The guildhall was busier than usual that morning.
Adventurers clustered around the job board, their armor clinking, laughter mixing with the smell of roasted bread and smoke.
Garron, the guildmaster, was at his usual place behind the counter, stamping parchment with the guild seal.
Victoria—Liora, as everyone knew her—waited until the rush thinned before stepping forward.
"I'd like to register," she said.
Garron looked up, one brow raised. "For a quest? You sure, lass? You've only been here a week."
"I'm sure," she said. Her hands trembled a little, but her voice did not.
"I can't keep sweeping floors forever. I want to try."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"Everyone starts at the bottom," he said, pulling out a small wooden plate etched with letters. "F rank. Means simple errands, monster culling, herb gathering. Fail, and you don't get the money. Succeed, and you earn a mark toward the next grade."
He handed her the plate. "You'll need a sponsor to sign the first one. Find someone who's got a higher rank willing to vouch for you."
"I'll do it," came a cheerful voice behind her.
Victoria turned. It was a young woman with cropped auburn hair and a bow slung over her shoulder.
She grinned, green eyes bright with mischief. "Name's Mara. D-rank. Been lookin' for someone to help with the molebeast problem near the eastern farms."
Garron snorted. "That old mess? Good practice for the girl. Fine, take her."
He stamped two parchments and slid them across the counter. "You leave at first light."
At dawn, Redmarsh was wrapped in fog. The two women met by the gates, packs slung and weapons ready. Mara hummed as she checked her bowstring; Victoria tightened the rough leather gloves Garron had given her.
"Ever fought before?" Mara asked.
Victoria hesitated. "Not… exactly."
Mara laughed. "Then today's the day. Don't worry. Molebeasts look mean, but they're mostly teeth and noise."
They followed the dirt road east until fields stretched before them, green and gold beneath the rising sun. Farmers waved wearily as they passed, pointing toward burrows that scarred the far edges of their land.
"Ugly things," one man said. "Tear through the roots, ruin the crops. We'll pay whatever you need if you clear 'em out."
Mara nodded, notching an arrow. "You heard him, rookie. Time to earn your first coin."
The first molebeast burst from the soil like a wave of dirt. It was the size of a wolf, all claws and tusks, its beady eyes glinting red. Mara loosed an arrow that sank deep into its shoulder, but it kept coming.
Victoria froze.
Then instinct took over. She lifted her hand—no weapon, no shield—and whispered the only thing that ever came naturally: light.
A shimmer spread from her palm, a flash so bright the creature shrieked and reeled back.
For a heartbeat she felt control.
Then the second power stirred—the fire.
The shimmer erupted into flame. The molebeast screamed, smoke rising as it collapsed back into the earth.
Mara lowered her bow, mouth open. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Victoria stared at her hand, trembling. "I didn't mean to—"
"Relax," Mara said, clapping her shoulder. "A clean kill's a clean kill. And that looked impressive as hell."
By midday they had cleared three more burrows. Victoria's power flared and faltered in uneven bursts—sometimes gentle light, sometimes wild heat—but each time she tried, she felt herself learning, shaping the edge between the two.
When they finally stopped to eat by a stream, Mara tossed her a skin of water.
"You've got talent," she said. "Strange kind of magic, though. Never seen light and fire mix like that."
"It's… something I'm still figuring out," Victoria said carefully.
Mara grinned. "Aren't we all?"
They returned to Redmarsh at dusk, dust-covered and exhausted. The guildhall roared with noise again, but this time Victoria didn't linger by the door. She walked straight to the counter, parchment in hand.
"Mission complete," she said.
Garron inspected the seal, then gave a curt nod. "Well done, F-rank. Payment's 2 silver. Keep this up, and you'll reach E soon enough."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "There's something different about you tonight."
"Confidence," Mara said with a wink. "She's got the adventurer's glow."
Garron chuckled. "Good. You'll need it. The deeper you go, the rougher the work gets."
Later that night, Victoria sat outside the guild, the cool wind brushing her face. For the first time in eight years, she felt alive—not as a slave, not as a prisoner, but as someone carving her own path.
She opened her palm, letting a faint golden light bloom above it.
The flame within it flickered, steady this time, not fighting to escape.
She smiled faintly. "Maybe I can do this," she whispered. "Maybe I can really live."
From the shadows near the alley, someone watched her—a cloaked messenger bearing a crest shaped like a crown of thorns.
He turned quietly and vanished into the night.