Vaelithorien's POV
"For the last time—no!" I snapped, frustration bubbling over. It's been a week since this boy started pestering me.
No matter how many times I tossed him out, he always came back. I'd dragged him out of my shop, erased his presence, even dumped him at an inn on the other side of town using teleportation. I left him there with strict instructions on how to hide his mana, since the concealment spell I'd cast would fade after six hours. To his credit, he'd managed it perfectly.
And yet—here he was. Again.
How in the seven hells did he find my shop?
"Come on, please! I'm a fast learner! Look—I concealed myself, see?" he shouted, squirming in Veydris's vines.
Luckily, my shop sat tucked into a hidden corner of the city, so his whining wouldn't disturb the neighbors. I had to admit, he'd done a flawless job masking his mana, and he learned faster than I expected. But still—
"I'm a florist, not a teacher!"
"Aren't you tired of this?" I barked. "You've been coming here for a week, only to hear the same answer. Get it through your thick skull: I. Am. Not. Teaching. You. Now get lost!"
On cue, Veydris hurled him out of the shop. I flicked my fingers, conjuring a soft cloud to catch his fall. I might be annoyed, but I wasn't cruel.
"Was that him again?" Emily's voice drifted from the counter. She stepped out, arms full of freshly picked flowers.
She set the pot on a shelf, smiling faintly. "He's persistent. I like him."
"Don't even," I muttered. I didn't have the energy to argue with her; I'd wasted it all on the boy.
"He looks reliable. Why not take him in as your apprentice?"
I froze mid-step, nearly tripping. Whirling around, I seized her cheeks in both hands, squishing her face until she looked like a fish blowing bubbles.
"Don't say that! Don't ever say that again!" I hissed. "I've lived in peace for over a thousand years. Even marriage didn't disrupt it. But taking him in? That would be nothing but chaos. CHAOS, I TELL YOU!"
Emily swatted my hands away, rubbing her reddened cheeks. Perhaps I'd squeezed a little too hard.
"That hurts!" she whined dramatically, massaging them as if that would heal the sting. The sight reminded me of when she was small—always fussing over nothing.
"You're overreacting, Vael. And besides, you could use some company around here." She glanced at Veydris and added quickly, "No offense, Veydris. We love you." Then she went back to arranging flowers, as if she hadn't just upended my peace.
"Veydris is all the company I need. And that boy isn't just human—he's a mage. A walking vase of mana." I scowled, waving away lingering traces of Aurelian's presence. "Mages are rare enough these days, but one with that much uncontrolled energy? Dangerous. If the Order of the Severed Sigil catches wind of him, they'll be here in an instant. And they don't play nice. Strong, weak, child—it doesn't matter. The moment they sense a mage, they strike. Even friends of a mage aren't spared. It's their way of flushing them out."
Emily fell silent, watching me as I worked.
"But…" she finally said, her voice softer. "He looks lonely. Like you, after Mom and I left. Like he just wants someone to understand him."
I froze, my gaze landing on the photo resting on the counter—a picture of us, smiling and laughing together.
"No," I growled, shaking the thought away. "Nope. That's final. I'm not discussing this anymore."
I marched through the back door into the house, down the seemingly endless hallway, and collapsed onto the couch. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I felt Veydris wrap around me like a living blanket. Slowly, exhaustion pulled me under, and I drifted into sleep.
Emily's POV
I watched Vael drag himself back into the house, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. I didn't stop him—pushing more questions now would only make him dig his heels in deeper.
With a sigh, I dropped onto the stool and buried my face in my hands. He's as stubborn as ever.
"Wow. That was intense."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. My heart hammered. A voice—someone was here!
Oh no. A customer. How embarrassing. Did they see all that? I hadn't even noticed them come in!
"Oh—sorry about that, dear customer. What can I—YOU?!"
It was him. The man from earlier.
"Hi!" he said, hands raised like I'd caught him in a crime. "Sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop—I didn't hear anything! Well… maybe just a little arguing. But definitely nothing important!"
I couldn't help but laugh, smoothing my hair and sitting up straighter. "That's alright. My fault for not noticing you. So—what can I help you with? Though I'm guessing you're not here for flowers."
He scratched the back of his head, awkward. "They all look beautiful, but… no. I really need your sister to teach me magic. I promise I won't be a nuisance." He stuck out three fingers like some kind of scout's oath. "I'll even help around the shop!"
To prove his point, he reached for a pot—only for Veydris to immediately coil around it protectively, like a mother hen with her chick. I giggled. Of course he would. Guarding the flowers was his entire job.
"That's okay. Veydris and I have the shop covered. And also… he's not my sister."
The man blinked. "Wait—what?"
"Not my sister. My grandparent," I corrected, grinning at his shocked expression. "He's an elf. His body stopped aging in his twenties. I just call him by his name because I grew up with him. It's what I'm used to."
He still looked utterly baffled, so I poured him a cup of tea and slid a chair over. He sat, still trying to make sense of it all.
"Getting Vael to mentor you won't be easy," I warned. "But… I think I can convince him—if you do something for me in return."
Honestly, it would be easier to trim Veydris's vines than to make that old elf budge. But if anyone knew how to push Vael, it was me.
"Really?! You'll help me get your pops to teach me?!" His face lit up like a child at a festival.
I hid a smile, leaning closer to whisper the plan into his ear.
Aurelian's POV
"Have a nice day, ma'am!" I call after the woman leaving with a bouquet in her hands.
The bell above the shop door jingles as she disappears into the sunlight, and I turn back around—only to flinch when a vine curls up from nowhere, swaying in front of me like it's glaring.
"...Uh, hello," I mumble, giving it my friendliest smile and a little wave. The vine doesn't answer (obviously), so I sidestep like I'm backing away from a wild dog and shuffle toward the counter.
Vaelithorien emerges just then from the back, arms full of freshly potted flowers that sparkle faintly with mana, like bottled fragments of starlight. His secret garden.
"Good day, boss!" I greet with as much pep as I can fake. "Just sold another premade bouquet from the fridge—bouquet number 121." I offer the clipboard where all the flower sales are recorded, trying to look professional.
I've been working here for a week now, and honestly? It's not the boring nightmare I thought it'd be. It's… fun. Calming, even. Not that I'd admit that to Vael's face. And hey—this deal with Emily? It's my chance to learn magic.
~
"If you can figure out Vael's favorite flower, I'll help convince him," Emily whispered conspiratorially.
"That's it?" I scoffed, grinning like an idiot. "Sounds easy."
Her smile said otherwise. "Vael's had this shop longer than the town itself has existed. Before Mikhail even named this place Gravenholt. He's an elf, remember? You're not just guessing a favorite flower, you're trying to read a lifetime."
Suddenly didn't sound so easy. "Okay… how long's my deadline?"
"As long as it takes," she said with a shrug. Then she picked up a pen and circled a date on the wall calendar. "But on this day, Vael and I will be away. That means you'll be alone—with Veydris. Use that time to observe the shop. Maybe the greenhouse, if Vael and Veydris let you." Her voice dropped at that last part, like she was sharing forbidden treasure.
I hesitated. For a moment, a memory stabbed through me—a face, pale and desperate, hand reaching toward me through searing flames. I swallowed hard, shoved it back into the dark, and shook Emily's hand.
"Deal," I said, with way too much fake confidence.
~
"So, Master Vael," I try again now, sounding casual. "All your flowers are really unique. Not like anything outside the shop."
He preens instantly, stroking a glowing petal. "Of course. My children are nothing like the common weeds beyond these walls." His mana brushes the flower, and it flares to life, blooming brighter at his touch.
Bingo. This is my chance. "So… which one's your favorite?"
His head snaps toward me like I just insulted his ancestors. "That's like asking a parent to choose their favorite child. I love them all equally." He thrusts the clipboard back into my chest with enough force to knock the air out of me.
So much for an easy win.
"It's two-thirty," he says sharply. "Time to feed the puppies."
My blood runs cold. "...Puppies," I repeat flatly.
By puppies, he means the Venomfang Virellis—his watchdog-plants, his green house monsters, his idea of a normal pet.
A shiver crawls up my spine at the memory of my first encounter with them.
~
The day after Emily convinced Vael to let me stay, she showed me to the so-called "mana room." It looked plain, just a spare bedroom. But stepping inside was like stepping into a living heartbeat.
"You feel it, don't you?" she asked softly.
I nodded, unable to put words to the strange calm pressing against my skin.
"This room is filled with Vael's mana," she explained. "It steadies wild energy. Helped me and my mother when we were training."
Later that night, lying on the simple mattress she left me, I tried to cultivate my own unstable mana like in the notes I'd copied back at the inn. For the first time, the burning in my veins eased. And for the first time in forever, I fell asleep smiling—because tomorrow, I'd finally be learning magic.
The next morning, Vael led me past two doors at the back of the shop. He gestured first to one carved from dark wood.
"This is my garden," he said sternly. "You and Emily are forbidden. These plants are too sensitive for untrained mana."
Then he pointed at the other—a door of frosted glass, glowing faintly with captured sunlight.
"This is my greenhouse. Plants too unruly for the garden, or too dangerous for open air, are kept here."
He stepped inside, and I followed, wide-eyed. The space was vast, impossibly larger than the shop exterior.
And then… I felt it.
Rustling. Heavy. Close.
When I turned, the blood drained from my body. A massive vine-serpent, bristling with teeth, loomed behind me, clicking its jaws in a sound that vibrated through my bones.
It lunged.
I dropped, throwing my arms over my head—only to feel Vael's mana flare like a shield in front of me.
"Shade," he snapped, scolding like one would a misbehaving puppy. The monstrous plant recoiled, vines curling back, but its many eyes never left me.
And then, as if that wasn't enough to ruin my sanity, four more appeared. Each one a different color. Each one watching me.
"Your first job," Vael said, almost smug, "is to feed them."
I nearly fainted.
~
Now, standing at the greenhouse door with a bucket of rodents in hand, I mutter, "Does it really have to be me?"
"Yes," Vael says flatly, already turning away. "Emily's busy, and I have my garden. Feed them, or don't eat tonight." And with a flick of mana, he compels my hand to tighten around the bucket.
I groan. Traitor elf magic.
Inside, the air is thick and alive. I creep toward the feeding bowl, whispering a prayer. "Please don't come, please don't—"
Rustling.
A golden shimmer slithers out from the leaves. Relief hits me when I recognize her—Ember, the calmest of the five. She's said to be the youngest, the friendliest. And, thank the gods, not interested in eating me.
"Hi, Ember," I whisper, almost fondly. She sniffs me once, then glides past to the food.
I watch her, mesmerized. My hand twitches. I shouldn't. I really, really shouldn't.
But I want to pet her.
And I lose.
Creeping closer, I reach out—fingers brushing the edge of her glowing petals. For one second, it's like touching warm silk, alive and humming.
Then rustling explodes all around me. The others.
Panic floods me. I bolt out of the greenhouse, sprinting back into the shop with my heart hammering.
I barely have time to catch my breath before the bell rings again. A man in a suit walks in, flanked by two bodyguards in shades.
Something about him prickles in my gut. Fake smile. Too polished.
"Welcome to Faewild Glade," I say, plastering on cheer. "Looking for anything special?"
"A white lotus," he replies smoothly. His smile doesn't touch his eyes.
Before I can answer, Emily hurries forward, surprised delight lighting her face. "Mayor Alvaren Thorne!"
Mayor?
"Emily," he greets warmly, pulling her into a hug. His tone is smooth, but his smile makes my skin crawl.
"You're here to see Vael?" she asks.
"Of course. I've something important to discuss." His eyes flick past her, to the back.
Vael appears from the garden then, crossing his arms. "What is it, Thorne?"
"Vaelithorien," Thorne says, his smile sharpening. He steps forward, only for Veydris to block him with a wall of vines.
"Nice to see you too, Veydris," Thorne says, patting the vine until it reluctantly lets him pass. He takes Vael's hand, brushing his lips across the knuckles. Too intimate. Too practiced.
"Can we talk in private?" His voice drops, almost tender.
Vael doesn't flinch, doesn't soften. "Fine."
They start toward the wooden door—the garden door. My jaw drops. Not even I'm allowed in there.
"Wait—Vael!" I blurt. Both of them pause. For a flicker of a second, I see annoyance twist Thorne's mouth.
"I thought no one was allowed in the garden but you?" I ask, crossing my arms. It's unfair.
Vael doesn't even hesitate. "Alvaren is different. Keep working. Ask Emily if you need help."
And just like that, they disappear inside, leaving me behind.
But not before Thorne glances back at me—smirking, sharp, and dangerous. A smirk that tells me everything I need to know.
This isn't just business.
"Judging from your expression, you don't know who that guy is do you?" Miss Emily commented, arching a brow.
I shook my head.
"I don't know what rock you live under, but that's Mayor Alvaren Thorne. And he's been head over heels for Vael ever since he was a kid. Weird obsession, if you ask me."
I frowned at that. "Actually… I did live under a rock. Well—more like inside a cave. Three months, to be exact."
Emily stopped mid-knot, blinking at me. "Wait. Back up. What?"
I leaned against the counter, keeping my tone even, almost detached. "I grew up in an orphanage. Not too far from here, but… not exactly close either. It was tucked away in a forest. Life wasn't great, but it was steady. Then…" My voice dipped, and the words came out heavier than I meant. "Something happened."
Her expression softened, but I pushed on before she could say anything. "So I ran. Survived the best I could until I stumbled across a cave. It was quiet. Safe. At least for a while."
Emily tilted her head. "And then?"
I hesitated, then exhaled. "Then I found a book. Half-burnt, scribbled in some old tongue. Looked like spellwork. I couldn't really understand it, but… I tried. One spell looked like it was meant to be a simple blast."
That got her attention. She straightened, eyes narrowing. "Wait—what book? Where is it now?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, sheepish. "Still in the cave, probably. I didn't exactly grab it when I—uh—blasted myself here."
Emily blinked. "You mean you—hold on. That's how you got here?"
"More like catapulted. Landing face first."
She stared at me like I'd grown three heads, then shook her head in disbelief and ducked behind the counter. After a moment of rummaging, she returned with a rolled paper and spread it flat on the wood. A map. Its lines were clean and precise, every road and grove neatly inked.
"Show me," she said firmly, tapping the parchment.
I leaned in, eyes scanning the map, and then pointed toward a stretch of forest. "The orphanage was somewhere here. And the cave—further out, near the ridge."
Emily frowned. "Aurelian… there's nothing there."
"Well duh! Your map must be outdated. The orphanage is over there and the cave was somewhere over here. I could navigate it in my sleep—by the sun, by the wind, by the way plants grew around it—"
She cut me off with a sharp shake of her head. "This isn't outdated. This is the only map. The most current one at that."
I frowned. "How do you know?"
"Because Vael helps oversee the borders, the records, the safety of this town. He's also the one who basically created the town and this map. If an orphanage had existed anywhere near here, it would be on this map. And if a spellbook like the one you described existed, Vael would have already investigated it." She tapped the paper with finality.
My stomach dropped. The map felt colder than the wood beneath my hands. Blank. Empty. Like my whole childhood had been scrubbed clean. "But… how? How could it disappear? Like it never existed?"
For once, Emily wasn't smiling. Her gaze flicked to the greenhouse door, then back to me. She hesitated, words trembling like she didn't want to release them.
"Or maybe…" Her voice dropped. "…you didn't come from here at all. Maybe you came from outside."
Someone's POV
"We're here, young master."
I stepped out of the carriage, the cold wind biting against my face. Drawing a steady breath, I lifted my hand and summoned a flame—small, steady, enough for warmth and light.
"Wait here," I ordered, my tone brooking no argument, before walking deeper into the woods.
The twisted path soon gave way to an open clearing. There it was—the cave. That familiar, oppressive aura seeped from its mouth like smoke, heavy with recognition.
A low growl rumbled from the shadows, and then it emerged.
The Oathbound Beast.
Its presence filled the air like thunder.
Without hesitation, I drew a knife from my coat and slashed my palm. Blood welled quickly, dripping onto the earth between us.
"Sanguis meus, vinculum aeternum.Ex hereditate vetusta, aperio tibi cor meum.Agnosce dominum tuum—me."
The words carried on the air, ancient and binding. My blood spread, forming lines upon the ground—an intricate sigil birthed from pain and legacy. It pulsed once, then flared, igniting in crimson light. A beam leapt forward, searing into the beast.
It roared, a sound that shook the stones, then lowered its massive frame. Slowly, deliberately, it bowed.
I extended my hand. The beast's tongue brushed the wound, knitting flesh as if it had never been torn.
Satisfied, I strode into the cave, flame lighting the jagged walls. Yet what awaited unsettled me. The air reeked of mana—fresh, foreign. Traces of someone's presence.
Impossible. With the Oathbound Beast guarding this place, no one should've been able to step foot inside. Not even an elf.
I advanced, every sense sharpened. The marks of spellwork clung to the stone, faint but undeniable.
Then my foot struck something. I glanced down.
A book.
Navier's Spellbook.
My breath caught. It shouldn't be here—not discarded, not opened.
I seized it at once, scanning the pages. Untouched. No knowledge stolen. And yet… someone had dared to read it.
Closing the tome, I strode back toward the entrance. The beast waited, loyal, patient. Swinging onto its back, I guided it out of the clearing. My men stood tense, weapons half-drawn until they saw me astride it. Their fear melted into awe.
"Young master," Marc, ever vigilant, stepped forward to drape a coat over my shoulders. "Did you find it?"
"I did," I replied, eyes still fixed on the forest behind me. "But something is wrong. Someone has been there."
"Shall I investigate?" Marc offered, resolute as always.
I shook my head. "No. I will uncover it myself. For now, we return."
Marc signaled the others. The march back to town was silent, but my mind was not.
I opened the book as we rode, its weight both familiar and foreign in my hands. Turning its pages, I whispered—more to myself than to anyone else:
"Now you are back where you belong. With our family." I whispered under my breath. I continued scanning through the pages, reading every spell my mind is itching to learn
"Which spell shall I learn first?"