to Paley and poked his arm. He blinked, coming back to the room with a tired and slow smile.

  "Heading out?" He asked, his voice rasping slightly.

  "Yeah. Teerom's taking me to the Learning Center," she said. She puffed out her chest, trying to look taller than her nine years. "I'm going to learn how to fix being tired."

  Paley chuckled. "Wish you luck, Alchemist."

  "Thank you! See you!" She grinned and turned to join Teerom who gave a curt nod to Paley.

  The Gouon Community Learning Center wasn't a grand building like the library. The classes were held in a walled courtyard where the grass was trimmed short and the air smelled of chalk dust and boredom itself.

  Bacha sat cross-legged on a mat near the back. Around her, a dozen other children - mostly the sons and daughters of clerks and merchants - were dutifully copying down the words of Mistress Olea.

  "Now, the Common Broadleaf," Mistress Olea droned, holding up a limp, sad-looking weed, "is often mistaken for Dock-Leaf. But observe the serrated edges..."

  Bacha stifled a yawn that almost threatened to unhinge her jaw.

  She knew the Common Broadleaf, though she didn't call it anything. She also knew that if you chewed the root, it tasted like crap and only filled you with regret, but if you boiled the stem, it could stop a mild stomach ache. Paley had brought some back a few days ago and they'd tested it together on Adimia who was prone to bowel issues.

  She didn't look at the teacher. Instead, her charcoal stick flew across her notebook. She wasn't drawing the Broadleaf, instead she was sketching the intricate root system of an Iron-Root, deciding that this class was not going to provide her much; it was better to revise and explore what she knew. She tried to remember how the veins of the Iron-Root pulsed when Paley helped her pull it out from the earth.

  "That doesn't look like a Broadleaf."

  Bacha paused. She looked to her left.

  A girl with thick glasses and ink smudged on her nose was peering at her notebook. Behind her stood another girl, this one quieter, with dark brown skin and hair braided tight against her scalp.

  "It's Iron-Root," Bacha whispered. "It grows in the Mana Zone."

  "The Mana Zone?" The girl with glasses adjusted her frames. "My dad says kids aren't allowed near there... I'm Ilya." She pointed to the quiet girl behind her. "This is Selma. You are?"

  Bacha looked at Selma who was hugging a notebook to her chest, looking watchful, as if she expected someone to tell her to leave.

  Bacha smiled, an expression bright like the sun. "You look like my brother Amasha!"

  Selma blinked, taken aback and slightly offended to be likened to a boy. "...Yeah?"

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  "Yeah. He's got brown skin too. He's really loud though. You're quieter."

  "I'm from Nijia," Selma said softly. "We moved here three years ago."

  "Cool," Bacha said, turning back to her drawing. "Mother says I'm from Hijia."

  The casual acceptance seemed to short-circuit something in the dynamic. Ilya sat down on the edge of Bacha's mat and Selma, after a beat of hesitation, sat on the other side.

  "Why are you drawing that?" Ilya asked, pointing at the diagram. "Mistress Olea is going to be mad if you don't draw the weed."

  "The weed is boring," Bacha said. "I want to know how to mix Iron-Root with Honey-Sap... without them exploding."

  Ilya frowned skeptically "Plants don't explode."

  "They do if you mix them wrong," Bacha said, a comically dark expression on her face. "One time, Adimia threw up ashes."

  "Alright, class!" Mistress Olea clapped her hands, startling the trio. "Practical application. I want you all to use the mortars and pestles provided to grind a paste from these Mint-Weeds. It is a basic cooling poultice for bruises."

  Bacha looked at the pile of Mint-Weed placed before her. It was useless. Paley didn't have bruises right now; he had exhaustion. Mint wouldn't fix that.

  She looked around and found Mistress Olea was busy correcting a boy who was trying to eat the mint.

  Bacha reached into her satchel. She pulled out a small pouch of dried, crinkled yellow leaves - scraps of what she called Sparky-Leaves that Paley bought back from a hunt. She dumped them into her mortar. Then, she uncorked a small vial of thick, amber Honey-Sap.

  "That's not mint," Selma whispered, her dark eyes wide.

  "Nope," Bacha said, grinding the pestle down with a satisfying crunch. The Sparking Leaves when crushed released fumes that had the same effect as coffee but there was a side effect that she needed to remove of extreme fatigue after the short period of wakefulness.

  "You're not following the instructions," Ilya hissed, looking nervous. "What is that?"

  "Paley gets tired," Bacha explained, her hand moving rhythmically and focused, "His mana runs out quick because of everything he does for us. So I'm thinking... if I can make his body less tired, his mana may be less tired too."

  She added a drop of water to dilute the mixture slightly and add a medium for better mixing. Immediately, it turned a violent, neon yellow. It smelled sharp, like lemons and static electricity.

  "That's poison," Ilya winced.

  "No it's not," Bacha pouted and dipped her pinky into the yellow sludge. She looked at Ilya. "Dare you to try it."

  Ilya recoiled, shaking her head profusely, "No way."

  "I'll try it," Selma said quietly.

  Bacha and Ilya both looked at her. Selma reached out, dabbed her finger in the paste, and put it in her mouth.

  She froze. Her eyes went round.

  "Are you okay, Selma?" Ilya asked, genuinely concerned for the girl's health but also curious to see the effects of the concoction.

  "It tastes..." Selma shivered. "Spicy? Buzzy." She sat up straighter. "My tongue feels like it's shaking."

  "Let me see," Ilya demanded, curiosity getting the better of her, and took a tiny lick.

  One second passed. Two.

  Ilya's eyes shot open wide behind her glasses. She gasped, her spine snapping straight as a rod. "Oh! Oh, wow. That's- I feel super awake. I feel like I could run. Or write something long. What is this?"

  "I'll call it... Zesty-Rush!" Bacha said proudly, scraping the yellow paste into a small glass jar.

  "I can't believe you made this." Selma said, genuine awe in her voice. "Just now. Without any guides."

  "You're amazing," Ilya breathed, vibrating slightly in place. "You're like a real alchemist already."

  Bacha screwed the lid onto the jar and rubbed her finger above her lip, trying to hold in the excitement from the praise.

  "How did you learn this?" Selma asked.

  Bacha paused, her hand resting on the cool glass of the jar.

  She thought of the Mana Zone and its myriad of smells, the terrifying beauty of the monsters Paley fought. She thought of the exotic, strange, dangerous ingredients Paley brought home, trusting her to figure them out. No. He did it because it made her happy. And that alone made her the happiest. He was like...

  "My prince." Bacha said softly, "Because of my prince, Paley."

  She looked at her new acquaintances' puzzled expression then at the innocuous Mint-Weed on the mat.

  'If Paley is going to fight demons, I need to become the best Alchemist to help him'

  The sun was setting by the time Bacha returned to the cottage. The walk home had felt shorter than usual; she had been practically blurting ideas at Teerom who listened quietly the whole way.

  She pushed the door open. The cottage was warm, smelling of woodsmoke and some bread Madella had baked earlier.

  Paley was revising the Healing Magic book at the table; Jurie was with him trying to help Adimia with his terrible math.

  "Hey," Paley said. "How was it?"

  Bacha marched up to the table. She slammed the jar of neon-yellow paste down in front of him. "Here," she said.

  Paley looked at the jar. "What is it?"

  "Eat this when you get tired," she instructed with a serious and proud voice. "It'll make your heart go thump-thump-thump and I bet your mana will come back faster."

  Paley picked up the jar, holding it up to the candlelight. The yellow paste seemed to glow on its own.

  "I call it Zesty-Rush," She added, crissing her arm. "And next time, I'm coming with you to get better Sparky-Leaves. I'll make a better one."

  The tired lines around his eyes softened and he smiled with gratefulness and pride in her work. There was also a sense of relief that Bacha couldn't quite sense but Jurie could. Paley was loved; and that filled him with relief.

  "Yes ma'am," he said, tucking the jar into his pocket. "Thank you, Bacha."

  Bacha beamed, feeling ten feet tall.

  'I've got your back, my prince.' she thought fiercely.