"Magic Affinity: Light," I added, checking Light in my notebook's word chart. The guild hall hummed—swords clinked, coins jangled, footsteps all over and constant buzzing. Meanwhile, I sat in a small room furnished with a small sofa and a table, a small stack of paper and parchment on a side, an ink bottle, some quills, a small dictionary and myself bending over the table. Darnis sat beside me, patiently helping out.
"Desired Role: Healer," I wrote, slowly but steadily. My handwriting now is far better than what it was roughly a week ago. While some blotting was ever present it was no way near what it used to be.
"Honestly, I was quite surprised when you asked to fill the form yourself." Darnis said with some curiosity. Our resident assistant- guildmaster was here to help me out, courtesy the Guildmaster.
"I am the one more surprised having the Assistant Guildmaster helping out fill an application form." I replied, putting down my quill. The form was once again unlike the ones from back home. It was highly simplistic and minimal in nature.
[Application Form]
Name:
Age:
Magic Affinity:
Desired Role:
Previous Guild:
Rank Requested: Black Rank
By signing you agree to:
All who swear oath to the Unity Guild bind themselves to its honor and service. Members shall take missions as offered, earn coins by merit, and uphold guild law. Liability for mission perils rests with the guild, save for losses by folly. Light mages answer the Crown's summons, no exceptions, and forfeit rights to refuse. Spoils unclaimed revert to guild coffers. Signeth below to join this vow.
Signature:
As I said, simplistic. Though looking at the small bundle of parchments and papers the Terms and Conditions, Rules and Regulations part is going to take me days to get through and digest.
"No need to fret. Reflet is a small town. It's guild could do without an Assistant Guildmaster. I might as well just be a glorified clerk here." He replied in some jest.
Glorified clerk, my foot. A Guildmaster is always, necessarily, a former high ranking adventurer. I smiled along at Darnis' jest, but my mind snagged on his title. Assistant Guildmaster, a former high-ranking adventurer, playing clerk for a nobody like me? As if. A scarred face with silver hairs appeared in my mind along with that cunning smile of hers, the Guildmaster. I knew it. That sly fox. Well, no matter, I'll take what I can get.
"Still, it will take me days to get through all that." Pointing at the stack of papers. I noted.
"That's true but I doubt you will be needing all that information in the near future." Darnis replied with an easy smile.
"True," I agreed, nodding at Darnis' assessment. The stack of papers loomed dauntingly, but their contents served multiple purposes. First, they'd expand my vocabulary, still shaky from my limited time in this world. Second, they'd offer a window into the society, politics, and rules governing Reflet and beyond. Third, they'd clarify exactly what I was signing up for with the Unity Guild—no small thing, given the binding oath. And fourth, they'd reveal any advantages or loopholes I could leverage as a new member. Knowledge was power, and I intended to arm myself thoroughly before putting my name on that dotted line.
I dipped the quill back into the ink bottle, carefully filling out the form's remaining fields. Name: Ishant. Age: 20. Magic Affinity: Light. Desired Role: Healer. Previous Guild was left blank. Rank Requested: Black Rank. The lowest tier, according to Darnis, also a starting point. I wasn't here to play hero—yet.
Darnis watched me write, his easy smile never wavering. He was younger than the Guildmaster, maybe mid-thirties, with short-cropped brown hair and a lean build that suggested he'd spent years dodging blows rather than taking them. His eyes, though, had that same sharp glint I'd noticed in the Guildmaster's—a telltale sign of someone who'd seen enough to never fully relax.
"You're meticulous," he remarked, leaning back in his chair. "Most recruits just scribble their name and dive into missions without a second thought."
"Most recruits probably know what they're diving into," I said, setting the quill down. "I'm still figuring out how not to accidentally set something on fire with my magic."
He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Fair point. Light affinity as strong as yours is rare. Uncontrolled, it's like handing a toddler a torch in a hay barn."
"Comforting analogy," I said dryly, glancing at the oath on the form. The line about Light mages answering the Crown's summons, no exceptions, gnawed at me. "This bit about the Crown… what's that about? Am I signing up to be a royal lapdog?"
Darnis' smile faded slightly, but his tone stayed light. "Not quite. The Crown—King Befast's court, in the capital—has a standing claim on Light mages. They're valuable for healing, purification, even combat in some cases. If they call, you go. Usually, it's for emergencies—plagues, undead outbreaks, that sort of thing. Reflet's far from the capital, so it's rare you'd be summoned."
"Rare isn't never," I pressed. "What happens if I say no?"
His eyes narrowed, just a fraction. "You don't. The Guild enforces the oath, and the Crown enforces the Guild. Refusing is… let's say, a quick way to make enemies you can't afford."
I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Sounds like I'm trading one leash for another."
"Think of it as a long leash," Darnis said, his smile returning. "The Guild gives you resources, protection, and a chance to grow. In return, you play by the rules. It's a fair trade for someone with your potential."
Potential. There was that word again. The Guildmaster had called me a "variable," and now Darnis was dangling the carrot of potential. They weren't wrong—my Light affinity was absurdly strong, and I'd already proven it by accidentally healing half the guild hall. But their interest felt like a double-edged sword. They wanted me strong, sure, but they also wanted me predictable.
"Alright," I said, picking up the quill again. "Let me sleep on it a bit more and then I'll sign."
Darnis gave a small sigh. "Very well then. I look forward to working with you."
"Same."
Cleaning up belongings for the table I stood up, a stack of papers, my application and other accessories in hand. "Alright, I'll see you in a few."
I stepped out of the small room, the hum of the guild hall washing over me like a wave. The air was thick with the scent of polished steel, leather, and something faintly metallic—probably the residue of mana from the adventurers milling about. The main hall was a chaotic blend of voices: gruff mercenaries bartering over mission payouts, a pair of mages arguing over spell components, and a group of new recruits boasting about their first quests. I clutched the stack of papers tightly, my application tucked safely among them, and made my way toward the exit.
Outside, Reflet's cobblestone streets glittered under the late afternoon sun. The town was small but lively, its wooden storefronts and stone-walled taverns bustling with locals and travelers alike. I'd only been here a week, but the place was starting to feel less alien. The system of this world—magic, guilds, crowns—was still a puzzle, but I was piecing it together, one parchment at a time.
I headed back for Silver Moon. Once inside, I spread the guild's papers across the desk, weighing them down with a chipped mug to keep them from curling. The Terms and Conditions, Rules and Regulations, and a dense booklet labeled Unity Guild Codex stared back at me. Darnis was right—I probably didn't need to know every detail right away. But I wasn't about to sign my life away without understanding the fine print. Not when phrases like "forfeit rights to refuse" and "spoils unclaimed revert to guild coffers" were involved.
I started with the codex, flipping to the section on Light mages. It confirmed what Darnis had said: Light affinity was rare, prized for its versatility in healing, purification, and warding off dark creatures. The Crown's claim on Light mages stemmed from a treaty signed after some ancient war, binding them to serve in times of crisis. The codex didn't elaborate on what "crisis" entailed, but the examples—plagues, undead, demonic incursions—weren't exactly reassuring. I made a mental note to dig into Reflet's history with the Crown later.
Next, I skimmed the Rules and Regulations. Most were straightforward: complete missions, don't steal from guild coffers, don't stab your teammates (unless they stab you first, apparently—there was a clause for "justifiable retaliation"). But one rule caught my eye: Members of Black Rank and above must submit to periodic assessments. That sounded like a polite way of saying, "We're keeping tabs on your power." The Guild wanted to know exactly how strong I could get—and how much control I had.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. My Light affinity was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it made me valuable—hence the Guildmaster's interest and Darnis' babysitting. On the other hand, it painted a target on my back. The Crown, the Guild, maybe even rival adventurers—everyone would have their eyes on me if I started throwing around miracles. And I wasn't exactly subtle; my first attempt at a healing spell had lit up the guild hall like a festival lantern.
I closed the codex, my mind buzzing with the weight of it all. The Guild wasn't just a job—it was a contract, a system, a web of obligations and expectations. Signing that form meant stepping into a world where my choices would be scrutinized, my power measured, and my loyalty tested. But what was the alternative? Wandering Reflet, with no resources, no opportunities, no easy way to money and a magic affinity I barely understood? I'd be a walking target for anyone who sniffed out my potential—or worse, my inexperience.
I glanced at the application form, still unsigned, lying atop the stack. Ishant, 20, Light, Healer, Black Rank. It looked so simple, but it felt like a crossroads. Back home, If I had I would have pursued my undergraduate, post graduate and then a job, here those skills and knowledge are not the most applicable at the moment. The other alternative is to learn a completely new skill and build up from there, but that will require money, which I have no way to earn. Hence, I will have to make it work for now.
I stared at the unsigned application form, the weight of my decision pressing down like the stack of guild papers beside it. The Silver Moon's dim lamplight flickered across the desk, casting shadows over the words Light mages answer the Crown's summons, no exceptions. The phrase gnawed at me, a reminder that signing wasn't just joining a guild—it was tying myself to a system I barely understood. But what choice did I have? Reflet wasn't exactly brimming with opportunities for a guy like me, dropped into this world with nothing but a knack for Light magic and a week's worth of shaky literacy.
I sighed, pushing the form aside for now, and turned back to the Unity Guild Codex. If I was going to sign my life away, I'd at least know what I was getting into. The codex was dense, written in a formal script that made my eyes ache, but it was a goldmine of information. Beyond the rules I'd skimmed earlier, it detailed the guild's structure, ranks, and the expectations for each. Black Rank, where I'd start, was the bottom rung—newbies, untested, tasked with grunt work like escorting merchants or clearing out low-level pests. It wasn't glamorous, but it was safe. Mostly.
The higher ranks—Silver, Gold, and the rare Platinum—came with more dangerous missions but also more freedom, better pay, and access to restricted resources like spell tomes and enchanted gear. One section caught my attention: Light Affinity Protocols. Apparently, Light mages like me were subject to extra scrutiny. Again it was filled to the brim with bureaucracy, responsible use, generous use, public welfare etc.
Sigh.
I flipped to the section on missions, predictably it was filled with do's and don'ts, rules and regulations regarding loot distribution, monetary compensations, common courtesies, be kind, be respectful, be honest etc. More importantly, missions came with guild backing: supplies, protection, and a safety net if things went south. That last part was crucial. I'd heard stories in the guild hall about rogue adventurers getting mauled by monsters or swindled by shady clients. The guild, for all its rules, was a shield against that chaos.
I leaned back, the chair creaking under me. The Silver Moon was quiet now, the tavern below hushed as the evening crowd thinned. My mind churned. The guild offered structure, resources, and a path to harness my magic. But it also meant scrutiny, obligations, and a leash—however long Darnis called it. Well, I suppose some things don't change no matter the era, no matter the world. Terms and Conditions were always a crucial part back home also. That hadn't changed here. I needed the guild, at least for now. Money, training, protection—those were things I couldn't get on my own. But I'd have to play smart, keep my eyes open, and avoid becoming anyone's pawn.
In the end those in power would do their best to maintain it. And I can't blame them. I would do the same if not more if I stood in their place. I picked up the application form again, rereading my entries. Ishant, 20, Light, Healer, Black Rank. Simple, but it felt like signing a contract with fate. I dipped the quill in ink, hesitated, then set it down. Not yet. I'd sleep on it, like I'd told Darnis. One more night to let it simmer, to make sure I wasn't rushing into a trap.
*************
The next morning, I woke to the sound of Reflet's market stirring outside the Silver Moon. Vendors shouted about fresh bread and enchanted trinkets, while the clatter of carts echoed off the cobblestones. I felt clearer, sharper, like the fog of indecision had lifted. The guild wasn't perfect, but it was my best shot at carving out a place in this world. I'd sign the form, join the Unity Guild, and start as a Black Rank healer. But I'd do it on my terms—learn the rules, exploit the loopholes, and keep my magic under wraps until I knew who I could trust.
I dressed quickly, grabbed the application and the stack of papers, and headed back to the guild hall. The familiar hum greeted me as I stepped inside—swords, coins, voices, mana. Darnis was at the front desk, sorting through a pile of mission scrolls. He looked up as I approached, his easy smile returning.
"Back so soon?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Couldn't stay away," I said, setting the application on the desk. I'd filled in the last line: Signature: Ishant. "I'm in."
Darnis took the form, scanning it with a nod. "Good choice. Welcome to the Unity Guild, Ishant. Black Rank, healer. Welcome aboard."
He then slid my signed application into a leather-bound folder, his movements precise but unhurried. The folder was passed onto a receptionist nearby, who delivered the folder upstairs.
"I would like you to exercise some patience while your application gets processed." Darnis' voice called my attention back to him. He turned and began walking while gesturing to me to follow. I did so.
"So, how long does the processing take?" I asked, filling the silence.
"Generally, a week." He replied easily. "However, recently the traffic has been less, you might get your's in an hour."
An hour? That's generous.
"I see. Looks like my timing was impeccable."
"Indeed." Darnis replied. And we continued to make some small talk.
******
The receptionist held a small tray covered in red velvet which contained a pitch black card, a needle, a small dish and some cotton. We were back in the small room where I had previously filled out my guild form. I looked at Darnis urging him to elaborate. He did so.
"Ishant, I would like you to put some of your blood on this card." He said.
"Why ever so?" I asked.
He pointed at the card, "This is your personal Guild Card. It has a little spell on it that will turn gray it if handled by someone other than its real owner for longer than a few seconds. It's a simple anti-forgery mechanism. Also, should you happen to lose your card, please report to the guild as swiftly as possible. You will be issued a new card."
"I see. Makes sense. Can't have an imposter going around." Accepting the explanation I took the needle and pricked my left index. I held the card for a moment until a few words floated on it. It was my name and rank. I returned the card back on the tray and took some cotton.
"Watch this." Darnis picked up my card, in a few seconds the pitch black card faded into dull gray. Interesting. Darnis then handed the card to me and it reverted back to its vibrant pitch black shade.
"With this, your guild registration is complete. All available work requests are posted on the board over there. If you see one you would like to accept, confirm all details and apply for it through the quest clerk. Once again, welcome to the adventurers guild. We look forward to working with you." With those words Darnis welcomed me again.
I held the pitch-black Guild Card in my hand, its surface cool and faintly tingling with residual mana. My name, Ishant, and rank, Black, shimmered in silver script across the front. It was official—I was now a member of the Unity Guild. The weight of the card felt heavier than its size suggested, like it carried the obligations of the oath I'd signed. I tucked it carefully into the inner pocket of my tunic, alongside the folded stack of guild papers I'd brought back for further study.
"Thank you, Darnis," I said, meeting his gaze. His easy smile was still there, but his eyes held a glint of appraisal, like he was sizing up what kind of adventurer I'd become.
"Don't mention it," he replied, gesturing toward the door. "The quest board's in the main hall. Take your time browsing—Black Rank missions are straightforward, but don't rush into anything you're not ready for. And if you need advice, the guild's here."
The quest board dominated one wall of the guild hall, a massive slab of polished oak covered in pinned parchments fluttering slightly from the mana-charged air. Adventurers crowded around it, some scanning silently, others muttering to their companions about rewards or risks. The board was organized by rank, with Black Rank missions pinned at the bottom, their parchments plain and unadorned compared to the gilded scrolls of higher ranks.
I wove through the crowd, keeping my expression neutral to avoid drawing attention. My Light affinity was already a standout—word of my accidental healing stunt had spread among the guild's gossips, and I'd caught a few curious glances from other adventurers. For now, I wanted to blend in, just another Black Rank nobody starting out.
Reaching the board, I scanned the Black Rank missions. Most were as Darnis described: grunt work. Clear rats from a tavern's cellar. Gather herbs in the forest outside Reflet. The rewards were modest—10 to 50 copper coins, occasionally a silver for tougher jobs—but they came with guild supplies and protection, which was more valuable to me than the payout. I needed experience, not riches, at least for now.
One mission caught my eye, pinned slightly askew as if hastily posted:
[Black Rank Mission]
Task: Assist a local apothecary in collecting moonlight blooms from the edge of Sylvan Glade.
Details: Blooms only open under moonlight, must be harvested before dawn. Minimal danger, but Glade borders wild territory—caution advised.
Reward: 30 copper coins, plus one minor healing potion.
Requirements: Basic knowledge of herbs or healing preferred. Solo or party of up to 3.
Contact: Report to Apothecary Lila at Dusk Street before sunset.
I paused, considering. The mission seemed straightforward, and the "healing preferred" requirement aligned with my role as a healer. Moonlight blooms sounded like a magical herb, which could be a chance to learn more about this world's flora and its connection to mana. The minor healing potion as a reward was a nice bonus—I had no gear beyond my basic tunic and the guild's papers, so any supplies would help. The mention of "wild territory" gave me pause, but the "minimal danger" tag suggested it was within a Black Rank's capabilities
I glanced around, noting a few other Black Ranks eyeing the same mission. A lanky archer with a patched cloak was already pulling the parchment off the board, heading toward the quest clerk. I cursed under my breath—missions were first-come, first-serve, and I didn't want to miss out. I hurried to the clerk's desk, where a bored-looking woman with ink-stained fingers was stamping forms.
"Moonlight bloom mission," I said, sliding my Guild Card across the desk. "I want in."
She glanced at the card, then at me, her eyes lingering on my face as if trying to place me. "You're the new Light mage, huh?" she said, her tone more curious than hostile. "Heard you lit up the hall last week."
I forced a smile, keeping it vague. "Something like that. Can I take the mission?"
She shrugged, pulling out a ledger. "Archer kid just claimed it, but it's a party mission—room for two more. You want to join his group or register solo?"
I hesitated. Solo meant more control but also more risk, especially since I'd never been to Sylvan Glade and had zero combat experience. Joining a party could be safer, but I'd have to deal with strangers who might ask questions about my magic. Still, the archer looked young, maybe as new as me, which could mean less pressure to perform.
"Party," I decided. "Put me with the archer."
She nodded, scribbling in the ledger before stamping my card with a faint mana pulse. "You're in. Head to Apothecary Lila's by sunset. Don't be late—she's prickly about punctuality." She slid my card back, along with a small parchment summarizing the mission details.
I tucked both away and headed out of the guild hall, the late morning sun warming Reflet's cobblestone streets. Dusk Street wasn't far, but I had a few hours to kill before sunset. I decided to use the time wisely—first, I'd grab a meal at the Silver Moon, then review the guild's codex for anything about Sylvan Glade or moonlight blooms. Knowledge was my only edge right now, and I wasn't about to walk into a forest blind.
*****
The Silver Moon's tavern was quieter than the guild hall, with only a few locals nursing drinks at the bar. I ordered a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread for three coppers, wincing at how fast my funds were shrinking. Settling at a corner table, I pulled out the codex and flipped to the section on regional geography.
Sylvan Glade, it turned out, was a small forest a half-day's walk from Reflet, known for its dense mana and magical flora. The codex described it as "generally safe" for low-rank adventurers, though it warned of occasional sightings of dire wolves and rogue spirits near its deeper reaches. Moonlight blooms were mentioned briefly: delicate flowers that absorbed lunar mana, used in potions for minor healing and mana restoration. Harvesting them required care, as damaging the petals reduced their potency.
I made mental notes: stick to the Glade's edge, avoid wandering too deep, and handle the blooms gently. The codex didn't mention anything about combat, which was reassuring, but I still wished I had a weapon—or at least knew how to use my Light magic without turning myself into a beacon. My accidental healing spell had been a fluke, triggered by panic when a guild brawl got bloody. I hadn't managed to replicate it since, despite practicing in my room at night.
Finishing my stew, I leaned back, thinking about the archer I'd be working with. Hopefully, they'd be competent enough to handle any minor threats, leaving me to focus on the blooms. If they were too nosy about my magic, I'd play dumb—claim I was still learning, which wasn't exactly a lie. The third party slot worried me more. If someone else joined, I'd have to juggle two unknowns. I'd just have to stay sharp and keep my cards close.
********
By late afternoon, I made my way to Dusk Street, a narrow lane lined with apothecaries, enchanters, and other shops catering to adventurers. Apothecary Lila's shop was easy to spot: a wooden sign shaped like a mortar and pestle hung above the door, and the air outside smelled of herbs and ozone. I pushed the door open, a bell jingling as I stepped inside.
The shop was cluttered with shelves of jars, dried plants, and glowing vials. A woman in her forties stood behind the counter, her dark hair streaked with gray and her eyes sharp as she sorted through a pile of roots. She glanced up, her expression impatient.
"You the guild recruit?" she asked, barely pausing her work.
"Ishant, Black Rank," I confirmed, holding up my Guild Card. "Here for the moonlight bloom mission."
She nodded, setting the roots aside. "Good. You're early. The archer's in the back, prepping. Name's Kael. No third yet—might just be you two if no one else shows." She gestured toward a curtained doorway. "Go wait with him. I'll brief you both when it's time."
I thanked her and slipped through the curtain, finding a small storage room lit by a single mana lamp. Kael, the archer, was sitting on a crate, sharpening arrows with a whetstone. He looked about my age, maybe a year younger, with messy brown hair and a quiver slung across his back. His cloak was patched, but his bow looked well-maintained, its wood polished and string taut.
He glanced up as I entered, his expression wary but not hostile. "You the healer?" he asked, his voice clipped.
"Yeah. Ishant," I said, leaning against the wall to keep some distance. "You Kael?"
He nodded, returning to his arrows. "Been with the guild a month. Done a few escorts, no forest runs yet. You?"
"First mission," I admitted. "Light mage, healer role. Still getting the hang of things."
He grunted, not pressing further, which I appreciated. We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic scrape of his whetstone. I studied him subtly, noting the way he handled his arrows with practiced ease. He wasn't a rookie, but he wasn't cocky either—a good sign.
"Any idea what we're up against in the Glade?" I asked, breaking the quiet.
Kael shrugged. "Lila says it's safe, but forests are tricky. Could be wolves, maybe sprites if we're unlucky. Stick close, don't wander, and we'll be fine." He paused, glancing at me. "Your healing any good?"
"Good enough," I said, keeping it vague. "You hit what you aim at?"
"Most days," he replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
I nodded, satisfied for now. Kael seemed reliable, and if it was just the two of us, I could manage. I just hoped no third showed up to complicate things.
*******
As sunset approached, Lila called us to the front of the shop. She handed us each a small canvas sack for the blooms and a map of Sylvan Glade's edge, marked with the best harvesting spots. Her briefing was brisk: stick to the path, harvest only fully bloomed flowers, and return before dawn. She warned us about dire wolves but dismissed them as rare this close to Reflet. Sprites, she added, were more likely—annoying but not deadly unless provoked.
"No third yet," she said, glancing at the door. "I'll give it ten minutes, then you're off. Two's enough for this."
I exchanged a look with Kael, who seemed as relieved as I was. Fewer people meant fewer variables. Lila gave us a final once-over, her eyes lingering on me.
"You're the Light mage, right?" she asked, her tone sharper. "Don't go flashing your magic around. Glade's mana-sensitive—too much light, and you'll attract things you don't want."
"Got it," I said, swallowing my unease. So much for using my magic as a fallback.
With that, Lila shooed us out, promising to pay us upon return. Kael and I stepped into the cooling evening air, the sky streaked with orange and purple. Reflet's streets were quieter now, the market winding down as lanterns flickered to life. We headed toward the town's western gate, the path to Sylvan Glade stretching beyond it.
As we walked, I kept my senses sharp, scanning for anything off. Kael was quiet, his bow slung over his shoulder but his hand near his quiver. The guild's papers weighed heavy in my pack, a reminder of the oath I'd signed and the system I was now part of. This mission was my first step—simple, low-stakes, but a test all the same. I'd prove I could handle it, keep my magic under control, and start building a foundation in this world.
Sylvan Glade loomed on the horizon, its trees dark against the fading light. I gripped the canvas sack tighter, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
The path to Sylvan Glade wound through rolling hills, the cobblestones of Reflet giving way to packed dirt dusted with fallen leaves. The air grew cooler as the sun dipped below the horizon, replaced by a silver moon that cast long shadows across the trail. Kael walked a few steps ahead, his bow now in hand, an arrow loosely nocked as his eyes scanned the darkening landscape. I kept pace behind him, my canvas sack slung over one shoulder and the guild's map tucked into my belt for easy access. The weight of my Guild Card in my pocket was a quiet reminder of the oath I'd signed, binding me to this world's rules—and its dangers.
The silence between us was comfortable, broken only by the rustle of grass underfoot and the distant hoot of an owl. I appreciated Kael's focus; he didn't waste breath on small talk, and I didn't feel the need to fill the quiet. My mind, though, was anything but silent. Lila's warning about the Glade's mana sensitivity gnawed at me. My Light affinity was powerful but unrefined, like a hammer when I needed a scalpel. If I lost control, I could light up the forest like a beacon—or worse, attract whatever "things" Lila had hinted at. I resolved to stick to mundane tasks: identify the blooms, harvest them carefully, and let Kael handle any threats.
"You ever dealt with magical plants before?" Kael asked suddenly, his voice low as he glanced over his shoulder.
"Not really," I admitted, keeping my tone casual. "Read about moonlight blooms in the guild's codex. Delicate, need to be picked under moonlight, used for potions. That's about it."
He nodded, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "Lila's picky about quality. Bruise the petals, and she'll dock your pay. Just follow my lead when we get there."
"Fair enough," I said, noting his confidence. A month in the guild had clearly given him some experience, though I wondered how much of it was bravado. Still, his steady grip on the bow was reassuring. If wolves or sprites showed up, I'd rather have an archer than be out here alone.
The trail began to slope downward, and the first trees of Sylvan Glade came into view, their gnarled branches twisting like fingers against the moonlit sky. The air grew heavier, tinged with a faint hum of mana that prickled my skin. I'd felt something similar in the guild hall, but this was wilder, less controlled, like the forest itself was alive and watching. The codex had called the Glade "dense with mana," and now I understood why. Every breath felt like sipping from a charged battery.
"Stay sharp," Kael muttered, slowing his pace as we crossed into the forest's edge. "Glade's quiet, but it's never empty."
I nodded, my eyes adjusting to the dappled moonlight filtering through the canopy. The path narrowed, flanked by ferns and glowing moss that pulsed faintly with each step we took. The map indicated the moonlight blooms grew in a clearing just ahead, a ten-minute walk from the forest's border. Minimal danger, the mission had said, but my grip on the canvas sack tightened all the same.
We moved cautiously, Kael's footsteps silent while mine crunched softly despite my efforts. He shot me a glance, and I mouthed a quick "sorry," trying to mimic his lighter tread. The forest was eerily still, the only sounds our breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by a breeze. I scanned the shadows, half-expecting a dire wolf to leap out, but nothing stirred. Yet.
After a few minutes, Kael raised a hand, signaling a stop. He crouched, pointing to a patch of ground where the moss glowed brighter, forming a faint trail toward a break in the trees. "Clearing's up ahead," he whispered. "Blooms should be there. Keep your eyes peeled."
I nodded, crouching beside him. The mana in the air was thicker now, almost tangible, and my Light affinity stirred faintly in response, like a muscle flexing involuntarily. I clamped down on it, focusing on the task. Harvest the blooms, get out, don't glow. Simple.
We crept forward, the clearing opening before us like a stage lit by moonlight. The moonlight blooms were unmistakable: delicate, silver-white flowers that shimmered as if dusted with starlight, their petals unfurling in the lunar glow. They grew in clusters, dotting the grassy expanse like jewels. I counted at least two dozen, more than enough to fill our sacks and satisfy Lila's quota.
"Nice," Kael breathed, a rare grin breaking his stoic mask. "Let's make this quick."
He slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled out his canvas sack, moving toward the nearest cluster. I followed, kneeling beside a patch of blooms and studying them closely. The codex had been clear: pinch the stem just below the flower, twist gently, and avoid crushing the petals. I reached for the first bloom, my fingers steady despite the mana buzzing around me.
The first few went smoothly, the flowers slipping into my sack with a faint, musical chime as their mana settled. Kael worked nearby, his movements practiced but less careful than mine. A few petals fluttered to the ground as he plucked a bloom too roughly, and I winced, imagining Lila's scowl.
"Easy," I whispered. "Lila'll have our heads if we bruise these."
Kael rolled his eyes but slowed down, mimicking my technique. "You're worse than my old mentor," he muttered, but there was no heat in it.
We worked in silence, the clearing peaceful save for the soft chime of the blooms and the rustle of our sacks. I started to relax, the rhythm of harvesting almost meditative. Maybe this mission really was as simple as it sounded. No wolves, no sprites, just a quiet night in a glowing forest—
A twig snapped behind us.
Kael froze, his hand darting to his bow. I stopped mid-pluck, my heart lurching as I turned toward the sound. The clearing's edge was dark, the trees blending into a wall of shadow. Nothing moved, but the mana in the air shifted, growing sharper, like a blade pressed against my skin.
"Stay low," Kael hissed, nocking an arrow as he scanned the trees. "Could be nothing. Could be trouble."
I crouched, clutching my half-filled sack, my pulse hammering. The codex's warnings about dire wolves and rogue spirits flashed through my mind. My Light magic stirred again, stronger this time, and I gritted my teeth, forcing it down. Not now. Glowing would only make us a target.
Another snap, closer this time, followed by a low, chittering sound—like laughter, but wrong, too high and too fast. Kael's eyes narrowed, his arrow tracking toward the noise. "Sprites," he muttered. "Damn it. Stay behind me."
Sprites. Lila had called them annoying but not deadly—unless provoked. I glanced at the blooms in my sack, wondering if harvesting them counted as provocation. Too late to worry about that now.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, a tiny figure darting between the trees. It was no taller than my knee, its body a blur of shimmering blue light with wings like fractured glass. Another appeared, then a third, their chittering growing louder, more agitated. They hovered just beyond the clearing, their eyes—black and glinting—fixed on us.
"Three of them," I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt. "What do we do?"
"Don't move," Kael said, his bow steady. "They're curious, not hostile. Yet. If we back off slowly, they might let us go."
I nodded, easing my sack to the ground to free my hands. My Light affinity was screaming to be used, a warm pulse in my chest begging to flare out. I ignored it, focusing on Kael's lead. He took a slow step back, gesturing for me to follow. I mirrored him, keeping my eyes on the sprites.
For a moment, it seemed to work. The sprites hovered, their chittering softening as we retreated toward the path. Then one darted forward, faster than I could track, and snatched a bloom from Kael's open sack. It let out a triumphant screech, twirling the flower like a trophy.
Kael cursed under his breath. "Don't shoot," I hissed, grabbing his arm before he could loose an arrow. "Lila said don't provoke them."
"They're stealing our haul!" he snapped, but he lowered his bow, glaring at the sprite.
The other two joined the first, snatching more blooms from Kael's sack. They danced in the air, tossing the flowers between them like a game, their laughter grating on my nerves. My sack was still closed, tucked behind me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they noticed it.
"We can't lose the whole haul," Kael said, his voice tight. "Lila won't pay if we come back empty-handed."
He was right, but fighting sprites seemed like a worse idea. The codex hadn't said much about them, but their speed and numbers made them tricky. My mind raced, searching for a solution that didn't involve my magic. Then I remembered the codex's note on moonlight blooms: they absorbed lunar mana, which made them sensitive to light fluctuations.
An idea sparked. It was risky, but it might work. "Kael," I whispered, keeping my eyes on the sprites. "Can you distract them for a second?"
He shot me a skeptical look. "With what, a dance? They're fast, and my arrows won't hit unless they hold still."
"Just make noise or something," I said. "Trust me."
He muttered something about crazy healers but nodded, stepping forward and banging his bow against a tree. The sharp crack echoed through the clearing, and the sprites froze, their eyes snapping to him. I seized the moment, dipping into my Light affinity—just a trickle, a [Light Sphere] enough to create a faint glow. I directed it toward the blooms still in the clearing, focusing on amplifying their natural shimmer.
The flowers responded instantly, their silver glow flaring brighter, almost blinding. The sprites screeched, dropping the stolen blooms and shielding their eyes. Their wings buzzed frantically as they darted back toward the trees, their chittering now panicked.
"Go!" Kael shouted, grabbing his sack and sprinting for the path. I snatched mine, the glow from my hand fading as I ran after him. The sprites' screeches faded behind us, but I didn't look back, my legs pumping as we tore through the forest.
We didn't stop until we reached the Glade's edge, the open hills of Reflet stretching before us. I doubled over, gasping for breath, while Kael leaned against a tree, his chest heaving. He shot me a look, half-impressed, half-annoyed.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "You said you were still learning your magic."
"I am," I panted, clutching my sack. "That was… mostly a guess. Blooms like light, sprites don't. Figured it was worth a shot."
He shook his head, a grudging smile tugging at his lips. "Crazy, but it worked. Check your haul—we need enough for Lila."
I opened my sack, counting the blooms. Eight, petals intact. Kael had six, a few slightly bruised but usable. Fourteen total—not a full quota, but enough to avoid Lila's wrath, especially with the sprite story to back us up. The stolen blooms were a loss, but we'd made it out unscathed.
"Not bad for a first mission," Kael said, slinging his sack over his shoulder. "You're not half useless, healer."
"High praise," I said dryly, but I felt a flicker of pride. I'd kept my magic under control—mostly—and we'd handled the sprites without a fight. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.
We trekked back to Reflet under the moonlight, the town's lanterns glowing warmly as we passed through the western gate. Dusk Street was quiet, most shops shuttered for the night, but Lila's apothecary still had a light burning. We knocked, and she opened the door, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in our disheveled state.
"Trouble?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Sprites," Kael said, handing over his sack. "Tried to steal our haul. Ishant scared them off."
Lila raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. "Did he now?" She took my sack, inspecting the blooms with a critical eye. "Fourteen, decent quality. Not perfect, but I'll take it. Sprites are a valid excuse."
She disappeared into the shop, returning with a small pouch of coins and a vial of clear liquid—a minor healing potion. "Thirty coppers, as promised," she said, tossing the pouch to Kael. "Potion's for the healer. You earned it."
I caught the vial, its glass cool against my palm. "Thanks," I said, tucking it into my pack. The coins were split evenly—fifteen each. It wasn't much, but it'd keep me fed at the Silver Moon for a few days.
Lila shooed us off, muttering about needing sleep. Kael and I parted ways at the street's end, with a nod and a promise to team up again if another mission fit. I liked his no-nonsense attitude; he hadn't pried about my magic, and he'd held his own in the Glade. A good ally, at least for now.
Back at the Silver Moon, I collapsed onto my bed, the guild's codex and papers still spread across the desk. My Guild Card sat beside them, its black surface gleaming faintly in the lamplight. I traced my name with a finger, the reality of my new life sinking in. One mission down, countless more to come. I'd survived Sylvan Glade, and earned a sliver of respect from Kael and Lila. Small steps, but steps all the same.