If not for my ability to recreate the images of the fight captured through my [Arcane Domain], I doubt that [Caravan Leader] Yuvaan and the rest of the travelers would believe Trevour’s crazy tale. To be fair, monster fights and draining the core of a wild Rifts doesn’t exactly show up on most people’s everyday to-do list.

  Slowly but surely, as more people watch the scrying mirror and word of mouth spreads, the initial skepticism turns into shock, excitement, and something far worse: entitlement.

  When word gets out that I can create moving [Mage] pictures of any size, displayed on vast sheets of glass, everyone in the caravan finds some excuse to come talk to me. Half the time they skip right past the excuse and simply demand that I replay the battle.

  For children, I always comply. Watching their eyes grow wide in excitement when I make the scrying mirror as big as the side of a house brings me endless joy. I hope they have fun, regardless of whether or not it inspires them to reach for greater heights.

  For the adults who think I answer to their every beck and call, I simply ignore them and walk away. I have better things to do with my life.

  One man didn’t take kindly to the delay. He tried to grab me by the back of the collar and insist that I show him the scrying image right this second.

  Tossing him forty feet into the sky with mana-empowered muscles and an assist from my more powerful Domain is cathartic. Tossing him may not have been my kindest move ever, but at least I didn’t drop him. I summoned a tempered glass pane to hover just underneath his feet and keep him safe.

  I’m not a monster. I just don’t like rude people who presume upon my time.

  Besides, I made sure the transparent disk kept time with the caravan, so he didn’t even have to walk for miles to catch up once I took pity on him and lowered the glass to the ground. I don’t know why Yuvaan bothered to complain about it at all.

  Who needs a [Navigator], anyway?

  I chuckle at the memory of him screaming for help while everyone ignored him, fully aware of how demanding he’d been. It still brings me joy a day later.

  Other than that brief bright spot, though, it’s been a tense reunion. My brother and the Linas were not happy to hear about my risk. I call it calculated; they call it reckless.

  Either way, life slowly normalizes. That means going back to the grind of grueling training. Since no one likes suffering alone, I work up my courage and schedule a meeting with [Caravan Leader] Yuvaan to talk about his assistants. If I have to run, then they should run right along with me. I’ll need to release them from their usual work responsibilities first.

  Seated across from the [Caravan Leader], sipping his favorite desert thorns tea, I finally broach the uncomfortable topic in the only way I know how: barreling forward head-on, regardless of the emotional discomfort.

  I set down my cup. “Klaarson has bigger dreams than trade. He doesn’t like working in the caravan.”

  “Did he mention this before or after you helped them clear a Rift and defeat a guardian of the depths?” Yuvaan replies mildly.

  “Before. It has to do with his blockage.”

  The [Caravan Leader] arches a thick eyebrows. “Oh? Are you saying it’s not a real affliction? I find it difficult to believe that he’s found a way to stop sending a mana tithe purely out of stubbornness.”

  I shake my head. “Not exactly. The blockage was real. But his Class practically imploded because he couldn’t reconcile his identity with his current career. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. His mana is flowing freely again, but his Class is in tatters. I’m surprised it’s functional.”

  “Incredible,” Yuvaan breaths out, staring at me. Through my Domain, I sense an intense curiosity emanating from him. He seems far more intrigued by the mention of my ability to see into core spaces than concerned about Klaarson’s change of mind.

  “There’s more,” I say, testing the waters.

  “Let me guess. His fellow delvers want to support him on his journey?” he says, a smirk clear in his tone of voice.

  “Trevour, Marta, and Club are good teammates,” I say defensively, but he laughs and cuts off my explanation.

  “Inevitable, I suppose,” the [Caravan Leader] says wearily, sounding resigned.

  I shrug, projecting a sense of helplessness, as though it’s out of my hands. “You saw how they fought in the Rift. They’re talented.”

  “Like lions!” Yuvaan chuckles.

  “Yes. They’re fierce and loyal. I’d like to train all four of them and take them with me to fill out my team.”

  He sips his tea, taking his time to quietly “The young ones don’t surprise me. Who doesn’t want to pursue glory while you still have the energy to chase after ambitions? Club is a different story. Thought he’d be ready to retire from danger. You must have inspired him.”

  “Didn’t mean to be a bad influence,” I say, starting to apologize, but Yuvaan flutters his fingers at me and brings me up short.

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  “Dreams are good, master Nuri. I can always hire other workers, but not everyone is well suited to delving. This is good for their futures—as long as you keep them alive.”

  I wince. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Inspires confidence,” he murmurs. In the awkward silence that follows, Yuvaan’s most charming smile graces his handsome, weathered face. “Ah, perhaps you can recommend some people who want to travel when we get to Silaraon. I’ll need more workers, after all. If you want to make it up to me.”

  “Don’t let me pressure you,” I say, my palms growing clammy as I wonder if I stepped right into a pit with my blunt announcement about absconding with half his apprentices. Social niceties aren’t exactly my cup of tea.

  “Far too late for that,” Yuvaan says dryly. Amusement sparkles in my Domain. “I remit them into your care, Nuri. Keep them alive, if safety isn’t an option.”

  I bow to the older man. “Thank you, [Caravan Leader]. I’ll do my best.”

  “Peh! So formal when you feel like it,” he complains. “All right. Let’s make this official. I’ll pass over their apprenticeship to you. We can waive the usual contractual buyouts.”

  “Release them entirely, please. I won’t be taking a tithe,” I inform Yuvaan.

  His bushy eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “If that’s your wish, but you’ll both benefit from the exchange. You may not need the mana like I do, but apprentices learn the trade faster, and they’re more likely to gain advanced Skills.”

  “I’m firm on that point. Klaarson won’t come unless he’s free,” I explain, plunging into the deep waters of that uncomfortable discussion. I gulp, bracing for the backlash.

  Yuvaan looks stricken. “Free? He’s not trapped! Is this why he’s refused to use Skills all year? Ach! I see by your face that it is!”

  I wince, apologizing to Klaarson in absentia for sharing his secrets so easily, even if I’d already explained that his Class had been compromised.

  Yuvaan slumps in his chair. He hooks a crystal goblet with a gnarled hand and drags it closer to him. He pours in his favorite plum wine, filling it to the brim, and drinks half of the wine before speaking again.

  Fortified, he lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Why didn’t he just talk with me if it bothered him? Foolishness of youth! Silent anger that simmers senselessly and boils over. So easily avoided with a few words.”

  He trails off and drains the rest of his wine. Regret swirls around the poor man.

  I sigh in relief that it’s not a sticking point, but now I’m feeling self-conscious. I shift my weight in my chair, unable to recover my temporary courage. “Thanks for your understanding, [Caravan Leader]. I, ah, need to get back to training.”

  He concentrates for a moment, and mana surges within him as he activates a complex set of runes associated with his Class, which result in an ethereal blade of pure azure in my Domain sight. It snicks through a series of thick cords of significance leading away toward the camp before dissipating into the ether.

  “There. It’s done.” He sighs deeply, a tremulous smile on his weathered face. “Some advice, if you’ll listen to an old man? It’s harder to learn without guidance. Carve out extra time with them each day if they’re not officially your apprentices. They deserve that much.”

  “Thank you,” I saw, bowing my head.

  He lifts the carafe of plum wine to refill his cup, purses his lips when nothing pours out, and calls for his staff. “Wine! And bring my ledgers. I have work to do.”

  A clear dismissal if I’ve ever heard one.

  I slip out of the luxurious tent, torn between elation and a faint sense of embarrassment. Not for the conversation itself, but over my doubts about Yuvaan. He’s a better man than most I’ve run into over the last few years.

  When I share the good news with my squad, Klaarson breaks into a grin—at least until Nicanor tells us that I should make them run with us if they’re part of the team. I briefly consider it, but I’m not that cruel.

  “They’ll run laps around the caravan. They’re not ready to keep up with us yet. Let them get a feel for all the additional challenges my lifestyle tends to create. Besides, I don’t want to scare them off. Not yet.”

  “Not yet?” Trevour echoes.

  “Better get used to chaos,” Mikko says, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulders and squeezing me so hard my vision temporarily blackens before he eases up on the pressure with a small cough. “Nuri wasn’t lying when he said he’s the most talented troublemaker around.”

  “Enough chit chat. Let’s roll out,” Nicanor interrupts. He indicates our direction for the day’s run with a jerk of his head, and takes off at full speed.

  Months of training kick in instantly, and I sprint after him before a heartbeat passes. My team will have to make do without me. I’m not falling behind Nicanor.

  Determination lends me wings. Mana thrums in greater quantities than ever before as a result of my crazy scheme to drain another Rift, and my powerful strides devour the distance as the ground blurs beneath my feet. Energy brims within me.

  Curiosity gets the better of me as I run, and I flex my upgraded Skill. A deft application of my Domain launches me forward, practically weightless, and my pace picks up.

  I let out a cry of victory as I pass by Nicanor, who vainly smooths over his surprise at my sudden burst of speed. It only takes a split second, but I picked up on it regardless. Hiding his true feelings from me is more difficult with my upgraded Domain, and he’s not trying his hardest.

  He might succeed at hiding from me if it meant enough to him, thanks to the difference in our advancement, but it would be a close thing. Once I hit the Second Threshold, the world will be laid bare before me. I can’t wait to test my strength against Xharrote next time I see him.

  By the time we return to the caravan for the night, he’s regained his lead since I’m too tired to sustain the extra lift from my Domain, but I can sense he’s at his limits. His body won’t get stronger until he takes a step forward from the peak of Gold and advances to the rarified air of Platinum. Until then, he lacks the mana density to empower himself further, while mine will keep improving.

  Gotta keep pace, I vow.

  “Good run,” Nicanor grunts out as we both flop down by Marta’s campfire, luxuriating in the restorative warmth and resting our weary bones. He stretches out his hip, grimacing. “Fast today. Not lying about becoming a professional. You’re ready, Nuri.”

  A frisson of pride and gratitude shoots through me. I incline my head, trying to hide my thrill at the praise. “Kind of you.”

  “You’ve graduated to the full training regimen. I’d say you’ve earned it.”

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice husky.

  My teacher snorts. “But don’t get too comfortable. Martial training will only get harder now that you’re stronger.”

  I groan, failing to keep my terror to myself at that prospect. Running is bad enough, but spear and sword training is brutal. After a few moments of companionable silence, I bid him good night, retreating to my wagon with an exhausted but happy smile. I’m growing stronger, step by step, and my journey isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.